There was an “oop” sound, and the first mate turned and rushed down the hall, holding his hand over his mouth.

“Okay, that may have been somewhat insensitive of me.” Kemp stood silently, hand on his chin, for several seconds. “So, other than some trace elements, we’re 95% composed of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen. Three of the elements are already gases, and if you combine carbon with oxygen, you could literally vaporize ninety-five kilograms of a one-hundred-kilogram man. The rest would be mostly calcium and phosphorus. An arm would be, um…”—Kemp looked into space as he did the calculations—“five percent of total body weight, of which five percent is non-CHON. Ivan weighs about 75 kilograms, so we’re looking at less than 200 grams of non-gaseous waste.”

Kemp moved to the intercom and pressed a button. “Astra, please check environmental logs for this deck. Any unusual issues with the air, recently?”

“Affirmative,” responded the androgynous voice. “Slightly higher levels of carbon monoxide, water vapor and nitrogen had to be fractioned out over the last twenty-four hours. Lower levels of oxygen required replenishment.”

Kemp raised an eyebrow and turned to the others.

“Interesting, and nice detective work, Dr. Kemp,” Chief MacNeil said. “Now, about the other half of my question.”

“Yeah, not my department, Chief. My next step would be to examine the amputated limb. There might be a clue there.”

MacNeil nodded. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Not at all.” Kemp turned to the captain. “We’re still gathering facts, sir, but the bottom line is that this thing seems to be progressive. Where it’ll stop is unknown. It might already be done, it might keep going until Ivan is gone.”

“And we have no idea what it wants,” MacNeil added.

“Very well. Keep me in the loop.” The captain nodded to the two, then turned and left.

Kemp turned to head up the corridor. “Now, let’s see about that limb.”

* * *

Kemp slid the retractable tray out of the compartment. On the stainless steel tray was a metal case, with multiple latches along one side.

“You kept it in the morgue? Makes sense, I guess.” MacNeil helped Kemp move the case to an autopsy table. It was a matter of moments to snap open the latches and open it.

MacNeil took one look and recoiled. “Och, wow.”

Kemp stood frozen, staring at the contents—a ragged cylinder of flesh, cut cleanly on one end and seemingly dissolved to a conical stump at the other. A length of bone stuck out of the dissolved end.

“What the… This is nothing but the biological part of the amputation. We cut about three inches above the interface. Where’s the metal?”

MacNeil stared at the case for a few moments, then pulled a flashlight out of his pocket. Walking to the door, he flicked the lights off in the room. He returned to the case and started playing the light around. “Watch the outside of the case.”