I padded along the gleaming walkway, shoulders curled inward as the ceiling soared above me, an unforgiving vault of metal that made my short frame feel smaller still. Every reflective panel shone with sterile brilliance, harsh enough to sting my eyes and throw my ragged silhouette back at me. There was no warmth in the air—only a faint metallic tang that caught at the back of my throat, like I was breathing hospital fumes. Jericho might have been built to safeguard humanity for centuries, but with dried blood caking my knuckles and a suit stiff from unspeakable encounters, all I sensed here was a silent monument to the dead.


    Lion strode beside me, a towering nine-foot presence in gleaming gold armor. The roaring lion etched across his chest plate looked alive, an eternal snarl of defiance. His gravity hammer rested on his shoulder with easy confidence, humming just loud enough to remind me of its destructive potential. He embodied some god of war given flesh, unbothered by the carnage he and his men left behind.


    At only five feet tall, I barely reached his chest. My pressure suit hung in tatters, exposing swaths of pale skin layered with dried grime.


    It’s a wonder I’m still standing. I flexed my hand to ease the phantom ache from where my claws had receded. My pressure suit was ripped at the midsection and shoulder, leaving pale skin caked in gore. Not all the blood was mine—my relentless healing had ensured I’d survive the slaughter, but it couldn’t scrub away the rank smell of sweat and iron that clung to every inch of me without a bath.


    My hair—long, white, and snarled—fanned around my face in knotted clumps. Streaks of rust-brown still colored the ends, clinging to the damp tangles. Each time I tried to brush them aside, I felt the heat, the screams, the metallic taste on my tongue all over again. The tatters of my suit hung stiff with dried gore, exposing swaths of skin that still burned with phantom pain, reminding me I was a step away from dying back there.


    I glanced at my reflection in a strip of polished metal. My canines—still too sharp, but smaller than the fangs that had grown to fight the monster—pressed against the inside of my lips. Not quite human anymore, am I? A sickening memory flashed: tendons popping under my claws, warm liquid spattering my cheeks. Lion had slaughtered his way through dozens of them without a scratch, but I’d almost died fighting just one.


    I’m not fucking human anymore, I told myself, I''m a monster who shouldn’t have survived.


    I swallowed hard and dropped my gaze to the floor. Faint red footprints marked my wake, tacky on the smooth metal. I’d ditched my boots earlier, no longer able to bear the squelch of half-coagulated fluid between my toes. Now the chill of the deck bit into my bare feet, jolting me with every step. A small drone hovered behind, its mechanism whirring softly as it scrubbed away my bloody footprints—cleansing every last trace of me from Jericho’s corridors.


    They’re always watching, I thought bitterly, remembering weeks locked away as drones tended to me with mechanical efficiency. Feeding me, medicating me, cleaning me—like I was their test subject.


    My little princess… The whisper curled through my mind. You can’t hide forever. You know where you’re supposed to be. Stop wasting time—open the door.


    My breath caught in my throat. I balled my fists until my nails dug into my palms, fighting the phantom words I’d never wanted to hear again. He’s gone. Just like that old life. Let him stay dead, I pleaded inwardly. But the pressure in my chest only tightened, a suffocating weight that refused to let me go.


    I forced my focus back to the hallway ahead. Lion continued his steady march, unshakeable, a testament to perfection I couldn’t begin to match. I should thank him for saving them even if he let that thing gut me, I thought, but I can’t bring myself to speak. Instead, I followed in his wake, bloodstained and trembling, haunted by the voice that wouldn’t let me forget the horrors at my back—or the ones I carried within.


    My little Phoenix, the whispers came again, sharper this time. You think you can ignore this? Finish what I started. You were made for this.


    Ahead, Warren and Vega moved with purpose, each heading to separate sections of the sprawling medical bay. Warren’s broad shoulders were set, his steps heavy as he disappeared into the quarantine wing to join Yates, where the rescued crew had been isolated. Vega veered toward the cryo section, her brisk pace reflecting the urgency of preparing the captains for revival. This area, separate from the section where I had first been woken, was designed specifically for coordinated cryo awakenings. All the captains would be revived simultaneously—an intentional move to ensure unity in addressing the crisis. And with them, eventually, Knight.


    The thought of Knight sent a shiver down my spine. My father’s trusted assistant. The one person who might hold answers—and the one person I wanted to face the least. Knight had been there for every experiment, every breakthrough, every twisted thing he’d ever done to me in the name of humanity''s survival. She was part of his legacy, just like me. Except she chose it. She believed in it. And soon, she’d wake up to see what was left of his work... me.


    The knot in my stomach tightened as I watched Vega disappear into the cryo bay. Lion’s heavy steps echoed beside me, his towering presence as unyielding as ever. I glanced up briefly, glimpsing my disheveled reflection in his visor. His gaze was hidden, unreadable, but the weight of his attention pressed down on me all the same, heavy and deliberate. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the faint hum of his hammer.


    “You’re thinking about something,” Lion said suddenly, his voice calm, steady. It wasn’t a question—just a statement, like he already knew what was tearing through my head.


    I hesitated, then pointed at myself, the blood crusted over my torn suit making the gesture almost absurd. “I guess I’m thinking about how you let that fucking mutant rip my throat out,” I said, aiming for a joke, but the bitterness in my tone killed it. My laugh was hollow, barely there. “But… thanks for saving Reid. If you hadn’t been there, he’d be dead meat. You and your men, you were… effective.”


    Lion tilted his head slightly, his golden visor catching the dim light. “You’re welcome,” he said, his tone infuriatingly calm.


    I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. “At least now I’ve got a shot at Lab 3. With you and your Guard here, I might actually make it through the door.” My voice dropped, a sharp edge bleeding through. “I’ve been clawing at walls, Lion. Hitting dead end after dead end. But now? Maybe I can finally get some answers.”


    Lion turned his head slightly, his golden visor reflecting back my blood-smeared face. “Is that so?”


    I forced a laugh, the sound bitter in my ears. “Yeah. I had my own plan, but…” I gestured to the mess I was, bloodstained and barely standing. “That’s not really an option anymore, is it?”


    His laugh caught me off guard—a low chuckle, deep and sharp. It didn’t match the war-god presence he carried. For a moment, it almost felt mocking.


    I stopped walking, glaring up at him. “What’s so funny?”


    Lion tilted his head slightly, his massive frame casting a long shadow over me. The golden sheen of his visor caught the harsh light, reflecting back my mismatched red and blue eyes like fractured, unrecognizable pieces of myself. “You were thinking about the Hemlock,” he said, his voice calm, almost detached. “About what you’re becoming… but you forgot all about your plan to steal the captain’s credentials after that mutant mauled you, didn’t you?”


    The words hit me like a slap, my breath catching in my throat. How did he know that? The plan had been nothing more than a desperate thought, one of the whispers, buried under fear and chaos, a whisper of a memory tangled with the screams of that fight. I hadn’t told anyone.


    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said sharply, but my voice betrayed me, trembling under the weight of his words.


    Lion chuckled, the sound rumbling behind his helm, like distant thunder. “You didn’t need to. Jericho told me everything.”


    The mention of the ship sent a chill through me. “Jericho?”


    Lion’s voice was patient, almost condescending. “You’re a bad liar. Your father’s ship isn’t just walls and wiring, Highness. It listens. Watches. Measures you. But such a plan isn’t necessary now that I’m here. We’ll speak with the captains and fix this whole mess.”


    “Fucking drones,” I muttered, my voice sharper than I intended. “But I never spoke of that plan out loud.” My words wavered, the tremor in my voice betraying me.


    Lion chuckled again, the sound sharper this time. “You whisper in your sleep—or scream during your night terrors. Jericho monitors your biometrics: your pulse, your breathing, even your dreams. The signals your father’s implants left behind—Jericho still reads them. It knew about your plan before you even decided to act. Hell, it even knows you talk to yourself, holding full conversations. But you’re not really talking to yourself, are you? You’re talking to him.”


    The knot in my chest tightened until I could barely breathe. The whispers stirred again, curling at the edges of my mind.


    Follow the path, my little Phoenix. Trust him. He is the hammer. You are the flame. Together you can reforge humanity.


    “Why are you telling me this?” I muttered, my voice shaky, barely above a whisper. “What else has Jericho told you?”


    Lion’s smirk was audible in his reply, sharp and cutting. “Plenty,” he said, his tone dipping into something almost amused. “And because, like it or not, I’m your only friend on this ship, Highness. Screaming about clearance codes in the middle of a nightmare? Not exactly a subtle way to keep secrets.”


    Heat flushed my face, mortification mixing with frustration. “I have more friends than just you, Lion,” I said, the thought of Reid and Yates flickering briefly in my mind. But doubt crawled in, coiling tighter with every second.


    Lion didn’t answer immediately. His heavy footsteps filled the silence before he spoke again, his tone turning sharp, almost amused. “You think Warren’s keeping you in the dark because of guilt or mistrust?” He shook his head slightly. “No. He’s protecting himself.”


    My breath caught. “What do you mean?”


    “Warren lied,” Lion said bluntly. “About you, about the Hemlock, about Lab 3. When the captains wake and see what he’s hidden, they’ll have no choice but to side with me. The state of emergency will hold—unless they accept my alternate plan.”


    He paused, letting the moment hang in the silence. “They can keep their council without an emergency if they want. I have no interest in commanding them forever. But they will have to give you what really matters: the same clearance your father held. Captain-level authority. You don’t need emergency protocols if everyone agrees you belong at the top.”


    I remembered Warren’s words from earlier—that the captains could veto Lion’s authority if they all agreed. But now, hearing Lion speak so confidently, I felt that knot of unease twist tighter in my stomach. “And if they don’t?”


    Lion’s laughter was cold and assured. “They will. Between the alien threat, the quarantine, and Lab 3, they’ll have no other choice. Especially when they see what I’m bringing to the table.”


    The implications hit me like a blow. “You mean me,” I whispered. “You’re planning to put me in charge.”


    “Head scientist,” Lion confirmed. “Above Garin, who’s in quarantine, and Knight, who has her own… biases. You’re the only one who can continue your father’s work. The only survivor of Phoenix. The only Voss.”


    My stomach twisted at his words, at the certainty in his voice. He wasn’t asking for my opinion. He was laying out a future he would carve out, with or without my consent.


    “But why me? Why insist on this even if we don’t have an emergency?” My voice shook despite myself. “I don’t deserve that kind of clearance. That’s why I was going to steal it,” I admitted, my words coming out barely above a whisper. It all felt so undeserved—why was I always just handed the answers to my problems?


    Lion’s visor tilted, catching the harsh light and flashing my reflection back at me. “Because it’s yours by right, Highness—emergency or not. If they won’t concede under threat of Xenos, they’ll concede under me. One way or another, you’ll have every clearance you need to finish what your father started.”


    “I didn’t earn this,” I said quietly, my throat tight.


    Lion’s tone softened, though it held no warmth. “Your father made sure you never had to. Did you forget about that emergency passcode you used to access his restricted projects?”


    He resumed walking, his hammer resting on his shoulder like a silent promise. For a moment, I couldn’t move, because I knew he was right. The sterile lights around me seemed too bright, the walls too close. The whispers twisted his words, reshaping them into something cruel.


    You didn’t need to earn this. It’s your birthright, my dear—my legacy. Soon, my little Phoenix, you will be the eternal flame in the darkness. Follow your brave knight, my dear princess.


    With a shaky breath, I followed Lion into the medical bay. The faint hum of his armor and the steady echoes of the ship filled the silence, broken only by the soft whir of the doors sliding open. The sharp scent of antiseptic greeted us, sterile and biting—a reminder of the countless lives this room had worked to save, or lost, in the process.


    The bay was already alive with activity. Polished surfaces reflected the harsh overhead lights, each station meticulously arranged, a testament to Jericho''s cold efficiency. A line of cryo pods stood at the room’s center, their frosted exteriors clearing as the thawing process neared its conclusion. The rhythmic beeps of monitors and the occasional hiss of vapor added to the clinical symphony.


    Viper’s towering frame glided between the pods with the precision of a surgeon and the bearing of a soldier. Though her armor was slimmer than Lion’s or Rhino’s, it was patterned in green and blue scales—sleek and lightweight, reminiscent of Eagle’s flight-suited design. Her keen eyes flicked across the data readouts, leaving no detail unchecked or margin for error.


    She barked concise orders to Jericho’s assistant drones, each one responding with flawless, machine-like obedience. Metal limbs moved in synchronized arcs, dutifully wiping condensation from the pods and verifying the seals. As the drones finished each task, they hovered in silent readiness for her next command, reflections of the scaled armor flashing across their polished surfaces.


    Knight’s pod had already been moved into position in the far corner of the room. Its frosted glass seemed to glow faintly under the harsh lights. Viper’s attention lingered there for a moment, her hands brushing over the controls with a precision that spoke to her dual nature—both a soldier and a healer. She paused briefly, her brow furrowing as if weighing the decision, then stepped back. Knight’s revival process remained paused, leaving her still entombed in stasis.


    “She’s not waking yet,” Viper said, her voice cutting across the room with an edge of finality. “The captains will be first.”


    At the same moment, the door to the medical bay slid open with a soft hiss, and Warren strode in, his beard looking more gray than black these days. The faint lines of exhaustion etched into his face were unmistakable, but his resolve burned brighter than ever. His gaze swept across the room, briefly flicking to the cryo pods—lingering on Knight’s—before settling on Viper and Vega.


    Vega was already at work, steadying one of the drones as it maneuvered the final captain’s pod into position. She gave the pod a firm tap once it locked into place, her movements brisk and efficient. Straightening, she turned toward Warren, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.


    “All pods are in position,” Vega announced. Her tone was calm, but the tightness in her jaw betrayed the tension she felt. She glanced at Warren, then Lion, before nodding toward the pods. “We’re ready when you are.”


    Warren moved to the center of the half-circle formed by the cryo pods, his broad shoulders clad in his worn leather jacket, the fabric creaking softly with each deliberate step. The jacket, a relic from Earth’s past, seemed out of place amidst the sterile, gleaming expanse of the medical bay—a reminder of a world long gone, much like the man wearing it. His eyes briefly met mine, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between us—an apology, a warning, or perhaps both. Then he turned toward Lion, who loomed silently behind us.


    The soft hiss of pressurized seals broke the silence as Lion reached up and removed his helmet. Steam curled faintly around the edges as he lowered it, cradling the golden helm under his arm. His revealed face was a study in contradictions—what remained of his humanity marred and reinforced by the machinery that kept him alive. The right side of his face was tan, weathered by time and battles, while his left side was a patchwork of burns, nano-mesh, and cybernetic replacements. A silver plate replaced what had once been his cheekbone, connecting to a jawline framed by thin, dark mesh wires that flexed like muscle. His left eye was gone, replaced by a glowing cybernetic implant that flickered faintly as it adjusted to the light.


    But it was his right eye that made my stomach twist—a piercing yellow, bright and unnatural, yet disturbingly familiar. It carried the same haunting hue as the monster’s eyes, and seeing it sent a shiver down my spine.


    My fangs scraped against my tongue, and I tasted blood, sharp and metallic, as I bit down instinctively. The sudden sting made me flinch, and I pressed my lips together to keep from betraying my discomfort.


    Warren’s gaze flicked between me and Lion, his jaw tightening. “Before we wake them,” he said, his voice steady, “I stand by my choice to wake Sol. Desperation or not, it was the right call, and I’ll own it.”


    Lion tilted his head slightly, the faint hum of his implants breaking the silence. “Ownership won’t be enough, Warren. They’ll demand answers—and it’s a good thing Sol is the answer.”


    “And they’ll get them,” Warren shot back, his tone sharpening. “But don’t mistake this for something it’s not. You’re not the final say here. If we veto the emergency protocol, you’ll be back in cryo by the end of the day.”


    Lion chuckled, low and sharp. “Is that what you’re banking on? Good luck. Once they see Lab 3, the Hemlock, and everything else waiting for them, they’ll realize this isn’t a choice.” His yellow eye flicked toward me, unreadable. “And neither is Sol.”


    The weight of their attention bore into me. My tongue throbbed faintly from the earlier bite, already healed—a sharp reminder of what I couldn’t escape. Hunger stirred in my gut, hollow and biting, as the whispers edged closer.


    They doubt you, my little Phoenix, the voice hissed, curling through my mind. Show them what you are.


    I swallowed the hunger down hard, meeting Lion’s gaze despite the sharp edge of fear curling in my chest. Warren crossed his arms, his leather jacket creaking faintly, the sound grounding in its simplicity.


    Vega stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension with sharp precision. “We get it now, Lion. Patience isn’t an option anymore,” she said, her gaze shifting between him and Warren. “This has been a long time coming. The ship’s been teetering on a knife’s edge ever since Julian Voss died. Everyone’s been vying for his throne, carving out their own pieces of power. And now, after Lab 3—after the council let Knight try to pick up where Voss left off—you’re both gambling everything on the hope they won’t just see Sol as a threat and toss her out an airlock.”


    “I’d love to see them try,” Lion growled, his tone a low rumble of challenge.


    “I’d rather not,” I muttered under my breath, the weight of their words pressing against my chest. Unease churned with the faint thrum of hunger clawing at my insides. Warren had woken me for more than survival—but was their desperation so profound, their fear of aging and death so great, that they saw no other way forward? Even with aliens tearing through the Hemlock and the looming shadows of Lab 3, I couldn’t understand why he had kept it all from them.


    But I would soon find out.


    Warren exhaled sharply, his voice lowering but no less resolute. “They’ll see her as a threat—of course they will. Hell, I did too, after what happened with Ashly.” His jaw tightened, and he glanced at me briefly before looking back at Vega. “But Sol isn’t just her fathers work, and she isn’t what came out of Lab 3. If we let our fear rule us, we’re as good as dead. Waking her wasn’t an easy choice, and I knew it would come with risks. But I also knew it was the right call.”


    Lion tilted his head, his piercing yellow eye locking onto Warren. The faint hum of his armor filled the silence as his expression remained unreadable, a blend of judgment and something almost like curiosity. Finally, he stepped back, his hammer shifting lightly against his shoulder.


    “It’s always been a risk, Warren,” Lion said, his voice calm but sharp. “Ever since we left Earth, every decision has been a gamble. Voss understood that better than any of us, which is why he trusted Sol with this power. The real problem isn’t her—it’s you and the other captains. Your hesitation nearly cost us everything. You waited until desperation forced your hand. And now, here we are, fifty years later, after you’ve all aged over a decade, and only now are you finally ready to act.”


    Warren’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt. His gaze dipped slightly, the tension in his shoulders visible even beneath the worn leather of his jacket. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but steady.


    “Maybe it was fear,” Warren admitted, his tone measured, almost reflective. “I was afraid of what she might mean—what she might become—especially after the distress calls we got from the Hemlock. We’ve all seen what happens when Voss experiments go wrong.” He exhaled, his hands flexing at his sides. “But I was just as afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. We’re all older now, with centuries still to go, and the threats haven’t gotten any smaller.”


    He straightened, his gaze locking with Lion’s, firm and unwavering. “So, yeah, I hesitated. Maybe I waited too long. But in the end, I made the call I thought was right—even when the other captains didn’t agree. And I’ll face whatever comes next. Same as you.”


    Lion studied him for a long moment, his yellow eye gleaming faintly in the dim light. Then he gave a small nod, almost imperceptible, as if acknowledging something unspoken.


    “Fair enough,” Lion said at last, his tone softening slightly. “At least you’re honest about it now. Julian trusted you for a reason, and maybe he wasn’t wrong. But this isn’t just about you anymore. The captains need to see what’s at stake. And when they do, they’ll know this isn’t about fear or politics—it’s about survival.”


    Viper, who had been standing near Knight’s pod, interrupted with a sharp nod toward the cryo console. Her tone carried the efficiency of someone who had long grown tired of waiting. “If you two are done posturing, the captains aren’t going to wake themselves. Let’s get this moving.”Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Warren exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders, and gestured toward the pods. Vega moved to the console, her fingers flying over the controls with practiced precision. The hum of the pods grew louder, a steady vibration that resonated through the floor. Steam curled from the edges as the faint hiss of releasing seals filled the room.


    The frost cleared from the first pod, revealing the sharp outline of Captain Elise Rojas. Even through the fogged glass, her presence was unmistakable—a figure of authority even in stasis.


    The whispers rose again, sharp and biting.


    They’re waking, little Phoenix. They’ll see you now. Stand tall, burn bright, be ready.


    The hiss of the pod’s final seal cut through the silence, and the glass cover began to lift. Steam curled upward, shrouding Rojas momentarily before dispersing.


    As the glass cover lifted and the steam dissipated, Captain Elise Rojas sat up sharply, her piercing gaze cutting through the haze. She moved with precision, shaking off the stiffness of stasis as though waking into a crisis was second nature. Her sharp features, framed by close-cropped dark hair, carried a scowl that deepened the moment her eyes locked onto Lion—and then flicked to me. Rojas, the former head general of the Voss Corporation’s elite army, had once commanded the most advanced military force Earth had ever seen. Her reputation as an unflinching strategist preceded her, and even now, the authority in her posture and eyes was enough to silence a room.


    The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the cryo pods as the others began to stir.


    “Lion?” Rojas’s voice was razor-sharp, a mix of disbelief and barely restrained anger. “What in the hell are you doing awake?”


    Before he could answer, another pod hissed as it began its cycle. The faint outlines of Marcus Young became visible through the clearing frost. Rojas didn’t wait for him; her attention was fixed on Lion and me. Her gaze dropped to the blood and grime smeared across my pressure suit, lingering on my exposed shoulder and midsection, where dried gore cracked against pale, scarred skin. Her scowl deepened.


    “And her?” Rojas’s tone hardened. “Why is she out of cryo?”


    I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, the sharpness of her words driving home the fact that I looked like something that had crawled out of the grave.


    Warren stepped forward, his leather jacket creaking faintly. “Elise—”


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    She cut him off, her eyes snapping to him with practiced precision. “Not a word from you, Warren. None of this was part of the plan—none of it.”


    The second pod opened fully, and Captain Marcus Young groaned faintly as he blinked against the harsh lights. He rubbed his temples as though shaking off a migraine, his expression shifting from disorientation to sharp awareness within moments. His eyes scanned the room, locking onto Lion first, then me, before settling on Warren. His brows furrowed, a flicker of disbelief crossing his otherwise composed features.


    Young, a distinguished diplomat, had been instrumental in uniting the fractured remnants of Earth’s vassal states and smaller corporate nations under the Voss Corporation’s banner. His skill in brokering peace and consolidating power through negotiation had made him indispensable to the mission. But now, the sharp lines of his face betrayed the weight of decisions and alliances that no longer mattered on this endless voyage.


    “This is unexpected,” Young muttered, his tone measured but heavy with disapproval. “Lion, you’re awake? And Sol? That wasn’t part of the plan.”


    The third pod began to hiss, its glass clearing to reveal Captain Aaron Blackwell. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as he adjusted his pristine uniform, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles before fully stepping out.


    Blackwell’s cold, calculating gaze swept the room, landing on Lion first with a brief flicker of disdain. His eyes moved to me, narrowing slightly as if appraising the value of a damaged asset, before finally settling on Warren. His lips curled faintly in a smirk that held no warmth, only condescension.


    A ruthless capitalist to his core, Blackwell had earned his place aboard Jericho not through innovation but through exploitation. His mastery in stripping Earth of its resources and crushing rivals had elevated Voss Enterprises to unparalleled dominance, amassing a fortune that rivaled the GDP of entire continents. Blackwell''s legacy was one of scorched earth and empty coffers—a world left barren to fund the construction of humanity’s last hope.


    “Well,” he said dryly, his tone dripping with derision as his gaze lingered on Lion, “this is unexpected. The golden boy’s out of cryo, stomping around like he owns the place. And the girl…” His sharp gaze flicked to me, taking in the blood and grime with a faint sneer. “Dripping in what, exactly? Gore? Is this your idea of a joke, Warren? Because from where I’m standing, it looks more like power grab.” He crossed his arms, his voice cutting. “What the hell is going on here?”


    Rojas stood, her posture rigid with tension as her sharp gaze darted between Lion and Warren. “That’s exactly what I’d like to know. A year—maybe less—that’s how long it’s been since I stepped out of cryo,” she said, her voice cold and cutting. “And now there’s another captain’s meeting? No way you’re calling us up this early for anything less than a crisis.” She paused, her tone growing sharper. “This is about Phoenix, isn’t it? Lab 3? Don’t bother denying it. There’s no other reason to wake the rest of us so soon, unless you’ve reopened the vault and decided to play God again.”


    Her eyes narrowed, zeroing in on Warren. “We agreed: no waking us before 25 years, no Sol, no reopening Lab 3, and absolutely no Lion, unless this ship was on the verge of falling apart. So, what the hell is happening on Jericho that justifies breaking every damn rule we set?”


    Warren straightened, his shoulders stiff but his voice steady. “The situation changed.”


    “Changed how?” Rojas shot back, her tone sharp enough to cut steel. Her hands clenched at her sides, the fury barely contained in her movements. “And don’t you dare tell me it’s something you couldn’t have handled without breaking every fucking agreement we made after Wilks died. This better be good, Warren.”


    Lion stepped forward, his hammer resting lightly on his shoulder, the faint hum of its energy filling the tense air. He scanned the captains, his expression unreadable save for the faint glint in his yellow cybernetic eye. “This isn’t something Warren could’ve handled alone,” he began, his voice calm but resonant with authority. “The Hemlock was found—and destroyed. Xenos attacked it. And Lab 3 can’t stay locked forever. Not with what’s coming.”


    The room froze.


    Rojas’s head snapped toward Warren, her jaw tightening. Lion didn’t stop.


    “They intercepted a distress signal over a year ago,” Lion continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “Warren and Vega plotted our route to the Hemlock—without your approval. They found the ship crawling with mutants, but that wasn’t the real surprise. Plasma scorch marks—centuries old—on a ship that launched before Earth even discovered plasma technology. It was a clue, and Warren acted on it.”


    The captains exchanged uneasy glances. Young’s face drained of color, his hand gripping the edge of his cryo pod as though it might steady him. “Plasma scorch marks?” he repeated, his voice tight with unease. “Centuries ahead of Earth? That’s… Are you suggesting the Hemlock was attacked by something not human?”


    Lion’s yellow eye flicked toward him, unreadable. “It’s not a suggestion,” he said evenly. “It’s fact. The scorch marks weren’t made by us—or anything human.”


    Young shook his head, his voice trembling. “Then we’re not just dealing with Phoenix or mutants. We’re looking at an entirely different threat, and we’re completely unprepared for it. If there’s something out there capable of that, then Phoenix isn’t just an experiment anymore—it’s survival.”


    Rojas scoffed, crossing her arms as her sharp gaze snapped toward Young. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” she said, her tone dripping with skepticism. “Plasma burns on an old ship don’t scream aliens—they scream misdirection. A convenient little story to scare us into giving Sol access to everything Voss locked away.”


    “You think this is a lie?” I shot back, my voice rising with frustration before I could stop myself. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what the Hemlock looked like, the place was—”


    “No, I wasn’t there,” Rojas cut in sharply, her tone cold as steel. “And neither was Young or Blackwell. How convenient for all of us on the council that Warren and Vega are the only ones who saw it. If you want to convince us, start by showing us those plasma burns. Until then, it’s nothing more than hearsay.” She took a step forward, her glare flicking briefly toward me, cold and calculating. “For all we know, the Hemlock could’ve crossed paths with another colony ship—one with advanced tech we never accounted for. You think alien conspiracies are our biggest problem? Try looking at the one standing right in front of us.”


    Her gaze landed on me, heavy with judgment. “Phoenix is what’s on trial here, not fairy tales about aliens.”


    Young hesitated, his mouth opening as if to argue, but the weight of Rojas’s words—and the silent agreement of Blackwell—hung in the air. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging in reluctant concession. “Fine,” he muttered, his tone brittle. “But if we’re wrong—if this threat is real—it won’t matter what’s locked in Lab 3.”


    Lion’s gaze lingered on Young for a moment, a faint trace of approval breaking through his otherwise impassive expression. “It’s real—and we’re already at war,” he said simply. “But that can wait. Right now, this ship is fractured. You’ve carved it into your own little kingdoms, and the cracks are showing. If you think you can keep stalling, you’re dead wrong. Lab 3 is the only way forward—whether you like it or not.”


    Rojas turned her glare to Lion, her scowl deepening. “Stay out of this, Lion,” she snapped, her voice sharp with fury. “This isn’t your decision to make.”


    Then, without missing a beat, she rounded on Warren, her voice rising as her anger sharpened. “And you—you gambled everything on Phoenix again? Even after Lab 3 failed? You went behind our backs, dragged us toward the Hemlock, and woke her without consulting anyone? What the hell were you thinking, Warren?”


    Young leaned forward, his voice heavy but controlled. “Lab 3 was our attempt to pick up where Julian Voss left off,” he said. “We thought we could replicate his work, and we failed. We created a monster, and Wilks paid the price. That was the line we drew. No more experiments. No more Phoenix. So tell us, Warren—why is Sol any different?”


    Warren exhaled slowly, his gaze steady as he addressed the room. “Because she’s not Lab 3, and she’s not Hemlock. Yes, I voted with all of you to continue the research back then. I believed in it, and I was wrong. Lab 3 failed because we didn’t understand the virus. Phoenix requires a genetic match—a host capable of adapting to its power without succumbing to mutation. That’s why Lab 3 ended in disaster. But Sol is different. She is the match, her father made it so wither hate it or not.”


    Blackwell’s sneer returned, sharper and colder. “A match? She’s a ticking time bomb, Warren, and you know it. The only difference between her and Wilks is that she hasn’t exploded yet. What makes you so sure she won’t?”


    “She’s already proven it,” Warren countered. “She heals faster than any of us could imagine. Her regeneration is stable and controlled—everything Lab 3 and the Hemlock weren’t. Sol survived Phoenix. She survived the mutants. Wilks didn’t. None of the others did. She’s not just a match; she’s proof that Phoenix works as it was meant to.”


    “And you hid her for how long now?” Rojas snapped. “You went behind the council’s back, plotted a course to the Hemlock, and woke her up without consulting any of us. Why?”


    “Because I knew you’d never agree,” Warren admitted. “After Lab 3, none of us wanted to touch Phoenix again—I didn’t either. But then we found the Hemlock and received its emergency transmission. What we saw in that distress signal changed everything. The Xeno threat isn’t just a possibility anymore—it’s a reality. And let’s not forget—we’re all running out of time. Phoenix was supposed to be completed by now. Voss’s death threw everything off course, and we’ve all felt the weight of it. Time hasn’t been kind to any of us. Sol isn’t just our only chance—she’s the last chance we’ll have to finish what Voss started before it’s too late.”


    Young’s gaze turned skeptical. “And what happens if the side effects show up? You’re asking us to trust her when we know Phoenix isn’t stable.”


    I swallowed, watching Warren square his shoulders, his tone sharpening as he glared back at the captains. “Sol isn’t like the others,” he said, his voice carrying a new edge. “We spent decades searching for a viable result after Voss died. Our scientists have nothing to show for it. We’re desperate, and you all know it. She’s the last version Julian ever engineered—the culmination of everything he learned. She’s not just another experiment; she’s our best—and only—shot at surviving and saving humanity.”


    Rojas didn’t flinch. She pressed forward, her glare unbroken. “You mean the man whose research got Wilks killed?” she snapped. “The same man whose experiments turned Lab 3 into a tomb?”


    Warren’s jaw tightened. “Julian made mistakes,” he admitted. “But he also left us a chance—one we all tried to continue in secret after his death. That was what led to Lab 3 and the tragedy that followed. But Sol… she’s the only one who’s proven Phoenix can succeed. If we want to reach Haven in one piece, we need her.”


    Blackwell scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. His gaze flicked toward me, taking in my blood-smeared suit, my mismatched eyes, the jagged canines I couldn’t hide. “Trust her? Look at the mutations. Eyes, hair—hell, her teeth alone look like they belong on a predator. She’s dripping in blood, Warren. If that’s what we can see, who knows what else she’s hiding.”


    My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to stand taller, refusing to show how his words rattled me. They had no idea how much I was hiding—my nightmares, the hunger, the whispering voice carving up my thoughts. My fists clenched at my sides, and I met their stares head-on.


    “I’m not Wilks,” I said, surprising myself with how steady I sounded. “Lab 3 failed because it didn’t have me. I’m not perfect, but I’m here, alive, after everything that should’ve killed me. Whether you trust me or not, I’m not planning to roll over and die.”


    Lion’s single yellow eye flicked in my direction. He paused, letting the moment settle, then spoke as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. “She survived the Hemlock,” he said. “That blood on her? Not all hers. The creature that gutted her tore out her throat, but she healed before it could finish. Faster, stronger—even at her size. None of you would’ve walked away from that.” His gaze shifted to the captains. “That alone proves what she can do with Phoenix. She’s living proof her father’s project works.”


    “That’s rich!" Blackwell scoffed. “You don’t even trust her yourself, Lion. You’re here to play cleanup because your master’s gone, and now you’re selling us a miracle.”


    Lion let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Call it what you want. But she’s here—and so am I. You can waste time arguing, or accept reality: we’re running out of options.”


    Rojas’s jaw clenched. Her gaze swept the room. “Fine,” she said, her tone sharp and unyielding. “We’ll vote. But this isn’t just about Sol or Wilks. It’s about you, Lion, and whether we let you stay awake to run this ship. None of us signed up to take orders from Julian Voss’s enforcer.”


    Lion didn’t flinch, his hammer resting casually on his shoulder. “I don’t want your job, Rojas,” he said, calm but edged with warning. “But don’t mistake that for weakness. If the vote fails, I stay awake under emergency protocol. That’s not a threat—it’s the rules you people signed.”


    He shifted, the faint hum of his armor audible in the quiet. “You’re right to be cautious. Maybe you’re even right not to trust her.” His yellow eye flicked briefly to me before turning back to the captains. “But none of you are clean. You made Garin lead scientist over Knight, gambling on ‘safe’ instead of letting the one who actually understood Phoenix finish the work. And we all saw what Lab 3 became.”


    Lion let his words sink in. “Knight was dangerous, yes—but you underestimated the cost of shelving her knowledge. Your gamble failed, and you’re scrambling to salvage this mission. This time, you won’t be able to vote your way out of a crisis.”


    Silence fell, the captains exchanging uneasy glances. Finally, Blackwell spoke, his voice cold. “You’re betting we’ll fold—that somebody here values staying alive over preserving the chain of command.”


    Warren exhaled, stepping forward. “We don’t need you holding onto emergency authority, Lion. I’ll vote to overturn it and restore the council. I won’t keep handing you absolute power. But—” he gestured toward me, “—I do agree Sol needs full access to Lab 3. She can pick up where her father left off. That part of your plan I’m willing to support.”


    Lion’s single yellow eye flicked toward him. “Will you now, Warren?” He let a note of doubt creep into his voice, just enough to unsettle the room. “How many more lies can this council endure before it tears itself apart?”


    “I don’t bet,” Lion continued evenly, turning back to Blackwell. “I calculate. One of you will see that Wilks, Lab 3, the Hemlock, and everything else prove you’re not equipped to handle what’s coming. The Royal Guard is. Whether you like it or not.”


    Young cleared his throat, hesitation coloring his tone. “If we vote unanimously to remove the emergency protocol… what then?”


    Lion tilted his head, the hum of his implants faint in the silence. “Then I step down. The Guard stands down. You get your council back, exactly how you want it. But even one dissenting vote keeps the emergency alive—and me with it.”


    Rojas’s scowl deepened. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”


    “Call it what you will,” Lion answered, unyielding. “I’m giving you a choice. If you waste it, you won’t get another. And don’t forget—I have the authority to remove any of you permanently if this fails.”


    The captains glanced at one another. Tension thickened the air, unspoken fears looming. Rojas’s gaze stayed hard, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed her eyes. Young looked away, drumming his fingers. Blackwell’s lips thinned in a resentful line.


    “This isn’t leadership,” Rojas snapped. “It’s coercion.”


    Lion’s chuckle was low and sharp. “Call it survival. Argue all you want while aliens tear us apart, or accept what must be done.”


    Warren stepped forward, frustration edging his voice. “Lion’s not wrong. The Xeno threat is real, and so is Lab 3. You know the stakes. Vote—let Jericho tally it, and let’s finish this.”


    Before anyone moved, Lion raised a gauntleted hand, golden armor catching the light. “There’s one more option,” he said, cutting through the tension like a blade. “I didn’t wake up to stay in charge. The emergency demanded action, but I don’t want the throne.”


    That admission froze the room. Even Rojas, poised to argue, narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What’s your angle, Lion?”


    He rested his hammer on his shoulder, his single yellow eye sweeping over the captains, glowing faintly like a predator sizing up its prey. “My men and I will return to cryo after I deal with Wilks,” he said, his voice steady, each word carrying the weight of unshakable conviction. “We’ll be ready to protect this ship again if needed—be it from Xenos, mutants, or whatever else is waiting out there. But there’s one condition.”


    Blackwell’s suspicion laced every syllable. “And that is?”


    Lion’s gaze shifted to me. For the first time, his voice held a note that almost sounded like reverence. “Sol gets captain-level clearance,” he said. “The same authority Julian Voss held. She continues his work—properly, with Knight and Garin’s support. No more locked doors or half-measures.”


    A heavy silence followed. The captains exchanged glances, each weighing the cost of Lion’s plan. Eventually, Rojas’s lips curled into a sardonic smile.


    “You expect us to hand that kind of power to her?” she asked, gesturing at me. “A kid covered in blood and barely out of cryo?”


    “She’s more than that,” Lion retorted, his tone turning harder. “You’ve all seen what Phoenix can do. She’s the only one who can finish what Voss started, and the only one strong enough to endure it.”


    “Resilience or curse?” Young murmured, frowning. “How do we know she won’t follow her father’s path?”


    “She’s not Julian Voss,” Lion said simply, “and if you don’t trust her, you’re gambling with everyone’s survival.”


    Blackwell scoffed, leaning away from the console. “And what keeps us from voting you down?”


    Lion smirked faintly. “Because you, of all people, know the truth. If I go, you’re back to nothing but a bickering council—and you might not live to see Haven.”


    The tension climbed, a collective breath held. At last, Rojas stepped forward, eyes cutting through the silence. “I agree,” she declared. “Lion’s proposal is the best we’ve got. And I don’t trust Blackwell or Young to hold it together.”


    Blackwell opened his mouth, but Rojas silenced him with a gesture. “Lion’s a soldier, a diplomat, and a leader,” she said, almost grudgingly. “He made the hard calls. I won’t risk a vote. Sol gets the clearance, Lion steps down after Wilks is taken care of, and we press on.”


    No one objected. Blackwell shifted uncomfortably, Young stared at the floor. Lion stood tall, seeming to fill the room with his presence. When he spoke again, his voice was unflinching.


    “Jericho,” he said, his tone final. “Grant Sol Voss captain-level clearance. Effective immediately.”


    <div>


    Jericho’s voice echoed in the room, calm and unyielding. “Acknowledged. Clearance granted to Sol Voss. Captain-level authority activated.”


    I froze as the words sank in, the weight of the decision settling over me like a tidal wave. My hands clenched at my sides, the whispers stirring faintly in the back of my mind.


    They see you now, my little Phoenix. You’ve stepped into the fire. Now rise.


    Lion turned to me, his yellow eye gleaming with something almost akin to pride. “It’s your legacy now, Highness,” he said quietly. “Don’t waste it.”


    The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing down on me like the endless corridors of this ship. My clearance matched my father’s now. Access to Jericho’s systems, Lab 3’s sealed data, and Phoenix. Every secret, every mistake—all of it was mine to bear. I wasn’t ready for this—not the power, not the expectations, and certainly not the truth waiting in Lab 3.


    I glanced at Lion. His towering form was calm, resolute, as though none of this burden touched him. His words felt heavier than the keys to the kingdom he’d handed me. What’s his endgame? I wondered. Why does he care so much about me stepping into my father’s role?


    Behind him, the captains were still recovering from cryo, their movements slower, their breathing slightly labored as they adjusted to being awake again. Viper moved between them with practiced efficiency, checking their vitals and offering brief instructions to help them regain their footing. Jericho’s drones hovered nearby, assisting where needed—dispensing water, scanning for signs of stasis fatigue, and ensuring their transition was as seamless as possible.


    The captains had their own agendas, that much was clear. Back in my father’s lab, they had deferred to him—Julian Voss, the architect of humanity’s survival. But now? They had carved out their own empires aboard Jericho, their authority filling the void his death had left. Each of them seemed more interested in holding onto their power than truly working together.


    As Rojas straightened, shaking off the last vestiges of cryo-sleep, her sharp gaze swept the room, lingering on me for just a second longer than the others. Blackwell grimaced as a drone offered him a hydration pack, swatting it away with irritation before finally taking it, his usual sneer curling at the edges of his mouth. Young remained silent, still regaining his balance, his brow furrowed as though already calculating his next move.


    They’ll use you, the whispers coiled in my mind like smoke. They see you as a tool, a pawn. But you’re more than that, little Phoenix. You’re the flame. Burn them if you must.


    I swallowed hard, the metallic tang of blood faint on my tongue. Doubt churned in my chest, mixing with the whispers until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.


    “Why are you doing this?” I asked, quieter than I intended. “What’s your goal, Lion? You’ve been a soldier, a diplomat, a weapon for them. Why hand this to me?”


    Lion tilted his head slightly, his yellow eye gleaming. “Because it was never mine to keep,” he said simply. “Your father built this ship, this crew, this mission. He built you. The captains have carved out their fiefdoms, sure. But they don’t own Jericho. Not really. This ship belongs to the Voss name. And you’re the last of it.”


    The last of it.


    The words hit harder than they should have. I was the final tether to a legacy that had shaped humanity’s survival—twisted and brutal as it was. I hadn’t asked for it. I hadn’t earned it. And yet, here it was, draped over my shoulders like a shroud.


    Lion leaned in slightly. “The captains won’t trust you—not fully. But they’ll respect the name. They have no choice. You’re the only chance they have to outlive the trip to Haven. Don’t waste it.”


    The whispers coiled tighter. They’ll betray you, just like they betrayed him. Burn them first.


    I forced myself to take a steadying breath, gripping the datapad. “What if they’re right?” I asked. “What if I’m not enough?”


    Lion’s expression didn’t soften—he wasn’t the type. But there was something almost reassuring in his tone as he hefted his hammer. “You survived the Hemlock. You survived Phoenix. That’s more than enough for me.”


    With that, Lion turned toward the doors leading to Lab 3, his hammer humming faintly. “Time to deal with Wilks,” he said, his voice steady. “You’ll see what your father left behind soon enough. Wake Knight up, Viper.”


    As he spoke, a line of sleek drones floated silently into the room, each carrying a datapad. They stopped in front of the captains, extending mechanical arms to present the devices.


    The captains exchanged wary glances before reluctantly taking the datapads. A faint hum accompanied the screens coming to life, displaying pages of detailed reports, schematics, and mission logs—data that had been locked away by Jericho. The visuals of the Hemlock’s hull, scarred with plasma burns, flickered alongside stark images of twisted mutants and snapshots of decrypted distress signals. It was everything Warren and Vega had withheld, laid bare.


    Rojas’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the information, her jaw tightening with every line she read. Young’s hands trembled slightly as he held the datapad, his expression darkening as he lingered on the images of the Hemlock and the fragments of Xeno data. Even Blackwell, usually quick with a cutting remark, remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he skimmed through the documents.


    “They’ve been hiding this,” Rojas muttered under her breath, her voice laced with barely restrained anger. She shot a glare toward Warren and Vega before turning back to her datapad. “Every bit of it. And you expect us to trust your judgment after this?”


    “Trust isn’t the point,” Lion said, his tone firm as he strode to the doors. Sliding his helmet into place with a sharp click, his voice deepened through the modulator. “Survival is. You’ve seen the mutants, the Hemlock, and the plasma burns. If that doesn’t convince you, nothing will.” Without another word, he left, his heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor.


    Rojas opened her mouth to retort, but Young spoke first, his voice unsteady. “If this is real…” he trailed off, his eyes fixed on the glowing screen of his datapad, as though staring hard enough might summon answers. “If these plasma burns were caused by something alien, then we’re already out of time. Whatever Voss was working on—it might be the only chance we have against this.”


    Blackwell snorted, more to Young than anyone else. His voice was low but cutting, filled with disdain. “Or it’s just another excuse to shove Phoenix down our throats. Convenient, isn’t it? A big, scary alien threat to justify unlocking Lab 3 and waking up Knight.” He tossed his datapad onto a nearby table with a sharp clatter, crossing his arms as he leaned back. “I’m not buying it.”


    Viper, standing near Knight’s pod, tapped at the console with deliberate precision. The faint hiss of pressurized seals broke the tense silence, signaling the start of Knight’s revival process. The room seemed to hold its breath as frost-covered glass slowly began to clear, revealing the figure within. My breath caught as the frost dissipated entirely, unveiling Dr. Emilia Knight. Her almond-shaped eyes snapped open, dark and sharp, as though she had never been asleep. The faint glow of her silver irises caught the harsh light, giving her an unnerving, almost predatory air.


    <div>


    Her pale skin was flawless, her jet-black hair falling in a precise, asymmetrical cut that framed her sharp features. She stepped out of the pod with a grace that felt unnatural, every movement smooth and deliberate. The black suit she wore clung to her lean frame, the high-collared lab coat over it shimmering faintly with embedded technology I couldn’t begin to understand.


    My stomach twisted. She doesn’t age, just like me. But not because of Phoenix. My father gave her that choice, didn’t he?


    The whispers stirred, taunting. She helped make you, my dear princess. My ever-loyal advisor. Her ambition has always been a thorn in my side.


    Her gaze locked onto mine, cold and piercing. There was no warmth in it, no recognition, only the calculating stare I remembered too well—the same one that had followed me through countless experiments, through the sterile glow of the lab. That look had always made me feel small, like a specimen under a microscope, a subject to be cataloged and dissected.


    The hiss of the containment doors opening behind me made me flinch, but I kept my eyes on her. Lab 3 waited, its secrets pressing against my mind, but in that moment, it was Knight—silent, watching—who felt like the greater threat.


    A knot of fear twisted in my chest, sharp and deep. It was the same fear I’d felt as a child, trapped under her cold, clinical gaze, knowing she held control over my body, my pain, my future. It was a fear I’d thought I’d grown past, but here it was again, clawing its way to the surface.


    Her silver eyes narrowed slightly, a faint flicker of amusement—or was it disdain?—crossing her face. She didn’t speak, but the silence felt heavier than words. She didn’t need to say anything to make me feel like that small, trembling girl again.


    I straightened, forcing myself to hold her gaze even as my fists clenched at my sides. My nails bit into my palms, grounding me. I wasn’t that child anymore. I couldn’t afford to be.


    My father’s voice echoed faintly in my mind, steady and sharp, cutting through the rising panic.


    You’re stronger than this, my little Phoenix. You’ll prove it. Or you’ll burn trying.