You're sprawled in one of the old chairs, the kind that's molded to fit whoever sits in it long enough... Your friend is in the one next to you, sideways, legs draped over one armrest, head resting on the other. The stars stretch out in every direction...slow, silent, endless. The only light comes from them and the faint glow of the plant on the sill.
Neither of you has spoken in a while. It's that kind of place. The kind that makes you talk less and think more.
Your friend's voice comes low, unhurried, as though the quiet itself granted permission.
"Random-"
You glance over.
"But I've been thinking."
They don't look at you. Their eyes are on the stars, tracing something only they can see.
"What do you think happens?" They nod toward the glass, toward the dark between the pinpricks of light. "After. When someone doesn't walk it off."
They let out a breath...not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Something in between. Something that knows.
"I've seen people go out," they say. "More than I count. Hull breach. Fires. Science accidents. And every time, I wonder if they went somewhere. Or if somewhere came to them first."
A long pause. The plant rustles slightly. Maybe the vents. Maybe not.
Your friend shifts, pulling their legs in, sitting up just enough to look at you properly. In the starlight, their face is calm. Thoughtful. The way people look when they've been sitting with a question for a while, letting it settle.
"What's the bet? Void? Something else? Nothing at all?"
A small, tired smile. The kind that comes after too many shifts, too many close calls, too many people who didn't make it to cryo.
"I'm not trying to get philosophical on you. Just..." They gesture vaguely at the stars. "All this. Makes you wonder, right? What do you believe?"
