Leo made his way to explore the living quarters, keeping his back close to the metal walls. He pushed open a heavy door and stepped into the ship’s galley. The room was filled with the warm, comforting scent of beef broth, which made the total absence of people even more unsettling. On the industrial stove, a large pot of soup sat on a burner turned down to a low simmer. Steam gently rose toward the ceiling vent.
On the long wooden dining table, several bowls were neatly laid out. One bowl still held cereal that had grown completely soggy, the spoon resting against the rim. Nearby, a plastic cup had tipped over, a small puddle of orange juice still wet on the surface.
Everything was working perfectly. The electricity was on, the food was warm, and the ship felt completely functional. There were no signs of a struggle, no smoke, and no water. Why would a crew abandon a perfectly good ship mid-meal?