The plasma pistol felt cold and heavy in my grip, its polished surface catching the dim lights of the cargo bay. I turned it over in my hands, trying to steady the growing tension in my chest. The pistol felt out of place. Fragile, even. Especially compared to the towering forms of the Guards around me.


    “You won’t need that, Highness,” Lion said, his deep voice calm and measured. He stood near the ramp, his immense frame silhouetted against the pale glow of the Hemlock’s hangar bay visible through the viewport. His gravity hammer rested casually against one shoulder, the massive weapon humming faintly with contained energy. “Nothing here can touch you.”


    I shot him a sideways glance, gripping the pistol tighter. “And if it does?”


    Lion tilted his helmet slightly, the golden visor glinting in the low light. “Then it will regret it.”


    The comment didn’t help the knot in my stomach. Around him, the Guards moved with unnerving precision, each one a towering colossus of gleaming armor and silent power. The fusion cores embedded in their suits hummed faintly, their light-weight alloys betraying none of the immense weight they carried. Over a ton each, they were walking fortresses. Even the deck trembled beneath their boots, their gravity systems compensating just enough to make movement fluid. When needed, they could hit speeds of over a hundred miles per hour in short bursts, their jetpacks and thrusters giving them terrifying mobility.


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    The Hemlock loomed ahead, its battered hull visible through the viewport. The massive derelict ship, a century old, hung in the void like a wounded beast. Scorched plasma burns scarred its surface, and entire sections of its engines had been torn apart by what looked like precision strikes.


    “It wasn’t humanity,” Rhino muttered as he stared at the damage. His voice, distorted by the modulator in his helmet, carried an edge of unease. “Not a hundred years ago. We didn’t have anything that could do this back then.”


    I glanced at him, unease coiling tighter in my chest. Rhino wasn’t the kind to speculate—he left theories to the scientists. If he was commenting, it was because the implications couldn’t be ignored.


    “The shuttle looks intact,” Grizzly added, gesturing to the smaller craft nestled in the Hemlock’s hangar. Its hull was scuffed but unmarked by the kind of violence that had ravaged the larger ship. “From the footage, it looks like they didn’t make contact for quite a while... it’s quiet on scanners too. We need to push deeper.”


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    Lion nodded, the faint hum of his gravity hammer filling the silence as he hefted it onto his shoulder. “Whatever genetic horrors we encounter here,” he said, his tone steady and resolute, “our mission remains clear: recover the Jericho’s crew. Following signs of an attack, our orders now include investigating any anomalies—human or otherwise—that might explain what happened to this ship.”


    The Guards’ shields powered up with a deep hum, their shimmering energy fields flaring to life. The sound of jets warming on their boots and packs sent a shiver through me. They looked more like gods of war than people, their faceless helmets and towering frames sealing me off from whatever lay inside those suits.


    Hyena’s voice crackled over the comms, cutting through the tension like a jagged knife. “Genetic horrors? Sounds like my ex. Bet she’s still out here, ugly and starving, waiting to claw my armor off.” He laughed darkly. “Should’ve left a tip.”


    A sharp hiss of static followed Eagle’s immediate retort. “Do us a favor, Hyena, and keep your love life—or whatever that is—off comms.”


    Hyena scoffed, his tone dripping with mock indignation. “Hey, I’m just saying. We’ve been in cryo too long. A little slaughter and some fresh air? Hell, this might be better than my last shore leave.”


    Lion cut in sharply, his voice brooking no argument. “Enough.” His tone carried the weight of command, snapping the Guards back to focus. “Chatter off. We move with purpose. Jaguar, Badger—stay with the ship. Monitor comms and maintain a secure perimeter.”


    Badger muttered something under his breath—barely audible but unmistakably bitter about being left behind. The others fell silent, leaving only the low hum of their shields and jets. I forced my feet to move, staying close as the Guards descended the ramp with unnerving precision. Their helmets didn’t turn, their attention locked on the yawning hangar beyond. I couldn’t see their faces, only the cold efficiency of their movements. Whatever waited ahead, they didn’t just expect it—they welcomed it.


    The whispers stirred in my mind, soft and insistent.


    They are the sword, Sol. You are the hand. Wield them.


    I swallowed hard, the weight of their presence pressing in on me. Whatever Lion meant by "genetic horrors," I was about to find out.


    Lion raised a hand, signaling the advance. The Guards moved forward in perfect synchronization, their steps heavy but deliberate. The weight of their presence felt like a shield in itself, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the unease gnawing at me. I kept close, my grip on the pistol tightening.


    We passed the shuttle, its ramp open like a mouth frozen mid-scream. Inside, supplies were strewn haphazardly, but there were no signs of violence—no blood, no bodies—just eerie, unsettling quiet. The crew hadn’t abandoned the shuttle by choice; their last transmission confirmed they’d ventured deep into the Hemlock and never made it back. Their final, fragmented signal placed them barricaded in a corridor near the reactor core, desperate and under siege. Whatever kept them from returning to safety had been waiting farther inside, and it hadn’t left them alone.


    “Movement ahead,” Eagle reported, her voice low but steady. “Stay sharp.”


    The corridor yawned open before us, a dark tunnel leading into the bowels of the ship. The dim lights overhead flickered erratically, plunging the passage into alternating stretches of shadow and sickly yellow light. The air was damp and stifling, carrying the coppery tang of blood and the rancid stench of decay.


    The Guards moved without hesitation, their formation tight and deliberate. Lion led the way, his massive frame a wall of unyielding power, gravity hammer poised and ready. The others fanned out behind him, their steps eerily synchronized, each movement calculated. Their weapons hummed with barely-contained energy, their towering shadows flickering across the walls.


    I followed in their wake, gripping the plasma pistol tightly, its weight both a comfort and a reminder of how small I was compared to them. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, to leave this nightmare behind. But turning back wasn’t an option. Reid, Jimmy, Holt, and Garin were still out there, and whatever waited in the dark, I’d face it if it meant bringing them home.


    The first screech tore through the air, raw and primal, echoing down the corridor like nails scraping across glass. My stomach twisted, a cold spike of fear radiating through my chest as the sound clawed at my nerves. Shadows rippled ahead, and then they came. A chaotic mass of grotesque, malformed creatures surged toward us, their jerky movements amplifying the wrongness of their existence.


    They were nightmares given flesh—gnarled, elongated limbs ending in jagged claws that clicked against the floor, skin mottled with lesions and patches of exposed muscle glistening under the flickering lights. Their too-wide mouths gaped impossibly, rows of uneven, blackened teeth jutting from gums that bled as they snarled. Empty, milky eyes fixed on us with a hunger that mirrored the pit in my own stomach.


    I felt it then—the hunger rising in me like a tidal wave. My knees buckled slightly, my grip on the pistol tightening to steady myself as my breathing hitched. The scent of rot and bile should have made me gag, but instead, it clawed at something deeper, something primal. The whispers stirred in my mind, soft and insidious.


    Feed yourself, Sol. Take them in. Their strength, their DNA—it’s yours to claim.


    The Guards moved without hesitation, their towering frames a stark contrast to the chaos rushing toward them. Each soldier’s movements were as precise as they were devastating, their synergy weaving a seamless wave of destruction.


    Lion stepped forward first, his gravity hammer held high, the weapon thrumming with raw power. With a single, devastating swing, he brought it crashing down onto the ground. The impact sent a seismic shockwave rippling through the corridor, splitting the floor and pulverizing the first wave of mutants. Flesh and bone exploded outward, coating the walls in gore, the dismembered remains raining down in a gruesome spray.


    On his flank, Rhino roared as he charged, his massive shield meeting the swarm like an unyielding wall. Genetic horrors crashed against its shimmering energy field, claws and teeth useless against the unrelenting force. With a powerful thrust, Rhino drove the shield forward, pinning three of the creatures between its reinforced surface and the wall. The sickening crunch of bone and flesh collapsing under the immense pressure echoed through the corridor, and when he pulled back, the only thing left was paste smeared across the wall.


    From the shadows, Wolf disappeared, his cloaking flickering as he vanished into the fray. Moments later, mutants fell mid-lunge, their throats slashed and spines severed in silent, surgical strikes. Blood sprayed in arcs, painting the walls and floor, as Wolf moved like a phantom, his plasma daggers flashing before fading back into the darkness.


    Grizzly, Mantis, and Bull advanced in brutal harmony, their contrasting styles blending into an unstoppable wave of destruction. Grizzly laughed as his clawed gauntlets ripped through the swarm with savage efficiency, catching one mutant mid-leap and slamming it to the ground before stomping its head into pulp. Beside him, Bull charged forward, his plasma lance blazing with energy, skewering mutants in devastating arcs. He thrust the lance into a larger creature’s chest, the crackling plasma tearing through flesh and bone before he flung the lifeless body aside. Mantis, moving with eerie precision, carved through the chaos with her plasma scythes. She swept low, severing a mutant’s legs before spinning gracefully to impale another through the chest, pinning it to the floor. When a mutant lunged toward Bull’s exposed flank, Mantis intercepted it, her scythe slicing cleanly through its torso in one fluid motion. Together, the trio moved as one, their seamless coordination leaving nothing but bloodied corpses and smoldering remains in their wake.


    Above them, Eagle’s jetpack roared, lifting her high into the corridor. Her plasma rifle fired in rapid bursts, each shot obliterating heads and torsos in smoldering explosions. A mutant leapt at her from the wall, but she twisted mid-air, her thrusters flaring as she dodged. A sharp pivot and a plasma bolt disintegrated its face mid-flight, sending the twitching body tumbling into the chaos below.


    Beside her, Owl hovered with calculated stillness, her modified sniper rifle picking off targets with devastating precision. Plasma rounds punched clean through multiple mutants in a single shot, their bodies collapsing in charred heaps. When another scaled the wall toward her, she switched to her wrist-mounted shotgun, obliterating it in a point-blank blast before resuming her deadly precision from above.


    At the rear, Viper and Black Widow moved like dancers of death, their synergy flawless. Viper’s venom-coated blade slashed through mutants, leaving convulsing bodies crumpled in her wake. A mutant lunged at her, but she sidestepped with uncanny speed, driving her blade deep into its chest. Its flesh bubbled and dissolved as it collapsed in a steaming heap. Black Widow followed close behind, her energy nets crackling with deadly purpose. She hurled one into a cluster of mutants, the sharp hum of electricity filling the air as the net constricted, tearing bodies apart in a gruesome cascade of gore. Together, they ensured nothing survived their path.


    Falcon flanked them, dual-wielding plasma pistols with unrelenting precision. Each shot was a perfect execution, skulls and torsos bursting in sharp cracks of energy. When a mutant came too close, he flipped one of his pistols, driving the barrel into its eye socket and firing point-blank, the head exploding in a spray of blood and bone. He spun, dropping two more mutants in seamless follow-up shots.


    The Guards worked in devastating unison, their combined assault tearing through the swarm like a hurricane through a forest. Lion remained at the center, his hammer a glowing beacon of destruction. With another wide arc, he obliterated an advancing wave of mutants, the energy field disintegrating anything in its path. A larger mutant—its bloated torso pulsating with sores—charged forward with a guttural roar. Lion met it mid-charge, driving his hammer into its chest with a force that made the corridor tremble. The creature imploded in a burst of viscera, its remains collapsing into the carnage below.


    By the time the last mutant fell, the corridor was unrecognizable. The walls and floor were slick with blood, bits of flesh and bone scattered like debris. The air hung thick with the metallic tang of death, broken only by the faint hum of the Guards’ energy shields as they surveyed the aftermath. Their precision and brutality left nothing standing, a testament to the monstrous force they embodied.


    Lion turned to me, his golden visor catching the dim light. His voice was calm, almost casual, as he addressed me. “Area clear, Highness.”


    I nodded, my throat dry, my grip on the pistol trembling. “That’s one way to describe it,” I muttered, my voice barely audible.


    For a fleeting moment, I thought of the yellow-eyed monster. The creature that haunted my nightmares, that filled me with terror. Compared to this—compared to them—it seemed small. Insignificant. It would never have stood a chance. Not against them.


    And yet, the thought didn’t bring relief. If the monster was less terrifying than the Guards, what did that make me, standing here amidst the carnage, trembling under their protection?


    The Guards didn’t acknowledge the horror they’d just unleashed. To them, this wasn’t brutality—it was precision. Efficiency. They were humanity’s gods of war, and this was what they were made for.


    The whispers stirred in the back of my mind, soft and coaxing.


    They are unstoppable. They are yours. And so is the galaxy.


    I clenched my jaw, forcing the thought away. This wasn’t over. There were more horrors waiting ahead. Somewhere out there, the crew we’d come to save was counting on us. All I could do was look on in awe, any hope I had of stealing higher-level clearance slipping through my fingers. It wasn’t going to happen without them allowing it—but right now, the mission came first, captain credentials second.


    The Guards advanced, their footsteps heavy and unyielding. I followed, the echoes of carnage still ringing in my ears.


    Rhino didn’t even pause as we reached the next obstacle—a massive reinforced door blocking the corridor ahead. It loomed in front of us like an impenetrable wall, its metal surface scuffed and pitted from decades of neglect. The controls were dead, the faint smell of burnt circuits lingering in the cold, stale air.


    “Sealed tight,” Eagle muttered, her voice crackling through the comms. “No power to the hydraulics. We’ll have to go around.”


    Rhino let out a low grunt, stepping forward without hesitation. “Around’s too slow.”


    He planted his shield firmly on the ground, the impact reverberating through the floor, and reached out with his free hand. His gauntlet gripped the edge of the door, fingers digging into the thick metal like it was nothing more than pliable clay. I could hear the groaning protest of the steel as he tightened his hold.


    With a single heave, Rhino wrenched the door from its frame, the reinforced hinges snapping under the sheer force of his pull. Sparks rained down as the massive slab of metal gave way, the sound of tearing steel echoing through the corridor. He held the door aloft for a moment, his immense frame steady under its weight, then tossed it aside with a deafening crash. The slab skidded across the floor, colliding with the wall and leaving a deep dent in the paneling.


    The sight made my stomach turn, not from fear, but from the realization of just how much raw power these Guards possessed. Rhino’s breathing didn’t even hitch, his focus already shifting back to the corridor ahead. He retrieved his shield with the same ease, snapping it back into place with a low hum.


    “Clear,” he said simply, stepping aside to let Lion lead the way.


    The space beyond the door stretched into another corridor, this one narrower and lined with exposed conduits. The air was heavier here, the temperature dropping noticeably. The faint sound of dripping liquid reached my ears, mingling with the low hum of the Guards’ suits.


    Lion’s visor tilted toward Rhino, his voice carrying quiet approval. “Good work.”


    Rhino only grunted, his shield raised and ready as he fell back into formation.


    The whispers stirred again, a serpentine purr that curled through my thoughts.


    You see it, don’t you, Sol? This is what strength looks like. Yours for the taking.


    I pushed the voice away, focusing on the shadows ahead. We had a crew to save. There was no room for hesitation—not with what lay deeper in the Hemlock.


    The corridor stretched endlessly, each step taking us deeper into the Hemlock’s oppressive gloom. The air grew colder, heavier with every passing moment, carrying with it the faint tang of blood and decay. Somewhere ahead lay the last location Garin had transmitted, a signal so faint it was nearly drowned out by the static of the dying ship.


    Lion stayed near me, his gravity hammer resting casually on his shoulder, its immense weight seemingly effortless in his grip. He gestured forward, his commanding tone calm but firm. “Advance,” he said, letting the others take the lead.


    The Guards shifted into a loose formation, their shimmering plasma shields rippling faintly as they moved. Each barrier distorted the air with a subtle, almost imperceptible glow, crackling faintly whenever debris brushed against it. These shields were their constant defense—impervious to claw, tooth, or blade. Even the sharpest talons of the creatures couldn’t pierce the Guards’ barriers.


    Lion glanced back at me briefly, his golden visor catching the dim light. “Stay close,” he said, his voice steady as he turned his focus back to the corridor. With him by my side, the others pressed forward into the darkness, their weapons at the ready.


    The corridor narrowed as we advanced, the walls closing in until the Guards’ towering frames almost brushed the sides. The exposed conduits snaked across the ceiling like veins, dripping with condensation. Sparks flared occasionally from damaged panels, briefly illuminating the jagged edges of the space ahead.


    The stench hit us like a physical force as we rounded a corner, an oppressive wave of decay so thick it clawed at my throat. The dim light revealed a grotesque tableau. Blood splattered the walls in dark, streaky smears, and scattered debris littered the floor. Crude barricades—overturned crates and hastily placed panels—had been shoved aside, leaving a gaping hole into a larger chamber. The source of the stench was unmistakable now, a mix of rot and bile so potent it felt like it clung to my skin.


    My breath caught as the larger space came into view. Cracked cryo pods were scattered across the room, some still flickering faintly with power. Others had succumbed entirely to whatever corruption had spread here. Thick, pulsating growths covered the pods, stretching from the walls and ceiling like organic tendrils. The growths shifted unnaturally, writhing as though alive—or as though something alive was moving within them. Yellowish pustules oozed a viscous, glowing liquid, dripping into pools that hissed and bubbled against the floor. The air was thick with the stench of decay and something else, something primal and wrong.


    It was a grotesque parody of life, twisting the once-sterile chamber into something nightmarish. This wasn’t just where they bred—this was where they were born.


    “That’s… Jimmy’s leg,” Crocodile muttered grimly, his tone unusually subdued as he gestured to the corner of the room. A severed limb, pale and bloodless, lay discarded amidst the growths. The jagged tear where it had been ripped free was still visible, but something else made my stomach churn.


    It wasn’t just discarded—it had been gnawed. Deep, uneven bite marks marred the flesh, the muscle tissue stripped in places with savage precision. The sight confirmed what I didn’t want to admit: they had been eating it.


    “This is where they first made contact,” Lion said, his voice calm but edged with something colder. His visor swept the room, taking in every detail. “The crew held here for a time before retreating.”


    “Or they didn’t make it far,” Fox added grimly over the comms. “Dragged away, piece by piece.”


    “Not all of them,” Rhino rumbled, his tone quiet but firm. “They’re barricaded nearby. The signal’s strong from the next sector.”


    I swallowed hard, my gaze fixed on the gruesome scene. The remnants of the struggle were unmistakable—shredded clothing, a discarded weapon slick with blood, and those terrible smears along the walls. But if the crew had fled, this was the point where everything had fallen apart.


    The faint scratching sound from earlier returned, now amplified into a chorus. It was coming from every direction—above, below, and behind. Clanging metal and guttural hisses joined the cacophony, filling the space with an ominous warning. Shadows rippled across the walls as movement stirred in the dark beyond the cryo chamber.


    Lion’s voice cut through the tension, steady and commanding. “Shields up. Form a perimeter.”


    It was as if we had walked straight into their breeding grounds. We had kicked the nest—and now they came again.


    From the ceiling vents, emergency tunnels, and ruptured panels, the mutants poured into the corridor like a living flood. Metal screeched as claws tore through it, and the snarling creatures spilled forward in a cacophony of shrieks and guttural howls. Their grotesque forms twisted unnaturally, muscles rippling beneath mottled skin, and jagged teeth gleamed as they snapped at the air.


    But this time, it wasn’t just a few—they came in a massive swarm, far more than before. The sheer number of them was overwhelming, a seething tide of horrors that poured into the chamber like water breaching a dam. Shadows moved in chaotic waves as the mutants clawed over one another, their hunger driving them forward in frenzied desperation. The walls trembled under their weight, the noise of their approach a deafening roar that reverberated through the ship.


    There were too many. Far too many. It was as if we had stumbled into the heart of their hive, and they were determined to protect it.


    The Guards moved as one, their shields flaring as the first wave of mutants struck. Claws and teeth snapped uselessly against the plasma barriers, and the creatures recoiled with enraged hisses. Rhino surged forward, his massive shield absorbing the brunt of the attack. The hiss of his flamethrower lit the corridor, bathing the creatures in searing fire. Their shrieks filled the air as their flesh bubbled and blackened, the acrid stench of burning meat making my stomach churn.


    Crocodile was a blur beside him, his hybrid sword-gun carving through the swarm. The serrated blade cleaved torsos in savage arcs, while plasma bursts melted the mutants into molten heaps. Rhino held the line, his shield unyielding as waves of creatures crashed against it. When a bloated mutant lunged, its claws aimed for his face, he caught it mid-air and slammed it to the floor with a bone-shattering crunch. Crocodile finished it off in one brutal motion, his blade slicing clean through.


    Behind them, Great White’s heavy plasma repeater roared, lighting up the darkness with molten streaks of death. When a cluster of mutants tried to flank him, his wrist-mounted flamethrower ignited with a sharp hiss, engulfing them in a wave of fire. “Hold the line!” he bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. Each step he took left charred remains in his wake, the flames licking at the edges of my vision.


    Tiger was beside him, his heavy plasma machine gun unleashing a relentless barrage that tore through the horde. Each thunderous burst left gaping craters in flesh and bone. When a larger mutant charged from the shadows, Tiger switched seamlessly to his rail gun. The weapon fired with a deafening crack, the slug punching through its target and tearing into the creatures behind it in a spray of gore. His movements were precise, each shot calculated, cutting through the chaos with terrifying efficiency.


    Hyena’s laughter echoed over the comms, wild and unrestrained, as his shotgun barked in rapid succession. Each blast shredded mutants into pulpy masses, their remains scattering across the blood-slicked floor. When another cluster of creatures surged toward him, Hyena yanked a frag grenade from his belt, a wicked grin audible in his voice. “Catch this, ugly!” he shouted, tossing the grenade into their midst. The detonation was deafening, a concussive blast that sent limbs and viscera flying in every direction. Shredded mutants collapsed into steaming heaps, their twisted remains adding to the growing piles of destruction. Hyena’s laughter grew louder, a chilling accompaniment to the relentless carnage.


    The corridor shook under the weight of their assault, the air thick with the stench of burning flesh and blood. I forced my feet to keep moving, staying close to Rhino’s shield. My pistol felt like a toy compared to the devastation unfolding around me. The whispers in my mind stirred faintly, urging me to act, but what could I do here? This was their world, not mine. I clung to the hum of their shields, the only thing between me and the nightmare clawing at the edges of my vision.


    Fox and Viper moved ahead of me, cutting down mutants with chilling precision. Fox’s plasma daggers were deadly blurs, slicing through spines and throats in swift, silent arcs. Beside her, Viper’s venom-coated blade left convulsing bodies in her wake, their flesh bubbling grotesquely as the toxin spread. When a mutant leapt from above, its claws reaching for Fox, Viper flicked venom into its eyes. The creature shrieked, blinded, before Fox severed its head with a clean strike. Blood sprayed across the walls, a dark streak glistening under the flickering lights.


    Everywhere I turned, there was fire, plasma, and blood. The Guards didn’t just fight—they obliterated. They moved like an unstoppable machine, a wall of steel and death, cutting through the swarm with terrifying precision. Severed limbs slid across the floor, leaving dark, glistening trails in their wake, while the acrid stench of blood and burnt flesh clawed at my throat, making it harder to breathe.


    The whispers pressed harder now, taunting.


    Look at them. Look at what they are. And look at what you are not.


    I tightened my grip on the pistol, its weight a cruel reminder of my insignificance in this storm of destruction. These monsters weren’t just the mutants. The Guards were monsters too—humanity’s own creation, crushing everything in their path with cold efficiency. They left nothing behind but ruin. And me? I was just trying to survive in their wake.


    The whispers purred in the back of my mind, their tone exultant.


    They are unstoppable. They are yours. This is your power.


    The Guards fought as one, their movements a symphony of precision and brutality. Plasma shields shimmered, weapons roared, and the air grew thick with the stench of scorched flesh and the sound of screeching mutants torn apart. The Guards were everything I wasn’t: coordinated, lethal, unyielding.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    I stayed close, the pistol a feeble comfort in my hands. The mutants kept coming, their grotesque forms crashing against the shimmering barriers of the Guards’ shields, which deflected claws and teeth with ease. Nothing was supposed to get through. That’s what I was told. That’s what I wanted to believe.


    But then one did.


    It slipped through a gap in their formation, its movements jerky and unnatural. Its claws scraped the floor as it lunged straight for me. The Guards didn’t react. They couldn’t have missed it—it was impossible to believe something could get past them. And yet, it was there, closing the distance with terrifying speed.


    Lion turned slightly, his golden visor catching the dim light. He saw it. I was sure of that. But he didn’t move. His hammer rested on his shoulder, still and unmoving. He was letting it happen.


    Why isn’t he stopping it?


    The mutant was close now, its gaping jaws snapping open to reveal rows of jagged, broken teeth. My stomach twisted, and my body froze. The whispers stirred, soft and insistent.


    You don’t need them. You never did. You can stop this yourself.


    I wanted to scream, to run, to do anything, but I couldn’t move. The weight of their words—Nothing will get through—sat heavy in my chest. The mutant lunged, claws raised, and all I could do was brace for the impact.


    It hit me like a battering ram, knocking the pistol from my grip and slamming me to the floor. Pain shot through my side as its claws tore into my suit, shredding fabric and slicing into flesh. Its breath was hot and rancid, its teeth snapping so close to my face that I felt the wind of each bite. The sharp scent of blood filled the air, and my head spun.


    The whispers pressed tighter around my thoughts, their tone dark and taunting.


    They won’t save you. You don’t need them to. Show them what you really are.


    I twisted beneath the mutant’s weight, desperate to throw it off, but its claws dug deeper, pinning me to the ground. My ribs screamed in protest, every breath a struggle. The Guards didn’t move. Lion didn’t move.


    Why isn’t anyone helping me?


    Why is he just watching?


    My fingers clawed at the floor, searching for something—anything. Blood pooled under my pressure suit, warm and sticky. The whispers grew louder, almost roaring now.


    You’re not fragile. You’re stronger than this. Stop pretending.


    The mutant’s claws came down again, raking across my shoulder with searing pain. My vision blurred, red creeping into the edges as something inside me snapped. A heat surged through my chest, bright and blinding, and the whispers changed. No longer taunting, they urged me forward.


    Show them. Let it out.


    My hands shot up instinctively, and pain exploded in my fingers as claws erupted from them with a sickening crack. The mutant hissed, jerking back as I slashed at its face, carving deep furrows into its skin. Blood sprayed across my chest, warm and metallic. My breath hitched, but I couldn’t stop. Instinct had taken over.


    The mutant lunged again, its jagged teeth sinking into my throat. Pain flared, white-hot and blinding. I choked on my own blood as it poured down my chest, but the wound sealed itself almost as quickly as it was made. My flesh knitted together in a gruesome display of rapid regeneration, the heat in my chest burning hotter.


    Take it, Sol, the whispers urged. It’s yours to claim.


    I let out a guttural snarl, my claws tearing into its torso. I drove them deeper, ripping upward with a wet, sickening sound. Blood and viscera sprayed across my face, but I didn’t care. My jaw ached as my teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs. Before I could stop myself, they sank into the creature’s neck, tearing through sinew and cartilage. Blood spurted in hot, rhythmic bursts, and the taste sent a shiver down my spine. It was vile, and yet I couldn’t stop.


    With every gulp, my strength returned. My wounds closed faster than they were made, the gashes sealing seamlessly as my body fed on the creature. The whispers roared in approval.


    Yes, Sol. This is your power. Feed and rise.


    The mutant writhed beneath me, its thrashing growing weaker as I tore it apart, limb by limb. My claws raked through its chest, exposing pulsing organs that I ripped into with a savage fury. My fangs shredded muscle and bone as the hunger clawed at my mind, insatiable and wild.


    The creature’s struggles slowed, then stopped altogether. Its body was nothing more than a mangled husk, its blood pooling beneath me. My claws retracted with a soft crack, my fangs shrinking back into “normal” teeth. The heat in my chest faded, leaving behind an unbearable clarity.


    I staggered to my feet, blood dripping from my chin, from my hands, from everywhere. My stomach churned, and bile rose in my throat. I dropped to my knees, retching as my body rejected what little it hadn’t already burned to heal itself. Blood and half-digested flesh spilled onto the floor, the stench overwhelming.


    I wiped my mouth with a trembling hand, staring at the carnage around me. The taste of blood lingered on my tongue, metallic and wrong. I looked down at my hands, slick with gore, and my chest heaved.


    This wasn’t human.


    The Guards stood silently, their plasma shields shimmering faintly as they continued to hold the line. None of them moved to help. None of them reacted. They had let it happen.


    Lion stepped forward, his massive frame towering over me. His golden visor tilted down, his voice calm and cold. “Well done, Highness.”


    I glared up at him, my body shaking with anger and horror. “You knew this would happen. You let it happen.”


    Lion’s voice didn’t waver. “Jericho knew. Your evolution needs to continue. We will not stand in the way.”


    “Evolution?” My voice cracked, hoarse with fury. “What are you talking about?”


    “It’s yours to find,” he said simply. “Not mine to tell.”


    The whispers in my mind coiled tighter, triumphant and smug.


    You feel it, don’t you? This is just the beginning.


    I stared at my bloodied hands, my breath unsteady. The hunger was gone, but its memory lingered, dark and clawing at the edges of my mind. Whatever I had become, whatever I was turning into, it wasn’t over.


    It had only just begun.


    The corridor ahead was silent, save for the faint crackling of damaged power lines and the steady hum of the Guards'' shields. Blood and gore painted the walls, a testament to the carnage left behind. My breathing steadied, the whispers in my mind fading to a low murmur as we advanced deeper into the Hemlock.


    “Signal’s strongest here,” Eagle reported, her tone clipped but steady. “Just through that hatch.”


    The Guards moved as one, their steps reverberating in the enclosed space. Lion raised a hand, signaling a halt. His visor tilted toward Rhino, who stepped forward, shield raised. With a grunt, Rhino drove his shield into the bulkhead, forcing it open with a groan of tortured metal.


    The stench of blood and decay hit me like a wall. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to follow as Lion stepped through the breach, his gravity hammer held at the ready.


    Inside, the room was chaos.


    Emergency lights flickered weakly, casting the space in alternating shadows and sickly red hues. Wires dangled from the ceiling, and debris littered the floor. In the center of it all, huddled together and barely conscious, was the missing team.


    “Found them,” Lion said, his voice steady but edged with relief. He gestured to the Guards, who spread out to secure the room.


    Garin was the first to stir, his one good eye snapping open as we approached. His face was a mask of blood and grime, but the glare he shot me wasn’t filled with the usual venom. Instead, there was something else—hope, desperate and raw. He pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing as he moved.


    “You actually came,” he rasped, his voice cracking. “Guess miracles do happen.”


    Reid, lying a few feet away, let out a weak chuckle that quickly turned into a grimace of pain. His face was pale and drenched in sweat, his green eyes unshielded without his usual sunglasses. His left arm was gone, the stump hastily wrapped in what used to be his signature Hawaiian shirt, now soaked in blood and dyed deep crimson.


    “I told you she’d bring them,” he said, his voice weak but laced with faint satisfaction. He tilted his head toward Garin, managing a strained grin. “You doubted me, Cyclops.”


    Garin’s expression tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he glanced at the towering Guards. “Everyone’s seen the vids,” he muttered, almost to himself. “They crushed entire armies back on Earth. But up close…”


    “They don’t need your commentary. Their ego is big enough,” Viper cut in, her tone sharp as she crouched beside Garin. She injected a stim into his arm with practiced efficiency, her movements swift and precise. Garin hissed softly, his body jolting as the serum took effect, but he didn’t complain.


    Without pausing, she turned to Reid, carefully pressing the injector against the exposed flesh of his stump. He flinched as the stim coursed through him, clenching his jaw to suppress a groan. “Guess you’re saving the best for last,” he muttered, his voice strained but still managing a flicker of humor.


    “Stay conscious, and I’ll consider it a favor,” Viper replied flatly, her focus unwavering as she stood and moved toward Jimmy.


    Jimmy’s face was pale, his lips tinged blue, and his breathing shallow. Viper crouched beside him, inspecting the crude tourniquet tied around the stump of his leg. With the same clinical precision, she injected another stim into his arm. “He’s stable for now,” she said as she straightened slightly. “But we need to move.”


    Rhino knelt beside Jimmy, his massive form almost shielding the injured man. He adjusted the makeshift bandage with surprising care for someone his size. “This’ll hold,” he said, his deep voice steady. “Barely, but he’ll make it.”


    Scorpion moved to Holt, slumped against the far wall, his breathing shallow and uneven. His shattered helmet revealed a ruined face—one eye swollen shut, blood-crusted gashes along his jawline, and two missing fingers, the stumps crudely cauterized.


    “Still alive,” Scorpion muttered, his clawed gauntlets surprisingly gentle as he checked Holt’s vitals. Bull crouched beside him, snapping a collapsible stretcher into place with practiced speed. Together, they secured Holt, Scorpion lifting him onto the stretcher with care.


    “Big guy’s tougher than he looks,” Scorpion said as they tightened the straps. Bull nodded, already prepping another stretcher for Jimmy. “He’ll make it.”


    Lion’s calm voice broke through the murmurs. “Highness, stay close. We’ll get them out.”


    I nodded, my eyes lingering on Garin. He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. For the first time, there was no disdain in his look, only something fragile, fleeting. Gratitude, perhaps.


    “You did good,” he muttered, barely audible. “Thank you.”


    I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how. Instead, I knelt to help Garin to his feet, his arm slung over my shoulders as we followed the Guards. His weight pressed against me, heavy with exhaustion and pain, but he didn’t complain. After a few steps, I passed him to Mantis, who steadied him with a firm grip, her movements precise and unshaken. I turned back to Reid, crouching to help him up. He leaned into me, his face pale and drenched in sweat, but his grip was strong as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders.


    “We’re not out of this yet,” Lion said, his tone quiet but commanding. “Eagle, clear us a path.”


    “On it,” she replied, her jetpack flaring softly as she took point.


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    The weight of the injured added urgency to every step. The whispers stirred faintly in my mind, a low and insistent hum. I forced them down. There was no room for them now. All that mattered was getting everyone out alive—no time to think about what I had done, the feral beast I had become in the hallway. The claws, the teeth—far longer than they should have been, like fangs—haunted the edges of my thoughts.


    As we stepped back into the corridor, Reid’s voice broke the tense silence, weak but laced with his usual humor.


    “Hey, Sol,” he called faintly, a shadow of his usual grin tugging at his lips. “If you wanted me to lean on you, you could’ve just asked. No need to throw in the mutants for drama.”


    Despite the blood, the pain, and the clawing hunger still gnawing at my chest, I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Noted. Next time, no mutants.”


    The return to the Jericho was tense, the adrenaline of the rescue mission giving way to a sharp, cold awareness. The injured were stabilized as best as possible with the supplies we’d brought, but their condition was precarious. The Guards moved as one, their towering frames an impenetrable barrier of steel and precision, their formation tightening around the wounded.


    “Maintain vigilance,” Lion said, his voice calm but commanding over the comms. “The swarm was vast. Stragglers are likely.”


    “Contact,” Eagle reported a few minutes later. She hovered at point, her jetpack humming softly in the cramped corridor. Owl moved beside her, sniper rifle ready and aimed into the darkness.


    “Thermals picking up movement,” Hyena added, his shotgun at the ready. “Not as many as before, but enough to make it fun.”


    The first mutant skittered into view, its elongated limbs clinging to the walls. It snarled, milky, pupil-less eyes locking on us before it launched itself forward. Owl fired once, her plasma rifle tearing through its torso and sending it crashing to the floor in a smoking heap.


    “Stay in formation,” Lion ordered. “They’re testing us.”


    As if on cue, more emerged from the shadows—grotesque figures crawling along walls and ceiling, their movements erratic and wrong. Falcon and Cheetah spearheaded the advance, their dual pistols blazing in synchronized bursts. Plasma rounds punched through the twisted forms, leaving smoldering craters in flesh. One mutant lunged from the ceiling, but Cheetah’s pistols barked in quick succession, the creature collapsing mid-air in a tangle of limbs and viscera.


    Falcon moved with fluid efficiency, his pistols spitting rapid fire as he cleared a cluster of mutants attempting to flank. “Keep them off the walls,” he said over the comms, his voice calm and focused. Another mutant leapt toward him, but he dropped it with a precise double shot before it could reach the ground.


    Behind them, Eagle and Owl followed, their firepower cutting through anything that slipped past. Eagle’s plasma bursts sent two creatures tumbling to the floor, their bodies twitching as molten flesh hissed against the metal. Owl’s sniper rifle barked again, the sharp crack echoing as another mutant’s head exploded in a spray of gore.


    Rhino stepped forward, his shield absorbing a mutant’s lunge with a sharp crack of energy. With a grunt, he slammed the shield into its torso, pinning it to the wall. Grizzly followed with a vicious swipe of his claws, shredding the creature in a spray of blood and bone.


    Hyena laughed over the comms as his shotgun barked, turning another mutant into a pulpy mess. “You’d think they’d learn by now—flesh versus steel doesn’t end well.”


    “Less commentary,” Viper snapped, her tone sharp as her plasma blade sliced cleanly through a mutant’s legs. Holding the cot with Jimmy’s unconscious form steady in her other hand, she drove the blade into the mutant’s chest. The venom coating the blade hissed and bubbled, melting flesh from bone in a grotesque display. “Focus,” she barked, her movements quick and determined as she kept Jimmy protected from the chaos.


    The Guards’ advance was relentless, their firepower and precision overwhelming. I stayed close to Rhino, gripping my pistol tightly though it felt useless in my hands. The whispers stirred faintly, urging me to act, but I forced them down. The Guards didn’t falter, and I had to trust that they’d get us out.


    By the time we reached the docking bay, the mutants’ numbers had thinned to nothing. The corridor was a slaughterhouse—blood slicked the walls, and the acrid stench of burning flesh hung heavy in the air. The Guards barely paused, their steps steady and their shields crackling faintly with residual energy.


    Crocodile, Viper, Bull, and Scorpion carried Holt and Jimmy on stretchers, their movements steady and efficient. Reid leaned heavily on me for support, his steps uneven but determined. His voice was quiet, just loud enough for me to hear over the hum of the Guards’ shields.


    “You’re something else, Sol,” Reid said with a faint, crooked grin, his voice rough but warm. “Covered in blood, saving my sorry ass… if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to show me up.”


    I let out a small laugh despite myself, steadying him as we moved forward. “You’re welcome,” I replied, trying to ignore the metallic taste of blood lingering on my tongue. His words hung in the air—not too heavy, not too light—just enough to keep us both moving.


    Mantis supported Garin on the other side, her movements calm and precise. Garin glanced toward Reid but said nothing, his attention focused on staying upright.


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    Falcon and Cheetah took point as we entered the bay, their pistols cutting down any stragglers with swift, efficient shots. A mutant lunged from a side corridor, but Cheetah’s plasma rounds stopped it in its tracks, its body crumpling to the ground. Another creature darted toward Falcon, claws outstretched, but he sidestepped and fired a controlled burst into its chest, leaving it lifeless before it hit the floor.


    Ahead, Jaguar and Badger were already engaging the remaining threats. Jaguar’s massive plasma sword hummed as it arced through the air, severing a charging mutant cleanly in two. Badger’s plasma rifle fired sharp, controlled bursts, each shot eliminating mutants before they could get close. Their coordinated movements ensured no creature breached their line.


    Owl and Eagle moved with precision on overwatch, scanning the bay for additional threats. Owl’s sniper rifle hissed softly, her shots striking down potential threats before they could act. Eagle’s plasma bursts cut down anything that tried to flank the group, ensuring the path to the cargo ship was clear.


    Behind us, Fox and Wolf secured the rear, their eyes constantly sweeping the corridor we’d come from. A mutant dropped from the ceiling, claws aimed for Wolf, but Fox intercepted it with a quick, clean strike from her plasma daggers. Wolf followed up with a final shot, ensuring nothing remained alive.


    “Rear secured,” Fox reported, her voice steady over the comms.


    “Clear,” Cheetah called from the front. “Path to extraction is secure.”


    The ramp of the cargo ship extended into the bay, a lifeline in the chaos. The Guards moved quickly, forming a protective circle as they ushered the injured aboard. Scorpion and Bull worked in sync, loading stretchers with swift, practiced precision. Every movement was deliberate; every second counted.


    The bay fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the hum of the Guards’ shields and the faint thrum of the waiting cargo ship. The stench of blood and rot lingered, a grim reminder of what we were leaving behind.


    “Wolf, Fox,” Lion commanded as the last stretcher was loaded, his voice sharp but steady, “take the shuttle. Return to the Jericho. Ensure the Hemlock is left behind.”


    Fox exchanged a brief glance with Wolf, her expression unreadable behind her visor. “Understood,” she replied. The two Guards moved swiftly to the shuttle, its engines already humming to life. As they boarded, the sleek craft detached smoothly from the bay and lifted off, disappearing into the void.


    “Move,” Lion ordered, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. The Guards formed up, their footsteps heavy on the metal floor as they marched aboard the cargo ship. The ramp sealed shut behind us with a final, metallic hiss.


    I moved toward the viewport, my gaze drawn to the Hemlock’s skeletal form. The derelict ship floated lifelessly in the vast darkness, its scarred hull illuminated by the faint glow of distant stars. Even in its silence, it exuded menace—a ghostly reminder of the horrors we had faced and the ones that might still follow us.


    As the cargo ship surged forward, leaving the Hemlock behind, I exhaled slowly. The whispers in my mind were quieter now, but their presence lingered, coiled in the shadows of my thoughts. The Hemlock was behind us, but the nightmare was far from over.


    The cargo ship docked with the Jericho seamlessly as we landed in the hangar. The moment the ramp lowered, Yates and Ashly were there, their movements brisk and efficient as they worked to assist with the wounded. Yates moved immediately to Holt and Jimmy, her hands steady as she worked to stabilize their injuries. Ashly hovered nearby, her expression tight with concern as she inspected Garin’s condition.


    “Get them to the med bay,” Yates ordered, her voice calm but firm.


    Hyena, Crocodile, and Owl stepped forward, each taking charge of a stretcher. They moved with surprising gentleness, their imposing frames belying their care as they carried the wounded down the corridor. Yates and Ashly followed closely, their attention fixed on the injured.


    Lion stood at the viewport, his golden visor reflecting the faint glow of the Hemlock. His massive frame was eerily still, exuding a cold detachment. “Jericho,” he commanded, his voice calm and resolute, “align railguns for firing solution.”


    The words sent a jolt through me, and I froze mid-step. My stomach twisted as the knot in my chest tightened. “What are you doing?” My voice came out sharper than I intended as I stepped toward him, fists clenched. “You can’t just blow it up!”


    Lion didn’t turn, his visor fixed on the drifting wreckage of the Hemlock. “The Hemlock is a liability,” he said, his tone clinical. “It must be destroyed.”


    “You don’t even know what’s on it!” I shot back, the heat in my voice rising. “There could be survivors—people in cryo—answers to what happened!”


    Finally, Lion turned slightly, the glow of the viewport glinting off his visor. “Survival takes precedence over sentimentality,” he said evenly. “Your father understood that.”


    The mention of my father was like a slap, the words cutting deeper than I cared to admit. Before I could summon a reply, a new voice broke the tension.


    “You’re not blowing it up, Lion.” Warren’s voice was sharp and commanding as he strode into the hangar with Vega close behind. His expression was tight, a mix of anger and frustration. “You just pulled our people off that ship, and for that, I’m grateful. But you don’t get to make this call.”


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    Lion turned fully to face him, his imposing frame casting a long shadow across the room. “This is not a decision I make lightly, Captain,” he said, his tone cold and resolute. “The Hemlock’s plasma burns, corrupted systems, and mutations are sufficient evidence. Further contact is an unacceptable risk.”


    He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “As Supreme Commander under Voss’s emergency directives, I have the authority. And you, more than anyone, know that—soon, so will the Captains.”


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    Warren stopped a few steps from him, his jaw tightening. “We’ve barely scratched the surface of that ship,” he argued, his voice strained but firm. “You’re erasing evidence. You’re erasing answers.”


    “It’s more than that,” Vega interjected, stepping forward, her voice sharp. “There are cryo pods on board that might still hold survivors—people who can tell us what happened. That ship’s been drifting for decades, maybe longer. Destroying it now doesn’t just erase evidence—it erases our chance to understand.”


    Lion’s tone remained unyielding. “Understanding is irrelevant if it comes at the cost of this ship. The plasma burns confirm non-human involvement, possibly hostile Xeno''s. The risk of contamination outweighs any potential gain.”


    “And what about the crew you just saved?” Vega snapped. “They’re survivors, not threats!”


    “They are quarantined,” Lion replied coldly. “That is non-negotiable. You quarantined Sol when her condition was unknown, Warren. You cannot argue against applying the same logic now.”


    Warren hesitated, guilt flickering across his face before he sighed heavily. “Quarantine, yes. But this—this is different. The Hemlock wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”


    “What do you mean?” I demanded, stepping closer, my voice cutting through the thick tension. “What do you mean, ‘it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this?’”


    Vega looked between me and Warren, her shoulders tense, before she answered. “The Hemlock was your father’s first attempt. His first test of Project Phoenix.”


    Her words hit me like a physical blow. I struggled to process them, my mind racing. “What?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.


    Warren exhaled heavily, stepping forward. His voice was laced with regret. “Over two centuries ago, your father used the Hemlock’s crew to test an early version of his serum. He wanted to push the boundaries of human evolution—to prepare us for survival in deep space. But the serum was incomplete. Unguided.”


    My stomach churned, my thoughts racing as pieces began to fall into place. “The mutations,” I said softly, remembering the grotesque, twisted creatures I had seen on the Hemlock. “That’s what happened to them, isn’t it? They weren’t always like that.”


    Warren nodded grimly. “They were attacked—by aliens or something else—but they didn’t die. The serum kept them alive, but it warped them over time. Decades of drifting without containment turned them into… monsters.”


    “And you knew,” I said, my voice trembling with anger as I turned to Warren. “You knew, and you sent people there anyway.”


    “We thought it would have answers,” Warren admitted, his voice breaking under the weight of his confession. “We thought it might hold the missing pieces to complete Phoenix.”


    “But all you found were monsters,” Lion interjected coldly. “Just like in Lab 3.”


    The mention of Lab 3 sent a chill down my spine. My voice was barely above a whisper as I said, “Wilks.”


    Lion turned to me, his golden visor tilting. “Wilks was another attempt to replicate Phoenix. They gave him a version of your father’s serum. It killed him—and when they tried to bring him back with Hydra, it created something else.”


    I turned back to Warren, the anger in my chest bubbling to the surface. “Is that why you woke me? After fifty years, after keeping me in the dark about all of this—you woke me because you were out of options? Even this mission to a centuries-old ship from my father’s earliest work… you’re desperate.”


    Warren’s shoulders sagged under the weight of my words. He looked away, unable to meet my gaze. “Yes, we are, Sol. All of humanity is,” he said finally. His voice carried a weariness that felt like an excuse rather than an apology. “The captains forbade it, but I made the decision. This was my choice alone. We didn’t know how else to move forward without your father.”


    He hesitated, his jaw tightening before he continued. “Garin opposed waking you—he said it was too dangerous, that your changes could be unpredictable—but Knight insisted. She believed your blood might hold the key to stabilizing Phoenix.”


    I shook my head, my voice trembling with fury and disbelief. “So I’m just an experiment to you. A lab rat.”


    “You’re more than that,” Vega said, her voice soft but urgent. “You’re the only viable result of Phoenix. The serum your father gave you—it’s controlled. Guided. It’s why you haven’t… changed like they did.”


    Lion stepped forward, his massive presence commanding the room. “The Hemlock proves that Phoenix cannot be left incomplete,” he said, his tone steady and unyielding. “You are the only one who can finish it, Highness. Without Phoenix, humanity will not survive.”


    The whispers coiled tighter in my mind, dark and insidious. Finish it, Sol. Take what is yours.


    The low hum of the railguns filled the hangar, the sound vibrating through the air like an unspoken threat.


    “Jericho,” Lion commanded, his voice calm, resolute. “Prepare to fire.”


    “No!” I shouted, my voice breaking as I stepped forward, fists clenched. “You can’t do this! There could still be answers—survivors. I order you, as the last Voss, to stop!”


    Lion turned his golden visor toward me, his massive frame unwavering, his voice steady but cold. “Your father’s original orders come first, Highness,” he said, his tone carrying an unyielding authority. “Humanity was born to inherit the stars. Xeno scum or not, survival demands evolution. That is the only truth, and I will see you through it.” His words were heavy with certainty, each one striking like his gravity hammer. “The only question now, Sol, is what you will do with it.”


    I turned to Warren and Vega, my voice trembling as desperation took hold. “You can’t let him do this!”


    But they didn’t move. Warren’s gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his shoulders sagging under the weight of some unspoken guilt. The shadows on his face were long and heavy, but he said nothing. Vega stood beside him, rigid and tense, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her jaw twitched as if she wanted to say something, but she stayed silent. Neither of them would stop him. They couldn’t—or wouldn’t.


    My breath caught in my chest, my fingers trembling as I stepped back. I was alone in this. Again.


    The railguns hummed louder, their targeting systems locking onto the Hemlock. The rising sound was a countdown, each second ticking toward the moment I couldn’t undo.


    And in that moment, I felt the hunger stir within me, coiled and insistent. This is who you are, Sol. This is what you were made for.


    The first shot cracked through the silence, the sound reverberating through the hangar like a thunderclap.


    The echo of the railgun’s first shot still rang in the air as the Hemlock shuddered violently under the impact, debris spiraling into the void. My breath caught as I stared at the viewport, unable to tear my eyes away from the destruction.


    The second shot fired, tearing through the Hemlock’s core. I flinched at the sound, my hands trembling at my sides. The ship groaned as its structure collapsed inward, like a dying beast gasping its last breath.


    The final shot struck the reactor, and the explosion lit up the void in a blinding burst of light. The Hemlock was gone, reduced to ash and drifting wreckage. Its secrets, its horrors—all obliterated in moments. The echoes of the railgun fire faded, leaving behind a deafening silence.


    I turned away from the viewport, my hands shaking. The hunger was still there, gnawing at me like a deep, insistent pull, but it wasn’t just physical. It was in my mind, in my blood. It was a part of me. Something I couldn’t escape.


    Lion’s voice broke through the tense silence, calm and unyielding. “First, you know we must tell the captains,” he said, his golden visor fixed on Warren. “You have kept them in the dark long enough—after they forbade waking Sol, after Lab 3, and after you chose not to inform them about the Hemlock.”


    He stepped closer, his immense frame exuding an aura of authority. “The Xeno threat is too great to ignore. We must plan, Warren. The captains must know the truth—not just about the Hemlock but about what we are facing. If humanity is to survive, we need to evolve, and Sol must be given the role she deserves. This is no longer just about her or you. It is about all of us.”


    Lion’s golden visor tilted slightly, his tone firm but devoid of malice. “You cannot carry this burden alone any longer. The time for secrecy is over. You will keep your promise to Her Highness and open Lab 3, so she can continue where her father left off—after we wake Knight and speak with the captains.”


    Warren’s jaw tightened, his shoulders stiffening under the weight of the accusation. “Without Voss, we did the best we could, Lion,” he said, his voice measured but tinged with exhaustion. “I hope you’re right. I’ve come to trust Sol, but to put all this weight on her… even as we are still learning what is happening to her.” He trailed off, his gaze shifting to me. For a moment, his eyes softened, almost sorrowful, as if he had kept me in the dark for my own sake. And maybe he was right.


    But the whispers stirred in the back of my mind, coiling around my thoughts like smoke. He doubts you. Even now.


    Lion’s heavy footsteps broke the stillness as he turned toward the door, his towering frame blocking the light of the viewport. “It’s time,” he said, his voice carrying across the room with the weight of command. “Jericho, prepare the medical bay. Wake Knight. Wake the captains.”


    His tone left no room for argument. Warren hesitated only briefly, his shoulders sagging as he followed Lion to the door. As he reached the threshold, he stopped and looked back at me.


    “Sol,” he called, his voice quieter now, almost imploring. “Come with us.”


    I didn’t move. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms. My chest felt tight, my breathing shallow. I stared at the viewport, at the place where the Hemlock had been. All that was left now was scattered debris and the faint echo of my father’s legacy drifting into the void.


    So much for getting its captain’s clearance. I guess I don’t need it anyway.


    The weight of it all bore down on me—the whispers, the hunger, the twisted faces of the Hemlock mutants burned into my memory. My mind churned, replaying the moment my teeth sank into that creature’s flesh, my claws tearing it apart. My body had shifted, become something monstrous, only to recede again, leaving behind the sharp edge of hunger that never went away.


    Lion’s words rang in my ears, heavy with conviction. “Humanity was born to inherit the stars,” he said, his tone devoid of malice, only certainty.


    The answer felt heavier than I could bear. My father had made me into this—this thing that was supposed to save humanity, to finish what he started. But all I felt was the hunger, the changes clawing at my edges. What if they consumed me before I could ever be enough?


    I clenched my fists tighter, staring into the void where the Hemlock had been, now nothing but scattered ash and debris. My voice trembled, a fragile whisper against the weight crushing down on me. “What if I can’t?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else. “What if I’m not enough?”


    The whispers didn’t answer, but something darker stirred in their silence—a shadow that felt ancient and patient, coiling tighter around my thoughts. The hunger clawed at me, sharp and relentless, gnawing not just at my body but at the fragile edges of my sanity. It didn’t care if I could or couldn’t. It only wanted me to move forward, to consume, to evolve.


    Behind me, Lion and Warren disappeared down the corridor, their footsteps fading into the ship’s hollow vastness. I didn’t follow. I couldn’t. My feet felt rooted to the ground, my thoughts circling back to the Hemlock, its shattered remnants floating aimlessly. The secrets we sought there were lost, but the ghosts it left behind lingered.


    This whole thing fucking sucks.


    I groaned, dragging a trembling hand down my face, smearing blood that wasn’t even mine. My white hair, stiff and matted with gore, clung to my neck. The reflection in the viewport stopped me—one red eye, one blue, staring back from a blood-smeared face that didn’t feel like mine. My shredded pressure suit hung in tatters, clinging to me like a second skin soaked in death. I’d need a new one.


    Look at you, the whispers teased. I bit my lip, hard, tasting blood. The hunger surged instantly, clawing at the edges of my mind. Get it together. But I couldn’t.


    The Hemlock was gone, blown apart, its answers lost with it. All that was left was my cursed blood and that bitch Knight, still frozen in cryo. She wasn’t my father. She wasn’t even close. And Warren? His secrets, his guilt—they buried everything. Maybe he was right. Maybe what’s waiting in Lab 3 is worse.


    The yellow-eyed monster, the whispers curled around me. Is it Wilks? Is it me?


    I bit down harder, canines slicing into my lip. The blood surged, warm and thick, and the hunger roared to life. God, what is wrong with me? The mutant’s face flashed in my mind—the crack of its bones, the blood, the taste. Too natural. Too easy.


    The whispers only laughed. Lab 3 is waiting. It’s yours to find.


    I shook my head, trying to breathe. Wilks was locked in Lab 3. Contained. So what the hell was the yellow-eyed monster? Aliens? Another mutant? Or am I just losing my mind?


    I turned from the viewport, dragging a shaking hand through my gore-stiffened hair. The shredded remnants of my suit clung to me like a cruel joke.


    No answers. Just questions. And the worst goddamn part? The real nightmare isn’t out there. It’s me. But if I didn’t follow them now, if I didn’t face what was in Lab 3, the next nightmare might not leave anyone to question anything.


    "Come on, Sol!" Warren’s voice called from the corridor, and I forced my legs to move. Whatever waited in Lab 3—answers or horrors—I had no choice but to follow.