Chapter Two: The Body

The night was calm, the ocean's surface reflecting the pale glow of the moon as the ships drifted across the vast, dark expanse. After a grueling day of repairs and diagnostics, Leo finally stepped away from the engine rooms to get some rest. He leaned against the railing of his deck, letting the cool sea breeze wash over him. His muscles ached, and his mind buzzed with exhaustion.

But his moment of peace was shattered by distant shouts.

"Hey! Hey! Look out there!" a voice yelled, loud enough to carry across the ship.

Leo’s head snapped up. Curious, he followed the sounds toward the commotion. A crowd had gathered near the ship's edge, their voices a mixture of shock and excitement. Pushing through the throng of people, Leo approached the source of the disturbance.

At the center of the gathering, the fishing and hunting crew had hauled something unusual aboard. It wasn’t a net full of scarce fish or seaweed but a decomposed human body. Bloated and pale, it bore the unmistakable signs of having been adrift in the ocean for days, perhaps weeks.

The crowd recoiled in horror, yet their curiosity held them in place. Leo squinted at the body, his army mind immediately noting the condition of the corpse. The person had clearly drowned, but their clothing was unfamiliar—worn but not like the standard-issue attire of the Atlara clan.

"Is it one of ours?" someone asked nervously.

The hunters shook their heads. "No serial tattoo," said a crew member, referring to the identification numbers etched onto the bodies of every Atlara clan member for tracking and recordkeeping.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"If there’s no tattoo," said another, "that means... there are others. Other people. They’re out there."

The air buzzed with nervous energy, whispers spreading like wildfire. For years, the Atlara clan had believed they were the only survivors. The dead body was proof otherwise—and the implications were both thrilling and terrifying.

Leo’s brow furrowed as he stared at the corpse. Who were they? How did they die? And where had they come from? Questions swirled in his mind, curiosity sparking a fire he hadn’t felt in years. But before he could linger, his communicator buzzed.

"Leo, report to ship six immediately," Tessa’s voice crackled. "We’ve got a malfunction in the power grid. They need you now."

"On my way," Leo replied, his eyes lingering on the body one last time before he turned and headed for the connecting bridge to the sixth ship.

---

Ship Six was one of the smaller vessels, its corridors narrower and darker than the others. Leo hadn’t visited it often, and as he stepped aboard, he was struck by the quietness of the place. It felt... different.

He navigated through the dimly lit halls until he reached the maintenance zone, where a group of women stood waiting. They were all young or middle-aged, their expressions calm yet curious as they regarded him.

Leo immediately noticed something unusual. Unlike the mixed communities on the other ships, this one appeared to consist entirely of women—women of childbearing age or nearing the end of it. They watched him as he approached, their gazes measured but unthreatening.

"Power grid’s acting up," one of them said, leading him to the control panel. "We’ve got surges affecting the lower cabins."

"Got it," Leo muttered, dropping to his knees to inspect the wiring. As he worked, he couldn’t help but steal glances at the women around him. Their presence was unlike anything he’d experienced on the other ships. They seemed self-contained, their purpose clear in the way they carried themselves. He’d heard whispers about this community before, but now it was real.

This was the ship dedicated to reproduction—a carefully managed effort to preserve and expand the human race. These women were chosen for their fertility and tasked with ensuring humanity’s survival through controlled pregnancies. It was a role as vital as any other on the Atlara ships, but it was shrouded in secrecy, even among the clan.

The thought unsettled him. Was this what survival had come to? Humanity reduced to calculations and necessity, stripped of its autonomy and individuality? He didn’t linger on the thought for long. He finished the repair quickly, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

"All set," he said, standing and brushing off his hands.

"Thank you," one of the women replied with a polite nod. The others watched him silently as he exited, their eyes following him until he disappeared into the corridor.

As he crossed back to his cabin on the main ship, the night felt heavier than before. The image of the dead body, the strange realization of other survivors, and the eerie quiet of Ship Six all weighed on his mind.

Leo lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. His world had always been about survival—fixing engines, keeping systems running, ensuring the Atlara clan’s continued existence. But now, new questions plagued him. Who was the dead man? Where had he come from? And what kind of future were they building aboard these ships?

Change was coming, and Leo couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge

of something far greater than he could yet understand.