Patient’s eyes and palms appeared jaundiced. Patient reports no outward signs of distress. 

The cursor blinks impatiently at Aria as it awaits more information. There should be more information. The symptoms log deserves more than two measly sentences. But Aria has no further information to input. She leaves the diagnosis blank. 

ALT test ordered Aria adds into the notes section. Dr. Santana had thrown the possibility of liver disease out there, and with no better leads, they were pursuing that diagnosis. Aria doesn’t feel at all qualified to disagree with a veteran doctor, as a recently licensed RN, but the whole mess of it all just doesn’t sit right with her. 

But this is the last chart of the day, and Aria did not sleep well the night prior. 

She logs out of the EHS and leaves the lackluster chart, with all its gaping holes and inconsistencies, for another day. The medbay is still bustling, albeit much quieter than it is during the afternoon. A few acquaintances hurry past Aria, who flashes them each a tired smile. But she does not stop for any conversations - no matter how brief they may turn out to be. Aria prefers her entire commute home to be spent in silence, starting from the moment she clocks out. Her days are filled with enough mindless chatter and small talk with patients and coworkers to wear out the entirety of her fragile social battery completely. Even Peter, Aria’s childhood best friend turned boyfriend, is often disappointed by Aria’s tendency to go to sleep immediately after returning home. 

Today is no different. 

Except for the fact that Aria cannot sleep. 

Peter drifts peacefully, unconscious and unaware of Aria beside him, rising from the bed. The wood floor is cold beneath her feet as she slips out the door and into the living room. Aria has always enjoyed the night more than the day. Aside from it being the time when she used to prefer to do her homework and studying back when she was in school, Aria has a particular fondness for reading while the rest of the ship sleeps. She figures that falling back into her current book might calm her restless mind. 

Aria figures wrong. 

She finds herself unable to relax, unable to make the nervous energy that fills her subside. Eventually Aria falls into a fitful slumber out of pure exhaustion just as the artificial sunrise dawns outside of her apartment. When Peter awakens her a few hours later, her neck is stiff and the battery on her e-reader has run out. 

“What are you doing out here?” he asks as Aria attempts to get her bearings. 

At first she does not remember, having just woken up. And then the images return to her. “I couldn’t sleep. Not sure why. Think I figured reading might help and I guess I fell asleep.” 

Peter grimaces. “That makes what I came out here to tell you even worse. Your work called, they’re completely swamped today apparently, wondering if you can come in.”

Aria can think of a hundred things she’d rather do than come in on an off day, but even on a spaceship that has been supporting thousands of people for generations as they shoot through space towards a new Earth, there are still student loans she needs to pay off. 

“I’ll call them,” she sighs as she rises from the couch and stretches. 

“Don’t overwork yourself,” Peter tells her. 

Aria brushes off his concern as she heads back to the bedroom to get dressed. 

“I’m serious, I’m worried about you.”

But Aria barely hears his concern as she shuts the door behind her. 

“I don’t understand. It can’t be yellow fever, we’ve never once seen that pathogen on the Cradle, in all our hundreds of years. Everyone who we’re seeing is up to date on their hepatitis A vaccines. We’ve been testing them anyway, in case of a vaccine-resistant mutation. But it’s just so peculiar,” Dr. Santana is telling Aria as they walk from the break room to Aria’s first patient. Aria had been warned that the medbay was overwhelmed with patients bearing the symptoms that had puzzled her yesterday, but she didn’t realize the severity of the situation until she’d walked in. 

“Are they still not reporting feeling unwell in any way?” Aria asks, remembering how adamant the patient was yesterday that he did not feel sick. 

“Nope,” Dr. Santana replies. She glances around nervously, but everyone is far too preoccupied with the gigantic influx of patients to eavesdrop. “I don’t like this. It’s making me uneasy.” 

“The Cradle has had widespread sickness before,” Aria reminds her, and herself. 

“Not new pathogens,” Dr. Santana whispers back. “I feel like no one is understanding the severity of the situation.” 

“Jocelyn, I think no one wants to understand the severity of the situation,” Aria corrects. Turning a blind eye is all too easy. Ignoring the problem until it becomes a disaster seems like a fabulous choice right until the problem becomes a disaster. 

Jocelyn furrows her brow. “We are trapped on a spaceship. We are the last humans to exist. Hell, we are the last life to exist, I doubt Earth survived for much longer after we left. How in the world is no one raising alarm bells over an unknown sickness sweeping through the population?” 

“It’s only been a day,” Aria points out. 

Jocelyn gestures around them wildly. Her movements are sharp, rapid, unpredictable. “And look what’s already happened!” 

Aria tries not to look what's already happened. She would prefer not to add onto her already towering pile of things that were currently weighing on her. So she just sighs and agrees with Jocelyn that the response is lackluster, wishes her good luck with her patients, and goes her separate way. 

Peter’s protests that Aria take a step back from work fell on deaf ears. On the contrary, her hours skyrocketed. The sickness grew exponentially, but knowledge of it continued to flat-line. Little fanfare accompanied the rapidly rising number of cases, for there were no symptoms that appeared to accompany the disease - apart from the jaundice. Even Aria is tempted to just write the whole thing off as an unimportant, albeit strange, part of her year.

Aria remains indifferent to the matter until the first patient dies. 

The symptoms box had puzzled Aria a month ago, its vacancy bothering her. That was nothing compared to the wide-eyed empty stare “cause of death” is currently giving Aria. She’s been told that the yellow plague is the cause, but no one is quite sure how. All of his vitals were fine, he was talkative and cheerful, his death itself was sudden and without warning. He is not the only case. 

He may have been the first, but he is definitely not the last. 

Aria has never seen death on this scale before. It seems as if every patient who came down with the yellow plague has suddenly died today. She likes to convince herself that she is numb to it, that it doesn’t bother her. But she can’t hide the tears anymore once she returns home. 

“It’s complete radio silence. It’s like they’re not even trying,” Jocelyn is saying a week later. 

Aria purses her lips. She’s tempted to reassure Jocelyn that researchers are working around the clock to find an explanation for the yellow plague. But there is a nagging doubt that something is just off. Aria can’t put her finger on exactly what it is, but something feels distinctly wrong. 

“You agree,” Jocelyn says, pointing out Aria’s silence as she searches for words. 

Aria opens her mouth and closes it, unsure of how to respond. She does agree. There is very little doubt left in her mind anymore. The bodies are piling up. The hands Aria has held through their last moments will not let go of her mind. The sunken, jaundiced skin is all Aria sees when she closes her eyes. 

“Yeah,” Aria sighs. “I agree.” 

“I wish I could find out what they’re studying right now. The research that has been published is just so lackluster.”

Aria doesn’t say anything. She waits to point out the obvious until Jocelyn puts it together herself. It will be Jocelyn’s idea, not hers. And when Jocelyn suggests it, Aria will insist it’s crazy. Even though she knows she’ll inevitably go along with it. 

Jocelyn leans in closer over the table in the break room they currently occupy. “There is no one in the lab during their lunch break.”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

“I’m just pointing out an interesting fact,” Jocelyn replies. 

“You and I both know you’re not just doing that,” Aria tells her. 

“It’s good to know, yes?”

“Only if you are planning to do something with it.”

“Are you?”

“Are you?” Aria shoots back. 

Jocelyn doesn’t reply right away. She shifts in her chair, looks down at the table for a moment before looking back up at Aria, tucks a strand of dark hair that has fallen out of her ponytail back behind her ear. 

“What are you willing to do?”

If it wasn’t for the fear that is currently making Aria’s spine crawl, she might say it is like any other time she’d seen the lab. The room looks the same as she remembers it. The fluorescent lights buzz ordinarily. The computers, left on their lockscreens, light up their desks. The sterile white of the place is as blinding as always. 

But each footstep Aria takes sends echoes resounding around the room. They sound loud, far too loud. Jocelyn had told Aria that all they need to do is act casual. If they look like they belong there, then no one will question why they are. Jocelyn looks like it is any other normal day for her, making her way through the lab not too slowly, but not too quickly. Aria valiantly tries her best, but has to keep her hands in her pockets to hide her nervous fidgeting. 

“Got one,” Jocelyn calls out from across the room. 

Aria hurries over to the computer Jocelyn has sat down in front of. She was confident that at least one researcher wouldn’t bother to log out for their lunch break, and sure enough, James Willard is still logged into his desktop. 

Over Jocelyn’s shoulder, Aria watches with silent anxiety as Jocelyn tears through files, memos, and logs, searching for anything that might explain the deafening silence of information being given to them. Aria fights the urge to look over her shoulder, to check if they had any unexpected visitors. All it would take was one person who’d forgotten a cell phone, forgotten a part of their lunch, decided to return to the lab early. 

Aria wonders how hard it will be to find a new job after getting fired for searching through classified documents. 

“What in the world is Operation Noah?” Jocelyn asks suddenly, breaking the silence. 

“What now?” Aria asks, her attention snapping to the screen Jocelyn is staring at. 

Jocelyn points to the brief memo she has pulled up. Two days ago, James Willard wrote to the office of Premier Andes, “Research continues to yield worryingly inconclusive results. Initiate Operation Noah before it is too late.”

Aria curses under her breath. “Bad news.” 

Jocelyn searches through  the files of the computer, but finds no matches. 

“This was two days ago. Whatever they’re doing, it’s going to be soon, if they haven’t done it already,” Jocelyn points out, her words rapid and terse. 

“Peter is an intern for Premier Andes,” Aria remembers. “I’m calling him.” 

Jocelyn barely takes her eyes off of Aria as the phone rings, and then through the subsequent conversation. It takes Peter a moment to realize that Aria is, in fact, not joking. That she really did sneak into the laboratory, search through someone else’s computer, and come across some ominous-sounding operation that is about to be enacted. As soon as he does realize that she’s telling the truth, Aria can practically hear his blood run cold over the phone. She makes him promise he won’t do anything too rash to find out what it is, but she doubts he’ll stick to that promise. It’s only fair. How many times has Aria promised to take a break and take care of herself, and yet here she is: standing in the middle of the pristine lab she is not permitted to be in, staring right at a memo she is not permitted to see, telling Peter to do what he is not permitted to do. 

Aria and Jocelyn do not speak when Aria hangs up the phone. They cannot find the words to assure each other ‘it’s probably fine.’ Neither of them are particularly fond of lying. 

Ordinarily, Peter greets Aria with his contagious smile and food, if she is lucky. He works morning shifts at a coffee shop before his internship at Premier Andes’ office, so he is always home long before Aria is. But today, when Aria walks into their apartment, Peter is sitting, aghast, at the kitchen table, documents strewn across it. 

Aria drops her bag at the door and hurries over. “What’s wrong?” she asks, but she knows the answer. 

“We’re going to die,” Peter tells her, barely looking up from the table. 

“I don’t understand,” Aria replies. 

Peter slides one of the papers across the table to her. “This is the overview of Operation Noah.” 

Aria glances at it. The word “eliminate” is the first thing she sees. “What the…” she mutters as she reads on. 

She gathers her bag and keys as quickly as she threw them down only minutes ago. 

“Where are you going?” Peter asks. 

“I have to show Jocelyn,” Aria explains. 

Peter gathers the rest of the papers and puts them back into the folder they originated from. Aria catches a glimpse of the word “classified” printed on the file as he hands it to her. She doesn’t bother to ask Peter how he got ahold of them. “Be careful,” he tells her. 

Aria can barely breathe a response before she is out the door. 

She is at Jocelyn’s apartment under fifteen minutes later. Jocelyn isn’t expecting Aria, but isn’t exactly surprised to see her on her doorstep either. She spots the folder in Aria’s hands and the wild look in her eyes and invites her in. 

“What’s going on?” Jocelyn asks Aria as they sit down at her table.

Aria slides the folder over to Jocelyn in response. “See for yourself.” She watches as Jocelyn skims the contents, her frown deepening more and more with each line she reads. 

“We’re screwed,” Jocelyn concludes. 

It’s the understatement of the year.  

“What do we do?” Aria asks. 

Jocelyn gives her a quizzical look. “What is there to do?” 

Aria can barely believe what she is hearing. “What do you mean what is there to do?” She asks. “They’re murdering an entire sector of the Cradle, just because they can’t figure out what’s causing the yellow plague!” 

Jocelyn pauses before responding, glancing back down at the overview in her hands. “It would stop it from spreading,” she replies eventually. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Aria tells her before she can stop herself. Aria is not typically bold enough to say such a thing, especially to a close friend, but she has lost all sense of reason in the wake of finding out she is going to be murdered in a matter of days. 

“You and I both understand how vital it is that this ship is not wiped out by disease.” 

“Jocelyn. At the bare minimum, they deserve to know they’re going to die.”

“And then what? Risk them escaping? All it takes is one to make the rest have died for nothing.” 

“This is insane,” Aria says. 

“This is survival,” Jocelyn replies. 

“You’re a doctor. How can you possibly be okay with this mass-murder?” Aria asks. It feels like she doesn’t even know Jocelyn anymore. 

“Because I can think logically. The risk is too great.” 

“And I can’t think logically?” Aria questions in response. 

“I think you’re blinded by emotion over what you’ve just discovered. Rightfully so. But-”

“And what if it isn’t caused by transmission between people?” Aria interjects. “What if there’s an outside factor causing it? What then? Then we’ve let all these people die for nothing. Then you and I and Peter have all died for nothing.” 

Jocelyn doesn’t respond. 

Aria can’t sit still. She rises from the chair she’s been sitting in and paces around the small kitchen. Jocelyn watches her with an infuriating sense of peace. Aria can’t understand how she could possibly be so calm. She can’t understand how Jocelyn isn’t tearing her hair out. Aria certainly wants to. 

“Do you want to die?” she asks finally, spitting the question out. “How can you lay down and just accept this? How does this not bother you at all?” 

Jocelyn’s calm facade breaks. “Do you really think this doesn’t bother me?” She jumps up from the table as well.  

Aria stops pacing. 

“I don’t want to die, Aria, I want to live! I have dreams, I have goals, I have so many unfinished projects, you know that! But I’m trying to think this through, and I can’t see trying to get out of this as anything but selfish!” 

Aria levels her gaze with Jocelyn’s. Both women are breathless as they stare at each other across Jocelyn’s kitchen table. “They deserve to know,” Aria tells her. 

“They can’t,” Jocelyn says firmly in reply. 

“Well,” Aria says, gathering the papers spread out on the table and placing them back in the folder. “Good thing we don’t have to agree.” 

“They need to know,” Aria is telling Peter later that night as she washes her face. “I mean, how can I just sit by and knowingly let these people die, let you die, let Jocelyn die, let myself die?”

Peter has been holding a book for the past twenty minutes and hasn’t turned a single page. “Jocelyn raises a good point about it only taking one person escaping to make everyone else’s sacrifice for nothing.” 

“I know. That’s why I’ll tell them after the lockdown is initiated. That way they can at least call people, write letters, send texts, visit people within the sector,” Aria replies. 

“I don’t want to die,” Peter mumbles numbly, as if the reality of it all has finally hit him. 

Aria looks over at him. He is staring at the wall, almost completely frozen. The room is dimly lit, but Aria can make out the faint glistening of tears in his eyes. She doesn’t know what to tell him. Aria doesn’t want to die either. She is afraid that if she opens her mouth to say anything, she will start to cry. 

Instead, Aria makes her way over to Peter and draws him into an embrace. It cannot even begin to make what is about to happen okay, but it is the only thing Aria can think to do. Peter doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Aria. The weight of what is to come is more than enough to silence them both. 

Come morning, Aria is prepared to publish the documents. According to the overview, the lockdown should have already been initiated. She tries her best not to think about what this means for her. She has a count of three days to live out the rest of her life. Aria has suddenly realized both how much she wants to do with her life and how little of an idea she has of what those things she wants to do actually are. 

She believes the knock at her door comes from Jocelyn, intending to rehash what they fought about the night before. Aria realizes how glad she was that Jocelyn had come back to talk as she makes her way to the front door. She doesn’t like the way that they left things the night prior and hopes to make the situation right. More specifically she hopes she will convince Jocelyn to see her side of the story. 

Aria does not anticipate the police to be at her door. 

“Aria Edens?” the officer asks. 

Aria can barely stutter a response. She instinctively knows what has happened, but she doesn’t understand how it could have. 

“What’s going on?” Peter asks, joining her at the door. 

“Peter Murray? You are both under arrest for theft of classified government documents and intentions to disseminate them.” 

“You must be mistaken,” Aria stutters. “You must have the wrong people.”

“We were alerted of your crime and intentions earlier this morning. Hand over the documents and come with me and we won’t have any problems,” the man continues. 

Aria glances at Peter. He seems just as astonished at the whole thing as she is. “We don’t have any documents,” she insists. 

“Aria, please don’t fight this,” a familiar voice pleads with her. 

Any attempt to lie her way out of this vanishes when Aria spots Jocelyn. “How could you!” She exclaims. 

Jocelyn looks distressed, but Aria can’t bring herself to feel any sympathy. Aria is the one who has been betrayed, not Jocelyn. Jocelyn has no right to be upset about the situation she created. “I had to,” she insists. 

Aria doesn’t give her the courtesy of a response. Lucky for Aria, Peter doesn’t allow any more time for the weight of Jocelyn’s betrayal to press her into the ground. He reaches out and slams the door shut, flipping the lock on the second it closed. Even Peter looks surprised at his own actions. 

“Window,” he says to Aria. 

“Window,” she agrees. 

They live on the first floor of their apartment building, so exiting via a window is not a dangerous mission. Thankfully so, because their next steps definitely are a dangerous mission. And neither Peter nor Aria have any idea what those next steps even are. Once they are safely out of the apartment Peter tells Aria that he couldn’t bear the thought of their last days alive being spent in a prison. 

Aria numbly agrees. She still can’t wrap her head around any of what has happened in the past day. 

Peter tugs her along, dragging her into the wilderness behind the apartments. They will be followed. It’s not a matter of if they will be, but how well they will be. The sector has already been locked down, but for reasons that are beyond Aria, the government does not want the citizens to know of what is to happen to them. 

Maybe they believe it to be merciful. 

Aria can’t decide what is crueler: a known ending, or an ending that comes suddenly and without any warning. 

She realizes half heartedly that she’ll never have to decide. Aria will never get the choice to have anything other than a known ending. And she won’t live long enough to decide which she would rather have. 

With the police on their heels, Peter and Aria flee deep into the woods. Aria has never been so thankful that the wildlife behind their apartments is allowed to grow untamed and unchecked. The footsteps that were once frighteningly close fade into the background until they can no longer be heard. Aria and Peter do not stop running even after they are sure they are alone. 

Aria feels that she could never stop running and still not feel safe. 

It is only when her lungs feel like they are about to give out that she finally pauses to catch her breath. Peter pauses as well. They don’t exchange any words as they stare at each other. Their fates have been sealed. They have been written, signed, tied up with a bow, and filed away into the universe. Aria never envisioned dying so young. She looks at Peter in the early morning light, the person she’d intended to craft a future with. 

It’s then that Aria spots the yellow tinge beneath Peter’s skin.