It hadn't been hard to follow the team of medics back to their home. As fierce warriors, they were oddly inattentive to their surroundings. One Yumen even managed to walk into a pole, bruising his head.

Most of the interior hallways and paths through the ship were poorly lit with dark gray or black coloring. The metal looked to be decades old with occasional coats of paint covering rust from a bygone era. Made it easy for Arachna to find places to hide.

She kept silent, walking through the shadows overhead. Arachna maneuvered through a combination of open hallways with few Yumens and air vents up above. Staying directly behind the traveling band was not always possible but their distinct scent made it easy to catch up when she fell behind. The smell was similar in a way to the way the lab had smelled but even stronger. It was as if they had used a heavy dousing of chemicals to remove as many biological characteristics of their bodies as possible.

Now that was truly disgusting. These Yumens were trying to be more like the machines they operated—cold, calculating, clean.

The sense of cleanliness inside the Medica was a thousand times worse than outside. The scent of the disinfecting chemicals was so strong that Arachna felt nauseous. It came through in a continuous heavy stream as she watched from her perch inside the air vents up above.

She could understand that Yumens were susceptible to infection but this was different. It was as if the Yumens were trying obsessively to stomp out their own Yumen-ness.

The Medica had dozens of beds filled with Yumens, many of whom were asleep. They had tubes hooked directly into their veins and several going into their nostrils. the Yumens were being pumped full of inorganic liquid, devoid of life.

Arachna ground her beak together and clenched her tiny claws. Maybe that was the source of the medics' power? Perhaps they were pumping into their fellow Yumens a chemical solution that made them easy to control? Either that or they were running experiments to make their bodies stronger.

She pondered the two separate theories. Both would reasonably explain what was going on. Either way, these medics were truly a force to be feared. Arachna's eight beady eyes scanned the room from above. It was only one room of several like it in the vicinity. The medics worked tirelessly, adjusting the tubes and various machines that hummed as they pumped more of the liquid into the sleeping Yumens.

"What's the status of Patient 41?" Dr. Sandra said. She walked into the corner of the room. Arachna could observe her from a distance as the doctor spoke with an assistant, sitting at the bedside of a sick Yumen.

"Patient's kidneys are terminal," the assistant said. Her heart rate sped up. Apparently, just speaking to Dr. Sandra was nerve-racking for junior medics. "General organ failure will follow."

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"Probability of survival?" Dr. Sanda asked.

"With a Regeneration Spike," the assistant said. "It's 50/50. Without one, he has no chance."

"What is your recommendation?" Dr. Sandra said. "This is important for your training."

"Very well," the assistant said, nodding, her eyes darting back and forth. "I recommend cryo-coma until we reach Mars. It will not stop the disease but it will slow it down. Then a Regeneration Spike may be given. Alternatively, we may procure one from the Emergency Storage now."

"Negative," Dr. Sandra responded, her eyes cold and piercing. "Regeneration Spikes are for emergency use only onboard the Eschaton, primarily used for key personnel. There is also a severe shortage on Mars due to manufacturing delays."

"It would give him a decent chance of survival. At the very least, he'd see his family before he goes."

"His life," Dr. Sandra said, pausing. "Is not worth the cost of even the space he takes up in cryo-coma. And familial goodbyes are harder than distant ones. Believe me, I know." She seemed cold, adroit.

The assistant seemed unsure how to respond. "So—um— what should we do?" she said.

"Terminate the patient," Sandra said without blinking. "Make it simple for everyone. Part of our job is making the hard decisions that nobody else wants to make."

"But he may have a family—"

"We have a job to do," Dr. Sandra said, emphatically. "This decision is the Medica's prerogative with limited supplies on an interstellar trip. You should know that Cryo-coma is equally expensive as a Regeneration Spike, which would still need to be procured on Mars for a significant cost. Best practice is to administer the injection now."

The assistant's mask covered up a dropped jaw but not her wide-open eyes. She hesitated momentarily. "I—um—I just. Shouldn't the patient's family have a say? They may have resources to —"

"Do it," Dr. Sandra said, her eyes wide and glaring. "That is final."

"Very well," said the younger assistant, removing a long syringe from her pocket and popping off its cap.

The device had a long needle the size of a Yumen finger that was so thin even Arachna could barely make it out. The needle was attached to a liquid-filled tube with a thin red line running up its center and Yumen skull drawn on its end.

The Yumen female plunged the syringe into the sleeping man's neck, injecting the venomous liquid into his veins. Immediately, the Yumen male's eyes widened and convulsed. Straps held his arms and legs in place but his chest bobbed up and down like an animal fighting for its life. Veins bulged out of his neck, blue and black, like after a proper bruising. A moment later, he died, collapsing into a flat, lifeless corpse.

Arachna couldn't believe her eyes. Horde, these Yumens were cruel, terrible beings to perform such a hideous act. To die at the hand of one's own race simply because it was inconvenient. That was truly a tragedy.

The best way to die was in battle, fighting for the glorious Cause. To give one's life in a way that meant something. That was the best way to die. Alternatively, one could give one's life for something meaningful such as giving sustenance to another or acting as a host, incubating a new generation of Krath. But to die like this? That was just wrong.

It was true that lives could be lost through accidents, old age, and even disease. Yumens seemed particularly prone to disease in comparison to Krath. Even then, life was not meaningless if it was well-lived.

Arachna could have given the man an honorable death by consuming him alive. But to die the way this Yumen died was such a waste.

Finally, she understood.

Arachna rubbed together her hind legs. She understood why the Yumens feared the Medica above all else.

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Medica