《Through Darkness Eternal》 Chapter 1 : Good Bye Sol ¡°Dad, please! This isn¡¯t right, we have to find another way!¡± The words tumble out, desperate, as I follow him down the harshly lit, sterile corridors of the lab. My bare feet slap against the cold metal floor, each step sending a shiver through me. My hospital gown clings to my skin, paper-thin, offering little warmth against the chill that fills the lab. For weeks, I¡¯ve been here in these gowns, subjected to endless tests, the ¡°preparations¡± he¡¯s insisted on. But today feels different. Everything about the way he moves, the look on his face¡ªthere¡¯s a finality in it that presses down on me, heavy and unyielding. He strides ahead, purposeful, his silence more imposing than any words. This is Dr. Julian Voss¡ªmy father, yes, but more than that to the rest of the world. The Dr. Voss, humanity¡¯s last hope, a man who carries the weight of Earth¡¯s extinction on his shoulders. He¡¯s not just a scientist; he¡¯s the architect of survival, the one who has pushed further than any other to secure the last threads of humanity. And I know, watching his back as he leads me down this endless corridor, that he has sacrificed more than I can imagine to get here. We reach the docking bay, and he stops. I stop, too, staring at what¡¯s waiting there¡ªa cryo pod, pristine and sealed, positioned in the center of the bay, ready to be loaded onto a nearby ship. A chill spreads through me, colder than the metal beneath my feet. My stomach drops as I turn to him, searching his face for any trace of warmth, any hint of the father I knew. But his gaze is steely, resolved. Dr. Voss, the man entrusted with humanity¡¯s future. I whisper, my voice barely finding its way out. ¡°Dad¡­ what is this?¡± I look up at him, meeting his gaze, and the sight of his blue eyes¡ªthose same eyes we share¡ªsends a pang through me. He¡¯s always looked at me with a fierce protectiveness, but now his gaze is hard, unyielding, filled with a cold determination that feels like the very last thing I¡¯d ever see. ¡°This is the only way,¡± he says, his voice low and unwavering. There¡¯s no trace of warmth, just the unbreakable conviction of a man who¡¯s sacrificed everything. ¡°There¡¯s no other choice. Now, come.¡± His hand clamps around my small wrist, firm and unyielding, pulling me forward even as I drag my heels against the floor, resisting him. I dig in harder, finally yanking back, my heart pounding. ¡°What the fuck, Dad?¡± I shout, my words sharp with rising panic. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡­ leave everyone else! You¡¯re humanity¡¯s last hope, and you¡¯re running away?¡± I pull against his grip, desperation giving me strength. ¡°You¡¯re abandoning them all?¡± He reaches out, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me close, his expression hardening. ¡°Damn it, Sol,¡± he snaps, his voice rough, carrying an edge of desperation. ¡°You don¡¯t understand¡ªyou can¡¯t understand. But someday, you will.¡± Before I can respond, his hand comes down across my face, a harsh slap that knocks me off balance. I stumble, crumpling to the cold metal floor, the sting radiating through my cheek. My hand flies to my mouth, feeling the warm trickle of blood at my lip as I stare up at him, shocked. He¡¯s towering above me, his frame seeming even larger, casting a shadow over me. He¡¯s never hit me before. Never. For a brief moment, I see him grimace, regret flickering in his eyes. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, his face settling back into that hard, unyielding expression. ¡°This isn¡¯t a choice, Sol,¡± he says, his voice thick with an emotion I can barely recognize. ¡°This is the only way. You¡¯re the only one who can survive this. I¡¯m doing this for you.¡± He glances toward the pod, his gaze briefly distant, his jaw tight. ¡°You know the mission,¡± he says, his voice low but intense. ¡°Our last hope for humanity is in the colony at Haven. Jericho is carrying the final fusion core Earth will ever produce, the only thing that can keep them alive. Once it¡¯s gone, Earth will die, whether today or tomorrow. Staying here won¡¯t change that.¡± The desperation in his voice cuts through my anger, and I hear the faint, relentless sounds of chaos outside¡ªthe shouting, the thundering footsteps of soldiers. He grips my shoulders harder, forcing me to meet his gaze. ¡°There¡¯s a mob out there, people trying to storm the docks, desperate for any chance to escape. Troops can barely keep them back. They know, Sol. They know this is the end.¡± He looks back at me, his eyes blazing. ¡°You¡¯re the only one I can protect. The only one with a chance to carry on my work. This is the only way.¡± I stare, mouth open, my voice barely more than a whisper. ¡°Dad¡­ don¡¯t do this. Don¡¯t leave everyone behind. You¡¯re the world¡¯s last hope¡ªyou¡¯re supposed to save them.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He exhales, a slow, weary sound, as though the weight of everything he¡¯s done has finally settled on him. ¡°It¡¯s too late to save them,¡± he says, his tone flat, like he¡¯s been telling himself this over and over again. ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Sol. Earth is beyond saving. My research¡­ it was supposed to create a future. It was supposed to protect us. But I miscalculated.¡± He shakes his head, his eyes clouded. ¡°What I created¡­ it spread. Faster than I ever could have imagined.¡± ¡°What did you do?¡± I whisper, a chill creeping down my spine as I search his face for answers. He glances at the cryo pod, his expression softening for a fleeting, unguarded moment. ¡°You¡¯ll understand in time. This¡­ this isn¡¯t how I wanted things to be,¡± he murmurs, almost to himself. There¡¯s a hint of something I can¡¯t quite place¡ªregret, maybe, or hesitation. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes. His gaze sharpens, hard and unyielding, and his hands reach for me. His fingers grip my shoulders, tightening with a firmness that leaves no room for argument, and he lifts me as if I weigh nothing, pulling me close, my feet leaving the floor. A stray lock of dark hair falls into my face, and I push it aside, my heart pounding as he holds me there, my feet dangling above the cold metal floor. ¡°But this isn¡¯t about what we want,¡± he says, his voice low, filled with a fierce urgency. ¡°It¡¯s about what humanity needs. I did everything to prepare for this¡ªto prepare you. Whether this is a curse or a gift¡­ only you can decide. But you¡¯re¡­ the only hope left.¡± Without waiting for my response, he turns, still gripping me tightly, and begins to push me toward the open pod, each step bringing me closer to the cold, unfeeling metal that waits to seal me inside. ¡°Me?¡± I shake my head, anger flaring, though it feels as if the ground has fallen away beneath me. ¡°I¡¯m not your experiment, Dad. I¡¯m not some¡­ backup plan.¡± His expression softens for just a moment, a flicker of regret shadowing his gaze. But then his grip on my shoulders tightens, his face hardening, resolute. ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± he says, his voice steady but weighted with something darker. ¡°You¡¯re the only plan¡­ the only one who can carry on my work when I¡¯m gone. You¡¯re the only one who shares my DNA, the only one who can handle the changes, the only one it won¡¯t destroy. You¡¯re smart enough, strong enough to survive what¡¯s coming. No one else can.¡± Before I can react, he turns me forcefully toward the cryo pod, guiding me back with an urgency that borders on desperation. I push against him, twisting my arms, but he¡¯s stronger. His fingers dig into my shoulders, his grip unrelenting, his determination leaving no room for resistance. My back hits the cold interior of the pod, and his hands press down on my shoulders, forcing me into place. ¡°No! Daddy, please!¡± I cry, my voice breaking, raw with desperation. I thrash against his hold, but my small, slender frame is no match for his strength. His hands are unyielding, gripping me tightly as he pulls me toward the pod. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡­ leave them all behind. You¡¯re giving up on everyone! You¡¯re running away!¡± But he doesn¡¯t answer, his jaw set, his gaze hard and unflinching as he lifts me and maneuvers me into the cryo pod. My heart races, panic flaring as he snaps the restraints shut around my wrists and ankles, locking me down. The cold metal bites into my skin, pinning me in place. I twist, struggling against the straps, but they don¡¯t budge. My bare feet brush against the frigid interior, grounding me in the horrifying reality that I¡¯m trapped. He steps back, and for a fleeting moment, his gaze softens as he looks at me, a fierce determination in his blue eyes shadowed by something darker¡ªregret, or perhaps guilt. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out a syringe filled with a shimmering, iridescent liquid. The needle catches the light, gleaming like something sharp and merciless. A tightness seizes in my chest as he holds it up, his face unreadable. ¡°Dad¡­ what is that?¡± I whisper, the words barely escaping as terror blooms through me, cold and suffocating. ¡°This is the only way to protect you,¡± he says, his voice cracking as he steps closer, the syringe steady in his hand. ¡°The tests¡­ they all say this will work. I didn¡¯t want it to come to this, Sol. But there¡¯s no other choice.¡± He pauses, voice softening. ¡°I have to protect you.¡± ¡°No!¡± I try to pull my arms, my legs, anything to break free from the restraints, but I¡¯m helpless, bound by his unrelenting hold and the cold metal strapped across my limbs. He brings the syringe closer, and I feel the sharp prick of the needle as it pierces my skin, releasing a flood of unbearable heat into my veins. ¡°Why, Daddy?¡± I gasp, my voice barely more than a broken whisper as the fire spreads, twisting and burning from the inside out. The pain is excruciating, an intense, searing heat that fills every nerve in my body. My muscles tense, my back arches against the restraints, but there¡¯s no escape. My skin feels like it¡¯s blistering, my blood boiling with the invasive heat of whatever he¡¯s injected into me. ¡°Because I have to,¡± he whispers, his voice thick with emotion as he watches me writhe, his gaze filled with regret and something even darker. ¡°Because I love you. You¡¯re the only one who can carry on. You¡¯re humanity¡¯s last hope.¡± As my vision blurs from the pain, I feel him reach up, fastening an IV line to my arm. The hiss of the closing cryo pod surrounds me, the last sounds I hear as he leans close, his voice soft, barely audible over the pod¡¯s hum. ¡°I love you, Sol,¡± he says, his words distant, hollow as my consciousness slips away. ¡°No matter what, remember that you are my legacy.¡± The last thing I see is his face, blurred and fading, as the darkness consumes me. Chapter 2 : Sleeping Beauty ¡°Daddy, Please No!¡± The words tear out of my throat, my own voice echoing, raw and desperate, into the icy silence. My eyes snap open, and I gasp, choking on the thick, metallic air as it forces its way into my lungs. Every breath feels jagged, like sharp edges scraping inside me. My limbs are pinned down, bound, thick straps cutting into my wrists and ankles. Panic swells in my chest, and I thrash, yanking against the restraints with all the strength I can muster. ¡°Get the fuck off me!¡± I scream, tearing at the restraints until, one by one, they release with a loud series of clicks. I rip them away, clawing the thin IV lines from my arms. Pain flares as they pull free, and I glimpse thin streaks of blood trailing down my forearms. But the pain is distant, hazy, as my mind claws its way out of the fog. I push the pod lid open, the hinges creaking, and I stumble out, collapsing onto the freezing metal floor, every inch of me raw and disoriented. The cold stabs through my thin hospital gown, biting into my skin. I push myself to my knees, trying to catch my breath, but my mind feels like it¡¯s swimming through quicksand. The lab, my father¡¯s face, the searing pain of the needle¡ªimages flash through my head, one after another, each one tinged with the surreal, heavy sense of something gone horribly wrong. I glance down at my hands, expecting to see blood from the spots where the IVs had pierced my veins. But there¡¯s barely a trace¡ªthe holes are gone, the skin smooth and unbroken. Blood still streaks down my forearms, faint red trails marking where the tubes had been. I bring my fingers to my face, brushing a lock of hair from my eyes. White. My hair is white¡ªbright, unnatural, as if it¡¯s been drained of all color. I pull more of it forward, my heart pounding as I stare. My hair was black. But now¡­ I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the cold metal panel beside me and freeze. One eye is still the familiar blue I¡¯ve always known, but the other¡­ it¡¯s a deep crimson, unnatural, like a flicker of fire trapped in my gaze. I reach up, fingers brushing the skin beneath it, smooth and flawless, no longer marked by the small scars and imperfections I remember. My face is almost doll-like, pale and eerily perfect, with not a single blemish or line. The hiss of a door sliding open snaps me back, and footsteps echo through the room¡ªa rhythmic, indifferent beat that sends a chill down my spine. I turn slowly, and a tall man steps into view, his expression more irritated than concerned, his uniform pristine and spotless. ¡°Sol Voss?¡± His voice is cold, detached, as if he¡¯s reading my name off a checklist. He stands a few steps away, studying me with narrowed eyes, his gaze lingering over my blood-streaked hands, my too-pale, almost translucent skin, the mess of ghostly white hair hanging around my face. ¡°I¡¯m Dr. Garin,¡± he adds, his tone as sharp and clinical as his expression. For a moment, his lips press into a thin line of¡­ impatience, like I¡¯m a problem, an inconvenience, something to be handled and moved along. ¡°Welcome back,¡± he continues, but his tone holds none of the warmth those words imply. His eyes flick back to my arms, to the thin trails of blood trickling from where the IVs had been torn out. He doesn¡¯t reach forward, doesn¡¯t offer to help. Instead, he stands there, as if appraising something faintly disappointing, his head tilting as he scans me from head to toe. ¡°Med bay is expecting you,¡± he says curtly, glancing at a device on his wrist. ¡°I¡¯ll escort you there for initial diagnostics and to check on¡­ any irregularities.¡± His words are measured, flat, as though he¡¯s speaking about equipment rather than a person. ¡°Where¡¯s my dad?¡± The question falls from my lips before I can stop it, the changes forgotten in that instant. My voice is barely more than a whisper, hoarse and broken. ¡°Dr. Julian Voss¡ªwhere is he?¡± The man¡¯s eyes flicker with a glimmer of impatience. ¡°Dr. Voss didn¡¯t survive the cryo process,¡± he states flatly, like he¡¯s delivering a memo. ¡°His pod malfunctioned shortly after launch, July 12, 2468. You¡¯ve been in stasis for fifty years. Today¡¯s date is May 18, 2518.¡± Fifty years? The date slams into me with a cold, relentless force. Fifty years since I was twenty, since that day¡­ I remember the desperate fight, my father¡¯s hands on my arms, pushing me into the pod. But¡­ that would make me¡­ seventy? A surge of panic crashes over me, clawing at my chest, and I try to push myself to my feet. Get up. Just get out. Go anywhere but here, my mind screams. But my legs buckle, trembling under my weight, and I collapse forward, hitting the cold metal floor face first. Pain bursts in my mouth, and I feel something crack. I reach up to my lips, expecting to feel a broken tooth. Instead, there¡¯s only the warm slickness of blood¡ªbut no injury, nothing out of place. What the hell is wrong with me? The man just stands there, arms folded, observing with detached amusement, as though I¡¯m a bothersome detail in his day. ¡°Yes,¡± he says clinically, as if explaining a simple fact. ¡°Chronologically, you¡¯re seventy. But biologically, you¡¯re still twenty.¡± I force myself up to my hands and knees, though my legs and arms tremble beneath me, as frustration and confusion churn within. ¡°What the hell happened to me?¡± I demand, my voice cracking. ¡°Why do I look like this? My skin, my hair¡­ everything. What did you people do to me?¡± He lets out a short, humorless laugh, folding his arms as he looks me over with thinly veiled disdain. ¡°Cryo has effects,¡± he says mockingly. ¡°We¡¯re still learning what long-term stasis does to the body. Sometimes there are side effects¡­ mutations, cancer.¡± He shrugs, mouth twisting into a sneer. ¡°Consider yourself lucky, princess. The only thing you lost was your precious melanin.¡± His gaze flickers over my ghostly appearance. ¡°You¡¯re on a ship with no sunlight, and yet your name is ¡®Sol¡¯? Ironic, don¡¯t you think?¡± He chuckles bitterly, his amusement laced with scorn. I feel a flash of anger at his words, and my hands clench involuntarily. His eyes narrow as he leans forward, his tone turning even colder. ¡°Frankly, you¡¯re a waste of resources,¡± he says, voice dripping with condescension. ¡°That pod could¡¯ve saved someone worthwhile. Someone who earned their spot here, not someone handed it through nepotism.¡± He pauses, letting his words sink in, his expression hard. ¡°If I¡¯d been able to pull strings like your father, maybe my daughter would still be here too. But the great Dr. Voss pulled every favor to get you aboard.¡± The bitterness in his voice is palpable, his eyes flashing with resentment. ¡°Now that your father¡¯s gone, I¡¯m the lead scientist on the Jericho. And let me tell you, we¡¯re not going to coddle you here. You¡¯re going to pull your weight or you go back into that pod... permanently.¡± The sharpness in his tone only fuels my anger, and I can¡¯t hold back. ¡°Eat shit,¡± I snap, the words slipping out with all the venom I can muster. I try to push myself to my feet, but my legs tremble, barely holding me up before I stumble forward. I catch myself on my hands this time, my palms pressing hard against the cold, unforgiving floor. The man smirks, his contemptuous gaze lingering on me, his mouth twisting into a mockery of a smile. ¡°Careful there,¡± he sneers, his tone dripping with scorn. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want you slipping and ruining that flawless face of yours. It¡¯s about the only thing you¡¯ve got going for you, isn¡¯t it? That eerie, porcelain perfection.¡± His eyes narrow as they sweep over me, his disdain sharpening. ¡°No scars, no lines¡ªnothing human left in it.¡± He nudges a wheelchair toward me with his foot, his expression twisted with dark amusement. ¡°You¡¯ve been quite the exhibit for the crew, our very own Princess ¡®Sleeping Beauty.¡¯ Almost like a doll behind glass. Too fragile to be real.¡± His voice takes on a biting edge as he gestures sharply toward the chair. ¡°Come on, princess. Med bay¡¯s waiting. If you¡¯re too weak to stand, I¡¯ll wheel you around like the royalty you clearly think you are.¡± Before I can grab hold, he yanks the wheelchair back with a sharp pull, and I stumble forward, my knees hitting the hard metal floor. Pain flares through my legs, but I force myself to swallow the sound building in my throat. Garin stands over me, his smirk sharp and unrelenting, like he¡¯s daring me to say something. ¡°Oops,¡± he sneers, voice dripping with mockery. ¡°Guess I thought you were ready for it. My mistake.¡± Heat rushes to my face, but I push myself up, refusing to let him see how much it stings. Without a word, I crawl into the wheelchair, gripping the armrests tightly to steady myself. Garin leans over slightly, his smirk twisting darker. ¡°See? That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it?¡± Once I¡¯m in, he shoves the chair forward, the motion jarring and rough. The wheels screech slightly against the floor as he pushes me through doors and into the hallway beyond. The sharp fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows, making the space feel cold and lifeless. The halls are silent, save for the sound of the chair¡¯s wheels and Garin¡¯s heavy steps. As we move deeper into the ship, my gaze catches glimpses of the cryo chambers through the small windows in the bulkheads. Rows of pods stretch into the distance, each one filled with a figure suspended in frozen stillness. Their faces are blurred by the frost coating the glass, their forms locked in an eerie limbo. The emptiness of the ship hits me like a weight. It feels abandoned, save for the two of us. I know how this works¡ªshifts of a skeleton crew rotating every few months, while the rest stay in cryo. But seeing it like this, so silent, so still, makes my chest tighten. How many people are awake right now? Ten? Less? I have no idea. Garin doesn¡¯t speak as he wheels me through the long corridors, but his hands are rough on the chair, each turn sharp and unforgiving. The cold air bites at my exposed skin, and the metallic tang of the recycled atmosphere fills my lungs. The isolation of it all presses down on me¡ªthe sterile halls, the empty ship, and the rows of frozen faces I can¡¯t stop imagining. ¡°What the fuck is your problem, man?¡± I finally snap, unable to hold back after another rough turn. My voice is raw, trembling with both anger and exhaustion. He chuckles coldly, his tone dripping with mockery. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, princess? You gonna cry to Daddy?¡± He pauses, letting the words cut deep before adding with a sneer, ¡°Oh, wait. That¡¯s right¡ªDaddy¡¯s gone. Guess you¡¯ll have to handle this one all by yourself.¡± I bite down the fury rising in my chest, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words sting. But he doesn¡¯t stop, his voice sharp and relentless. Each word dripping with venom as he leans close.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Little Miss Voss, humanity¡¯s golden child, right?¡± he scoffs, his tone as cold and sterile as the walls around us. ¡°It¡¯s sad, really. Your father¡¯s genius¡ªhis advancements in nearly every field¡ªall the great things he did. And the last thing he left us is¡­ you.¡± He spits the word with a sneer, his gaze flicking over me like I¡¯m something broken. My hands clench tightly around the armrests, nails digging into the synthetic material. ¡°Burn in hell, Garin,¡± I mutter, the fury trembling in my voice barely restrained. But his smirk only sharpens, his words landing like blows. ¡°If things were fair, if talent and skill actually mattered on this ship, someone useful would¡¯ve been in that pod instead of you. But no, we¡¯re stuck with Daddy¡¯s little ¡®princess of humanity,¡¯ wasting space like a spoiled legacy project.¡± His words linger, heavy and cruel, but I grit my teeth, gripping the chair until my knuckles ache, determined not to let him see me break. Princess of humanity. The title echoed through my life even back on Earth, though it held a sinister undertone here. Back then, my father was one of Earth¡¯s last leaders, a man in control of a crumbling world. And me, his daughter? I was something of a myth, barely seen beyond the sterile walls of his lab. Rumors. That I¡¯d been experimented on, twisted by my father¡¯s ambition. People whispered I wasn¡¯t fully human anymore, that he had pushed me beyond natural limits, all to save humanity. How much of it was true? Fragments are all I have¡ªthe genetic conditioning, the endless surgeries, his talk of ¡°the next leap,¡± like it was both a promise and a threat. I was his tool, crafted for a purpose I barely understand. Garin¡¯s words only deepen the bitter irony. Here I am, supposedly humanity¡¯s legacy, its last hope¡ªand yet, even I don¡¯t fully know what he made me. All I have are traces of his work¡ªthe conditioning, the FTL advancements, the biological enhancements¡ªall pointing toward a future only he could see. My skin, my hair, my blood¡­ I¡¯m a puzzle he built without ever giving me the pieces. As we near the med bay, Garin sneers down at me, muttering, ¡°Little Princess¡­ a waste of potential and resources. Your father¡¯s actual work, his legacy¡ªthat¡¯s all that matters. And now I¡¯m the one who has to finish it.¡± His bitterness slices into me, but I shove down the urge to respond. What could I possibly say? I barely understand his legacy myself, only that I was at the center of it, remade and repurposed for something far beyond my comprehension. By the time we arrive at the med bay, my mind is a storm of questions I¡¯ll never get to ask, secrets I¡¯m left to carry alone. Garin leans down, his sneer hardening as he looks at me with disdain. ¡°Useless lab rat¡ªthat¡¯s all you¡¯ll ever be. You know nothing of sacrifice. Your father¡¯s legacy died with him, and it¡¯s up to us¡ªthose of us who actually care about humanity¡¯s future¡ªto pick up the pieces he left behind.¡± My stomach twists. The truth is, even I don¡¯t fully know the legacy my father left behind. Dr. Julian Voss is everywhere on Jericho¡ªit feels like his mind built this ship. The latest fusion core powering Jericho, the one destined for Haven, the cybernetic and robotic systems¡ªall his. Every system hums with his handiwork. And me? I was part of that vision, too. I can almost feel the quiet hum of implants he added to my body over the years, the subtle enhancements woven into my flesh without a word of explanation. Whatever he injected into me that last day¡ªhis twisted, final experiment¡ªhad been the ultimate catalyst, sparking changes I can feel but don¡¯t fully understand. My skin, my blood, even my bones feel different now, charged with something not quite natural. The weight of it all presses down, suffocating. I grip the armrests harder than before, my nails digging into the synthetic material as frustration heats in my chest, tightening my throat with rage and helplessness. My vision blurs, and before I can stop them, tears prick at the corners of my eyes. It¡¯s everything¡ªthe searing anger, the wrenching sadness, the helplessness of being a pawn in my father¡¯s game, a game I barely even understand. ¡°Go fuck yourself, Garin,¡± I snap, my voice low but breaking, fierce despite the tears slipping down my cheeks. I can¡¯t keep the tremble out of my words. ¡°You have no idea what I¡¯ve been through for humanity.¡± Garin¡¯s sneer falters for a fraction of a second, as if my response catches him off guard. But he quickly recovers, his disdain settling into a look of cold satisfaction, as though my pain is exactly what he expected¡ªwhat he wanted. I turn my face away, swallowing back the grief and the simmering rage, the hollow ache that reminds me of everything I¡¯ve lost, including the one person who could answer any of this. I hate you Dad¡­ But, God, I miss you. Even knowing you made me your experiment, knowing you were never the father I needed, I still feel this emptiness gnawing at me, like something¡¯s been ripped away and left raw. Why did you do this to me? Why did you have to leave me with this¡­ whatever this is? Garin''s smirk sharpens into something darker, his eyes glinting with cruel pleasure as he takes in the tear stains on my cheeks. He leans in close, his breath cold and taunting. ¡°Oh, look at this. The ¡®princess of humanity¡¯ reduced to tears,¡± he sneers. ¡°Pathetic. I knew you were nothing but a parasite, clinging to the coattails of a man whose work you couldn¡¯t even understand.¡± He lets the words linger, savoring the impact. ¡°Do you even realize how much of a burden you are? How much precious space you waste?¡± His voice drops, low and cold. ¡°If it were up to me, your pod would¡¯ve been jettisoned to make room for someone worth the air they breathe. But instead, we¡¯re all stuck coddling Daddy¡¯s little failed experiment.¡±
He stands back, looking down at me with icy disdain. ¡°So, princess, enjoy the pity while you can. We all know you¡¯ll crack the second things get tough.¡± With a mocking flourish, he steps aside as the door to the med bay opens, raising his voice. ¡°Doctor Yates¡ªyour highness is here. Patch her up¡­ or don¡¯t. Personally, I¡¯d rather save the supplies for the livestock in cryo. At least they¡¯ll be of some use down the line.¡± Dr. Yates is already standing in the doorway, arms folded, her expression unyielding. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Garin,¡± she snaps, her voice cutting through the corridor. ¡°If I hear one more word of that nonsense, I¡¯ll make sure Captain Warren knows exactly what kind of attitude you bring to the crew.¡± Her words are clipped, her gaze fierce, and for a moment, Garin¡¯s smirk falters. He mutters something under his breath and strides away, casting one last venomous look in my direction. As soon as he¡¯s out of sight, Dr. Yates¡¯s expression softens, and she gives me a small, reassuring nod. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him, Sol,¡± she says gently, her tone warm in contrast to Garin¡¯s icy bitterness. ¡°He¡¯s been bitter for a long time. It doesn¡¯t excuse his behavior, but¡­ just know you¡¯re not the first he¡¯s treated like this.¡± She places a comforting hand on my shoulder, helping me out of the wheelchair and guiding me to the exam bed with a steady kindness. There¡¯s no judgment in her gaze, just quiet empathy, as though she can see the pain and confusion beneath my anger. I manage a small, grateful smile, the warmth of her presence a welcome relief after Garin¡¯s harshness. ¡°Thank you,¡± I murmur, barely holding myself together, and she offers me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before she begins her work, her every movement filled with care and understanding. I manage a faint smile, grateful for her calm, steady presence. But then her eyes fall on my arms and lip, noticing the faint traces of blood still smeared across my skin. ¡°Is that¡­ from you?¡± she asks, concern flashing across her face. I hesitate, glancing at the streaks of blood on my skin, tracing where the IVs should have left marks. But there¡¯s nothing¡ªno pain, no wounds. It doesn¡¯t make sense. For a moment, I think I¡¯m imagining it. Then, his voice cuts through the haze in my mind, sharp and commanding, as if he¡¯s still standing over me. Some things are better left unsaid, Sol. They wouldn¡¯t understand. My stomach knots as I think of the bruises I should have, the cracked tooth that should be throbbing¡ªbut there¡¯s nothing. No sign of injury, just more questions I shove down deep, like everything else he left behind. ¡°I¡­ think I coughed it up,¡± I manage, hoping the vague answer will satisfy her and that she won¡¯t push any further. A flicker of worry crosses Dr. Yates¡¯s face, her gaze dropping to my chest as though something might be lurking inside. ¡°Alright,¡± she says gently. ¡°I¡¯ll run a few tests, just to be cautious. It could be something with your lungs.¡± She readies her equipment, her movements calm and precise, but I can sense the quiet concern underlying her actions.
As Dr. Yates begins with her tests and full-body scans, I sit motionless, watching the flickering lights of the machine as it hums around me. I¡¯m certain nothing will appear¡ªmy father would have made sure of that. He always covered his tracks. Whatever he¡¯d done to me, whatever enhancements or alterations lurked beneath my skin, they wouldn¡¯t show up on routine scans. He¡¯d been meticulous, obsessive. And I was certain he¡¯d buried his work deep, hidden from anyone who might try to look too closely. Dr. Yates glances at her monitor, her brow creasing with faint confusion as she scrolls through the results. ¡°Everything seems normal, Sol,¡± she says after a moment, her tone laced with relief. ¡°Your vitals are stable, and I¡¯m not seeing any abnormalities in your scans.¡± She pauses, her gaze lingering on me with a touch of curiosity. ¡°Though¡­ it is unusual, isn¡¯t it? The change in your hair, your skin, even your eye color.¡± Her voice is soft, more thoughtful than concerned. ¡°Sometimes cryo can have strange effects on the body. But this¡­¡± She trails off, an almost knowing look flickering in her eyes, as if she¡¯s heard whispers of something more, something darker. I catch the shift in her expression¡ªa flash of curiosity, maybe even suspicion¡ªbut it¡¯s softened by the warmth in her voice and movements. She¡¯s kind, not invasive, but the quiet interest in her gaze lingers. A part of me wants to explain, to give her something¡ªanything¡ªbut I know better. Some things are better left hidden. My father¡¯s voice echoes in my mind, heavy and unyielding. I feel the words I can¡¯t say building up inside me, a storm I want to release. The temptation to spill what little I know, to piece together the fragments of his work with someone who might actually understand, burns at the edges of my resolve. But I can¡¯t. I won¡¯t. Even with all my resentment, all the anger boiling inside me at what he turned me into, I can¡¯t betray his work. It¡¯s the only thing tethering me to him¡ªand to whatever I¡¯ve become. ¡°It must be the cryo,¡± I murmur finally, my voice barely steady as I watch her carefully for a reaction. Her curiosity dims, replaced by a gentle nod, though something thoughtful lingers behind her eyes. Dr. Yates¡¯s voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. ¡°Alright, we¡¯re all done here. Nothing unusual, but if you feel anything out of the ordinary, let us know right away,¡± she says, her tone calm but firm. Her soft smile feels genuine, like she wants to reassure me, though it barely scratches the surface of the unease crawling under my skin. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say softly, gripping the edges of the exam table as I slide off. My legs tremble beneath me, and I can tell she notices, but she doesn¡¯t push. Instead, she lingers a moment, watching me with concern. ¡°I¡¯ll grab you something to eat,¡± she offers. ¡°You¡¯ve been out of stasis for a while, and I¡¯m sure your body needs the energy.¡± As she steps out, the room falls into silence, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The weight of it all presses down¡ªmy father¡¯s legacy, the secrets he buried, and the twisted gift he left me. The pieces don¡¯t fit. They never have. And the harder I try to make sense of it, the worse it gets. What the fuck did you do to me, Dad? I try to push the thoughts away, but they swirl in my head like smoke, choking me with their weight. My fists clench, and before I can stop it, the tears spill over. My breath hitches, and I bury my face in my hands, the ache of everything I¡¯ve lost¡ªmy father, my old self, even the simple act of being ordinary¡ªcrashing over me. The door opens quietly, and I quickly wipe my face as Dr. Yates returns. Her gaze softens when she sees me, but she doesn¡¯t comment on my tears. Instead, she steps closer, a small package in her hands. ¡°Here,¡± she says gently, holding out a pre-packaged meal. ¡°You need to eat something after all this time.¡± The scent reaches me immediately¡ªwarm, savory, and rich¡ªand my stomach clenches with hunger I didn¡¯t realize I had. My hands tremble as I take it from her, and I murmur, ¡°Thank you.¡± Dr. Yates watches me as I tear into the package, her quiet presence grounding me. Each bite is a small comfort, a reminder that, even in this sterile and unfamiliar place, there are still traces of humanity. For a moment, the world feels a little less cold. ¡°Once you¡¯re done,¡± she says softly, her tone as kind as ever, ¡°I¡¯ll bring you some clothes and show you where you can shower. You don¡¯t have to stay in that hospital gown any longer than you need to.¡± The thought of a hot shower, real clothes¡ªanything to reclaim some semblance of normalcy¡ªeases the tight knot in my chest. ¡°Thank you, again... really,¡± I repeat, this time more earnestly. As I eat, I cling to that flicker of hope. It¡¯s small, almost fragile, but it¡¯s there, steadying me in this unfamiliar world. For now, it¡¯s enough to hold onto the promise of warmth, of humanity, and of taking one step forward, no matter how uncertain the path ahead might be. Chapter 3 : The Skeleton Crew The hot water scalds my skin, but I don¡¯t care. I stand under the spray, letting it batter my shoulders, washing away the grime, the blood, and the ache that¡¯s settled in my muscles¡ªand somewhere deeper, too. My hands press against the slick tile walls, nails scraping faint lines into the grout before the water erases them. The steam curls around me, thick and suffocating, but I cling to it. It feels safer than the cold, sterile air outside this tiny room. My hands shake as I run my fingers through my hair, untangling knots and rinsing away the soap. The strands feel wrong¡ªsilky smooth, unnaturally soft. And white. White. The sight of it under the harsh bathroom light churns my stomach. My hair wasn¡¯t like this before. My body wasn¡¯t like this before. None of me was like this before. What am I now? I scrub at my pale arms, harder than I need to, as if I can scrape away the wrongness. The soap lathers into a slick foam, sliding down into the drain. My fingers catch on the corner of the shower knob, cutting my hand¡ªthen I blink, and it¡¯s gone. The skin underneath is flawless, no scar, no blemish. Perfect. Too perfect. I drop the soap in the process, my stomach twisting violently. It¡¯s not normal. None of this is. I stare at my forearm, my breathing shallow. The pale skin glistens under the water, untouched, unmarked. Too smooth. Too perfect. My nails hover just above it, trembling, before I press them down sharply and drag. A deep line blooms red across my skin, pain flaring hot and immediate. Blood wells to the surface, running in thin rivulets down to my wrist. The sting is sharp, real¡ªand almost a relief. For a split second, it feels normal. Human. Then, as I watch, the blood slows. The edges of the wound knit together in small, jerking motions, like something alive is working beneath the surface. The pain doesn¡¯t fade entirely¡ªit dulls to a low throb, echoing in my bones¡ªbut the skin pulls closed. My stomach twists violently, bile rising in my throat. The blood that ran down my arm pools at my feet, wasted. I drag my nails down my forearm again, harder this time, the motion desperate. Pain flares, sharp and immediate, and a fresh bloom of blood follows. The sight is vivid, stark against my pale skin¡ªbut even as it runs red, the edges of the wound knit together in jerking, unnatural motions. The sting fades, leaving me lightheaded, my body weak. My stomach churns as the gnawing ache of hunger claws at me, sharp and relentless. It¡¯s costing me¡ªmy body is draining itself to keep me whole. I stumble back, clutching my arm as a cold wave washes over me. My legs feel weak, my head spinning. It¡¯s not normal. None of this is normal. It¡¯s wrong¡ªso profoundly, utterly wrong that the sight of my own skin makes me want to scream. The water pours over me, steaming and relentless, but I can¡¯t feel it anymore. All I feel is the cold knot of dread coiling tighter and tighter in my chest, the wrongness crawling under my skin, in my veins. I¡¯m not human anymore... I don¡¯t know what I am. A fractured sob escapes me, raw and broken, as the water streams down my face. The tiles seem to close in, the room shrinking, and I grip the wall like it¡¯s the only thing keeping me upright. My knees tremble, threatening to buckle. I press my forehead to the cool tile, trying to steady my breathing, but it only comes in short, ragged gasps. A memory flares behind my eyes¡ªhis face, sharp and urgent, lit by the flicker of gunfire outside. My father¡¯s hands, cold and trembling, as they pushed me into the pod. His voice, cutting through the chaos like a scalpel. Humanity¡¯s hope, he said. The words twist now, bitter and mocking, ricocheting around my skull. Hope for what, Dad? For this? For me? Another sob breaks loose, and I clutch my hair tightly, yanking until my scalp burns. The sharp pain grounds me for a fleeting moment, but it doesn¡¯t last. The strands slip through my fingers like silk, clinging to my wet shoulders, limp and lifeless. I don¡¯t even feel the water anymore¡ªjust the crushing weight pressing down on my chest. I glance at the fogged mirror through the steam, my vision blurring with tears. My crimson eye glares back at me, glowing faintly, a constant, mocking reminder of what I¡¯ve become. But just beside it, my one blue eye remains¡ªthe same soft blue as my father¡¯s. My heart twists painfully at the sight of it, grief surging like a tidal wave. For a moment, I let myself believe that the blue eye connects me to him somehow. That it¡¯s still me¡ªstill the daughter he believed in, not this¡­ thing. ¡°What did you do to me, Dad?¡± I whisper for the hundredth time, the words choking on a sob. My voice cracks, barely audible over the hiss of water. I grip the shallow sink beneath the mirror, its cold metal edge biting into my palms as water streams relentlessly over my shoulders. My nails scrape against the rim, slipping uselessly, and I feel the panic rising higher, impossible to contain. My chest tightens, and my breath comes in short, jagged gasps. The steam clings to me, thick and suffocating, wrapping around my body like a second skin. It crawls into my throat, heavy and choking, making it harder to breathe. I blink hard, trying to focus on the reflection, but my vision wavers. My doll like face stares back, perfect and undeniably not human, overwhelming everything else. Humanity¡¯s hope. My father¡¯s voice echoes in my mind, a sharp, cutting memory. The words spin faster and faster, louder and louder, until they drown out the rush of the water. I clutch the sink tighter, my knuckles aching, but it¡¯s not enough. The panic claws at my chest, relentless and unyielding. I close my eyes, desperate for relief, but the words don¡¯t stop. Hope for what, Dad? For this? For me? My breath catches, and I force my eyes open, meeting my reflection again. The crimson eye glows back at me, alien and unrelenting, but beside it, my single blue eye shines through the haze. Familiar. Steady. It¡¯s all I have left of him¡ªthe only part of me that still feels real. ¡°Get through today,¡± I whisper, my voice trembling as I cling to the sight of that blue eye. ¡°Just¡­ just today.¡± The words are shaky, but they anchor me, grounding me just enough to keep standing. The words barely hold. The thought feels hollow, fragile, but it¡¯s all I have. The tension in my chest doesn¡¯t ease. The wrongness doesn¡¯t leave. But I can¡¯t let myself break. Not here. Not yet. The ship is quiet¡ªtoo quiet. The only sound is the rhythmic slap of water on the tiles. No hum of machinery. No distant voices. Just me, alone, with the crushing silence pressing in like something alive. A flicker of movement catches the corner of my eye. I freeze, my chest tightening as my breath hitches painfully. Slowly, I turn my head toward the bathroom entrance, heart pounding harder with each agonizing second. Through the swirling steam, I see them¡ªtwo faint, glowing yellow orbs hovering just beyond the doorframe. It¡¯s tall, too tall to be human. They don¡¯t blink. They don¡¯t move. They just watch. My breath catches in my throat, the sound a soft, strangled gasp. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out everything else. Those eyes¡ªcold, inhuman, calculating¡ªare locked on me, fixed like a predator on prey. The steam shifts around them, coiling like smoke, but they don¡¯t waver. And then something moves. A shadow. Too tall, too thin, with long, unnaturally jointed limbs that jerk like a puppet¡¯s as it emerges slightly from the fog. A faint clicking sound cuts through the silence, almost insectile, and my stomach turns violently, bile rising in my throat. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± My voice is barely a whisper, trembling against the rush of the water. No answer. The shadow twitches again, the yellow eyes narrowing slightly. Its limbs jerk forward, not quite stepping, more like dragging through the thick steam. Their angles are all wrong¡ªsharp, broken¡ªand the sound of something wet dragging across the tiles sends a shiver down my spine. My stomach churns, and the oppressive sense of wrongness grows, heavy and suffocating. My heel slips on the wet tiles as I try to back away. The world tilts violently as I crash down, my head smacking against the edge of the stall. Pain explodes behind my eyes, sharp and blinding, and the taste of blood floods my mouth. I groan, clutching the back of my head, fingers finding slick warmth. The pain dulls almost immediately, a familiar pang of hunger twisting in my gut. My fingers brush over the wound, and I feel the skin knitting itself back together under my touch. Blood drips from my hair, trailing red streaks down my pale arms, but the gash is already gone. My breath hitches as I push myself up, my vision swimming. The monster is closer now. Too close. The yellow eyes burn like twin embers in the swirling steam, unblinking, locked on me. Its long limbs twitch, joints crackling unnaturally, and a clawed hand drags along the tile with a faint screech. My chest tightens like a vise, every nerve in my body screaming for me to run¡ªbut I can¡¯t move. The fear overtakes me, primal and overwhelming, and my body gives in to it. A warm wet rush spreads down my legs, mixing with the shower water pooling around me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The word pounds in my head like a drumbeat, frantic and useless. My chest tightens, my limbs lock in place, and I can¡¯t make myself move. Shame and terror burn through me, twisting together into a suffocating knot. Move! Do something! But I¡¯m too frozen, too scared, and the thought spirals, hollow and helpless. I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers digging into the slick tiles as I gasp for breath, every muscle locked. The sharp pang of hunger twists deeper, gnawing at my insides, but I don¡¯t dare open my eyes. Seconds pass, stretching unbearably long. When I finally force myself to look, it¡¯s gone. The doorway is empty. The steam curls lazily, undisturbed. The faint hum of the ship returns, but the silence feels heavier than before, pressing down as if it wants to crush me. I blink, wiping at the blood smeared across my cheek with trembling hands. My legs won¡¯t stop shaking, and the memory of those yellow eyes burns at the edges of my vision, unrelenting. I push myself upright, clutching the edge of the stall for support. My damp hair clings to my neck, streaked faintly with blood, and the ache in my stomach sharpens with every breath. My body feels hollow, weak, as though fear itself is draining me. The creature¡ªit was there. It was. Wasn¡¯t it? I swallow hard, my chest tightening as I shuffle toward the doorway. Barefoot and naked, I hesitate at the threshold, the cold metal of the frame biting into my palm. My breath fogs in the chilled air as I peer into the corridor. It¡¯s quiet¡ªempty. I glance left, then right, heart pounding. Nothing. Way too fast, way too quiet. No way it could¡¯ve been human. I should¡¯ve heard something¡ªany sound, a footstep, a breath. But there¡¯s nothing. Just the low hum of the ship and the faint echoes of my ragged breathing. Shivering, I pull back into the bathroom, my chest heaving as the heavy silence presses in around me again. It wasn''t real? The thought sends a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me. My chest heaves as I stumble toward the sink, leaning heavily against the counter. The cold metal against my palms steadies me just enough to keep my knees from giving out. You saw it. You know you did. Or did I? The question gnaws at the edge of my mind, rising louder with every pounding beat of my heart. What did you do to me, Dad? My fingers tremble as I touch my arm, feeling the smooth, perfect skin where wounds should be. Am I losing it? The memory of the injection flashes behind my eyes¡ªhis trembling hands, his voice saying I was humanity¡¯s hope. Was this what he meant? The thought sends a cold wave through me, bile rising in my throat. If it¡¯s not real... if I imagined it... am I going insane? I sink back against the shower wall, the warm spray pounding against my shoulders. No, it wasn''t real. It couldn''t be. I hit my head too many times, that¡¯s all. My fingers press against my temple, gingerly tracing where the skin is smooth, no swelling, no blood. I should have a concussion¡ªor worse. I should be dizzy, weak, seeing stars. Instead, the only thing pounding in my head is fear. Fear, and the gnawing ache in my stomach. Hunger. The pain sharpens, twisting with every breath. I press a hand against my stomach as if I could stop it, but it only grows worse, clawing at me. It¡¯s not just healing... it¡¯s taking something from me every time. I force myself to glance into the mirror, only briefly this time, searching for something familiar. My reflection wavers in the fogged surface, distorted and alien. My crimson eye glows faintly, but my gaze skips over it quickly. Instead, I find the other one¡ªblue, steady. Human. My father¡¯s eye. It steadies me, if only for a moment. He gave this to me too, I think bitterly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Is this all I have left of you, Dad? A body I don¡¯t understand, a mind I¡¯m starting to lose, and a promise I don¡¯t even know how to keep? I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the sink as the water pours down over me. The pounding in my chest matches the rushing of the water, relentless. Maybe it¡¯s not real. Maybe it¡¯s the drug, or the head trauma. Maybe I just need rest, food. Something normal. But the memory of those eyes¡ªthose cold, unblinking yellow eyes¡ªstays vivid, cutting through every rational thought. What else did you do to me? My breathing hitches as I try to push the thought away. The warmth of the shower does nothing to ease the cold dread that clings to me. I feel hollow, disconnected, as though this body isn¡¯t my own. As though I¡¯m slipping away from myself with every second. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy,¡± I whisper, my voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± But even as I say it, the words feel fragile, as though they could shatter under the weight of the truth. ¡°Sol?¡± Yates¡¯s voice cuts through the stillness, muffled but close. The sound jolts me, breaking the spell, and I exhale sharply. My legs are trembling, and my grip on the counter is so tight my knuckles ache. I force myself to move, stepping cautiously toward the door. ¡°Yeah?¡± I call out, my voice shaky as I push the bathroom door open again. The hallway is just as empty as before, the sterile lights casting long, unbroken shadows. But now Yates is there, her silhouette emerging from a few doors down, a bundle of folded clothes in her hands. Yates steps forward, holding a folded bundle of clothes. Her expression is calm but searching, her eyes flicking over me. ¡°I thought I heard something. Are you alright?¡± I hesitate, the words tangling in my throat. I could tell her. I could say something about what I saw¡ªor thought I saw. But what would I even say? That I¡¯m seeing things? That I¡¯m losing it? ¡°I slipped,¡± I say finally, gripping the towel tighter. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Yates doesn¡¯t seem convinced, but she nods and holds out the clothes. ¡°Here. They¡¯re temporary until we get you something better.¡± I take them with trembling hands, muttering, ¡°Thanks.¡± She lingers for a moment longer, her gaze flicking over my face like she¡¯s trying to read me. ¡°When you¡¯re ready, meet me in the hall. We¡¯ve got a lot to go over.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I wait until she leaves before letting out a shaky breath. My legs feel weak as I lean against the door, staring down at the simple shorts and t-shirt in my hands. The normalcy of them feels almost absurd after what I just experienced. I dress quickly, trying to shake the unease crawling under my skin. The mirror catches my eye again, the steam clearing just enough to reveal my reflection. My crimson eye glows faintly in the dim light, and for a split second, I think I see movement in the corner of the frame. I spin around, my heart slamming against my ribs. But there¡¯s nothing there. Just shadows. Just silence. It¡¯s nothing, I tell myself, stepping into the hall. But the thought feels hollow. The memory of those golden eyes lingers, cold and unblinking, at the edge of my mind. And no matter how hard I try, I can¡¯t convince myself that I didn¡¯t see them.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The bathroom door hisses shut behind me, and the warmth of the shower gives way to the biting chill of the corridor. My bare feet hesitate on the cold, sterile floor for a moment before Yates steps forward, holding out a folded pressure suit and a pair of bright red flip-flops adorned with a floral pattern. ¡°Here,¡± she says, her tone calm but brisk. ¡°The suit¡¯s temporary, and these¡ª¡± she gestures to the flip-flops¡ª ¡°will keep you from looking like a bum.¡± I take the items with trembling hands, the pressure suit feeling heavier than I expect. My gaze falls to the flip-flops, the garish pattern catching me off guard. My shoulders sag, and I let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. ¡°Red flowers?¡± I mutter. Yates raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Best spare''s I''ve got. Take it or go barefoot.¡± I slide my feet into the flip-flops, the soles squeaking faintly as I shift my weight. ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, clutching the pressure suit against my chest, its fabric cool against my damp T-shirt and shorts. ¡°Feeling a little more human now?¡± she asks, her tone light. ¡°Something like that,¡± I manage, forcing a faint smile. The temporary clothes feel inadequate¡ªthin and clinging awkwardly to my damp skin¡ªbut they¡¯re still better than the gown. I shift the bundle in my arms, the fabric of the suit slipping slightly between my fingers as we walk. ¡°Good,¡± Yates says simply. ¡°The captain wants to meet you in the mess. Everyone¡¯s already there.¡± The knot in my stomach tightens at her words, but I nod. ¡°How many are awake?¡± ¡°Ten total,¡± Yates says, starting down the hall. ¡°That¡¯s including Jericho, the ship¡¯s AI. A skeleton crew.¡± The phrase sticks with me. Skeleton crew. It feels too fitting, like we¡¯re the bones of something much larger, stripped down and hollow. I glance at the narrow windows lining the corridor, each one offering a view into the cryo chambers. Frost clings to the glass, and I can just make out faint silhouettes inside¡ªthe rest of the ship¡¯s passengers, frozen in time. ¡°Why so few?¡± I ask, my voice quieter than I intended. ¡°Resources,¡± Yates replies. ¡°Food, water, air. The fewer people awake, the more we can conserve. Four teams rotate throughout the year¡ªA, B, C, and D. We handle three months awake, then back to cryo. Team B will take over after us, and so on.¡± I glance back toward the frosted windows. ¡°Do we ever meet them? The other teams?¡± ¡°Only during the switch,¡± Yates says. ¡°When one team comes out of cryo, the other goes in. It¡¯s brief¡ªjust enough time to hand off updates and get out of the pods.¡± Her voice is calm, steady, but the weight of her words sinks into my chest. I won¡¯t ever know most of the people aboard this ship. My world, for the foreseeable future, will be reduced to these halls and the people currently waiting for me in the mess. ¡°What do they all do?¡± I ask, desperate to pull my thoughts away from the isolation creeping in. Yates sighs lightly, then starts listing off names like she¡¯s reciting a roster. ¡°Captain Warren leads Team A and the ship as a whole. He¡¯s one of four captains, but this is his ship more than anyone else¡¯s. He keeps everything running, makes the hard calls. Respect him, and he¡¯ll respect you.¡± I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest. ¡°What¡¯s he like?¡± ¡°Experienced,¡± she says after a moment. ¡°He¡¯s been on Jericho since launch, but before that, he served on Gorlion, the only ship to ever return to Earth after its fusion core began to fail. Warren¡¯s traveled further than any captain alive, and he¡¯s the one who decides what happens on this team. Stern but fair. Don¡¯t waste his time.¡± I nod, though my chest tightens further at the thought of facing him. ¡°And the others?¡± ¡°Lieutenant Commander Evelyn Vega,¡± Yates continues. ¡°She¡¯s the navigator and quartermaster. Second-in-command. She handles logistics, navigation, and planning¡ªanything that keeps the ship and crew functional. Calm, sharp, steady. You¡¯ll like her.¡± I cling to those words, hoping they hold some truth. ¡°Reid¡¯s the engineer,¡± Yates says next, her lips twitching slightly. ¡°Handles all the ship¡¯s systems and keeps it running. He¡¯s laid-back, a bit of a jokester, but he knows his stuff. You¡¯ll be training with him.¡± My chest eases slightly at her tone. It sounds like Reid might be the closest thing to a friendly face in this lineup. ¡°Holt handles security,¡± Yates says, her tone sharpening. ¡°Tactical and combat training. He¡¯s quiet, disciplined, and doesn¡¯t waste words. Don¡¯t expect him to go easy on you.¡± I glance at her, unsure whether to feel reassured or terrified. She doesn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°Garin is the lead scientist,¡± she continues, her voice tightening slightly. ¡°He specializes in physics, AI systems, and anything else technical. Brilliant, but¡­ abrasive. Don¡¯t take it personally.¡± I grimace. That¡¯s going to be hard. ¡°Jimmy¡¯s the general laborer,¡± Yates adds. ¡°He helps Reid with mechanical repairs, handles manual tasks. He¡¯s young, eager to prove himself, but¡­ well, he¡¯s impressionable. Spends too much time around Garin.¡± I frown, not liking the sound of that. I count in my head. Warren, Vega, Reid, Holt, Garin, Jimmy. That¡¯s six. Plus Yates and me. Eight. Nine, counting Jericho. ¡°And who¡¯s the last?¡± I ask. ¡°Ashly,¡± Yates says, her voice softening slightly. ¡°She¡¯s one of the science team. Works under Garin, specializes in biology and genetics. Quiet, kind, but¡­ she keeps to herself. For good reason.¡± The unspoken meaning hangs heavy in the air between us, a weight I don¡¯t want to disturb. I don¡¯t press further, though my mind lingers on the way Yates said it¡ªcareful, almost protective. It doesn¡¯t take much to guess that Garin isn¡¯t exactly easy to work with. His sharp demeanor makes that clear enough. Yates glances at me, perhaps sensing my hesitation. ¡°Ashly and Jimmy are the youngest on the crew. They prefer to go by their first names¡ªkeeps things a little more casual for them. Everyone else sticks to last names. It¡¯s just¡­ how it¡¯s always been.¡± I nod slowly, the distinction settling into place. It makes sense now¡ªwhy their names were softer in tone when spoken. There¡¯s something different about being called by your first name out here, a faint tether to the person you were before you boarded this ship. It¡¯s less formal, maybe even a little comforting. I can¡¯t help wondering if it¡¯s something they cling to, surrounded by people who wear their roles like armor. ¡°And Jericho?¡± I ask, glancing at the walls around us. ¡°The ship¡¯s AI,¡± Yates says simply. ¡°Handles navigation, inventory, and diagnostics. It¡¯s a tool, nothing more.¡± Her tone leaves no room for debate, but I can¡¯t help feeling like there¡¯s more to it than she¡¯s letting on. I hesitate, my grip tightening on the suit in my arms. ¡°Why am I awake?¡± Yates stops, turning to face me. Her gaze softens slightly, but her voice remains firm. ¡°That¡¯s for the captain to explain. He¡¯ll tell you everything you need to know.¡± I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. The weight of her words doesn¡¯t ease the twisting in my stomach, but I force myself to move forward when she gestures down the hall. ¡°Just listen,¡± she says, her tone gentler now. ¡°And be respectful. Warren¡¯s a good man, but he¡¯s got a lot on his shoulders. We all do.¡± Her words settle uneasily in my chest, but I nod again. ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Yates says, turning away. ¡°Come on. They¡¯re waiting.¡± The mess hall door hisses open, and I step inside, the knot in my stomach tightening as six heads swivel toward me¡ªthough Garin doesn¡¯t even glance up from his cards. The air is warmer here, tinged with the faint smell of coffee, and something heavier¡ªlike yeast or beer. I pause just inside, gripping the temporary pressure suit tighter against my chest as the door slides shut behind me, sealing me in with the skeleton crew of Jericho. Two gazes linger on me longer than the others. I can only assume they¡¯re Jimmy and Reid from Yates¡¯s descriptions. Reid¡¯s grin widens slightly, his mirrored sunglasses doing little to hide the way his gaze sweeps over me¡ªmy damp T-shirt clinging to my skin, the shorts leaving my legs bare. Jimmy¡¯s eyes flicker over me briefly, less overt, but still noticeable. It¡¯s not outright hostility or judgment, but there¡¯s something there that makes my skin prickle. Scrutiny, maybe. Or something else. I shift uncomfortably under their attention, my arms tightening around the bundle of the pressure suit. The fabric feels heavier now, more like a shield than just something I¡¯m carrying. The others, at least, return quickly to what they were doing, their brief glances devoid of the same lingering weight. The room is larger than I expected, with clean, metallic walls reflecting the stark overhead lighting. There are hints of humanity tucked in the corners: a coffee pot gurgling softly on a counter, faded posters of Earth¡¯s oceans and mountains, and a scuffed deck of cards spread across the center table. The sight of them gathered here¡ªmoving, talking, living¡ªmakes the ship feel a little less like a tomb. Yates steps in behind me, nodding toward the room. ¡°This is our team.¡± I follow her gesture, my eyes darting to the nearest group. Reid is the first one I notice, leaning back in his chair with a grin as he shuffles the deck of cards. He¡¯s short and stocky, with messy blond hair sticking out from under a pair of mirrored sunglasses that seem absurdly out of place under the harsh lighting. His Hawaiian shirt¡ªloud and clashing¡ªis unbuttoned just enough to reveal the black pressure suit beneath, clinging to his barrel-shaped torso. ¡°Beer or coffee, Garin? Both?¡± Reid¡¯s voice is light, almost playful, as he slides a mug and a bottle across the table toward the man sitting next to him. Garin doesn¡¯t answer immediately, his pale fingers adjusting the cuffs of his pristine lab coat. His dark hair is slicked back, every strand meticulously in place, and his sharp features are set in a look of irritation that feels permanent. Even the way he sits¡ªstraight-backed, arms folded¡ªscreams arrogance. ¡°Neither,¡± he replies coolly, though he pushes the mug toward Ashly without looking at her. ¡°Take it. You look like you need it.¡± Ashly¡¯s fingers curl around the mug hesitantly. She¡¯s small, barely taller than me, with delicate features and dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. The oversized lab coat she wears seems to swallow her frame, and when she glances at me, there¡¯s a flicker of something kind in her expression. But it fades quickly as Garin¡¯s gaze darts her way, sharp and cutting. She lowers her head, her shoulders hunching inward. The fourth figure at the table, Jimmy, looks up from his hand of cards. He¡¯s younger than the rest, maybe early twenties, with brown hair tied into a messy man bun and faint circles under his eyes. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, but there¡¯s a stiffness to him that doesn¡¯t match his casual posture. He glances at me briefly, his expression unreadable, before his eyes dart back to Garin as if seeking approval. ¡°That¡¯s our science team,¡± Yates murmurs beside me. ¡°Garin, Ashly, and Jimmy. Physics, biology, and the grunt work.¡± Reid deals a card to Garin, who doesn¡¯t even look at it, then glances over his shoulder at me. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the new kid, right? Beer¡¯s terrible, but it¡¯s better than the coffee.¡± ¡°Reid,¡± Yates warns, her tone sharp. ¡°What?¡± He holds up his hands in mock innocence, the cards still fanned between his fingers. ¡°Just trying to be welcoming.¡± ¡°Stick to cards,¡± she replies curtly, leading me further into the room. At the far end of the hall, two figures stand hunched over a glowing console embedded in the table. A hovering drone buzzes between them, projecting a translucent map of the quadrant. The woman¡ªVega, I guess¡ªis focused on the display, her short dark hair streaked with gray catching the light as she tilts her head. She wears a navy jacket over her black pressure suit, the silver insignia on her collar marking her as someone important. Her hazel eyes flick between the map and the hovering drone with sharp precision, her lips moving as she mutters something too low to hear. Beside her stands the captain. Captain Warren doesn¡¯t look up immediately, his dark brows furrowed as he consults the display. His black hair, peppered with gray, is cropped short, and his beard¡ªmore gray than black¡ªframes a face lined with experience. He¡¯s tall, his broad frame filling out the leather jacket that drapes over his pressure suit. There¡¯s an intensity to him, even in this moment of quiet focus, as if every thought is calculated, deliberate. He gestures toward the drone, and it flickers slightly, the map shifting in response. ¡°That¡¯s Jericho,¡± Yates whispers, nodding toward the drone. My stomach twists. The AI. I¡¯d known my father had worked on artificial intelligence, but seeing it in action¡ªits cold efficiency, its unblinking presence¡ªmakes my skin crawl. Warren finally looks up, his eyes locking onto me with a weight that¡¯s impossible to ignore. His gaze is sharp, assessing, but not unkind. He straightens, the quiet authority in his posture filling the room. ¡°Voss,¡± he says simply. His voice is deep, steady, carrying an unspoken expectation of obedience. ¡°Come here.¡± I move forward on shaky legs, my grip tightening on the suit in my arms. As I approach the table, the rest of the crew begins to shift, their attention turning toward me fully. Vega steps aside, her gaze meeting mine briefly. There¡¯s something almost reassuring in her calm demeanor, though she doesn¡¯t offer a smile. ¡°Let¡¯s make this quick,¡± Warren says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He glances around the room, addressing the crew as much as me. ¡°This is Sol Voss. She¡¯s the newest member of Team A. You¡¯ll train her in your fields as needed. You all know what that entails.¡± He looks back at me. ¡°Reid, chief engineer. Keeps the ship running.¡± Reid raises his beer bottle in a mock toast. ¡°I¡¯ll go easy on you, kid.¡± Warren¡¯s brow furrows slightly, but he continues. ¡°Lieutenant Holt, security and combat training.¡± My eyes flick to the tall man standing near the corner, quietly assembling the pieces of a sleek black firearm. Holt is clean-shaven, his dark eyes sharp and unflinching. He doesn¡¯t acknowledge me beyond a slight nod, his attention already back on his work. ¡°Lieutenant Commander Vega, navigator and quartermaster,¡± Warren says, gesturing to the woman beside him. ¡°Welcome aboard,¡± Vega says, her voice steady and professional. Her hazel eyes meet mine again, and for a moment, the knot in my stomach loosens. ¡°Yates, medical and counseling,¡± Warren continues, nodding toward her. ¡°We¡¯ll get you sorted,¡± Yates says reassuringly. ¡°Garin, lead scientist,¡± Warren says, his tone hardening slightly. ¡°Ashly, biology and genetics specialist and his assistant.¡± Ashly offers a timid nod, her hands wrapped tightly around the coffee mug in front of her. She looks like she¡¯d rather disappear than meet my eyes. Garin doesn¡¯t bother looking at me, his attention fixed on his cards. ¡°Jimmy, general labor and our mechanic,¡± Warren finishes. Jimmy glances up briefly, his expression unreadable, then looks away just as quickly. Warren¡¯s gaze returns to me, his expression unreadable. ¡°For now, listen, learn, and don¡¯t waste anyone¡¯s time. Understood?¡± I nod quickly. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Warren says, turning back to the glowing display. The drone hovering above him adjusts its projection, the map shifting slightly. ¡°We¡¯ll start with the basics tomorrow. For now, get settled and get the pressure suit fitted. It¡¯s critical you wear it at all times when on duty¡ªif we lose pressure, it can save your life.¡± I nod, clutching the suit tighter against my chest. I know that already. My dad had been one of the engineers behind the pressure suit¡¯s design¡ªa revolutionary nano-weave packed with life support systems, climate control, and armor. Its auto-deploying helmet had been the innovation that saved countless lives in the vacuum of space. But that¡¯s not the question burning in my mind. My throat feels dry as I glance toward the other crew members, all of them returning to their tasks. My gaze shifts back to Warren, his focus already back on the map. I take a shaky breath and step closer. ¡°Sir?¡± My voice feels small in the vast room, but it¡¯s enough to make him look at me again. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Why¡­¡± I hesitate, my grip tightening on the suit. ¡°Why did you wake me up? Out of all the people in cryo, why me?¡± The room falls still for a moment. Even the faint clink of Holt assembling his weapon halts briefly before resuming at a slower pace. Warren¡¯s sharp eyes lock onto mine, and for a heartbeat, I regret asking. But then he leans back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°I figured you¡¯d want to know sooner rather than later,¡± he says, his tone steady. ¡°Yates didn¡¯t tell you?¡± ¡°She¡­ she mentioned the rotation,¡± I say quickly, ¡°and conserving resources. But¡­ why me? Specifically?¡± Warren exhales through his nose, glancing briefly at Vega. She steps back, giving him space to speak but staying close enough to listen. The other crew members seem to tune out the conversation, though I can feel the weight of a few curious gazes lingering. ¡°Our last general laborer died last cycle,¡± Warren says plainly, his voice low but unwavering. ¡°Accident during a repair. We had no choice but to redistribute his duties among the team. That worked for a while, but it stretched us thin. When it came time to wake the next rotation, we needed someone who could cover gaps without pulling specialists from their rotations.¡± He pauses, letting that sink in before continuing. ¡°You¡¯re young. You¡¯ve got potential. And frankly, your presence was the logical choice. You can train across fields¡ªengineering, manual repair, science support, even combat if necessary. That versatility is invaluable out here.¡± I nod slowly, though my stomach churns. He makes it sound practical¡ªlogical. But it still doesn¡¯t answer the bigger question. ¡°Why wake me so early? Hundreds of years before we¡¯re due at Haven?¡± Warren¡¯s expression softens slightly, but his tone remains firm. ¡°This isn¡¯t Earth, Sol. We¡¯re not in a position to hand out free rides. Cryo pods are a privilege, one you¡¯ll need to earn. If you serve your ten years¡ªbiologically speaking¡ªyou¡¯ll more than pay for your place on this ship. Forty years may sound like a lot, but you¡¯ll be awake for less than a quarter of that. And when it¡¯s done, you¡¯ll have real experience to show for it.¡± My chest tightens, the weight of his words pressing down on me. ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not an option,¡± he says bluntly. ¡°We¡¯re all here to do our part. This ship doesn¡¯t run on good intentions¡ªit runs on discipline, effort, and sacrifice. Your father understood that.¡± His mention of my dad stirs something raw in me. ¡°My father?¡± Warren nods, his gaze steady and unwavering. ¡°Dr. Julian Voss was a great man. His work on AI systems, pressure suits, cryo stabilization¡ªhell, the very FTL drive that powers Jericho¡ªchanged the game for all of us. He was one of the lead architects of this ship, Sol. Without him, Jericho wouldn¡¯t even exist.¡± His voice deepens, filled with a personal weight. ¡°Your father didn¡¯t just design technology; he pioneered the future. Cybernetic enhancements, gene editing¡ªthose projects weren¡¯t just theoretical. The gene editing, in particular, saved this mission before it even began. It allowed us to survive the extremes of cryo¡ªstabilized the body, reduced cellular degradation. Without it, half the people on this ship wouldn¡¯t have made it through the first cycle.¡± He leans forward slightly, his voice softening. ¡°And that¡¯s not all. His work extended far beyond survival. That gene therapy also slowed aging. Not by a little¡ªby almost half. The people on this ship are living proof of his legacy. Generations ago, we would¡¯ve needed thousands of crew to make this journey. Now, with extended lifespans and cryo rotations, fewer people can go further, longer.¡± Warren¡¯s tone grows heavier. ¡°He believed in humanity¡¯s survival, Sol. But more than that, he believed in you. He spoke of you often¡ªalways with pride. To him, you weren¡¯t just his daughter. You were the future, the bridge between everything he worked for and everything we¡¯re striving toward.¡± I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to go away. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what he wanted from me. He didn¡¯t tell me¡ªhe just¡­¡± My words trail off, the memory of his hands shoving me into the pod, his voice saying humanity¡¯s hope, cutting through the haze. Warren leans forward slightly, his voice softening. ¡°You don¡¯t have to figure it all out now. But if you want to honor his legacy, start by pulling your weight here. Prove to yourself¡ªand to the rest of this crew¡ªthat you¡¯re more than just Julian Voss¡¯s daughter.¡± I nod, though the weight in my chest doesn¡¯t ease. His words are pragmatic, even encouraging, but they still leave me feeling hollow. Like a cog in a machine, expected to turn without question. ¡°Jericho¡¯s been on autopilot for decades,¡± Warren continues, gesturing toward the drone hovering near the map. ¡°The AI handles most of the ship¡¯s systems. But now, we¡¯re entering uncharted space¡ªbeyond the last transmissions from the earlier colony ships. This is the frontier, Sol. We need everyone at their best. That includes the Princess of Humanity.¡± His words catch me off guard, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. For a fleeting moment, the strict, no-nonsense captain lets something softer slip through. He winks¡ªquick, subtle, but undeniably there. I blink, momentarily disarmed. It¡¯s the first sign I¡¯ve seen that he isn¡¯t all business, a crack in the polished armor of authority. But the weight of his words still presses on me, heavier than the smirk can lift. I glance at the drone, its glowing blue sensors flickering as it processes some unseen command. My stomach twists again, the sight of it sending a shiver down my spine. My father¡¯s work. His legacy. And now, apparently, mine. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
¡°Now, off you go,¡± Warren says, his gaze returning to the glowing map on the table. He straightens his posture, his hands clasping behind his back as he shifts his focus to the drone hovering above. His tone is firm but not unkind, the faintest hint of finality edging his words. ¡°You¡¯ve got what you need for now. Get settled. Tomorrow, your new life starts.¡± He doesn¡¯t look at her again, already immersed in the map¡¯s shifting data and issuing quiet commands to Jericho. It¡¯s clear he¡¯s done with the conversation, his attention back on the task at hand, leaving no room for further questions. I nod again, clutching the suit tighter as Yates steps forward to guide me out of the room. My thoughts swirl as we leave the mess, the door sliding shut behind us with a soft hiss. I don¡¯t look back at the crew, though their faces¡ªsome curious, some indifferent, some downright cold¡ªlinger in my mind. But more than any of them, it¡¯s Warren¡¯s words that echo in my thoughts. Honor his legacy. Prove yourself. And beneath it all, the memory of those glowing yellow eyes, unblinking and inhuman, waits at the edge of my mind like a shadow I can¡¯t escape. Chapter 4 : The Silent Warning
The corridor stretches in eerie silence as I follow Yates, my footsteps soft against the metallic floor. Every shadow feels sharper, every corner darker. I glance over my shoulder again, half-expecting¡ªwhat? I don¡¯t even know. My pulse quickens, the hum of the ship¡¯s systems doing little to soothe the unease crawling up my spine. I linger on the next shadowed corner, my mind conjuring those eyes¡ªsharp, predatory, glowing yellow. The memory sends a shiver through me, and I clench my fists to keep steady. ¡°You should eat,¡± Yates says gently, breaking the silence. She hands me a pre-packaged meal, her expression kind but searching. ¡°It¡¯ll help. Cryo takes a toll.¡± I take the package, clutching it tightly as we round another bend. My gaze flicks to the walls, the faint glow of overhead lights, the corners where shadows pool. Every creak in the walls makes my breath hitch. ¡°Reid will stop by later to calibrate your suit,¡± Yates continues, her tone steady. ¡°He can be a bit much, but he¡¯s good at what he does. Just¡­ try to get settled.¡± I nod mechanically, my grip tightening on the package. A part of me wants to ask if she¡¯s seen anything strange¡ªif she¡¯s seen them¡ªbut the thought knots my stomach. What if she thinks I¡¯m losing it? Even with her kindness, the fear of what she might see in me keeps me silent. The last thing I need is for her to think I¡¯ve lost my mind. Yates pauses at a door marked with an ID plate: Voss, S. My chest tightens at the sight of it. My father¡¯s name, my name, now stamped on a room I barely recognize as mine. Yates presses the panel, and the door hisses open. Inside, the room is small but functional, the sterile walls lit by a soft, dim glow. A narrow cot sits against one wall, and a desk is built into the other, a sleek monitor embedded into its surface. ¡°This is yours,¡± Yates says, stepping aside. Her voice softens further as she adds, ¡°If you need anything, Jericho can help. Or¡­ you can ask me.¡± She gives me a small, reassuring smile, one that feels almost too genuine for this cold, hollow place. I hesitate in the doorway, my fingers tightening on the edge of the meal package. My eyes flick to the corners of the room, half-expecting to see something lurking there, crouched in the dark. ¡°Thanks,¡± I murmur, though the word feels hollow. Her kindness only makes the knot in my chest tighten. If she knew what I¡¯d seen¡ªwhat I think I¡¯ve seen¡ªwould she look at me the same way? Yates nods, seeming to sense my unease. ¡°Get some rest, okay? You¡¯ve been through a lot. Take care of yourself, Sol.¡± Without another word, she turns and disappears down the hall, her footsteps fading into the distance. The room feels cold, quieter than I like. I set the food on the desk and glance at the monitor. As the door slides shut behind me, a voice crackles softly to life. ¡°Previous occupant: Wilks. Status: Expired. New occupant: Sol Voss.¡± The mechanical precision of Jericho¡¯s voice sends a shiver down my spine. The word ¡°expired¡± lingers unnaturally in the air, like an echo that refuses to fade. My stomach churns, but I shake my head, trying to push the unease away. ¡°Great,¡± I mutter dryly. The AI doesn¡¯t respond. I move toward the cot, my eyes skimming the sparse room. The space is clean¡ªtoo clean. No trace of the previous occupant remains except for the faint scent of disinfectant that clings to the air. I sink onto the edge of the bed, my legs feeling weak beneath me. The cot creaks faintly under my weight, its surface stiff and unfamiliar. My hand brushes against the pillow, and I freeze. Something hard presses beneath the fabric, sharp against my fingertips. Slowly, I lift the pillow. Beneath it lies a photograph, its edges worn and slightly curled. My breath hitches as I pick it up, the cool surface of the paper sending a chill through me. The image shows a group of people, their faces turned toward the camera. My father stands at the center, his familiar sharp features softened by a faint smile. Beside him is a dark-skinned man I vaguely recognize. My chest sinks as I realize it¡¯s Wilks. I¡¯ve seen him before, in the lab when I was younger, though his name hadn¡¯t meant much to me back then. The rest of the group¡ªGarin, Ashly, and a few others¡ªare arranged around them, their expressions a mix of determination and weariness, the weight of their work evident in their tired eyes. But one face is scratched out. Deep, jagged lines mar the photo, obliterating the features of the woman standing near my father. My chest tightens as I stare at the violent defacement, the scratch marks uneven, as though carved in desperation. It doesn¡¯t make sense¡ªwhy deface just one face, and so aggressively? My fingers hover over the image, tracing the damaged surface. A chill creeps through me as something about the silhouette catches my eye. The curve of the shoulders, the way her stance mirrors her focus¡ªit feels familiar. Too familiar. My mind races, dredging up a fragmented memory. I know this figure. Or¡­ I think I do. Knight. The thought strikes like a thunderclap, sharp and undeniable. Dr. Knight¡ªmy father¡¯s assistant, his prot¨¦g¨¦, the one who was always by his side. I¡¯d admired her once, drawn to the way she seemed larger than life in my younger eyes¡ªher almond-shaped eyes, her unnervingly perfect features, enhanced in ways that made her seem almost otherworldly. But now, the memory carries an edge of unease, tainted by a growing suspicion. Why would her face be the one scratched out? And why with such anger? I stare at the photo, my pulse quickening. The jagged lines over her face feel less like an act of vandalism and more like a warning. But from whom? And why? My father¡¯s faint smile mocks me from the center of the image, as if he¡¯s keeping the answers just out of reach. My fingers tremble as I turn the photo over, my heart pounding. The back is marked with hurried, uneven handwriting, as though the writer had been shaking when they scrawled the words: I¡¯m so sorry for what we have done. Nature never meant for anything to live forever, let alone become¡­ this. Lab 3 must stay sealed. Live your life. The horrors in Lab 3 should be forgotten. Evolution is better left to nature and god. Abandon your father¡¯s legacy¡ªI beg you. The words hit me like a cold wave, each phrase heavier than the last. The plea to abandon my father¡¯s legacy twists in my chest, raw and cutting. His face in the photo seems to mock me, his faint smile a haunting reminder of everything I don¡¯t understand. My thoughts race. Lab 3. What horrors? What did they do in there? And why would someone want me to forget my father¡¯s work? The questions churn, unanswered, as I clutch the note tightly.
A sharp knock at the door jolts me, and I shove the photo and note under the pillow, my breath quickening as I turn toward the sound. ¡°Hey, you in there?¡± Reid¡¯s voice calls through the door, light and easy. ¡°Didn¡¯t want to barge in. Figured I¡¯d give you a minute.¡± I exhale shakily, pushing myself to my feet. My heart still hasn¡¯t settled after finding the photo. I press the panel, and the door slides open to reveal Reid, holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and a small flask in the other. His grin is wide, disarming, and a little too confident. The mirrored sunglasses reflect my startled expression right back at me. ¡°Brought a housewarming gift,¡± he says, lifting the beer with a crooked grin. ¡°And this right here?¡± He waves the flask like it¡¯s some grand treasure. ¡°Our very own moonshine. Made with love and questionable decisions. Don¡¯t tell the captain.¡± I blink, trying to match his easy demeanor. ¡°Thanks,¡± I manage, stepping aside to let him in. My pulse is still racing, but I force myself to act normal. Reid strolls in like he owns the place, his gaze sweeping over the room. ¡°Not bad. It¡¯s a lot cleaner than my place,¡± he says, setting the beer on the desk. His eyes flick to the cot, and he smirks. ¡°Stiff as hell, though. But you get used to it. Or you don¡¯t. Either way, beer helps.¡±
It¡¯s only now, standing this close, that I really notice him. The mirrored sunglasses catch the light, and for a moment, I see my own reflection again staring back¡ªwide-eyed and disheveled. It throws me off balance. Beneath the glasses and the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, though, I notice something else. His face is rugged, the kind of handsome that sneaks up on you when you¡¯re not expecting it. Dirty blonde hair falls in uneven waves over his forehead, and a faint five o¡¯clock shadow frames his jawline, adding a roughness that somehow fits him. He¡¯s heavier than I thought, broad across the chest and shoulders, but it suits him, giving him a solidness that feels oddly reassuring. He hands me a beer, and I take it without thinking, the cold metal grounding me. ¡°Beer helps,¡± I echo, my voice more flat than I intended. His smirk softens slightly as he leans against the desk, the bright print of his shirt clashing hilariously with the sleek black pressure suit underneath. It¡¯s ridiculous, but somehow, it works. He is in his early 30s, I guess, though with how long people can live now, who knows? He carries himself like someone who¡¯s lived through enough to earn that swagger, like the universe threw its worst at him and he laughed it off. That grin of his¡ªhalf confidence, half trouble¡ªis as disarming as it is irritating. ¡°Trust me,¡± he says, cracking open a beer and taking a sip. ¡°This stuff¡¯s the only way to survive a place like this.¡± I almost laugh. I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s the promise of beer or the easy confidence in his voice, but for a second, the weight pressing on my chest feels a little lighter. I let out a faint laugh, though it doesn¡¯t quite reach my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± ¡°Welcome aboard,¡± he says with a grin, raising his beer in a casual toast. I hesitate, then take a small sip. The bitterness makes me grimace, but the warmth that follows spreads quickly, unexpected and oddly soothing. It¡¯s a small comfort I hadn¡¯t realized I needed. ¡°So,¡± he says, leaning against the desk, his grin as steady as ever, ¡°how¡¯s your first day back from the dead?¡± I snort softly, swirling the can in my hands. ¡°I¡¯d give it about two stars so far. The accommodations are... well shit, the food¡¯s terrible, and the company¡¯s¡­¡± I glance at him, the faintest smile tugging at my lips. ¡°Well, jury¡¯s still out.¡± He chuckles, tipping his drink toward me. ¡°Fair enough. Gotta say, you¡¯re handling it better than most would.¡± I shrug, but the photo and note sit like a weight in my chest. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a lot,¡± I admit, taking another sip to buy a moment. The beer doesn¡¯t taste any better the second time, but at least it gives my hands something to do. ¡°Still trying to figure out which way is up.¡± ¡°Yeah, I bet.¡± Reid leans back against the desk, watching me over the rim of his beer. ¡°Hell of a thing, waking up here. Especially after that long in cryo.¡± I glance at him, unsure how to respond. His grin softens as he gestures vaguely toward me with the flask of moonshine. ¡°But hey, you came out okay. I¡¯ve seen cryo mess people up the first time they go under. Waking up wrong, stuff out of alignment¡­ Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve seen better outcomes.¡± The way he says it makes my stomach twist, though his tone stays light. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®better outcomes¡¯?¡± He shrugs, taking a long drink before answering. ¡°Most people are fine, but sometimes¡­ things go sideways. Muscle degradation, memory gaps, personality shifts. And that¡¯s just the physical stuff. Doesn¡¯t happen often, but when it does? It¡¯s bad.¡± I sit with that for a moment, unsure whether to feel lucky or more unnerved. ¡°And someone is just telling me this now?¡± His grin returns, lopsided and a little too confident. ¡°You¡¯re fine, Princess. Trust me, I¡¯d tell you if I thought you were about to fall apart. Besides, I¡¯m more impressed than anything. You¡¯ve been through a lot, and you¡¯re still standing. Cryo¡¯s not for everyone, but you¡­¡± He gestures again, this time toward my hair. ¡°Hell, even the white hair works. Adds to the whole ¡®larger than life¡¯ thing you¡¯ve got going.¡± I snort softly ignoring the nickname, looking away as heat creeps up my neck. ¡°Glad I pass inspection.¡± ¡°Oh, definitely,¡± he says, taking another swig. ¡°Still, gotta admit I was a little worried about you waking up here.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I ask, keeping my voice light even as the weight in my chest presses harder. ¡°Jericho¡¯s not exactly what I¡¯d call a smooth ride. Lots of history here, and not all of it¡¯s pretty.¡± I frown, the teasing edge in his voice replaced by something heavier. ¡°History? What kind of history?¡± Reid hesitates, his gaze dropping to the beer in his hands. ¡°You know how it is on these ships. Old stories, strange accidents¡­ Every colony ship¡¯s got its share of ghosts. Jericho¡¯s no different.¡± ¡°Ghosts,¡± I echo, forcing a small laugh. ¡°What, is this place haunted or something?¡± He chuckles, though it sounds forced. ¡°Something like that.¡± I take another sip, my mind racing. His tone sets me on edge, and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out. ¡°Like Lab 3?¡± Reid freezes mid-sip, his brow furrowing slightly. The easy grin fades as he lowers the flask. ¡°Lab 3, huh?¡± He studies me for a moment, his voice quieter now. ¡°That¡¯s a hell of a place to start.¡± I force myself to hold his gaze. ¡°I found a photo,¡± I say, keeping my voice steady. ¡°It was under the pillow. Someone scratched out one of the faces. Do you know who it was?¡±
For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then he lets out a low whistle, setting the beer and flask down. ¡°Damn. That was probably Wilks¡¯s photo. This was his room before¡­ well, you know. Thought Jimmy was supposed to clear it out.¡± He shakes his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Kid¡¯s got a real knack for half-assing things. Figures he¡¯d miss something like that.¡± ¡°Wilks,¡± I repeat, the name twisting something deep in my stomach. ¡°Yeah.¡± He crosses his arms, his tone softening just slightly. ¡°Smart guy. Worked with your old man back when this ship was shiny and new. One of the original science team.¡± ¡°When was the photo taken?¡± I press. ¡°First few months after takeoff. All the science teams were awake back then. They were working on something big.¡± He hesitates, his grin fading a little. ¡°After that, they rotated into cryo.¡± ¡°But not my father,¡± I say quietly. ¡°No,¡± he admits. ¡°Your dad went under with the rest about a year in, but his pod malfunctioned. He never woke up.¡± His voice dips, almost apologetic. ¡°Cryo¡¯s tricky. The first freeze is always the riskiest¡ªsome people just don¡¯t take to it, and you don¡¯t know until you try. Most of us were tested before this trip. Your dad wasn¡¯t. Guess they thought it was worth the gamble, given who he was.¡± I frown, the weight of his words settling over me. ¡°And when his pod failed?¡± ¡°They had to reshuffle everything,¡± Reid explains, his voice quieter now. ¡°The captains held a meeting¡ªthe first wake cycle¡ªsince they were the only ones conscious at the time. They decided to wake Knight from deep cryo on the colony ship to take over Garin''s place on B-Team. And Garin got bumped up to head scientist and lead on A-Team.¡± ¡°Garin?¡± The name tastes bitter in my mouth. ¡°Yeah. That one surprised everyone,¡± Reid says with a short laugh. ¡°Most people thought Knight would step in as lead scientist, but the captains voted Garin in. Three out of four, and Warren was one of them.¡± ¡°When?¡± I press, narrowing my eyes. Reid hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°It was the first time for the captains, but the crew didn¡¯t find out until the second time everyone was awake together, about 25 years in. First was launch, then the captains woke to deal with your dad¡¯s pod failure a year into the trip. They handled that on their own. The second time the crew was all up was for major ship repairs¡ª25 years in. And the last time? Just recently. About a year ago.¡± ¡°What happened during that last wake cycle?¡± I ask, the unease in my chest deepening. Reid¡¯s grin falters, his usual levity dimmed. ¡°Wilks died,¡± he says flatly. ¡°About a year back, just before we went under again. Big confusion after that. The science teams were all there, but¡­¡± He trails off, his tone shifting to something more cautious. ¡°Let¡¯s just say, whatever happened in Lab 3, they¡¯re tight-lipped about it.¡± ¡°Lab 3,¡± I echo, my voice barely a whisper. Reid leans forward, lowering his voice like he¡¯s sharing a secret. ¡°The captains kept it hush-hush. Even I don¡¯t know the full story, and I usually hear everything. All I know is that something went wrong, and no one¡¯s been inside Lab 3 since. Garin, Knight, and Ashly were there originally, part of the team when it happened. Whatever they saw or did¡­ well, they¡¯re not talking.¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t they talk?¡± I ask, my pulse quickening. The way he says it makes it sound deliberate, like they¡¯re keeping something terrible to themselves. Reid hesitates, his expression tightening for the first time since the conversation began. ¡°No fucking idea¡­ I¡¯m just the one who locked it,¡± he admits quietly, glancing toward the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. ¡°Me, or one of the engineers from the other teams¡ªwe¡¯re the only ones who can access it. Warren told me to seal it up after everything went down. Said it was for everyone¡¯s safety.¡± ¡°What happened?¡± My voice feels too loud in the quiet room, the weight of his words pressing down on me. He shakes his head, his grin flickering like a faulty light. ¡°I don¡¯t know the details. They didn¡¯t let me in on that part. Just told me to secure it and make sure no one goes back in. But¡­¡± He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. ¡°When I was locking it, I thought I heard something. Like¡­ movement. On the other side.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°Movement?¡± I echo, my breath catching in my throat. He nods, his eyes narrowing slightly as if recalling the moment. ¡°Yeah. Could¡¯ve been nothing¡ªship creaks all the time, right? But it wasn¡¯t the kind of sound you forget. It was¡­ subtle, but off. Like someone shifting around inside. Maybe it was just the air systems kicking on, or some random mechanical glitch, but it didn¡¯t feel like that. It felt alive.¡± The words hang between us, heavy and unwelcome. My chest tightens, and a shiver runs down my spine. ¡°Did you tell anyone?¡± He snorts softly, but there¡¯s no humor in it. ¡°What would I say? ¡®Hey, Captain, I think there¡¯s something moving around in the haunted lab¡¯? Yeah, that¡¯d go over real well.¡± His grin fades, and his voice lowers. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s already enough paranoia on this ship without me making it worse. People have been whispering about Lab 3 for years.¡± I frown, leaning in slightly. ¡°Whispering about what?¡± ¡°There are rumors,¡± he says after a pause, his tone heavy. ¡°They say the science teams ran experiments on people. Like your father, but¡­ not the same. It wasn¡¯t just data or controlled tests¡ªit was the crew. Some of them volunteered. Others didn¡¯t.¡± My pulse pounds in my ears, my breath catching in my throat. ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± I murmur, though my voice wavers. ¡°Why would they¡ª?¡± ¡°Who knows?¡± Reid cuts me off, his jaw tightening. ¡°Maybe they thought they were doing the right thing. Or maybe they didn¡¯t care. Whatever it was, it scared the rest of the crew shitless. That¡¯s why no one goes near that door. It¡¯s not just locked¡ªit¡¯s buried.¡± I swallow hard, but the knot in my chest only tightens. ¡°Why not ask Ashly what they were working on? Or Garin?¡± Reid¡¯s jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment before responding. ¡°Ashly?¡± he says with a short laugh, though it carries no humor. ¡°Good luck with that. Whatever happened in there tore her up. She¡¯s wracked with guilt, and even bringing it up is enough to rattle her. She¡¯ll either shut down or freak out, neither of which gets you closer to the truth.¡± ¡°And Garin?¡± ¡°Won¡¯t tell you shit,¡± Reid says bluntly. ¡°He¡¯s too full of himself to admit to anything. Acts like he¡¯s above it all. If you push him, he¡¯ll just dismiss you like he does everyone else.¡± I frown, the weight of his words sinking in. ¡°What about Knight?¡± Reid¡¯s expression shifts, almost reluctant. ¡°Knight¡¯s still in cryo with B-Team,¡± he says quietly. ¡°They¡¯re not scheduled to rotate back for another three months. Until then, she¡¯s not answering any questions, either.¡± The name hangs in the air, heavy yet not unfamiliar. Knight. I knew her well. She was my father¡¯s assistant after all, always at his side in the lab. My memories of her are tangled with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the cold gleam of surgical tools. Knight wasn¡¯t just efficient; she was methodical, detached. The way her almond-shaped eyes studied me¡ªcalm and clinical¡ªleft no room for doubt. To her, I wasn¡¯t a child. I was data, a living experiment she handled with calculated precision. I remember the quiet murmur of her voice as she recorded notes, the subtle click of a pen against her clipboard as she cataloged my reactions. She never hesitated. Not when I cried. Not when I begged. It was always, ¡°For progress,¡± or, ¡°Your father¡¯s legacy depends on this.¡± Her words felt like steel, cold and unyielding. She believed in my father¡¯s work, believed in me as his greatest creation. But there were moments when her gaze lingered just a second too long, and I¡¯d catch a flicker of something else. Guilt? Doubt? Or was it simply the calculation of risks versus rewards? The experiments were often invasive¡ªneedles piercing too deep, chemicals burning as they flowed through my veins. Knight stood by, monitoring every twitch, every gasp, every tear, her expression unreadable. My father was there too, of course, murmuring reassurances, promises that this was for the greater good. But it was Knight who made it happen. Knight who prepped the syringes, adjusted the machines, kept me sedated when I screamed. She wasn¡¯t cruel, not exactly. But there was something deeply unsettling about her detachment. Even now, the memory of her hands¡ªperfectly steady as they secured electrodes to my skin¡ªsends a shiver through me. She made it easy to forget I was human. Easy to forget I had a choice. Whatever doubts I have about my father¡¯s legacy, about the things he turned me into, Knight will always be part of them. She was the instrument of his will, the one who carried out what he couldn¡¯t. When I think of her now, it isn¡¯t admiration or fear I feel. It¡¯s something darker. Something colder. Resentment, maybe. Or something closer to hatred.
The memory tightens my throat, but I force myself to swallow it down. ¡°So that movement,¡± I repeat, my pulse quickening, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°What do you think it was?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know. That¡¯s way above my pay grade,¡± he says with a shrug, straightening up and forcing a grin that doesn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Anyway, that was during the third time we were all awake. Ship¡¯s not exactly built for that many people conscious at once¡ªit gets tense. People start talking. Too many ghost stories, not enough space. You¡¯re lucky you missed it.¡± ¡°Tense?¡± I ask, narrowing my eyes. ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±
He waves a hand dismissively. ¡°Small ship, big personalities. Add exhaustion, too many people crammed into tight quarters, and limited food and booze? It¡¯s a recipe for things boiling over, and somehow, it always has perfect timing¡ªjust when things are already about to fall apart. But that¡¯s ancient history now. You¡¯re here, and we¡¯ve got work to do.¡± I take another sip of the beer, letting the warmth settle in my chest as I try to piece everything together. The fragments feel close, like they almost fit into a bigger picture, but there¡¯s something missing¡ªsomething just out of reach. ¡°Perfect timing, huh?¡± I say dryly, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Guess I missed the big reunion when everyone was awake at the same time. Sounds like I really dodged the highlight of the century.¡± Reid smirks, leaning back against the desk. ¡°Oh, trust me, you did. Nothing like watching a shipful of sleep-deprived, pissed-off people pretending to play nice while silently plotting murder over ration packs. It¡¯s a real bonding experience.¡± His grin widens as his eyes flick to the black suit folded neatly on the desk. With a nod, he gestures toward it. ¡°Speaking of perfect timing, I was supposed to fit that suit for you when you woke up, but, uh¡­¡± He scratches the back of his neck, feigning an innocent look. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I got¡­ distracted. Figured I¡¯d save myself the lecture from Vega and get you kitted out now.¡±
He steps forward, tapping the desk lightly as he nods at the suit. ¡°Let¡¯s get you suited up, Princess. Can¡¯t have you running around without your armor.¡± I blink as he says it again. ¡°Princess?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± he says, grinning again. ¡°Princess of Humanity. You¡¯re the last one with the Voss name, carrying all that legacy. It suits you.¡± The nickname makes me pause. I¡¯ve heard it many times before¡ªand recently¡ªPrincess of Humanity. A title that always carried weight and sharp edges, tied to my father¡¯s reputation and the rumors about his work. About me. It was rarely meant as a compliment. Especially not from that dick. I snort softly, shaking my head. ¡°Garin would probably call me ¡®lab rat of humanity¡¯ instead. Seems more his speed.¡± Reid¡¯s grin falters, his expression hardening. ¡°Garin can go fuck himself,¡± he says bluntly, his voice sharper than I expected. ¡°You¡¯re not a rat. Princess suits you better. Always has.¡± I raise an eyebrow at the sudden shift in his tone. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ unexpected.¡± He shrugs, his grin sliding back into place, though there¡¯s something steadier behind it. ¡°Just calling it like it is. Garin can¡¯t see past his own ego, but the rest of us know better. You¡¯re more than your father¡¯s legacy¡ªyou¡¯re your own person. That¡¯s what matters.¡± His words catch me off guard, the conviction behind them striking something deep. For once, the nickname doesn¡¯t feel so heavy, like it¡¯s about me instead of the shadow of my father¡¯s work. I let out a small laugh, surprising even myself. ¡°So, a compliment, then?¡± ¡°Definitely a compliment,¡± he says, his grin softening into something almost genuine. ¡°Legacies like yours? They¡¯re heavy, sure, but they don¡¯t have to be bad. And you carry it well.¡± He leans back, his teasing smirk returning. ¡°Besides, you pull off the larger-than-life thing better than anyone.¡± I roll my eyes, though the faint smile tugging at my lips betrays me. ¡°Well, glad I pass the engineer¡¯s inspection.¡±
¡°Oh, you definitely do,¡± Reid says with mock seriousness, tapping the desk for emphasis as a sly grin spreads across his face. ¡°Princess suits you perfectly. And if Garin¡¯s got a problem with it, well, he knows where to find me.¡± My cheeks flush, and I quickly glance down at the suit in my hands, focusing on the fabric to steady myself. The weight of it feels suddenly more substantial, grounding me. ¡°So¡­ do I just put this on?¡± I ask, my voice quieter than I intended, unsure of exactly how this works. Reid¡¯s grin widens, his easy confidence firmly back in place. ¡°Yup. I¡¯ll step out¡ªdon¡¯t worry, I¡¯m a gentleman,¡± he says with an exaggerated wink before pushing off the desk and heading toward the door. I wait for the door to slide shut behind him before changing out of the loose T-shirt and shorts Yates gave me. The suit fits snugly, molding to my body like a second skin. As I fasten the last clasp, I take a deep breath, only to feel the fabric pull tight across my chest, leaving me slightly restricted. I shift uncomfortably, adjusting the suit. The snug fit highlights my small, slight frame, but it doesn¡¯t shy away from the curves that feel almost out of place¡ªmy chest and hips seem exaggerated by the way the suit clings. It¡¯s a strange balance, one that feels both secure and suffocating. I glance at my reflection in the full-body mirror. The black material contrasts sharply with my pale skin and white hair, which falls in a curtain over my shoulders. Silver circuitry glints faintly along my limbs and torso, catching the light. My red eye stares back alien and unfamiliar, unnervingly vivid against the dark suit, while my blue eye feels like the last piece of the person I used to be. The image is jarring¡ªhuman, but only just. I almost laugh at the absurdity. I look like a character someone would draw to be larger than life, striking in a way I¡¯m not sure I understand. The thought feels both ridiculous and uncomfortably true. The door slides open. ¡°Well,¡± Reid says, leaning against the frame with a smirk, ¡°you make that look a hell of a lot better than I expected. The white hair against the black? Very dramatic. Like something out of a holo-novel.¡± ¡°Reid,¡± I warn, trying to sound stern, but the small smile tugging at my lips betrays me. Heat creeps up my neck, and I glance away, unsure if his comment is teasing or genuine¡ªor maybe both. His grin widens as if he knows exactly how I feel. ¡°Relax, it¡¯s a compliment. You look like you were designed for it.¡± I¡¯m embarrassed, flattered, and a little irritated all at once. For a moment, I wonder if he really means it¡ªif he sees the larger-than-life figure I glimpsed in the mirror. Knowing Reid, or at least starting to, he probably does. And if I¡¯m learning to trust him, maybe that¡¯s not such a bad thing. ¡°Hey, just calling it like I see it.¡± He crouches beside me, running a scanner over the seams. His expression turns serious as he works. ¡°It¡¯s a tight fit, but that¡¯s how it¡¯s supposed to be. Moves like a second skin. You¡¯ll thank me when it saves your ass.¡± I shift my arms experimentally, the fabric stretching easily with me. ¡°It feels¡­ different.¡± ¡°Good different,¡± he says, straightening. ¡°Trust me, you look functional and badass. Exactly what the Princess of Humanity should be.¡± I roll my eyes, but the warmth in his voice catches me off guard. It¡¯s not unwelcome¡ªactually, it¡¯s almost flattering. Almost. But there are bigger things to worry about. ¡°Thanks, Reid,¡± I say quietly, adjusting one of the clasps. ¡°Anytime, Princess,¡± he says, his grin returning. But there¡¯s something softer behind it this time, something almost sincere. ¡°Oh, and heads up¡ªwe¡¯ve got a big day tomorrow. You¡¯re lucky. You get to see the fun stuff.¡± I tilt my head, curiosity overriding my lingering unease. ¡°Fun stuff?¡± ¡°We¡¯re refueling the fusion core,¡± he says, his grin widening. ¡°Scoopin¡¯ hydrogen from a star we¡¯re passing. You know, just casually borrowing from the universe¡¯s furnace.¡± I blink, unsure if he¡¯s serious. ¡°A star? As in, a Sun?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± he says, leaning against the doorframe. ¡°Basically, we¡¯re pulling a Prometheus¡ªstealing fire from the gods. Or maybe it¡¯s more of an Icarus situation, depending on how smoothly it goes.¡± The reference catches me off guard, and I smirk despite myself. ¡°Didn¡¯t both of those end badly?¡± ¡°Details,¡± he says with a dismissive wave. ¡°Either way, it¡¯s gonna be a hell of a show. You might even learn something.¡± ¡°Stealing fire from the gods,¡± I repeat softly, the words sticking in my mind. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that feel a little¡­ ominous?¡± He shrugs, his grin turning mischievous. ¡°It¡¯s only ominous if we screw up. Which we won¡¯t. Normally, we¡¯d skim a nice, friendly gas giant, but someone¡ª¡± he throws an exaggerated glance over his shoulder, as if searching for the culprit¡ª ¡°miscalculated. Now we¡¯re low on fuel, and the only thing out here for light years is that big glowing ball of hydrogen.¡± I frown, trying to process his nonchalance. ¡°So we¡¯re scooping hydrogen from a star? That¡¯s safe?¡± ¡°Totally safe. Probably,¡± he says with a lopsided grin. ¡°The shields can handle micrometeors at near light speed when we¡¯re out of warp. A little star skimming is just a hot day at the office. Anyway, it¡¯s not my fault. Vega and Jericho handled the course plotting, so if anyone screwed the math, blame them. But hey, at least it¡¯ll look cool.¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°So, this is a gamble based on some bad math?¡± He laughs, waving me off. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s cool. We¡¯ve done worse. And I¡¯ve got a plan if it all goes sideways.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not exactly reassuring,¡± I mutter, though his confidence, misplaced as it might be, manages to chip away at my unease. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± he says, leaning closer with a conspiratorial grin. ¡°Just think of it as a front-row seat to humanity flipping off the universe. I mean, who else gets to say they stole fire from a star and lived to tell about it?¡± Before I can respond, he pulls the flask from his pocket and gives it a little shake. ¡°Here,¡± he says, unscrewing the cap with a flourish. ¡°It¡¯s not top-shelf or anything¡ªhell, it¡¯s not even mid-shelf¡ªbut it gets the job done. Homemade, straight from my secret stash.¡± He takes a swig, his face scrunching briefly before he lets out a satisfied sigh and hands it to me. ¡°Go on, Princess. You survived cryo, you can handle a little burn.¡± I hesitate, then take the flask. The liquor burns sharp and hot, trailing fire down my throat and settling warm in my chest. I cough slightly, and he chuckles. ¡°Not bad, right?¡± he teases, his grin widening. I hand it back, the faintest smile tugging at my lips. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll try not to miss the spectacle,¡± I say, the heat of the whiskey making me feel a little steadier, a little more grounded. ¡°Keep it,¡± he says with a wink, slipping the cap back on and tossing it to me. ¡°Call it a welcome gift. And hey, if you need more, I¡¯m brewing the next batch. Leftover rations, filtered water, and a little help from the hydroponics bay. They¡¯ve got just enough fresh scraps and yeast to make something vaguely drinkable.¡± His grin is disarming, full of mischief, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of everything feels just a little lighter.
"I''ll remember that," I say, gripping the flask lightly, its weight oddly comforting in my hand. ¡°Good,¡± he says, pushing off the doorframe. ¡°Don¡¯t let the ghosts¡ªor Jimmy¡¯s snoring¡ªkeep you up. You¡¯ll want a clear head in the morning. Wouldn¡¯t want to miss the gods striking us down or something.¡± He pauses, his tone shifting to something more serious. ¡°But really, leave Lab 3 alone. Some doors are sealed for a reason. Leave ¡¯em that way.¡± He winks as he steps into the corridor, the door hissing shut behind him. For a moment, I stare at the closed door, his words lingering in my mind. A big glowing ball of hydrogen. Stealing fire from the gods. It all feels dangerously poetic, as if the universe is just waiting for us to push too far. I can¡¯t help but think of my father. People used to say the same thing about him¡ªplaying god, meddling with forces beyond comprehension. They feared him as much as they revered him, the man who was both humanity¡¯s leader and its only hope. Every breakthrough brought whispers of hubris, of tampering with things better left alone. Yet, he pressed on, carrying the weight of a dying world on his shoulders. Now, here we are, his legacy stitched into my very being, still pushing, still reaching, still daring the gods to strike us down. The idea of siphoning hydrogen from a star should thrill me¡ªa feat so grand it borders on divine. But instead, it gnaws at the back of my mind. Stealing fire from the gods. Even myths had their limits. What happens when we push too far? I sit on the edge of the cot, my thoughts spiraling. Reid¡¯s warnings, the scratched-out face in the photo, the desperate scrawl of the note¡ªthey all point to truths buried deeper than I can yet reach. But instead of crushing me, the weight sharpens something inside: a need to understand. I slip my hand beneath the pillow, pulling out the photo and note again. My father¡¯s face stares back at me, his faint smile a cruel echo of the man I thought I knew. The scratched-out figure looms like a ghost, and the words on the back of the note burn into my mind: Live your life. The horrors in Lab 3 should be forgotten. Evolution is better left to nature and God. Abandon your father¡¯s legacy¡ªI beg you. Someone wanted me to find this. But who? And why? The note feels like a warning, but it¡¯s incomplete¡ªhiding as much as it reveals. Lab 3. It keeps coming back to Lab 3. Reid¡¯s voice echoes in my mind, stripped of its usual humor. ¡°Some doors are sealed for a reason.¡± The way he¡¯d said it¡ªtoo sharp, too quick¡ªlingers. It wasn¡¯t just a warning. It was fear. And then there are the eyes. Gold. Alien. Terrifying. The way they pierced me, unblinking, studying. For a moment, I¡¯d felt like prey. A shudder crawls up my spine at the memory. I told myself it wasn¡¯t real, a trick of stress and imagination. But even now, I can¡¯t shake the feeling that something is still watching, waiting. My father¡¯s voice lingers in my mind: ¡°To endure, we have to evolve.¡± He believed humanity had to break its limits to survive. But what if breaking those limits unleashed something worse? Lab 3 wasn¡¯t just about saving humanity¡ªit was about reshaping it. And something went terribly wrong. Wilks died there. Reid hinted at experiments on the crew¡ªsome willing, others not. The rest? Too afraid to speak. The note in my hand deepens the unease. I beg you. The words feel desperate, almost panicked. Whoever wrote this wasn¡¯t warning me out of caution¡ªthey were pleading. But pleading with me to stop what? If there¡¯s a monster, why isn¡¯t anyone acting like there¡¯s danger? Why does everyone seem so calm if something¡¯s loose on this ship? My fingers tighten around the edge of the note as another thought creeps in. What if the monster¡ªthe thing I thought I saw¡ª what if it''s loose? What if it¡¯s not locked behind Lab 3? What if it¡¯s tied to the experiments, to my father¡¯s work, to me? The tension coils tighter in my chest, and I glance at the monitor on the desk. ¡°Jericho,¡± I call, my voice breaking the silence. The AI¡¯s voice crackles to life, calm and clinical. ¡°Yes, Sol?¡± ¡°Run a scan of the ship,¡± I say, the words feeling foolish even as I speak them. ¡°Look for¡­ anomalies.¡± ¡°Please clarify.¡± I hesitate, gripping the photo tightly. ¡°Signs of movement. Life forms that shouldn¡¯t be here.¡± The pause that follows stretches unbearably. Finally, Jericho replies, ¡°Scan complete. No anomalies detected.¡± I exhale shakily but press on. ¡°How many life forms are awake and on board?¡± ¡°There are 1,098 life forms aboard the Jericho,¡± Jericho replies with its usual clinical precision. ¡°Nine are currently awake: Captain Warren, Lieutenant Commander Vega, Chief Engineer Reid, Medical Officer Yates, Head Scientist Garin, Biologist Ashly, Security Officer Holt, Maintenance Technician Jimmy, and yourself, Sol Voss. Two life forms are registered as deceased: Julian Voss and Gregory Wilks. The remaining 989 crew members are in cryosleep. Additionally, 100 animal life forms across 50 species remain in cryogenic stasis. These include breeding pairs of livestock, insects, and rare species critical for ecosystem restoration and genetic diversity. No unaccounted-for life forms.¡± Nine awake. No anomalies. No monsters. The logical answer should comfort me, but it feels hollow. If Jericho¡¯s right, then the problem is me. My fraying mind, my growing paranoia. The cracks forming under the weight of my father¡¯s legacy. And yet, the yellow eyes feel too real to dismiss. If Jericho can¡¯t detect them, does that mean they don¡¯t exist? Or does it mean something worse? I inhale sharply, steadying myself. ¡°Jericho,¡± I say, my voice trembling as I lean closer to the monitor. ¡°What is the status of Lab 3?¡± A pause follows, longer than I expect, and tension knots in my stomach. Finally, the AI responds, its voice calm, clinical, and maddeningly precise. ¡°Access to Lab 3 information is restricted. Clearance denied.¡± ¡°Restricted?¡± I repeat, the frustration in my voice surprising even me. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Access to Lab 3 is limited to authorized personnel,¡± Jericho replies. ¡°You do not have clearance.¡± I grip the desk tightly, my nails pressing into the cold metal. ¡°Who has clearance?¡± ¡°Head Scientist Garin, Captain Warren, and Lieutenant Commander Vega are authorized to access Lab 3 records and physical entry. Additional clearance may be granted by Captain Warren.¡± My breath catches. The sterile response offers no comfort, only reinforcing how tightly locked the answers are. ¡°What about Lab 3 itself? What¡¯s its status? Has it been accessed recently?¡± ¡°Lab 3 remains sealed. No unauthorized access detected since it was locked under Captain Warren¡¯s authority.¡± The words should reassure me, but they don¡¯t. My fingers twitch at my side, my mind racing. ¡°Jericho¡­ why was it locked?¡± ¡°Information classified. Clearance denied.¡± The words slam into me like a wall, unyielding and final. My frustration flares. ¡°You¡¯re the ship¡¯s AI,¡± I snap, the heat rising in my tone. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to help me?¡± ¡°I am programmed to ensure the safety and functionality of the Jericho and its crew,¡± Jericho responds, as measured as ever. ¡°My assistance is bound by clearance protocols.¡± I lean back, the knot in my stomach tightening. Jericho is just a machine, just a program¡ªneutral, unfeeling. But the way it denies me, the way it guards Lab 3 like some ancient sentinel, feels deliberate. It was built by my father¡¯s team, its purpose entwined with his work. And that alone makes me question how much I can trust it. For all I know, Jericho is hiding something¡ªfollowing directives I¡¯ll never understand. It has no problem listing the crew, running scans, or denying anomalies, but when it comes to Lab 3, it shuts me out. What¡¯s it protecting? Or¡­ who? The AI¡¯s voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. ¡°Is there anything else I can assist you with, Sol?¡± ¡°No,¡± I say sharply, my voice colder than I intend. The calm precision of its tone feels almost mocking. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡± The monitor dims, the silence closing in around me once again. I sit there, my mind a storm of questions and doubts. If Jericho won¡¯t tell me about Lab 3, and if even it can¡¯t¡ªor won¡¯t¡ªacknowledge anything unusual on this ship, then where does that leave me? Alone with a growing fear that maybe the problem isn¡¯t just me. Maybe it¡¯s the ship itself. Maybe Jericho isn¡¯t just an observer, isn¡¯t just a tool. Maybe it¡¯s complicit. The note and photo sit in my lap like relics of a truth I can¡¯t yet grasp. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that whatever¡¯s waiting in Lab 3 is tied to me¡ªto my healing, to the changes in my body, to everything I don¡¯t yet understand. The answers are behind that sealed door. Reid¡¯s voice echoes yet again: ¡°Some doors are sealed for a reason. Leave ¡¯em that way.¡± But I can¡¯t abandon the questions gnawing at my mind. The scratched-out face in the photo, the cryptic warning, the lingering memory of those eyes. It all feels connected. The note told me to forget, to let Lab 3 stay buried. But how can I forget what I don¡¯t even know? How can I abandon a legacy that has become part of me? I clench the note tightly, my pulse quickening as the yellow eyes flash in my memory once more, vivid and sharp. If they aren¡¯t real, why do they feel so close, so alive? My chest tightens, but this time it¡¯s not fear alone that grips me. Curiosity. Determination. Something darker. Something colder. My father¡¯s work didn¡¯t die with him¡ªit followed us, festering, waiting. And now, it¡¯s calling to me. I set the photo and note down on the desk, my gaze lingering on them. The cold emptiness of the ship doesn¡¯t feel so overwhelming anymore. It feels like a tether, pulling me closer to the truth. Whatever waits behind that door, it¡¯s part of me now. Every lock I¡¯ve faced only proved one thing¡ªwhatever¡¯s behind it, I¡¯m meant to find. For the first time since waking, the silence around me doesn¡¯t feel like the end. It feels like the beginning. Chapter 5 : Jerichos Heart The room was bathed in dim, bluish light as I stirred awake, the steady hum of the Jericho vibrating faintly beneath me. It wasn¡¯t a comforting sound¡ªnot yet. It was too vast, too mechanical, too foreign. Still, it was constant, a low murmur that felt like the heartbeat of the ship itself. "Good morning, Sol," Jericho¡¯s voice crackled to life, calm and clinical as always. "Lieutenant Commander Vega has sent the morning briefing packet to your datapad. You have two hours until the scheduled briefing." I groaned and rolled onto my side, the thin blanket twisting around me like it was trying to hold me down. Two hours. That was Vega for you¡ªstern but fair, giving just enough time to prepare but not a moment to waste. Last night, she had stopped by my cabin with a small bag of hygiene supplies: toothpaste, soap, a few changes of clothes. She didn¡¯t linger, just handed it to me with a brief nod and told me to get some rest. ¡°You¡¯ll need it,¡± she¡¯d said, her voice even but not unkind. The gesture had stuck with me. Vega wasn¡¯t just sharp and no-nonsense; there was something else under the surface. She wasn¡¯t looking for perfection¡ªshe just expected effort. With a reluctant sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the cot, the cold metal floor biting against my bare feet. My cabin was small, barely more than a box, with a cot, a desk, and a storage compartment. The datapad rested on the desk, still glowing faintly from where I¡¯d left it last night. I grabbed it, brushing a strand of white hair from my face, and settled back onto the cot. The screen blinked to life, displaying Vega¡¯s message at the top of the interface.
Sender: Lt. Commander Vega Subject: Morning Briefing ¨C Review Packet Time Remaining: 2 hours Message from Lt. Commander Vega: "Sol, you¡¯ve been assigned this briefing at 0700 hours. Attached is a detailed overview of the Jericho¡¯s systems, mission specs, and key operational protocols. Familiarize yourself with this information before the meeting. Understanding the Jericho is critical to your role. Study up."
I sighed, letting the datapad rest in my lap for a moment. ¡°I just want to sleep, Vega,¡± I muttered under my breath. But I couldn¡¯t ignore her. Resigned, I tapped open the attached packet. A schematic of the Jericho filled the screen¡ªclean, precise, and overwhelming in its scale. A mile long, bristling with technology, and carrying what was left of humanity across the stars.
Jericho Systems Overview

Classification:

  • Type: Long-Range Interstellar Colony Vessel
  • Designation: Jericho
  • Length: 1 mile (1,609 meters)
  • AI Classification: Level 5 intelligence ¡°Experimental¡±
  • Primary Structure: Modular rectangular superstructure divided into propulsion, storage, and crew living quarters.

Structural Allocation:

  • Propulsion and Power Systems: 70% of total mass
  • Storage: 20%
  • Crew and Operational Spaces: 10%

Propulsion Systems and Hanger Bay:

Fusion Core:
  • Output: Produces 10 exawatts of power per hour under standard operation.
  • Fuel: Primarily hydrogen, supplemented by other elements.
  • Mechanism: Replicates the extreme conditions of a star¡¯s core.
  • Classified: [REDACTED ¨C ACCESS DENIED].
  • Classified: [REDACTED ¨C ACCESS DENIED].
  • Supports: Sublight propulsion, FTL travel, shields, and weaponry.
  • Maintenance: Requires hydrogen refueling every 10 months from gas giants, comets, or stars.
  • Current Status: Low fuel¡ªrefueling operation scheduled for today.
FTL Warp Drive:
  • Capabilities:
    • Allows faster-than-light travel by bending spacetime around the ship, enabling journeys up to 100 times the speed of light.
    • Reduces interstellar distances, turning decades-long trips into weeks or months.
  • Functionality:
    • Warp Bubble Mechanics: Compresses spacetime in front of the ship and expands it behind, moving the ship without traditional propulsion.
    • Powered directly by the fusion core, converting immense energy into exotic particles needed to stabilize the warp bubble.
  • Limitations:
    • Energy Intensive: Drains a significant portion of the fusion core¡¯s power, temporarily reducing available energy for other systems.
    • Field Instability: Power fluctuations or miscalculated jumps can destabilize the warp field, risking catastrophic failure.
  • Applications:
    • Interstellar Travel: Essential for reaching distant colonies like Haven within feasible timeframes.
    • Emergency Evacuation: Provides rapid escape from threats, though high speeds increase risks.
Note : The warp drive represents humanity''s best hope for interstellar travel, powered by the Jericho¡¯s advanced fusion technology. Sublight Ion Drives:
  • Capabilities: Multi-axis Ion engines provide precise maneuverability and efficient extended sublight travel, essential for docking, evasive maneuvers, and close-range system navigation.
  • Power Source: Powered by the hydrogen-fed fusion core, ensuring consistent energy output for sustained operations.
  • Efficiency: Utilizing ionized particles for thrust, the engines achieve exceptional efficiency with minimal resource consumption for long-duration travel.
  • Precision: Advanced multi-axis configuration enables exact adjustments in position, vital for operations like refueling, maintenance, and planetary orbit entry.
  • Sustainability: Designed for long-term reliability with minimal maintenance requirements, supported by integrated nano-repair systems to manage routine wear.
Shuttles (2 Total):
  • Description: Multi-purpose craft used for reconnaissance, resource gathering, and minor repair missions.
  • Propulsion: Ion propulsion systems for precision maneuvering within the ship¡¯s vicinity or planetary entry.
  • Capabilities:
    • Suitable for scouting and short-range exploration.
    • Equipped with light point-defense lasers for basic defense.
  • Crew Capacity: Holds up to 8 individuals per shuttle, with limited cargo space.
  • Limitations: Not FTL-capable; designed for operations within the local star system.
  • Evacuation Role: Can function as emergency evacuation vessels for nearby planetary destinations.
Lifeboat/Cargo Ship (1 Total):
  • Description: A larger dual-purpose vessel serving as a cargo transport and emergency lifeboat.
  • Capacity:
    • Holds up to 30 people if no cargo is on board.
    • Designed with essential life-support systems for short-term survival.
  • Propulsion: Ion thrusters for limited navigation, supplemented by solar sails for energy efficiency.
  • Limitations: Not FTL-capable; intended for evacuation to nearby planets or celestial bodies only.
  • Evacuation Role: Serves as the primary escape craft for the largest portion of the crew in emergency situations.

Defensive Systems:

Plasma Shields:
  • Description: Energy barriers that absorb energy-based attacks and cosmic radiation.
  • Limitations: Overload risks under sustained bombardment, reliant on the fusion core for prolonged operation.
Kinetic Barriers:
  • Description: Magnetic fields and high-energy pulses to deflect physical projectiles like railgun slugs or meteoroids.
Nano-Carbon Hull:
  • Reinforcement: High-strength nano-carbon mesh for heat, radiation, and impact resistance.
  • Nano-Regenerative Technology:
    • Harvests external materials (e.g., asteroids, comet debris) to autonomously repair damage.
    • Repairs structural breaches faster than manual intervention.
Multi-Role Combat and Repair Drones Offensive Capabilities
  • Integrated laser cannons for precise strikes and sustained suppression.
  • Micro-missiles with adaptive targeting systems for enemy ships and armored vehicles.
Defensive Systems
  • Reinforced kinetic barriers to repel incoming projectiles, including small railgun slugs.
  • Swarm-enabled point-defense systems to intercept and neutralize threats at long range.
Repair and Maintenance
  • Advanced nano-repair modules for rapid patching of hull breaches and shield restoration.
  • Autonomous diagnostic systems to identify and fix mid-mission damage or malfunctions.
Resource Recovery
  • Material extraction tools for mining and salvaging asteroids or debris fields.
  • Onboard processors to refine harvested materials for immediate repair use or resupply.
Ground Combat Features
  • Retractable legs and hover thrusters for enhanced movement across uneven terrain.
  • Close-range plasma-edged blades designed for melee encounters.
  • Grenade launchers for wide-area suppression and crowd control.
Autonomous Coordination
  • Jericho¡¯s AI manages all drones for seamless tactical deployment.
  • Autonomous protocols enable operation during communication blackouts or emergencies.

Offensive Systems:

Railguns:
  • Description: Dual railguns fire tungsten slugs the size of hover transports, designed to penetrate even the thickest enemy armor with devastating kinetic force. Each slug is constructed with a dense tungsten shell encasing a depleted uranium core, with the tip specially hardened for maximum armor-piercing capability. As the slugs accelerate to near-light speeds, their immense kinetic energy generates enough force on impact to vaporize the tungsten shell into a plasma shockwave, softening the target''s defenses. The depleted uranium core then delivers a concentrated punch, driving through starship hulls or fortified planetary structures with unparalleled precision and power. This lethal combination ensures the railguns can cripple even the most heavily armored targets.
  • Drawbacks: Limited ammunition reserves. While resources in storage can be used to synthesize more slugs, the process relies on the nano-bot synthesizers, which require significant time and raw materials. This limitation places a strain on both storage capacity and operational efficiency during extended engagements.
Laser Arrays:
  • Description: High-precision beams for debris clearance, mining, or surgical strikes.
  • Operation: Continuous fire capability under stable core output.
Missile Launchers:
  • Payloads: Conventional explosives, EMP rounds, and nuclear warheads.
  • Failsafe: Nuclear launches require dual authorization from Captain Warren and Jericho, the ship¡¯s AI.
Note: Like the rail gun, building ammo is time and resource intensive. Elite Strike Force ¨C "The Royal Guard":
  • Overview:
    • 20 elite soldiers, Earth''s most advanced warriors, each personally modified by Dr. Julian Voss, housed in cryo-storage aboard the Jericho. Known semi-officially as "The Royal Guard," their nickname reflected their direct connection to Voss, revered by many as humanity¡¯s "king," and his daughter Sol Voss, often seen as its "princess." Cybernetically and genetically enhanced to superhuman levels and equipped with advanced power suits, plasma rifles, and energy blades, they were the epitome of Earth¡¯s military prowess¡ªeach a one-man army in their own right. Their presence symbolized unmatched skill, unparalleled combat efficiency, and unwavering loyalty to safeguarding humanity¡¯s fragile future.
  • Cybernetic and Genetic Enhancements:
    • Advanced augmentations grant superhuman longevity, strength, reflexes, and endurance.
    • Neural interfaces enable seamless connection to the Jericho¡¯s systems and advanced weaponry.
  • Equipment:
    • Advanced Power Suits:
      • Reinforced power armor designed for high mobility, adaptive shielding, and environmental versatility.
      • Integrated heads-up displays (HUDs) with tactical overlays and real-time data feeds.
    • Plasma Rifles:
      • Precision energy weapons capable of rapid-fire and anti-armor modes.
      • Configurable for mission-specific needs, from crowd control to direct assault.
    • Energy Blades:
      • Melee weapons with plasma-edged blades, capable of cutting through advanced materials.
      • Compact and retractable, suitable for stealth or close-quarters combat.
  • Purpose:
    • Designed for deployment in high-risk scenarios where overwhelming force or precision is required.
    • Serve as a last line of defense for the Jericho and its mission.
    • Prepared to handle security during civil unrest or as a strike force against external threats.
My gaze lingered on the description, Vega¡¯s words from the attached note echoing in my mind. ¡°The Royal Guard stands as the pinnacle of Earth¡¯s military and scientific advancements¡ªa living testament to Dr. Voss¡¯s vision. Their name may have begun as a nickname, but it carries undeniable truth. They were his protectors, and now, by extension, they exist to safeguard what little humanity has left. Their strength and loyalty are unparalleled, but they are a double-edged sword¡ªour greatest asset or our gravest liability. Keyed to the Voss genetic line, they now answer to his daughter alone. Should the time come when we must rely on them, the balance of power will rest entirely in her hands.¡± The Royal Guard. My father¡¯s private army, created to defend what he deemed most important. The nickname stung with irony. I wasn¡¯t royalty, yet the name followed me like a shadow, a reminder of the pedestal my father had placed me on¡ªand the expectations and power that came with it. My chest tightened as my mind wandered briefly to the yellow-eyed monster I had seen¡ªno, felt¡ªjust yesterday. Tall, wrong, and cloaked in darkness, it had loomed in the corner of the bathroom, its gaze piercing and unrelenting. I had frozen, too terrified to run, my body betraying me as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for it to vanish. When I finally dared to open them, the room was empty. Even Jericho¡¯s scans had turned up nothing. ¡°No anomalies detected,¡± the AI had reported, its calm tone making me feel even more unhinged. But I knew something had been there. I could still feel the weight of its presence, the icy dread it had left behind. Could these soldiers¡ªthese superhuman warriors¡ªhandle something like that? My imagination ran wild: the Royal Guard in their advanced power suits, their plasma rifles lighting up the darkness, energy blades slicing through that impossibly wrong figure. I pictured them moving with perfect precision, the pinnacle of human strength and resilience. For a fleeting moment, I felt a pang of comfort. They were Earth¡¯s best, after all. If anyone could handle something like that¡­ But then doubt crept in. The thing had disappeared without a trace. Even Jericho¡¯s sensors hadn¡¯t detected it. What kind of monster could evade everything? I shook my head sharply, trying to banish the memory. It wasn¡¯t real. It couldn¡¯t have been real. Just the lingering effects of cryo, I told myself. My mind was still foggy, my body still adjusting. But no matter how I rationalized it, the unease refused to leave me. I forced my focus back to the datapad, my eyes settling on the next entry: the Solar Beam, the most terrifying weapon my father had ever created¡ªat least, the one the public knew about.
Solar Beam:
  • Description: A last-resort weapon drawing directly from the fusion core at great risk to the core''s stability.
  • Capabilities: Destabilizes stars or destroys planetary cores.
  • Failsafe: Requires triple authorization from Captain Warren, Jericho, and a crew member with medium clearance or above.
My gaze lingered on the description of the Solar Beam, the most terrifying weapon my father had ever conceived¡ªor at least, the one the public knew about. A last-resort superweapon, it could destabilize a planetary core or even trigger a star to go supernova. Theoretically, it was humanity¡¯s ultimate safeguard, a deterrent meant to keep any hostile force at bay. But I couldn¡¯t help but think bitterly: Was it really a safeguard? Or just a testament to how far my father was willing to go? The debates about the weapon¡¯s ethical implications had raged before Jericho¡¯s launch, but in the end, the allure of power had won. People would rather fear their savior than face the unknown unarmed. Shaking off the thought, I looked back at the datapad, continuing to scroll through the seemingly endless details of the ship¡¯s systems.

Nano-Repair System:

  • Capabilities: Breaks down raw materials into base components for reconstruction.
  • Applications: Produces ammunition, drones, hull patches, or entirely new components.
  • Sustainability: Operates indefinitely with sufficient resources.

Storage:

Cryogenic Preservation:
  • Human Population: 1,000 cryo pods designated for crew and passengers.
  • Biodiversity Archive:
    • 100 pods reserved for Earth¡¯s critical animal species.
    • Genetic repository for 100,000 species stored in cryo-tanks, ready for cloning.
Hydroponics Bay:
  • Primary Function: Oxygen production along side the CO2 scrubbers.
  • Capacity: Limited to 4% of maximum theoretical output.

Crew Living and Work Quarters (10% of total mass):

Habitation:
  • Description: 10 interconnected floors, each approximately 30,000 square feet.
  • Amenities: Crew quarters, mess halls, research labs.
Mission Briefing: Hydrogen Harvest Operation "Feeding The Dragon"
The datapad¡¯s glow reflected off the dim cabin walls as I scrolled through the ship¡¯s systems, the technical perfection of the Jericho laid out in neat diagrams and precise numbers. My finger paused over the schematic of the fusion core, tracing the delicate pathways of plasma conduits that wrapped tightly around its heart. Each line of data felt clinical, detached¡ªan artificial simplicity masking something far more volatile beneath the surface. I swiped to the next section, where the mundane technical details gave way to the specifics of today¡¯s mission. My stomach tightened as my eyes locked on the title: "Feeding the Dragon." The phrase stared back at me, stark and ominous. It clung to me like a whisper from the past, dragging jagged memories I¡¯d buried deep to the surface. Feeding the Dragon. The name wasn¡¯t arbitrary. It was deliberate, calculated¡ªloaded with meaning I couldn¡¯t ignore. My finger hovered over the schematic, tracing the plasma conduits again as unease pooled in my chest.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Ten exawatts per hour,¡± I murmured to myself, the figure gnawing at me. That kind of power shouldn¡¯t exist. It wasn¡¯t natural. No colony ship before us had ever come close to such output. Their fusion reactors had been primitive, barely scraping by, and their journeys had been desperate gambles. Some had failed. Most had simply vanished. But the Jericho? It wasn¡¯t scraping by. It was something else entirely. I stared at the schematic, fragments of memory stirring like dust shaken loose in the dark. ¡°It¡¯s not just fusion,¡± a voice whispered in my mind, sharp and trembling. ¡°This isn¡¯t science, Julian. This is madness.¡± The memory came rushing back, vivid and inescapable. I was twelve years old, sitting on the edge of a desk in my father¡¯s lab. My legs swung idly, brushing against the cold metal, as the hum of machinery filled the air. The holographic projection of the Jericho¡¯s core floated between my father and Dr. Knight, its intricate design rotating slowly in the sterile light. ¡°This isn¡¯t just fusion,¡± Knight said again, her tone low and tight. She sounded like she was holding back a scream. Her almond-shaped eyes darted between the hologram and my father, her expression a mix of fear and disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re containing a singularity inside a star. This¡­ ¡°Dragon¡±, Julian. You¡¯re building a weapon, not a power source.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a weapon,¡± my father snapped, his words cutting like a scalpel. He paced around the projection, his movements sharp and deliberate. ¡°It¡¯s survival. Do you think a standard fusion core would have been enough to power the Jericho? To maintain its systems, its defenses, its propulsion?¡± He turned on her then, his gaze hard and unrelenting. ¡°Do you think humanity has time to wait for safe, conventional solutions?¡± Knight folded her arms, her expression darkening. ¡°You¡¯re using fusion to cage a black hole. Do you even hear yourself? If we lose containment for even a fraction of a second¡ª¡± ¡°We won¡¯t,¡± my father interrupted, his voice rising with a rare edge of anger. He stepped closer to the hologram, his hand hovering near the spinning image of the core as if he could touch it. ¡°Dragon is stable. Perfectly contained. It produces more energy than anything humanity has ever conceived, and it will sustain the Jericho indefinitely.¡± Knight¡¯s voice dropped to barely a whisper. ¡°This isn¡¯t just science, Julian. This is playing with reality itself. If anyone ever finds out what you¡¯ve done here¡ªwhat Dragon really is¡ªthey won¡¯t just call you a genius. They¡¯ll call you a madman.¡± Her words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. My father didn¡¯t flinch. Instead, he turned to me. For a moment, his intensity softened, his sharpness fading into something gentler. He crouched in front of me, his voice quieter but no less certain. ¡°Sometimes, Sol,¡± he said, his eyes locking with mine, ¡°you have to break the rules to save what matters.¡± Back then, I didn¡¯t understand. How could I? I was just a child, perched in the middle of a conversation I wasn¡¯t meant to overhear. But now, staring at the title on the datapad, the memory cut through me like glass. He hadn¡¯t just broken the rules¡ªhe¡¯d shattered them. And he¡¯d dragged all of humanity with him. I swiped back to the schematic, my gaze locking onto the plasma conduits wrapped around the core. The truth hovered at the edge of my thoughts, jagged and undeniable. The core wasn¡¯t just a fusion reactor. It was something far more dangerous¡ªa black hole caged by fusion itself. The singularity at its heart wasn¡¯t just a power source; it was a predator, patient and unrelenting. It radiated immense energy in the form of Hawking radiation, driving the Jericho¡¯s engines, shields, weapons, and life support systems¡ªeverything that kept us alive in the void. But its containment required something equally extraordinary: the unyielding plasma field of an artificial star. My stomach twisted. Fusion wasn¡¯t the heart of the Jericho. It was its leash. The memory faded, and I blinked, my focus snapping back to the datapad in my lap. The name Dragon stared back at me, no longer hidden behind the usual security layers but highlighted as part of the mission briefing. It was access I¡¯d only been given because of how crucial this task was¡ªreplenishing the core wasn¡¯t just maintenance; it was survival. If the core ever ran out of power, the star feeding it would collapse, unable to sustain the plasma fields holding the black hole in place. The thought made my breath catch. A black hole, loose and uncontrolled, would devour everything in its path¡ªthe Jericho, the surrounding space, maybe even a solar system. Why would you build something so dangerous, Dad? I shivered, my fingers tightening around the datapad. The black hole wasn¡¯t just a power source¡ªit was a predator, its hunger held at bay by nothing more than my father¡¯s genius and the unrelenting need for fuel. And what happens when the fuel runs out? The question churned in my mind, sharp and unyielding. I tapped the screen, navigating back to the menu. The section labeled Experimental Systems caught my eye, its flashing red header marked CLASSIFIED ¨C RESTRICTED ACCESS. My clearance wouldn¡¯t unlock it; I already knew that. But I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that there was more buried here¡ªmore than what Vega had shared in her briefing. My fingers hovered over the console, and I tapped the icon. Predictably, the system denied me with a dull chime. ACCESS DENIED. I sighed, leaning back against the cold wall of my cabin. Of course, Vega hadn¡¯t trusted me with full clearance. Why would she? I was the ship¡¯s walking enigma, and even this much access felt like a reluctant gesture. Still, something itched at the back of my mind, a half-formed thought that refused to leave me alone. And then it came to me: the code. A sharp pang of memory struck, a mix of guilt and something softer. SOL-LUX-7. It wasn¡¯t just any code¡ªit was the same emergency pass my father had given me when I was barely a teenager. ¡°If I¡¯m not around,¡± he¡¯d said, his voice low and serious, ¡°and you need to get into my lab, this will let you in. It¡¯s only for emergencies, Sol.¡± He¡¯d trusted me with it, but I hadn¡¯t exactly been responsible. I¡¯d used the code more than once to sneak out of our stronghold¡ªEarth¡¯s last crumbling bastion of safety¡ªto wander the streets with the few friends I had. Those nights felt like fragments of another life, moments of stolen freedom in a world falling apart. The stolen bottle of cheap liquor, the shared laughter, the bitter tang of smoke in the air. But those friends were gone now. All of them. Dead in the final days of Earth¡¯s collapse, while I was spared¡ªhidden away and smuggled aboard the Jericho. A knot formed in my throat, sharp and unrelenting. It was a miracle my father hadn¡¯t revoked the pass after catching me sneaking out that night. I still remembered the terror as two members of the Royal Guard dragged me back into the stronghold. They were towering, over nine feet tall, their movements fluid despite the massive power suits that encased them. I had tried to resist, thrashing and kicking, but it was like fighting against a wall of steel. One of them had effortlessly scooped me up, his mechanical grip unyielding yet careful not to harm me. They didn¡¯t speak¡ªjust loomed silently, their glowing visors casting an eerie red light across my tear-streaked face. Even then, their sheer might was enough to leave me trembling. When they delivered me to my father, I¡¯d expected his usual lectures or, worse, punishment. But instead, he¡¯d simply shaken his head, his expression a mixture of disappointment and something softer. ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret trusting you,¡± he¡¯d said, his voice quiet but firm. That look, more than the Royal Guard¡¯s imposing presence, had stayed with me. It wasn¡¯t anger¡ªit was fear. Fear for me, for what I could lose, for the fragility of the world we were clinging to. And in that moment, I realized how much weight he carried, how much he believed in me despite everything. And now, here I was, years later, still holding onto that trust. Still using it. I opened the manual override console, my fingers trembling as the clean interface flickered into a command-line prompt. The cursor blinked, steady and unassuming, as if it had been waiting for me all along. ¡°Only one way to find out,¡± I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible. My fingers hovered over the keypad before finally typing the code: SOL-LUX-7.
Override Code: SOL-LUX-7
The system processed the input, the cursor blinking for an agonizing moment before a quiet beep broke the silence.
USER: Sol Voss Clearance Level: MEDIUM ACCESS GRANTED ¨C LIMITED FILES UNLOCKED
I froze. It had worked. My clearance level was higher than I¡¯d thought¡ªmedium. That wasn¡¯t nothing. But it also wasn¡¯t enough to unlock everything. A new menu appeared, listing the experimental projects. My stomach twisted as I read the names.
PROJECT FILES Code Name: Dragon ¨C [REDACTED] Code Name: Phoenix ¨C [REDACTED] Code Name: Gryphon ¨C [REDACTED] Code Name: Wyvern ¨C [REDACTED] Code Name: Chimera ¨C [REDACTED] Code Name: Leviathan ¨C [REDACTED] Code Name: Hydra ¨C [REDACTED]
Each name glared at me, cryptic and foreboding. My clearance wasn¡¯t high enough to see the details, but the names alone sent a chill through me, stirring half-remembered truths from my childhood. Dragon, I knew¡ªperhaps too well. But the others¡­ Phoenix. That one hit me hardest. It was my father¡¯s masterpiece, the project he had poured himself into more than any other. His dream had always been to conquer mortality, to make humanity something more. Immortal. Regenerative. The ultimate survivors. Seeing the name now, it was as if a dam had broken in my mind. The memories I had buried deep¡ªperhaps too deep¡ªrose like smoke from a dying fire, hazy but unrelenting. I had known the most about Phoenix, even as a child. My father had whispered to himself constantly, piecing together ideas, working late into the night. ¡°Immortality isn¡¯t just a goal, Sol¡ªit¡¯s a necessity. The universe won¡¯t wait for us to catch up.¡± Gryphon. My father had mentioned ¡°bending reality¡± once, as if it were a puzzle waiting to be solved. Quantum manipulation? Spacetime distortion? His words came back to me now, faint and distorted: ¡°If we control the rules of physics, Sol, we control our destiny.¡± Wyvern. Singularities. Gravitational anomalies. Controlled collapses. His fascination with the raw power of the universe had bordered on obsessive. ¡°Gravity is the ultimate weapon,¡± he had told Pierce once. ¡°Harness it, and nothing can stand against you.¡± Chimera. The name churned in my gut, stirring a deep unease. Hybridized, adaptive, predatory. It could mean anything¡ªa swarm of nanotech, or something horrifyingly alive. My father¡¯s voice, soft but relentless, whispered in my mind: ¡°Adaptation is survival. If humanity won¡¯t adapt naturally, we¡¯ll force it.¡± Leviathan. I thought of Knight¡¯s warning, spoken so quietly I almost hadn¡¯t heard it. ¡°A weapon to consume fleets,¡± she had said, her voice heavy with something close to fear. Was it a dark matter cannon? A swarm of something far worse? The idea lingered, a shadow in my thoughts. Hydra. This name coiled around my mind like a snake, slithering into the cracks of my memories. Something regenerative, endlessly growing. Like me? Or was that wishful thinking? My gaze flicked back to the note I had found, the words etched into my memory: ¡°Evolution is better left to nature and God.¡± Hydra reminded me of Lab 3, the sealed room that no one dared talk about. The warning note, the secrecy, the death. Were they working on Hydra there? Or Chimera? Or were they continuing Phoenix itself? My stomach twisted at the thought. What if it wasn¡¯t just one of them? What if they were working on all of them? I leaned back, my chest tightening. These weren¡¯t just projects. They were experiments, weapons, concepts dragged from the edge of science and thrust into reality. And if Dragon¡ªthe fusion core¡ªwas the backbone of the Jericho, what were the others? Contingencies? Fail-safes? Or something darker? I didn¡¯t want to think about the answers, but the memories wouldn¡¯t let me go. My father had whispered endlessly about Phoenix in his lab, speaking to himself, to Pierce, sometimes even to me. ¡°Humanity has limits,¡± he¡¯d said once, his voice sharp with frustration. ¡°But those limits are illusions, Sol. Evolution can¡¯t be left to chance. Nature and God don¡¯t care about our survival. We have to take control.¡± But I had seen what ¡°taking control¡± looked like. I had heard the cries, seen the faces of the human experiments he had pushed too far. My hands clenched at the thought. I didn¡¯t know what had happened in Lab 3, but I knew how far he had been willing to go for Phoenix. For all of it. He¡¯d called it ¡°progress.¡± Knight had called it madness¡­ but she hadn¡¯t just stood by in silence. She had helped him, even knowing it was wrong. She had been complicit in every step, her hands as stained as his, no matter how conflicted her expressions might have been. The names stirred fragments of my younger years, snatches of conversations whispered late at night. ¡°Sacrifice is necessary.¡± ¡°Evolution doesn¡¯t come without pain.¡± ¡°This will be our legacy.¡± Even then, I had wondered: Was he trying to save us? Or was he just playing God? My father¡¯s words from years ago came back to me: ¡°Sometimes you have to break the rules to save what matters.¡± But what if saving what mattered had required sacrifices too great to bear? What if his ambition had cost more than he was ever willing to admit? The datapad dimmed, flickering into standby mode. I set it aside, my hands trembling. The Jericho wasn¡¯t just a ship. It was a powder keg, its foundation built on secrets and ambition. And somewhere, buried beneath layers of encryption and redaction, were the answers I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to find. With a sigh, I pressed the screen again, bringing it back to life, and opened the mission briefing once again.
Mission Briefing: Hydrogen Harvest Operation "Feeding The Dragon" Location: Propulsion Bay B, Primary Hydrogen Intake Time: 0900 Hours Team Assignments:
  • Lead Engineer: Reid (Propulsion Bay Operations)
  • Assistant Technician: Sol (Monitoring Valves, Shield Stability)
  • Support Roles: Jimmy (Diagnostics), Ashly (Shield Management, Voss''s Supervisor), Garin (Core Intake Oversight)
Hydrogen Harvest Procedure: "Feeding the Dragon" Star Hydrogen Harvest
  • Utilize intake conduits to siphon hydrogen directly from the star¡¯s outer layers.
  • Ensure continuous flow to stabilize plasma fields in the fusion core.
  • Note: During the initiation of the process, Jericho will momentarily blink offline. To allocate maximum power to the shield systems and intake mechanisms, all non-critical systems¡ªincluding AI communication¡ªwill be temporarily shut down, leaving the ship operating at minimal capacity.
Valve Calibration
  • Monitor and adjust flow rates on primary and auxiliary intake valves in conjunction with Jericho¡¯s automated systems.
  • Sol''s Role: Serve as backup for Ashly, assisting in manual adjustments during emergencies or anomalies. Sol¡¯s involvement will primarily include turning valves or executing simple directives under Ashly¡¯s guidance.
Shield Maintenance
  • Maintain the integrity of heat and radiation shields throughout the operation.
  • Shields are critical to protect the crew and ship systems from the extreme conditions near the star¡¯s surface.
Core Stabilization
  • Direct harvested hydrogen into the fusion core to replenish reserves and sustain the plasma fields containing the black hole.
  • The process is highly risky and relies on precise teamwork between Reid, Ashly, and the rest of the engineering team to execute flawlessly.
Special Note from Vega "Sol, this process is similar to the tests you assisted with on Earth under your father¡¯s supervision. I know this isn¡¯t entirely unfamiliar to you¡ªyou¡¯ve done this before, and if you study the schematics and protocol, you¡¯ll be fine. Just remember: this isn¡¯t about reinventing the wheel; it¡¯s about following procedure and acting as an extra set of hands when Ashly needs you."
Warning: Fusion core containment relies on sustained plasma field stability. A fuel interruption of more than 60 seconds could result in catastrophic loss of containment. Failure to maintain balance between intake flow and core consumption will result in:
  • Plasma destabilization
  • Core collapse
  • Immediate destruction of vessel
Notes: Hydrogen is not a finite reserve, but plasma stabilization depends on continuous input. The fusion reaction generates power to sustain itself, yet even a temporary disruption could render the entire process unsalvageable.
I stared at the text, the words catastrophic loss of containment ringing in my head. The explanation was so clinical, so detached, yet it confirmed what I had long suspected: the crew knew the Jericho would be destroyed if the fusion core ever ran out of fuel. But the briefing didn¡¯t go into specifics¡ªit didn¡¯t mention why. Not the truth of the black hole caged within, nor the monstrous reality of what my father had created. That detail was carefully omitted, hidden beneath layers of technical jargon and sanitized warnings. I scrolled further, skimming through diagrams of the intake system. The conduits connecting the ship to the star were elegant in their simplicity, yet the process they managed was anything but. Hydrogen would be funneled into the plasma shell surrounding the black hole, maintaining the delicate balance that kept the singularity contained. The plasma fields weren¡¯t just a shield¡ªthey were a lifeline. And if the stars themselves run out of hydrogen? I blinked, my breath catching at the thought, even as I knew it was absurd. Stars lived for billions of years¡ªfar beyond the lifespan of the Jericho, or even the human species. The star we were orbiting now wouldn¡¯t burn out today, tomorrow, or even in a few billion years. But the thought still stuck with me, gnawing at the edges of my mind. What happens if we really succeed? If we survive long enough that immortality becomes more than just a dream? I let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet cabin. ¡°Not my problem,¡± I muttered under my breath. By then, I¡¯d either be long gone or¡ªmore likely¡ªjust another footnote in this ship¡¯s improbable history. Still, the idea chilled me. For all the weight this mission carried, for all the impossible stakes, there was something strangely freeing about knowing that some problems were simply too far away to matter. But the thought lingered, sharper now: If we lived forever¡ªif my father¡¯s dream of immortality became reality¡ªwhat would that mean in a billion years? My chest tightened as I tried to imagine it: endless time, endless hunger, the stars themselves growing dim as the universe slowly unraveled. If this was his legacy, was it really salvation? Or was it just trading one kind of doom for another? I shook my head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind. I couldn¡¯t deny it: my father had always operated on a level far beyond the rest of humanity. His genius was matched only by his secrecy, and even now, after his death, I was still uncovering the pieces of his grand design. Phoenix. The word pulsed in my thoughts like a heartbeat. It wasn¡¯t just me¡ªit couldn¡¯t be. The name was too deliberate, too symbolic. A phoenix rose from its own ashes, reborn in flame. Had my father planned for something like that? A contingency? A way to rebuild, even if the Jericho fell? The datapad dimmed, the screen flickering into standby mode as I stared at it without really seeing. My hands trembled as I set it aside, the weight of the mission pressing down on me. The Jericho was a marvel, a fortress, a lifeboat. But it was also a gamble¡ªa desperate bet placed by a man who had always played for the highest stakes. I thought of the code names again: Dragon, Gryphon, Phoenix. Each one a whisper of his ambition, of the lines he had been willing to cross. And now, here I was, caught in the middle of it, trying to hold it all together with nothing but scraps of knowledge and a name that felt more like a curse than a legacy. My stomach churned as I glanced at the clock. Less than an hour until the mission briefing. Less than an hour until I had to step into the heart of the Jericho and face whatever came next. With a deep breath, I scrolled through the rest of the mission details, my unease growing with every word. Valve calibrations, shield stability, intake flow monitoring¡ªall precision tasks with no room for error. The others had been assigned critical roles, each one vital to the ship''s survival. My own role was listed as "minor," but it didn¡¯t feel that way. Even the smallest mistake could cascade into disaster. So much for easing into things. I set the datapad aside again and ran a hand through my unnaturally soft hair, trying to steady myself. At least I wasn¡¯t alone. Ashly, the team¡¯s quiet biologist, would be supervising my tasks. From the little I¡¯d seen of her, she seemed calm and steady, the kind of person who could keep things running smoothly without making a fuss. It wasn¡¯t much to go on, but she struck me as someone reliable¡ªmaybe even someone I could learn from. Of course, I didn¡¯t know her well enough to say for sure. Then there was Garin. Even without knowing much about him, I¡¯d already decided he was a self-righteous ass. If anyone on the team had a problem with Ashly, it was probably him, but I couldn¡¯t tell yet if that was a fair judgment or just my irritation talking. I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. First impressions didn¡¯t mean much out here, but I¡¯d have to start somewhere. For now, I¡¯d just have to trust Ashly and do my part¡ªlearn fast, keep up, and try not to mess up. Still, the thought of walking into the propulsion bay, into the heart of this impossibly dangerous machine, made my stomach twist. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. There was no time to sit here overthinking it. With everything on the line, the best I could do was keep up. I glanced back at the datapad, the schematic of the propulsion system glowing faintly on the screen. My role was simple in theory: monitor intake valves, adjust flow rates, and report anomalies. Straightforward tasks I¡¯d done for my father dozens of times, but the stakes made them feel monumental. One misstep could cascade into disaster. As I studied the layout of the bay¡ªits intricate web of conduits, shield generators, and control panels¡ªI tried to commit every detail to memory. The more I stared, the more my nerves threatened to get the better of me. With a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the practical. One step at a time. Study the schematics, understand the role, get dressed, and go. Repeating the steps in my head like a mantra helped ground me, even if only a little. I pulled on the pressure suit, its sleek material hugging tightly against my skin. My movements felt mechanical as I adjusted the seals, making sure everything was in place. The suit was a shield, a layer of protection against the volatile environment I was about to step into¡ªbut it was also tight, far too tight, clinging in ways that made me cringe. I caught my reflection in the glossy surface of the cabin wall and winced. The snug material emphasized every curve, drawing attention to my chest in a way that made me feel like I was on display. My cheeks burned as I adjusted the seals again, trying and failing to make it less noticeable. Growing up, I¡¯d always hated how much attention my figure drew¡ªit felt like a trait I had inherited without asking for, one more thing about my body I couldn¡¯t control. Shaking off the frustration, I rummaged through the small pile of clothes Vega had left me the night before, pulling out an oversized shirt. It was soft and faded, the fabric worn to perfection, with an old pop culture logo I didn¡¯t recognize stretched across the front. It hung past my hips, comfortably loose, mercifully hiding the suit¡¯s awkward fit. Practicality be damned¡ªI needed something to make me feel less exposed, more like myself. I tugged the hem of the shirt down one last time, letting out a small sigh of relief. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to make me feel a little more human. ¡°Let¡¯s hope this works,¡± I muttered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the ship. Before leaving, I scarfed down a quick meal, barely tasting the reheated rations as I ate standing at the counter. My body needed the energy, even if my nerves made food hard to stomach. The bland meal was a small anchor of normalcy, a reminder that despite everything¡ªblack holes, classified projects, and impossible stakes¡ªlife still marched on in the little ways. With the last bite down, I grabbed my datapad and headed for the door. The Jericho thrummed beneath my feet as I stepped out, its heartbeat steady and unyielding. For the first time, though, it felt less like a comfort and more like a warning. First day of training, first mission. What a crazy fucking day to start. Chapter 6 : Feeding The Dragon The corridor stretched endlessly as I made my way to the mess hall, my boots echoing faintly against the metal floor. The faint hum of the Jericho vibrated beneath me, steady and constant. It wasn¡¯t comforting¡ªit was too large, too encompassing¡ªbut it was a reminder that I wasn¡¯t entirely alone, even if it felt like it most of the time. I paused briefly at one of the narrow portholes, its small frame offering a glimpse into the void beyond. The galaxy spread out in all directions, infinite and consuming, but today it wasn¡¯t empty. A blazing star grew larger as we approached, its golden light casting faint reflections against the polished metal walls of the corridor. It looked like a memory of home, an echo of the sun I was named after, but its light was harsher, unyielding¡ªa reminder that even beauty in space was dangerous. With a sharp breath, I pushed away from the porthole and continued toward the mess hall. Today wasn¡¯t just any day; it was my first real mission since waking up. The kind of day that could prove whether I was worth the risk they had taken. I could feel it. The knot of tension in my chest tightened with every step. The others would be waiting, and I already knew what that meant¡ªjudgment, barely veiled skepticism, and the weight of their expectations pressing down on me. They didn¡¯t see me; they saw my father¡¯s shadow. They expected a prodigy because I had grown up in his lab, surrounded by everything he¡¯d created. "The Princess of Humanity," Garin had called me, dripping with sarcasm, like my upbringing made me entitled rather than capable. Reid, on the other hand, liked to use it more playfully, a half-smile on his face whenever he said it¡ªlike he actually believed in me, like it was just a matter of time before I¡¯d prove them all right. Even with all that knowledge, with all the simulations and training with my father, I still didn¡¯t know if I could live up to what they imagined. But I wanted to try. For Reid, for the ones who believed in me... and even for those, like Garin, who didn¡¯t. The mess hall door slid open with a soft hiss, and the sterile blue lighting greeted me like an unwelcome spotlight. Team Two was already gathered around the central table. The air inside was heavy with unspoken tension, thicker than usual. As I stepped inside, every set of eyes turned to me. Reid acknowledged me first, his voice breaking the silence with an easy tone that didn¡¯t quite match the unease in his eyes. His messy blond hair stuck out at odd angles, a testament to his habit of running his hands through it whenever he was deep in thought. ¡°Morning, Sol. Ready for some fun?¡± He offered me a small grin, an attempt to lighten the mood. ¡°Morning,¡± I replied quietly, forcing a faint smile. My voice felt thin, almost lost in the room¡¯s hum. I pulled at the hem of my oversized T-shirt, trying to hide the way the pressure suit clung too tightly to my frame. It was a small gesture, but it made me feel a little less exposed. Jimmy stood off to the side, taking a sip of his coffee. His messy man bun and faint circles under his eyes gave him a perpetually tired look, but his gaze was sharp, flitting between Garin and me like he was waiting for a cue, seeking approval. Ashly lingered by the wall, her hands tugging at her sleeves, her gaze fixed on the floor like she wanted to disappear entirely. Her dark hair, pulled into a loose ponytail, fell over her face, almost as if she was trying to use it as a shield. Her nervousness seemed to seep into me, and I felt my stomach twist in response, the tension growing heavier with each moment that passed. Then there was Garin. He didn¡¯t bother hiding his disdain. His eyes, cold and calculating behind thin-framed glasses, locked onto me, sharp and dismissive, and his lips twisted into a sneer. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± he said, his voice dripping with derision. ¡°We¡¯re really doing this? Putting her on this mission?¡± Reid glanced up, his easy smile fading slightly. ¡°Garin, cut her some slack, all right?¡± His tone was still casual, but there was an edge of warning beneath it. The silence in the room stretched, uncomfortable and heavy. Garin took a step closer, his arms crossed. ¡°What? She¡¯s not her father¡ªlet¡¯s not kid ourselves. Julian Voss was a genius. He built this ship, these systems, all of it. And her?¡± He gestured toward me like I was a bad joke. ¡°She¡¯s just a kid who happened to be in the right place at the right time.¡± Reid¡¯s expression tightened, his gaze narrowing as he watched Garin. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Garin,¡± he said, his voice still steady but losing its patience. Jimmy chuckled nervously, glancing at Garin like he was seeking approval. ¡°I mean¡­ he¡¯s not wrong, is he?¡± He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but his voice wavered. ¡°We¡¯re about to skim hydrogen off a star. Do we really want to take chances here?¡± Reid turned his gaze sharply toward Jimmy, his tone dismissive. ¡°Shut up, kid. Quit wagging your tail.¡± Jimmy flinched slightly, his nervous chuckle dying instantly as he shifted his gaze to the floor. Ashly glanced up briefly, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but Garin shot her a sharp look, and she immediately dropped her gaze again. "I¡¯ve been studying the diagrams, and I¡¯ve practiced this before..." I said, trying to keep my voice steady, feeling the weight of Garin''s stare. I could feel my defenses rising, even though my voice came out smaller than I wanted. ¡°Oh, great, simulations," Garin scoffed, his sneer deepening. "Genius might be genetic, but your father¡¯s kind of genius? That was a once-in-a-thousand-years fluke. You think just being around when this stuff was built makes you special? It doesn¡¯t. Out here, you¡¯re nothing but a liability, Princess. A dying Earth won''t give us another Julian Voss.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you again, Garin!¡± Reid snapped, stepping forward, his relaxed demeanor gone, replaced by barely restrained anger. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°She¡¯s here because she belongs here, Garin. We¡¯re all running on borrowed time, and you know damn well we need every hand we¡¯ve got¡ªeven if it¡¯s not the one you wanted.¡± He glanced at me, his expression softening for a fraction of a second before turning back to Garin. ¡°You can doubt her all you want, but if she wasn¡¯t capable, the Captain wouldn¡¯t have put her here. And last I checked, he¡¯s the one calling the shots, not you.¡± Garin turned to Reid, his expression darkening. ¡°Oh, I see what this is.¡± His voice dropped, colder now. ¡°You¡¯re defending her because you¡¯ve got a thing for her, huh? Hoping she¡¯ll notice? Maybe let you play hero for a bit?¡± Reid¡¯s fists clenched, and he took a step closer, his body taut with barely restrained fury. ¡°Say that again, Garin. I fucking dare you.¡± Before anything else could happen, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding. ¡°Enough.¡± Captain Warren stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room like a storm, drawing every eye toward him. His gaze fixed on Garin, cold and unyielding, his authority washing over the room like a tidal wave. ¡°You will not question my decisions,¡± he said, his tone brooking no argument. ¡°Sol is here because I trust her to do the job. If I trust her, then so will you. Is that clear?¡± Garin hesitated, his jaw working as if trying to hold back a retort. His glare flicked toward me for a fleeting moment before he straightened slightly and nodded, his voice clipped. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Warren¡¯s gaze swept across the room, pausing on each of us as though daring anyone else to speak. ¡°This isn¡¯t a debate. It¡¯s a mission. You all have roles to play, and I expect you to act like professionals. There will be no egos getting in the way. Is that understood?¡± Jimmy nodded almost immediately, his voice carrying a quick, ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The nervous energy in his posture eased slightly, but his hands still fidgeted at his sides. Garin, slower and more reluctant, finally gave a curt nod, his lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°Understood.¡± Warren¡¯s eyes lingered on Garin for an extra beat before he turned toward the doorway, his voice steady. ¡°Lieutenant Commander Vega, take over.¡± The air seemed to shift as Vega entered the room, her sharp, no-nonsense demeanor pulling every gaze toward her. Her short dark hair, streaked with gray, framed her stern face, and her hazel eyes held a focused intensity that brooked no argument. Without preamble, she tapped the control panel on the table, and the holographic interface sprang to life. A detailed schematic of the Jericho¡¯s propulsion systems hovered above the surface, glowing softly in the dim light. ¡°Team assignments are as follows,¡± Vega began, her voice brisk and efficient, cutting through the tension like a blade. ¡°Team One will remain on the bridge. Captain Warren will pilot the ship during the hydrogen skimming process, and I will handle navigation to ensure a stable course and distance from the star¡¯s surface. Holt will oversee plasma shield integrity, and Yates is on standby for medical support.¡± She gestured toward the rest of us, the rotating schematic casting pale blue light across her sharp features. ¡°Team Two¡ªReid, Garin, Ashly, Jimmy, and Sol¡ªyou¡¯ll be working in the propulsion bay. Reid will lead the team and manage intake flow and system diagnostics. Garin will oversee core stability and monitor output levels. Ashly, shield management is your responsibility. You will ensure the plasma fields surrounding the core remain stable during intake. Jimmy, you¡¯ll assist with valve calibration.¡± Her gaze landed on me, unwavering. ¡°Sol, you¡¯ll be working directly under Ashly¡¯s supervision. Your role is secondary. You¡¯re here to observe, assist, and learn. While you have more experience with the core than most due to your father¡¯s simulations, this is your first field mission. Follow protocol and listen to Ashly. Is that clear?¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± I said, forcing my voice to stay steady even as I felt Garin¡¯s glare burning into the side of my head. Vega¡¯s sharp eyes shifted to Ashly, who nodded quickly, her shoulders hunched slightly as though trying to shrink out of sight. ¡°Understood, ma¡¯am,¡± Ashly said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Satisfied, Vega straightened. ¡°This mission is straightforward but high-risk. We¡¯re skimming hydrogen directly from a star¡¯s corona to refuel the core. The plasma shields must remain stable at all times. A single miscalculation could result in catastrophic damage to the Jericho. Precision and teamwork are non-negotiable. There is no room for hesitation or error.¡± She paused, her gaze sweeping the room once more. ¡°Any questions?¡± The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of the mission pressing down on all of us. Even Garin, whose jaw was tight with barely restrained frustration, remained silent. ¡°Good,¡± Vega said curtly. ¡°We leave in ten minutes. Gear up and report to your stations.¡± As the crew began to move, the tension in the room seemed to shift, no longer sharp and cutting but dense and oppressive. Jimmy nodded quickly and hurried out, while Garin lingered, his expression dark and brooding as he stalked toward the door. Reid approached me before I could follow, his expression softening slightly. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine, Sol,¡± Reid said quietly, his voice steady but low enough that only I could hear. ¡°You know the system better than anyone here. Hell, maybe even better than me¡ªyou were there when it was built.¡± He gave me a quick wink, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Just focus on the task and stick to what you know. Let Ashly take the lead when it¡¯s her call, and back her up if she needs it.¡± I nodded, his words a small comfort. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, managing a faint smile. Ashly lingered nearby, her tablet clutched tightly in her hands. She glanced at me briefly, her expression unsure, before speaking in a tentative voice. ¡°I... I just wanted to say... don¡¯t worry about Garin. He¡¯s like that with everyone.¡± Her voice softened further. ¡°I know you¡¯ll do fine.¡± I offered her a small, reassuring smile, hoping it would ease her nerves even as my own threatened to overwhelm me. ¡°Thanks, Ashly. I¡¯m glad we¡¯re working together.¡± She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing slightly, and hurried out of the room without another word. As I gathered my gear, I couldn¡¯t help but think back to the countless simulations I¡¯d run with my father. I knew the core¡¯s intricacies inside and out, had memorized its systems and flow dynamics, had even seen what could go wrong if something failed. But this wasn¡¯t a simulation. There were no controlled variables here, no margin for error. This was real, and the stakes couldn¡¯t be higher. I remembered the first time my father had shown me the black hole at the core¡ªthe point when he had captured reality itself, bent it to power this ship. The sight of it, contained and somehow still untamed, had left me speechless. The sheer audacity of it, the realization of what he had done, lingered even now¡ªa reminder of both his genius and the danger inherent in all of this. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the corridor. The faint hum of the Jericho¡¯s systems vibrated through my boots, a steady reminder of the ship¡¯s immense power and fragility. I tightened my grip on my datapad, Vega¡¯s words ringing in my ears. This wasn¡¯t about proving myself. It wasn¡¯t about living up to my father¡¯s legacy or silencing Garin¡¯s doubts. It was about survival. And I couldn¡¯t afford to fail. As I made my way to the propulsion bay with the rest of Team Two, the tension was palpable. The faint hum of the Jericho¡¯s systems reverberated through the metal walls, a steady pulse that seemed to amplify the weight of what lay ahead. Reid led the group with his usual easy stride, but even his relaxed posture couldn¡¯t hide the edge of seriousness in his eyes. Behind him, Jimmy adjusted his gloves with quick, precise movements, a determined look in his eyes as he focused on the task ahead. Garin walked with purposeful steps, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the sharp edges of his judgment without even looking at him. Ashly lagged slightly behind, her eyes fixed on the tablet clutched tightly to her chest, her movements stiff and mechanical. I brought up the rear, my datapad clutched so tightly my fingers ached. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the ship itself were pressing down on me, a silent reminder of the stakes. This wasn¡¯t a simulation. This wasn¡¯t the controlled environment of my father¡¯s lab. One mistake here could mean catastrophe¡ªnot just for me, but for everyone on this ship. The propulsion bay doors slid open with a low hiss, revealing the cavernous chamber within. The ion engines loomed overhead, their pulsing energy casting faint, flickering shadows across the walls. The blue glow of the shield generators filled the space with an otherworldly light, cold and unyielding. It was beautiful in a way, but it wasn¡¯t comforting. The sheer scale of it, the raw power contained within, was a stark reminder of how small we were in the face of the forces we were attempting to control. Reid moved to the central console with practiced ease, his fingers dancing over the controls as he brought up the system diagnostics. "All right, Team Two, let¡¯s do this by the book," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Ashly, you¡¯ve got shield management. Jimmy, get the valves calibrated. Garin, core stability. Sol, you¡¯re monitoring the secondary flow levels and assisting Ashly if needed." Everyone moved to their stations without a word. I found my place beside Ashly, her trembling fingers tapping at the screen as she brought up the shield modulation settings. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I¡¯d done this before¡ªat least, I¡¯d done parts of it. The simulations had prepared me for the process, but they hadn¡¯t prepared me for the oppressive heat, the electric tang of the air, or the subtle, almost imperceptible tremors that rippled through the ship as we edged closer to the star¡¯s corona. ¡°Jericho, initiate AI shutdown,¡± Reid called out. ¡°Affirmative,¡± Jericho¡¯s voice replied, calm and detached. ¡°AI shutdown commencing in three¡­ two¡­ one.¡± ¡°Team Two, this is Vega,¡± her voice came over the comms, brisk and unyielding. ¡°T minus thirty seconds until impact zone. Prepare for hydrogen intake. No room for errors.¡± The hum of the ship shifted as all power diverted to the shields. Jericho¡¯s presence went silent, replaced by an eerie emptiness that filled the air. The lights dimmed significantly, and the cold glow of the shield generators grew brighter, their flickering casting sharp, jagged shadows that danced across the walls. Without Jericho, the ship felt hollow¡ªlike a lifeless shell drifting in the void. ¡°All right, Ashly, Sol,¡± Reid called out. ¡°Keep those shield levels steady. No fluctuations.¡± Ashly nodded stiffly, her eyes glued to her screen. I focused on my own console, monitoring the flow levels as the intake valves began to open. Vega¡¯s voice echoed in the background as she coordinated Team One on the bridge. ¡°Approaching target. T minus ten seconds. Brace for turbulence.¡± My pulse quickened, matching the rhythmic pounding of the engines as I kept my gaze locked on the readouts in front of me. The screen numbers jittered, the flow of hydrogen unstable for a moment before finding balance. Everything else seemed to fade away¡ªGarin¡¯s glares, the oppressive presence of the others¡ªall of it slipped into the background, leaving only me, my console, and the pulsing core. ¡°Five seconds,¡± Vega¡¯s voice crackled. ¡°Four¡­ Three¡­ Two¡­ One¡­ Engaging intake.¡± The comms went dark. A beat of silence. Then the whole ship shuddered, the sudden, violent impact of entering the corona rippling through the hull like a shockwave. I gritted my teeth, my hands flying over the controls, my fingers tapping commands to maintain the shield modulation. The hum of the engines roared around us, filling the space with a low, bone-deep vibration that threatened to drown everything else out. Without Jericho and with the comms quiet, the only sound was the relentless thrumming of the ship, a reminder of how small we were against the fiery storm of the star¡¯s corona. ¡°Keep it steady,¡± Reid¡¯s voice rang out, clear and steady, cutting through the overwhelming noise. Ashly¡¯s gaze flickered toward me, her expression tight with concentration, and I gave her a nod, keeping my focus. The screen in front of me filled with readouts¡ªpressure, temperature, shield strength¡ªeach one a crucial thread that kept us from being incinerated.
I zoned in, my world narrowing to the steady data flowing across my console. The heat was overwhelming, the air electric. Each movement of my hands was deliberate as I worked to stabilize the flow. There was no space for fear, no room for mistakes. Just the numbers, the readings, and the pulsing core that kept us alive. ¡°Hold those levels, Sol,¡± Reid¡¯s voice broke through, grounding me. I adjusted, fine-tuning the flow. The pressure spiked momentarily, and I forced myself to breathe, steadying my hands as I recalibrated. Seconds felt like hours as the ship bore through the corona, the shield generators glowing bright under the strain. My fingers moved instinctively, reacting to the subtle shifts in the readouts, adjusting and rebalancing. All I could hear was the hum of the engines and the rapid thudding of my heartbeat, the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a physical force. I had to be enough. Right here, right now. For a while, it looked like we might make it. The shields held steady, the flow levels stayed within range, and the core intake remained stable under Garin¡¯s watchful eye. The oppressive heat of the bay became manageable, replaced by the cold, clinical focus of the task at hand. I allowed myself a small breath of relief. Maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªwe could pull this off.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Then everything went wrong. A flicker of movement caught my eye¡ªa shape shifting in the shadows near the far end of the bay. My gaze darted toward it, my breath catching in my throat. For a moment, there was nothing, just the play of flickering light from the shield generators. But then, there it was¡ªtwo glowing yellow eyes staring at me from inside a nearby vent, unblinking and filled with malice. My heart skipped a beat, my pulse skyrocketing as fear clamped around my chest. It was the same eyes I had seen before¡ªcold, watching, patient. The figure behind them was tall, thin, its limbs bent and unnatural as it hovered just beyond the grate. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. It can¡¯t be real. The eyes were getting closer. Why are they getting closer? I tried to tear my gaze away, but I couldn¡¯t. My breath came in short, shallow gasps, my hands frozen over the console. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not real. My skin prickled, and the eyes narrowed, filled with that same malice as they inched closer. I felt like I was drowning in it¡ªin the dark, in those cold eyes. ¡°Sol!¡± Ashly¡¯s voice broke through, shaky but insistent. ¡°Sol, focus! We need you! The pressure¡ªit¡¯s out of control!¡± Her words snapped through the haze of fear like a jolt of electricity. I forced myself to look away, my heart hammering in my chest as I dragged my gaze to the console, the screen flashing an angry red, pressure readings spiking well beyond the safe range. Focus. Focus. You can do this. Panic surged through me, my hands trembling as I fought to adjust the valves. It¡¯s not real. The eyes aren¡¯t real. Focus on the damn controls. ¡°Sol, what the hell are you doing?!¡± Garin¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, harsh and dripping with accusation. ¡°You¡¯re screwing it all up!¡± ¡°Shut up and focus on that core, Garin!¡± Reid snapped, his voice filled with urgency. ¡°Sol, come on, you have to move! I know you can!¡± My fingers trembled over the controls, the flashing red of the warning lights blinding in my peripheral vision. The pressure readings continued to spike, the values rising faster than I could keep up with. My heart pounded as I forced myself to breathe, to think, but the fear had sunk in deep, turning every movement sluggish, every thought muddled. It¡¯s all falling apart. This is my fault. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m trying!¡± I shouted back, my voice cracking with desperation. My gaze darted across the console, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could help. The alarms blared again, almost drowning out Ashly¡¯s voice. ¡°Sol, you have to vent the pressure the same time I do!¡± Ashly¡¯s voice was frantic, but there was an edge of determination in it. ¡°Now!¡± Vent the pressure. My mind struggled to process her words, my thoughts slow, like they were moving through quicksand. ¡°Sol, now!¡± Jimmy¡¯s voice joined in, sharp and commanding. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this!¡± Move. You have to move. I swallowed hard, my breath catching in my throat. I forced my trembling hands to steady, to find the controls I needed. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of my mind, but I pushed it aside, focusing on Ashly and Reid¡¯s words, on the task in front of me. The next few moments stretched into eternity. My fingers flew over the console, adjusting valves, rerouting power. The propulsion bay shuddered again, the shields surging, but this time I was ready. I forced myself to breathe, focusing on each movement of my hands. Slowly¡ªpainstakingly¡ªthe pressure readings began to stabilize, the alarms quieting, their shrill wail fading into a low hum. The tension in my chest eased, but just for an instant. The ship roared like a wounded beast, the core at the heart of Jericho throbbing like some monstrous, vengeful heart. The heat surged, suffocating and clawing at my skin. The propulsion bay tilted violently, as if struck by some colossal force from below. No, no, no! Relief shattered as I lost my footing, thrown across the metal floor like a ragdoll. My ankle twisted underneath me with a sickening crunch, and white-hot pain shot up my leg. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs as I crashed down, every bone in my body jarred by the force. I tried to cry out, but only a strangled gasp escaped my lips, pain radiating through me in waves. Beside me, Ashly was thrown as well. She slammed into the bulkhead with a brutal thud, her head snapping back, eyes rolling as she crumpled to the floor, limp and unmoving. Her tablet skidded away, clattering against the metal before coming to rest near a wall. My chest tightened at the sight, a fresh surge of panic making my pulse pound even faster. But no one moved to help¡ªeveryone else was too focused, their hands flying over consoles to stabilize the core. It was up to me. Get up, Sol. I clutched my broken ankle with one hand, pain radiating through me, while my other hand reached desperately for the console, fingers stretching to regain control. You have to get up. They need you. ¡°Damn it, Sol!¡± Garin barked, his voice filled with anger and disbelief. ¡°Get it together!¡± Reid¡¯s voice, urgent but softer, reached me. ¡°Sol, you¡¯re stronger than this. Come on.¡± They need me. The thought sliced through the fog of pain and fear. I forced myself to breathe, to block out Garin¡¯s yelling, to focus on Reid¡¯s voice. I couldn¡¯t afford to fail¡ªnot now. Not like this. Biting down against the pain, I forced my body to move. My broken ankle screamed in protest, but I ignored it, dragging myself back to the console. My fingers found the controls again, shaking as I fought to adjust the pressure, to stabilize what was left. Pain flared¡ªsharp, blinding, a searing agony that took my breath away. The core throbbed, its energy too much to contain¡ªthe plasma from the corona was flooding in, wild and untamed. I could feel the vibrations in my bones, my teeth rattling in my skull as the vessel struggled against the star''s fury. The familiar, sickening warmth of regeneration started in my ankle, the bone knitting itself back together with a heat that seared through my body. It was agony¡ªeach fragment of bone splintering, then painfully fusing, muscle and tissue pulling taut as the injury mended itself. I couldn¡¯t hold back the scream this time¡ªa raw, hoarse sound that tore its way out of my throat, my vision blurring with tears. As the bone finally fused, a deep pang of hunger shot through me, my body draining whatever fat reserves it had to fuel the rapid healing. The emptiness gnawed at my insides, a reminder of the cost of what I was¡ªof how my own body betrayed me, demanding payment for each unnatural recovery. The ship jolted again, a shudder that rattled the bulkheads. The lights flickered, then dimmed, casting everything in a sickly half-glow that made the shadows dance across the bay like writhing specters. I forced myself to stay conscious, to push the pain to the back of my mind, even as nausea clawed at me. Through the haze, I saw Jimmy... Suddenly, without warning, Jimmy came barreling out of nowhere. Before I could react, he slammed into me, shoving me off the console with brutal force. ¡°Move, bitch!¡± he snarled. The world flipped as I fell face-first to the floor, the impact knocking the air out of my lungs. My hands barely caught me, but my broken ankle twisted beneath me, the unfinished healing snapping apart with a sickening crunch. White-hot pain shot through my leg, more intense this time, blinding me for a moment. ¡°Fuck! Ashly¡¯s down!¡± Jimmy shouted, his voice panicked, eyes wide as he glanced at her limp form. ¡°Shut the fuck up and fix the goddamn problem, Jimmy!¡± Garin barked, not sparing a single look toward Ashly or me. His voice was dripping with contempt. ¡°We¡¯re about to fucking die, you idiot!¡± I tried to move, tried to get back up, but the pain radiating from my ankle was blinding, my body refusing to cooperate. All I could do was grit my teeth, fighting against the scream that threatened to tear from my throat. But in that moment, my eyes found the vent again¡ªand those damn golden eyes were gone. The pressure readings began to stabilize, the blaring alarms finally fading into a lower, more manageable warning tone. But the damage had been done¡ªacrid smoke filled the air, and scorch marks marred the consoles where they had overloaded, the stench of burnt circuitry sharp and biting. Garin¡¯s eyes were on me, narrowed, suspicion etched into every line of his face. He glanced down at my leg¡ªalready healing far too quickly¡ªthen back at my face, something cold and calculating behind his gaze. He had seen the way my ankle had twisted, heard the crunch of bone, and now watched as the injury mended itself before his eyes. But he stayed silent, only letting his sneer deepen. Turning away, he spoke, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°What did I say? Your highness is dead weight. Can¡¯t even keep the valves steady. Daydreaming, almost gets us all killed.¡± His laugh was cruel, slicing through the air. Reid steadied himself, getting back to his feet, his gaze locking onto Garin. ¡°Back off, Garin.¡± Garin wasn¡¯t done. He stepped closer, his eyes burning into mine. ¡°You think just because your daddy built this ship, you¡¯re part of the crew? You¡¯re nothing. Worse than dead weight. A damn danger.¡± His words struck like a slap, digging deep. The regeneration had fixed my ankle, but it couldn¡¯t touch the seething anger inside. My teeth clenched, and I forced myself to meet his stare. ¡°Fuck you, Garin,¡± I muttered, the words weak but all I could manage. I couldn¡¯t talk about the eyes I¡¯d seen without sounding insane, so I swallowed my shame instead. Garin straightened, his sneer deepening. ¡°You don¡¯t belong here, Princess.¡± Before he could continue, Reid cut in, his voice sharp and unwavering. ¡°Enough, Garin. You¡¯re acting like it¡¯s all on Sol, but it was your job to keep it steady. She shouldn¡¯t have had to step in.¡± Garin¡¯s jaw tightened, but he didn¡¯t reply. The silence was heavy, filled only with the hum of the ship. Jimmy shifted, his voice laced with mockery. ¡°Yeah, well, she wasn¡¯t paying attention. Screaming like she was gonna die, grabbing her leg. And now? Fine, like nothing happened.¡± The taunt stung. They didn¡¯t know, couldn¡¯t know what had really happened. My body had healed itself, but I hadn¡¯t told anyone. No one knew how it worked¡ªhow it left me hollow and hungry, as if the process stretched me too thin. Garin gave one last sneer, shaking his head. ¡°Lab rat,¡± he spat. I stayed frozen, fists clenched at my sides, forcing down the rage that threatened to spill over. The ache in my leg was fading, but the tension in my chest only grew. I could feel their eyes on me¡ªJimmy¡¯s, Reid¡¯s, even Ashly¡¯s¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t look at them. Not yet. Garin turned to Reid, their eyes locking in a tense moment. For the first time, Reid pulled off his sunglasses, revealing intense green eyes beneath. There was a fire in them, a sharp intensity I hadn¡¯t seen before. He took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You¡¯re a fucking bully, Garin. And I¡¯m done with your shit. You need to learn that sometimes your mouth writes checks the rest of you can''t cash." His fists clenched, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see if Reid would take it further. The air seemed to thicken around them, Garin standing tall and lanky while Reid, shorter but twice as wide, radiated strength. Both men were imposing in their own way. Their bodies tensed, waiting for the other to make a move. All eyes shifted from me to the two men, the room holding its breath. The intercom crackled, breaking through the chaos. Vega''s voice was steady, almost a stark contrast to the mayhem in the bay. ¡°AI coming back online¡ªstabilizing critical systems. We¡¯re exiting the corona! Team Two, report to the bridge immediately.¡± Ashly¡¯s voice was small, almost hesitant. ¡°Please stop, Reid... We should go.¡± Garin snapped his glare to Ashly, giving her a cold, withering look, but he didn¡¯t say anything. Reid nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on Garin. ¡°You got lucky this time. Let''s go, Sol." Garin grumbled something under his breath and stormed off, Jimmy following after him, their steps echoing down the corridor. ¡°Thank you,¡± I whispered. Reid¡¯s gaze softened as he looked at me, a mix of concern and frustration on his face. ¡°Anytime, Princess. Always happy to be your knight in shining armor." He flashed me a small grin. "Now, let¡¯s hurry." I nodded, swallowing the anger that threatened to spill over as I pushed myself to my feet. Reid¡¯s hand appeared in front of me, steady and warm¡ªan unspoken offer of help. I hesitated, my pride flaring, but finally, I took it, letting him pull me up. My body might¡¯ve healed, but my pride hadn¡¯t. As I stood, I wiped away a small tear that had escaped, trying to keep my composure. Reid gave me a soft, encouraging smile, but I quickly turned my face away, not wanting him¡ªanyone¡ªto see how shattered my pride was. It felt too raw, too exposed. Ashly struggled to her feet, Reid helping her up after me, her expression pale and shaken. She avoided Garin¡¯s gaze, keeping her focus on Reid and me. Jimmy stood quietly near the console, his face flushed, his eyes darting between us like he wanted to disappear into the walls. ¡°Come on, Ash. You okay to walk?¡± Reid¡¯s voice was gentle, filled with concern. She nodded, though her eyes were wide and her hands still shook slightly. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. We moved as a group, the propulsion bay oppressive as we left. My body ached, each step a reminder of the ordeal, but I kept my head up, determined to appear stronger than I felt. Garin¡¯s words echoed like poison I couldn¡¯t shake. Ahead, Jimmy carried Ashly, supporting her as Reid had instructed. Garin led, his boots echoing against the metal floor, disdain still radiating off him. He was waiting for me to fail again¡ªto prove I didn¡¯t belong. I swallowed, pushing the doubt down. The corridor seemed narrower as we headed to the bridge, the ship¡¯s hum thrumming beneath our feet. Nanobots and repair drones were already at work, patching damaged panels, the burn marks and torn metal evidence of the earlier chaos. The Jericho was wounded but still holding, fighting alongside us. Reid stayed beside me, offering a nod when I glanced at him. I forced a grim smile, grateful for his support. Whatever lay ahead, I had to face it. The door to the bridge loomed ahead, heavy and foreboding. Anxiety twisted in my stomach, but I took a deep breath. Whatever Captain Warren had waiting for us, I was ready. The door slid open with a low hiss, spilling bright light into the corridor. Captain Warren stood at the center of the room, his eyes narrowing as he took us in¡ªlingering on Ashly¡¯s disheveled state, Jimmy¡¯s downcast expression, and finally landing on me. His gaze was sharp, assessing, and the weight of it threatened to crush me. But I held it. Fists clenched. Heart pounding. I wouldn¡¯t let fear take hold. Not now. ¡°We¡¯re here, Captain,¡± Reid said, his voice steady, though there was a defiant edge to it. ¡°Team Two, reporting as ordered.¡± Warren¡¯s expression remained unreadable. His eyes, sharp and calculating, moved over each of us in turn. There was no warmth there¡ªno reassurance. Only expectation. And maybe that was enough. ¡°Get in position,¡± he said, his voice like stone. ¡°We¡¯re not out of this yet.¡± We moved forward, taking our places. The bridge fell into a tense silence, broken only by the hum of the ship, as we braced for whatever came next. The vastness of space outside might be indifferent, the universe unforgiving, but it didn¡¯t matter. We had a job to do, and we would do it. Slowly, the turbulence began to subside. The solar storm that had shaken the Jericho was fading, the erratic readings on the consoles smoothing out as the systems stabilized. The flashing warning lights on the screens blinked from red to green, one after another. Quietly, the crew fell back into their roles¡ªoperating as if we hadn¡¯t just been a breath away from disaster. I glanced at the displays, watching as the nanobots got to work, repairing damage to the ship. They used minerals and resources from the cargo to patch ruptures and rebuild torn metal¡ªsilent and efficient. And it hit me: the Jericho and I were the same. Both of us were mending ourselves, using whatever we had left, no matter the cost. My body was drawing from its own reserves to heal, just like the ship was taking from its stores. Both of us trying to hold it together in the face of the void, each wound exacting a toll we could never fully repay. But I forced the thought aside. There wasn¡¯t time for that. Not now. I had a job to do, and I couldn¡¯t afford to let my own doubts hold me back. Captain Warren''s voice sliced through the tension, commanding and sharp. ¡°Status report.¡± His gaze swept across the room, landing on each member of Team Two. ¡°I want to know exactly what went wrong down there.¡± Reid stepped forward, his face flushed but resolute. ¡°Captain, the pressure surge was unexpected. We managed to stabilize, but it was rougher than we anticipated.¡± Warren''s eyes flicked over to Garin. ¡°Garin?¡± Garin straightened, his expression dark, a scowl settling on his face. ¡°The problem wasn¡¯t the surge, Captain. It was Sol,¡± he said, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°She froze up at the worst possible time¡ªmissed the adjustment window completely. If it weren¡¯t for Jimmy, we would¡¯ve been torn apart.¡± Jimmy looked at the ground, his eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He didn''t contradict Garin''s words¡ªif anything, he seemed to quietly relish the praise, eager to stay in Garin''s good graces. Ashly, still pale from her fall, gave a slight nod, her gaze fixed on the console. She looked conflicted, clearly not wanting Sol in trouble, but unwilling to challenge Garin openly either. ¡°Is that true, Sol?¡± Warren¡¯s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it¡ªsharp, demanding. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to defend myself, to explain what I¡¯d seen¡ªthe shadow, the eyes staring at me from the vent. But the words caught in my throat. No one would believe me, not after everything else. Not with Garin ready to tear into me again. ¡°I¡ªI hesitated,¡± I admitted, my voice small, barely above a whisper. ¡°I was trying to stabilize the valve, but¡ª¡± ¡°She hesitated,¡± Garin cut in, his voice mocking, loud enough for everyone to hear. ¡°Captain, we don¡¯t have time for hesitation. Not out here. Not when we¡¯re skimming a goddamn star. She¡¯s a liability.¡± Reid shot Garin a glare, stepping closer to me. "She¡¯s still learning, Garin. We all make mistakes. Besides, you slipped up on the core stability¡ªdon¡¯t pretend you¡¯re perfect." Garin scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "That''s what the help is for, Reid. Wilks never would have made that mistake, and you know it. We need someone else from cryo, not royalty." ¡°Enough,¡± Warren¡¯s voice cut through the room, cold and final. He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze steady, weighing me. I tried not to flinch under his scrutiny, tried to look stronger than I felt. He finally nodded, dismissing the rest of the team with a flick of his wrist. ¡°Team Two, you¡¯re dismissed. I expect a full written report by tomorrow.¡± Warren looked at Reid, his tone brisk. ¡°Reid, help Yates get Ashly to the med bay, then get to repairs.¡± Reid gave a quick nod and moved to support Ashly as Yates was already by her side, her usual calm demeanor in place. ¡°Let¡¯s go, Ash. You¡¯re gonna be all right,¡± she said, guiding her gently. As they left, Warren turned to Garin and Jimmy. ¡°Garin, Jimmy¡ªget to work with Jericho. Full diagnostics on all systems. I want to know if anything¡¯s out of place after skimming that star.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Garin muttered, and Jimmy added a quick, ¡°Right away, Captain,¡± as they moved toward their stations, leaving just me and Warren on the bridge. Warren¡¯s expression softened slightly as he gestured toward the door, turning his attention to me. ¡°Walk with me, Sol,¡± he said. ¡°Vega, Holt¡ªtake over piloting and begin warp prep once repairs are complete,¡± Captain Warren ordered, his voice calm but firm. As I hesitated before following him, I took in their reactions. Vega and Holt had watched the events unfold passively, their expressions unreadable as they nodded at the captain¡¯s command. Yates had looked torn, her gaze had flickering between Warren and me, a flicker of concern lingering in her eyes. The others stayed focused on their tasks, acting as if the confrontation had never happened. I nodded at Warren, falling in step behind him as he led the way off the bridge. We walked in silence, the hum of the ship filling the emptiness between us, our footsteps echoing against the metal floor. My stomach twisted with unease, the weight of Garin¡¯s words still pressing down on me. Captain Warren stopped at the mess hall, the door sliding open with a soft hiss. He stepped inside and gestured for me to follow. The room was empty, the lights dim, and the faint scent of recycled air hung in the space, mixed with a metallic tang that lingered. Warren walked over to the counter, opening a small cabinet and pulling out two glasses and a bottle. He poured a measure of dark amber liquid into each, then slid one across the table toward me. I stared at it for a moment, then looked up at him, confused. ¡°Sit down, Sol,¡± he said, his voice losing some of its earlier edge. ¡°You look like you could use a drink.¡± Slowly, I sat, my hands still trembling slightly as I picked up the glass. The liquid inside caught the light, shimmering faintly, and I hesitated before bringing it to my lips, the sharp bite of alcohol stinging my throat as I swallowed. Warren took a drink from his own glass, his eyes never leaving mine. ¡°You know, Garin¡¯s an ass,¡± he said after a moment, his voice almost conversational, like he was talking about the weather. ¡°He¡¯s smart, but he¡¯s got no sense of restraint. He thinks the only way to get someone to improve is to tear them down first.¡± I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Warren set his glass down, leaning forward slightly. ¡°But I¡¯m not interested in his opinion. I¡¯m interested in yours. What happened back there?¡± I swallowed, my mouth dry. ¡°I... I thought I saw something,¡± I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. ¡°In the vent. I¡ªit was just for a second, but... it was enough to throw me off.¡± Warren¡¯s gaze was steady, unreadable. He didn¡¯t laugh, didn¡¯t scoff. He just nodded, considering my words. ¡°Something in the vent?¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± I said, my voice trembling slightly. I hesitated, the fear of sounding delusional clawing at me. I chose my words carefully, keeping the details vague. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what it was... just movement. It could have been nothing.¡± He raised a hand, stopping me. ¡°You¡¯re not the first one to mention seeing strange things on this ship,¡± he said quietly. ¡°But I¡¯ve checked the systems, and everything¡¯s clear. There¡¯s no one else awake¡ªonly us.¡± He leaned back, taking another drink, his expression softening slightly. ¡°It¡¯s likely a side effect of cryo. A lot of people experience hallucinations and memory loss for a while after waking up. What I need to know, Sol, is whether you¡¯re going to let this beat you. Garin¡¯s wrong about you. You¡¯ve got potential, but you¡¯ve got to find your feet out here. Mistakes happen, but it¡¯s how you deal with them that counts.¡± His words hung in the air between us, heavy and meaningful. I nodded, swallowing hard. ¡°I won¡¯t let it happen again,¡± I said, my voice firm, though my heart still pounded in my chest. Warren watched me for a long moment before he finally nodded, the tension easing from his shoulders. He gave me a small, almost imperceptible smile. ¡°Good. Because we need you, Sol. This ship needs you. Don¡¯t forget that.¡± He finished his drink, setting the glass down with a soft clink before standing. ¡°Get some rest. Tomorrow¡¯s a new day, and we¡¯ve still got a long way to go.¡± I almost asked him then¡ªabout Lab 3, about what had happened there, and the secrets buried beneath layers of silence. But as I watched him rise, already dismissing me, his mind moving on, I thought better of it. His earlier dismissal of the hallucinations made me hesitate, made me question if he¡¯d take my concerns seriously or just see them as more evidence that I wasn¡¯t ready. So instead, I just nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yes, sir." I watched as Warren left the mess hall, the door sliding shut behind him. I looked down at the glass in my hand, the last remnants of the amber liquid catching the dim light. Warren¡¯s words echoed in my mind¡ªboth a challenge and a reassurance. I¡¯m not my father, and I¡¯m not perfect. But maybe, just maybe, I could be enough. For now, that¡¯s all I can ask for. But even as I thought it, I couldn¡¯t shake the image of the yellow eyes in the vent, the way they seemed to watch me¡ªfilled with a malice that sent chills down my spine. Was it real? Or am I just losing my grip, letting fear take over? Warren¡¯s words were comforting, but they didn¡¯t erase the doubt gnawing at me. What if it wasn¡¯t just a side effect of cryo? What if something really is there, hiding in the shadows of this ship? Or what if I really am losing my mind? I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. I tipped back the glass, draining it in one gulp. The burn of the alcohol warmed me, spreading through me in a brief buzz that offered a fleeting sense of calm. I took a deep breath, the tightness in my chest loosening¡ªjust a little. I still have a lot to prove¡ªto the crew and to myself. But the certainty I¡¯ve clung to is slipping. Garin¡¯s sneering words won¡¯t leave me alone, but what gnaws at me more is his silence about what he saw. My ankle snapped, and it healed right before his eyes. He mocked me, called me dead weight, but didn¡¯t say a word about that. Why? What game is he playing? I can¡¯t keep stumbling in the dark¡ªnot anymore. Whatever happened in Lab 3, whatever my father''s work did there¡ªit holds the answers I need. I have to figure it out. I need the truth¡ªabout this ship, about my father¡¯s work, about myself. With that thought lingering, the uncertainty clinging to me like a shadow, I stood up and set the empty glass down. As I rose, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt a warmth in my cheeks, a faint buzz that left me slightly unsteady on my feet. Drunk? I thought with surprise. It was a rare feeling¡ªalcohol usually barely affected me. But then, I realized¡ªit wasn''t just the drink. It was the hunger gnawing at my insides, a deep emptiness left over from healing. My body had drained whatever reserves it could find, and now it demanded more. I placed a hand against my stomach as it gave a low, insistent growl, reminding me of its needs. Food. I needed to eat¡ªneeded to replenish what I had lost. Even if the buzz from the alcohol was unfamiliar, I knew the hunger all too well. I walked out of the mess hall, slightly wobbly, determined¡ªor maybe just desperate¡ªto find something to eat, even if I didn¡¯t have all the answers yet. Chapter 7 : The Door That Whispers "No! Stay away!" The words tear from my throat, yanking me out of sleep. My quarters are dark, cold, suffocating. I sit up, trying to breathe through the panic. Yellow eyes flash in my mind¡ªcold, unblinking, always watching. They¡¯re there in the corners, in the vents, lurking just out of reach. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to focus. It was just a nightmare. Just another nightmare. My heart pounds in my chest, the echo of those eyes still lingering. Slowly, I drag myself out of bed, my legs feeling heavy and stiff. My reflection catches my eye as I pass the small mirror mounted on the wall. White hair, a tangled mess, sticks up in all directions. My mismatched eyes stare back at me¡ªone a vivid red, the other blue¡ªand the bags under them tell me everything about last night. God, I look like shit. I push my hair back, my fingers trembling slightly, and I force myself to look away. I grab my datapad from the small table next to my bed, the screen glowing softly in the darkness. The faint light does little to chase away the remnants of the nightmare¡ªyellow eyes flashing in the corners of my mind, watching, waiting. My pulse is still uneven, and my hands tremble slightly as I tap the screen. Vega¡¯s message is there, waiting for me¡ªmy new schedule, the places I¡¯m supposed to be, the people I¡¯m supposed to report to. I shove some food into my mouth, barely tasting it, my eyes skimming over the assignments. The words blur together, swimming in a haze of exhaustion. Get it together Sol. It''s just another day. Another day to prove I¡¯m not useless here. My stomach twists at the thought, but I shove it down, just like the food. No time for panic. No time for weakness. Even as I stand and start pulling on my pressure suit, the edges of the dream cling to me, sharpening the shadows in the room. I force myself to breathe. Just another day. But the hollow ache in my chest says otherwise. I swallow, trying to push down the anxiety, but it sticks in my throat, lingering like a weight I can¡¯t quite get rid of. The corridors of the Jericho are cold and metallic, a constant reminder of how isolated we are, but as I step into the maintenance bay, the familiar hum of machinery wraps around me, bringing a strange kind of comfort. The metallic clang of tools echoes off the walls, grounding me, and for a moment, the anxiety loosens its grip. Reid¡¯s already there, crouched over a control panel. His sunglasses rest on the bridge of his nose, and he¡¯s wearing a different Hawaiian shirt today¡ªbright red and yellow flowers scattered over the black pressure suit beneath. When he hears my footsteps, his head snaps up, and he grins, the kind of grin that makes it impossible not to feel a bit lighter. ¡°Well, if it isn''t our resident princess,¡± he says, voice full of teasing. "Sleep well, Your Highness?¡± ¡°Not quite,¡± I reply, rolling my eyes. But I feel a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. ¡°Hey, well, you look good anyway. Even if you do wear that ratty T-shirt over a perfectly good pressure suit,¡± Reid says, giving a light nod toward my outfit. I glance down at myself, at the old, loose T-shirt I still wear over the tight pressure suit, and shrug. It¡¯s not much, but it makes me feel a bit more covered. Even though I know I probably look a mess¡ªhair tangled, mismatched eyes with dark bags underneath¡ªat least Reid isn¡¯t treating me any different. He tosses me a wrench without warning, and I fumble to catch it, my fingers barely wrapping around it before it hits the ground. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. ¡°Not bad, Voss. Now, let''s see if you can keep that up and actually help me fix this intake valve. We screw this up, and everyone¡¯s breathing recycled fumes.¡± I kneel beside him, my fingers working at the bolts, the routine of it bringing a small sense of focus. Reid watches for a second before he starts talking again, his voice light. ¡°You know, all jokes aside, it¡¯s nice having someone else around. Even if it means I¡¯ve got competition in the style department,¡± he says, pointing to his floral-patterned shirt. ¡°Sure, Reid,¡± I say dryly, but there¡¯s a warmth in my chest that I can¡¯t quite ignore. Reid isn¡¯t careful with his words. He doesn¡¯t look at me like I¡¯m fragile. He just... treats me like I¡¯m here, part of the crew. Just like everyone else. It¡¯s a nice change. We keep working, Reid giving pointers here and there, and when I mess up, he just points it out, grinning, and tells me to try again. And I do. Over and over until I get it right. It¡¯s a small thing, but it makes today a little better. A couple of hours pass in the maintenance bay, my fingers growing sore from wrenching stubborn bolts and recalibrating intake valves. I pause for a moment, wiping sweat from my brow, and glance at Reid as he leans into a panel, his movements swift and practiced. ¡°Why are we even doing this?¡± I ask, gesturing to the bolts I¡¯m wrestling with. ¡°Jericho¡¯s self-healing. Shouldn¡¯t the nanos or drones be handling this?¡± Reid straightens up, a grin spreading across his face as he turns to me. ¡°Sure, princess, we could let Jericho handle everything,¡± he says, his voice light but teasing. ¡°But I¡¯d rather do it myself. You trust those nanos? I sure as hell don¡¯t.¡± I raise an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯d rather get your hands dirty than trust the ship that¡¯s kept us alive all this time?¡± He laughs, shaking his head. ¡°It¡¯s not about trust. It¡¯s about control. Jericho might be self-healing, but that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s perfect. Systems like this?¡± He knocks on the side of the panel. ¡°Sometimes, they need a human touch. Besides, you think a drone¡¯s gonna have my sense of style?¡± He tugs at the collar of his Hawaiian shirt, his grin widening. I roll my eyes, but his words hang in the air, a reminder of how unpredictable this ship can be. For a moment, the routine work feels a little less mundane. I nick my hand at some point, a cut that stings sharp and sudden. Reid catches sight of the blood, his brow creasing with worry. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re due at med bay with Yates next, right?¡± he says, pointing at my hand with a frown. ¡°Might as well head there a bit early.¡± I glance down at the blood, already drying on my knuckles. I force a smile. ¡°I¡¯m fine, really,¡± I say, but Reid shakes his head, his concern evident. ¡°Better safe than sorry, princess. Go on, I¡¯ll wrap things up here.¡± I don¡¯t argue. I wipe my hand on my shirt, hiding the evidence of the wound now almost entirely healed, and head to medical. My fingers tremble slightly, the sight of the near-closed cut making my stomach churn. Reid¡¯s worry only made it worse¡ªlike he could see through me, see what wasn¡¯t normal. I had to get out of there before he asked more questions. The med bay is quiet, the lights low, and the air smells sterile. Yates glances up when I enter, her eyes widening a bit at my early arrival. ¡°Sol? You¡¯re early,¡± she says, her voice carrying that usual gentleness. ¡°Everything alright?¡± I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. ¡°Reid finished up early, figured I¡¯d come by.¡± I can see her eyes flickering over me, noting the bags under my eyes, my unkempt hair, my generally worn-down appearance. ¡°Did you sleep okay last night?¡± she asks, her voice soft, full of concern. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine,¡± I lie. I don¡¯t want her prying, don¡¯t want her questions. Not when I can barely make sense of my own nightmares, of the whispers that follow me, of the yellow eyes I can¡¯t shake. Yates motions for me to sit down, and she moves about, gathering supplies while she explains what we¡¯ll be doing today. She goes over basic first aid procedures¡ªbandaging, disinfecting wounds, the kind of stuff everyone needs to know in case of emergencies. As she works, I nod along, listening, but my mind is elsewhere, replaying Reid¡¯s worried glance. I don¡¯t need anyone worrying about me. Especially not when I can¡¯t explain what¡¯s really going on. Yates finishes wrapping a bandage around a fake wound she¡¯s made on my arm, securing it in place. Her gaze is kind, but I can see the hints of concern behind it. ¡°You¡¯re doing well, Sol,¡± she says, her voice warm, almost motherly. ¡°Just remember, if anything feels off¡ªif you¡¯re not feeling well, you can always come to me, alright?¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± I say, forcing a smile. I know she means well, but the last thing I need is more eyes on me. More questions. I slide off the exam table, nodding as Yates reminds me to take care of myself. I wave a quick goodbye, stepping out of the med bay. The door slides shut behind me with a soft hiss, and I exhale, letting out the tension I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. Yates had been her usual kind self¡ªa little too kind, if I was honest. Her concern lingered, even after I waved goodbye. She meant well, but her watchful eyes made me feel more exposed than I was comfortable with. It wasn¡¯t her fault, though. She just cared too much, but hell that was her job after all. At least she isn¡¯t like Garin or Jimmy.
The thought lingers as I make my way down the hallway, the metallic walls reflecting the dim, sterile glow of the overhead lights. The hum of the Jericho buzzes faintly in the background, steady and rhythmic. It anchors me, but not enough to shake the weight of the past two nights since I woke up. Last night had been different¡ªworse. The nightmare had gripped me so tightly it still felt like I hadn¡¯t woken up. The night before, I¡¯d managed to sleep, maybe thanks to Reid¡¯s visit or the beer he shared. I wasn¡¯t sure which had helped, but whatever relief I¡¯d found then had disappeared. The yellow eyes creep back into my thoughts, the ones from last night. Every time I blink, I can almost see them¡ªwatching, waiting, always lurking just beyond the edges of my vision. I shake my head, trying to banish the image, but their cold, unblinking stare refuses to fade. I let out a breath and focus on my steps, the sound of my boots against the steel floor echoing softly. I try to redirect my thoughts to the crew¡ªReid¡¯s jokes, Yates¡¯ kindness. Even Holt, in his quiet, unrelenting way, is easier to think about than Garin or Jimmy. At least they don¡¯t make me feel like some kind of freak, even if I can sense their unspoken questions. The hallway stretches out ahead, dim and seemingly endless. My mind drifts, the hum of the ship filling the silence. And then something flickers at the edge of my senses. A voice. Faint. Just a murmur. ¡°Claim my legacy. Humanity was born to inherit the stars, open the door.¡± I freeze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. The words echo in my mind, clear and distinct, like someone had whispered them directly into my ear. My heart thuds loudly in the silence, my pulse quickening as I whip my head around, scanning the hallway. Nothing. No one. Just the empty corridor stretching behind me, its cold, metallic walls reflecting the faint glow of the lights. I stand there for a moment, trying to make sense of it. My father¡¯s voice. I¡¯ve heard it before, in my dreams, in the memories that surface when I least expect them. But this wasn¡¯t like that. This felt sharper, louder. Real. I shake my head and force my feet to move again, my steps heavier now, the weight of that moment pressing down on me. It¡¯s just my mind playing tricks, I tell myself, over and over. Cryo messing with my head. The stress of the last few days catching up with me. That¡¯s all¡ªor whatever the hell Dad did to me. But even as I walk, the faint echo of his words clings to me, sinking deep into the edges of my thoughts. I reached the training room a few minutes later, the strange whisper still nagging at the edges of my thoughts. Holt was already there, standing in the middle of the room like he¡¯d been waiting for hours. He was tall and broad, clean cut, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. He didn¡¯t acknowledge me when I walked in, his focus entirely on the pair of sparring gloves he was adjusting. The room itself was bare, cold, and unwelcoming. Dim lights cast long shadows along the walls, and the only sound was the faint hum of the ship, muffled but ever-present. Holt finally looked up when I hesitated near the doorway, his sharp eyes fixing on me. ¡°Put these on,¡± he said, his voice low and clipped. Before I could say anything, he tossed the gloves in my direction. I fumbled to catch them, managing to snag one while the other hit the floor with a dull thud. I knelt to pick it up, slipping both gloves on awkwardly as Holt watched in silence. The material was stiff and uncomfortable, but I didn¡¯t dare complain. Holt gave a curt nod, then stepped into position. His stance was solid and deliberate, like he¡¯d done this a thousand times. ¡°Wait, what are we¡ª¡± I started, but the words barely left my mouth before his fist shot out. It connected with my face, the force sending me stumbling backward. Pain exploded across my eye, sharp and hot, and I clutched at it instinctively. ¡°What the hell?!¡± I gasped, blinking rapidly as my vision blurred.
Holt didn¡¯t respond. He stood there, arms crossed, watching me with that same calm, detached expression he¡¯d had since I walked in. His silence was unnerving, like he was calculating something I couldn¡¯t understand. ¡°No better way to gauge your skill,¡± he said finally, his tone clipped, every word deliberate. ¡°Action teaches best.¡± I straightened slowly, still holding my throbbing eye. ¡°A little warning would¡¯ve been nice,¡± I muttered under my breath, but Holt didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Enough words.¡± He motioned for me to get into position, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. I hesitated for half a second before raising my hands, more out of instinct than any real confidence. My muscles were taut, braced for what was coming, but I wasn¡¯t ready. Not even close. Holt moved like a predator. His strikes came fast and unrelenting, each one hitting harder than the last. This wasn¡¯t like sparring with the royal guard back on Earth. They¡¯d been twice Holt¡¯s size, but they were deliberate, almost gentle in their movements. They¡¯d taught me to stand and endure, but this... this was something else entirely. Holt wasn¡¯t holding back. Every punch, every jab, every calculated movement had weight behind it. A sharp crack to my jaw left my lip split, blood dripping down my chin. A hook to my ribs knocked the wind out of me, sending me stumbling, gasping for air. I raised my arms to block, but his punches tore right through my defenses, sending pain radiating through my arms. I tried to dodge, to move, to fight back, but it didn¡¯t matter. Holt was always a step ahead. A kick swept my legs out from under me, slamming me to the mat. Before I could even catch my breath, he was on me again, dragging me back to my feet like it was nothing. The hits kept coming, each one more brutal than the last. My eye swelled shut, the other barely able to keep track of his movements. My entire body ached¡ªsharp, burning pain in my ribs, my jaw, my arms. I wasn¡¯t fighting anymore. I was surviving, barely staying upright under the onslaught. When he finally stopped, I was hunched over, breathless and shaking. The room spun around me, and all I could do was hold my ribs and try not to collapse. Holt stood there, calm and composed, as if the beating he¡¯d just delivered was nothing more than a standard exercise. No malice. No satisfaction. Just cold, calculated intent. ¡°Your basics are solid¡ªon par with an intermediate fighter,¡± he said evenly, his voice flat, like he was reading off a checklist. ¡°Tough for your size. Study this, and in a few years, you might even be advanced.¡± He reached into his pocket and tossed a datapad onto the mat in front of me, the sharp click echoing in the quiet room. ¡°Reid and Garin are already there. Something to think about.¡± The words stung, cutting deeper than his punches had. He didn¡¯t even need to raise his voice. That subtle challenge, delivered so casually, hit like a gut punch. Without another word, he turned and started to walk away, his footsteps steady and deliberate. Then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. His sharp eyes fixed on me, his expression as cold as ever¡ªuntil something flickered. A faint smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, vanishing almost as quickly as it appeared. His gaze lingered just long enough to make my skin crawl before he turned and disappeared into the hallway. I stayed on the mat, breathing hard, my blood still pounding in my ears. My split lip had already sealed shut, and the bruises that had been forming across my arms were fading before my eyes. My ribs still ached, but I could feel it dulling, the sharp edge of the pain already softening. ¡°What the actual fuck?¡± I hissed, the words raw in my throat as I wiped the last trace of blood off my chin. Holt wasn¡¯t cruel, but there was something colder about him, something detached. This wasn¡¯t training¡ªit was a goddamn execution dressed up as a lesson. And yet¡­ every punch, every strike had purpose. Nothing wasted. Nothing random. It wasn¡¯t about hurting me. It was about teaching me. ¡°What an asshole,¡± I muttered under my breath, forcing myself to my feet. Every muscle protested, my legs trembling as I swayed for a moment before catching my balance. Hunger clawed at my stomach like a feral thing, my body screaming for fuel. I clenched my jaw, trying to ignore the gnawing ache, but it was already settling into my bones, demanding to be fed. I limped toward the door, my ribs still sore, my vision blurred from the swelling around my left eye. But even as I moved, I felt it fading, my body knitting itself back together with unsettling speed. By the time I reached the doorway, the limp was gone. The sharp edge of pain in my side had dulled to nothing, and I could see clearly again. Only the faintest shadow of a bruise remained, a ghost of what should have been agony for days. I glanced back into the empty training room, half-expecting Holt to be there, watching. But he was gone, the echo of his footsteps long since swallowed by the silence. My fingers tightened around the datapad, the edges pressing into my palm, grounding me in the moment. I didn¡¯t head for my quarters. Not yet. The hunger twisting in my gut was unbearable, an insistent reminder of what my body had just burned through. It was late, but I knew the mess hall would still have rations left. With any luck, it¡¯d be empty. The last thing I needed was more eyes on me tonight. Stepping into the hallway, I exhaled, the tension in my chest loosening just enough for me to keep moving. Tomorrow would be different. It had to be.
The days that followed bled together, a blur of exhaustion and routine. Training with Holt left me bruised and battered¡ªat least for a few hours until my body forced itself to heal. The nightmares kept me up most nights, the yellow eyes haunting me every time I closed my own. Even when I managed a few restless hours, I woke drenched in sweat, the echo of those cold, unblinking eyes burned into my mind. I started eating more than double my usual rations, a necessity just to keep my strength up. My body¡¯s constant need to repair itself left me starving, the gnawing hunger settling into a dull ache that never fully went away. I tried to hide it from the others, but Yates noticed. She always noticed. ¡°You¡¯re running on empty,¡± Yates said one morning, handing me a protein bar as I slumped into the med bay chair. Her voice was calm, but the sharpness in her gaze told me she wasn¡¯t just making small talk. ¡°You¡¯ve been burning through rations faster than the rest of us combined.¡± I forced a shrug, unwrapping the protein bar with stiff fingers. ¡°Holt¡¯s training is... intense,¡± I said, trying to keep my tone light. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms, studying me with a doctor¡¯s precision. ¡°This is more than training, Sol. You¡¯re losing weight, and it¡¯s noticeable. I¡¯ve seen you adjusting your suit.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. I glanced down at my pressure suit, my hands automatically tugging at the straps I¡¯d tightened earlier that morning. She wasn¡¯t wrong. The suit, once snug and form-fitting, now sagged slightly in places, especially around my waist and chest. Even the chest harness felt lighter and looser, no longer pressing as firmly as it used to. It was subtle, but I couldn¡¯t ignore the way my body seemed to be shrinking, shifting in ways I hadn¡¯t fully registered until now. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said quickly, sharper than I intended. ¡°Holt¡¯s just pushing me hard, that¡¯s all.¡± Yates¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver, her concern unwavering. ¡°It¡¯s not normal,¡± she said gently, her tone more careful now. ¡°I¡¯d like to run some tests. Just to make sure everything¡¯s okay.¡± The suggestion hit me like a jolt of electricity, panic sparking in my chest. I shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s not necessary,¡± I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ¡°I can handle it.¡± Her frown deepened. ¡°Sol¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± The words came out harsher than I meant, and I immediately regretted it. I softened my tone, forcing a tired smile. ¡°Really. I¡¯ve got this.¡± She studied me for another long moment, her eyes searching mine. Finally, she sighed and handed me another protein bar. ¡°Just... take care of yourself, alright? If anything feels off, you need to come to me.¡± I nodded, stuffing the second protein bar into my pocket. ¡°Sure, Yates.¡± But as I left the med bay, her words lingered. The concern in her voice wasn¡¯t something I could easily shake, and I knew she wasn¡¯t wrong. My body was changing faster than I could explain, and even Yates¡ªkind, patient Yates¡ªwas starting to notice how far from normal I really was. The whispers hadn¡¯t stopped. They weren¡¯t constant, but they came when I was alone, slipping into the silence like a thread unraveling in the back of my mind. My father¡¯s voice, faint but distinct: ¡°Claim my legacy. Humanity was born to inherit the stars.¡± At first, I tried to ignore them, to write them off as nothing more than memories resurfacing in my stressed-out mind. But they were too clear, too sharp to be mere echoes of the past. Once, when I was walking back to my quarters late at night, I thought I saw something¡ªthose eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness at the end of the hallway. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, every muscle locking up as fear gripped me. But when I blinked, the eyes were gone, leaving only the empty corridor and the low hum of the ship. ¡°You¡¯re just tired,¡± I muttered to myself, trying to shake the image. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just your imagination.¡± But the fear lingered, crawling under my skin and refusing to let go. Holt¡¯s training sessions didn¡¯t help. They were brutal¡ªeach one more grueling than the last. He didn¡¯t hold back, and every time I thought I couldn¡¯t take another hit, he¡¯d push me harder, testing the limits of what I could endure, forcing me to find strength where I thought I had none. By the end of each session, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles screaming in protest, my body battered and bruised. But the recovery didn¡¯t last days¡ªit barely lasted hours. Even when Holt delivered a beating that should have left me bedridden, I could feel myself healing as the evening went on. The bruises faded, the stiffness in my joints eased, and the sharp aches dulled. If Holt didn¡¯t completely destroy me during a session, by the time I hit my bunk, I was almost as good as new. But the healing wasn¡¯t without limits. The hunger was relentless, my body demanding fuel for the constant repairs it was forcing upon itself. I¡¯d begun to notice a troubling pattern¡ªwhen I didn¡¯t eat enough, the process slowed. My bruises lingered, the aches stuck around longer, and the fatigue seeped deeper into my bones. It was like my body was rationing its resources, prioritizing what it could heal with the energy it had. The weight loss wasn¡¯t just noticeable; it was horrifying. I caught my reflection in the mirror last night, and the person staring back didn¡¯t look like me. My frame was skeletal, my skin pulled tight over bones that jutted out where they shouldn¡¯t. I was never heavy¡ªif anything, I¡¯d always been a little too well-endowed in places I would¡¯ve happily traded for practicality. But now, even those curves were gone. My chest was flatter, my hips narrower, and my waist¡­ God, my waist. It wasn¡¯t an hourglass anymore¡ªit was a hollow. This isn¡¯t possible. The thought clawed its way through my mind, leaving a trail of cold dread. A body doesn¡¯t just eat itself like this in a matter of days. It felt like some cruel trick, like I¡¯d stepped into a nightmare where the mirror showed me something I couldn¡¯t stop, no matter how hard I tried. I tightened my suit straps again this morning, desperate to stop it from sagging. The chest harness that used to feel snug was loose now, sliding awkwardly against my ribs. My hands trembled as I adjusted it, the fabric pressing into the ridges of my collarbone. You¡¯re fine, it¡¯s just stress. Holt¡¯s training is intense. You¡¯ll bounce back. The words rang hollow, a desperate chant against the truth. My body wasn¡¯t bouncing back¡ªit was breaking down. I could feel it in the aching emptiness of my stomach, the way my limbs felt too light but too weak at the same time. You¡¯re disappearing, a small voice whispered at the edge of my mind. Piece by piece. I could only guess what was happening¡ªmy body consuming itself, sacrificing fat and excess to keep me alive and functional. It left me uneasy, the questions mounting with every session and every meal that still didn¡¯t feel like enough. For all my supposed resilience, it was clear: survival came with a price. Holt noticed. His sharp gaze missed nothing. He didn¡¯t comment outright, but there were moments after a particularly rough session where I could feel his eyes on me, watching as my bruises faded too quickly, as my movements steadied when they should still have been clumsy with pain. Once, as he handed me a towel, I caught a flicker of something in his expression¡ªnot surprise exactly, but a quiet recognition, almost like curiosity. It disappeared before I could say anything, leaving me wondering just how much he knew¡ªor suspected. ¡°You¡¯re like a punching bag that resets every day,¡± he said one morning, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. ¡°No bruises, no swelling. Just... new. Though, you¡¯re looking a little skinnier each time.¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say. My stomach twisted, the truth hovering at the edge of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. Holt didn¡¯t press me for answers, didn¡¯t ask any questions. He just handed me a towel, but this time, he lingered for a moment longer than usual. His sharp eyes flicked over me, noting the way my pressure suit hung slightly looser, how the once tight fit had turned into something awkward and ill-fitting. Without a word, he walked over to one of the lockers, pulled out a box, and handed it to me. ¡°You need to eat,¡± he said simply, his tone blunt but not unkind. ¡°You¡¯re no use to anyone if you waste away.¡± I blinked at the box, heavy with ration bars and protein packs, and then back up at him, unsure of what to say. Before I could form a response, he added, ¡°Can¡¯t afford to lose my favorite punching bag. You¡¯re the only one who doesn¡¯t stay broken¡ªsaves me the paperwork.¡± It was the first time I¡¯d heard Holt make anything resembling a joke, and it hit me like one of his punches¡ªunexpected and oddly sharp. I wondered, not for the first time, what he really knew. Holt wasn¡¯t just the ship¡¯s security; I¡¯d learned from Reid that he was the one who helped seal Lab 3 under Warren¡¯s orders. The thought gnawed at me as I walked back to my quarters, the cryptic comment lingering in the air like a challenge I couldn¡¯t quite ignore. How much does he know about Project Phoenix? My mind drifted back to the note and photo I¡¯d found. Could it have been him? The idea twisted in my head, a nagging thread of uncertainty. He¡¯s careful, methodical... it would make sense. A few days later, as I leaned against the wall outside the training room, still catching my breath from Holt¡¯s latest session, I touched my mouth gingerly, nursing a tooth Holt had knocked out during a brutal hit. The gap it left behind hadn¡¯t lasted long¡ªless than a day¡ªand already a new one was growing in. But this new tooth felt¡­ wrong. It was sharp, far too sharp. Earlier, when I¡¯d run my tongue over it to check, I¡¯d cut myself, the sting and taste of blood making my stomach churn. Now, even the slightest brush of my tongue against its edge sent a chill down my spine. The tooth wasn¡¯t just new¡ªit was different, alien. As I stared down the hallway, lost in the unease creeping over me, Reid walked up, holding out a bottle of water. ¡°You¡¯re keeping him on his toes,¡± he said, his voice carrying the usual teasing note, but his eyes scanned my face, lingering on the bruises and swelling. ¡°But, Sol, you¡¯re burning through yourself fast. Maybe you should talk to Yates about the weight thing. Rapid changes like that¡­ it¡¯s not exactly normal.¡± I looked down, fiddling with the straps of my suit. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m working on it,¡± I said, not meeting his eyes. Reid gave me a small, crooked grin, trying to keep it light. ¡°Just saying, if you keep shrinking, I¡¯m gonna have to recalibrate your suit. Don¡¯t make me do extra work.¡±
I snorted softly, but his words stuck with me longer than I wanted to admit. Holt might have been joking, but the concern behind his tone was real. And he wasn¡¯t wrong¡ªmy body was changing faster than I could keep up with, the questions piling up just as quickly as my appetite. I resolved to tear into the box Holt had given me and triple my intake. I was hungry enough to eat it all in one sitting if I could. But no matter how many protein bars I forced down, it never seemed to be enough. The hunger gnawed at me, deep and relentless, twisting into something unfamiliar¡ªsomething primal. The processed bars tasted like cardboard, their artificial flavor only fueling the frustration. My mind wandered to the thought of something fresh, something real¡ªmeat. The idea clung to me, vivid and unsettling, as if my body was screaming for more than just sustenance. It wanted something raw, something alive. The protein bars, dry and tasteless, only fueled the craving further, leaving me restless and unsatisfied. My teeth ached with the thought, and I caught myself biting the inside of my cheek, tasting the faint tang of blood on my tongue. It wasn¡¯t enough. I shook the thought off, but the craving lingered, sharper and more insistent than the hunger itself. The whispers stayed with me too, creeping into the edges of my thoughts when I was alone. They were quiet, just faint enough to make me doubt whether I¡¯d actually heard them, but they never fully went away. Lately, they¡¯d started saying different things¡ªfragmented phrases that made no sense but left a chill crawling down my spine. Something alive. Something fresh. Claim it. The words echoed with a strange rhythm, like they were coming from somewhere deep inside me. They felt as real as the hunger, as undeniable and intrusive, weaving into my thoughts like they belonged there. I couldn¡¯t shake the thought: Is it the weight loss? The lack of food? Am I losing it? The gnawing hunger, the constant strain¡ªmaybe my mind was finally starting to crack under the pressure. But even as I tried to dismiss the whispers as nothing more than my own exhaustion, there was something unsettlingly real about them, like they weren¡¯t just echoes in my head but a presence reaching out from somewhere else. That idea, horrifying as it was, felt more plausible the longer I spent trying to silence them. Then, as if my own thoughts were betraying me, a stray image flashed across my mind¡ªraw meat, bright and glistening with blood, the kind you¡¯d find behind the counter at an old butcher shop. My stomach twisted, not with disgust but with longing, the craving so sharp it made me flinch. What the fuck? I thought, a chill spreading through me. I like rare steak. That¡¯s it. I¡¯m not some animal. But even as I tried to shake it off, the thought lingered, insistent and primal, gnawing at the edge of my sanity. The craving didn¡¯t fade¡ªit grew, pushing past my rationality, demanding more than I was willing to admit. A few days passed, blurring into a haze of reflection and gnawing unease. I caught my reflection in the mirror again¡ªwild white hair, mismatched eyes, one faintly glowing red. Once, those changes had consumed me, but now they felt trivial compared to what was happening beneath the surface. My teeth were the most striking change¡ªfour sharp, inhuman replacements for my canines. I winced as my tongue brushed one, the sting of blood followed by the unsettlingly fast healing of the cut. Holt¡¯s training didn¡¯t help. His hits, too deliberate to be accidents, knocked out more teeth, each replaced with something sharper, more alien. He never commented, but his sharp gaze lingered, like he was testing me. My own mouth had become a weapon, one I had to handle carefully, each slip of control leaving my cheeks and tongue nicked and bleeding. This isn¡¯t normal, I thought, gripping the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white. But what was normal anymore? My reflection¡ªwhite hair, red eye, razor-sharp teeth¡ªstared back like a marker of something unfinished. The cravings were the worst. They gnawed at me constantly, a primal hunger that no amount of rations could satisfy. The memory of blood lingered, sharper and more vivid than any meal. Yet, as I forced down the bland protein bars and dry rations, the cravings dulled, smoldering rather than burning. My weight crept back, my strength steadied, but the unease never left. The hunger, like the whispers in my mind, waited for a moment of weakness. The days dragged on, the monotony broken only by training, work, and the growing pull of Lab 3. Every time I passed that section of the ship, the whispers grew louder, sharper, like my father¡¯s voice reaching through the walls. Claim my legacy. Unlock the truth. The crew thought they were keeping me safe, but I knew better. They were keeping me out. The door was a barrier not just to the past, but to the answers I needed¡ªand maybe to what I was becoming. Then, one morning, Reid and I were assigned to recalibrate a system in the lower decks. The task felt routine, but the weight in my chest told me otherwise. This wasn¡¯t coincidence. The whispers wouldn¡¯t allow that. Lab 3 was waiting. The task felt routine, but as soon as we descended into the bowels of the Jericho, the air shifted. It was colder down there, heavier, like the ship itself was holding its breath. The whispers, which had mercifully faded over the last few days, started again, faint at first, like static at the edge of my thoughts. I tried to ignore them, tried to focus on the work, but with every step closer to Lab 3, they grew sharper, louder, insistent. By the time we reached the maintenance panel, they were no longer whispers. They were a roar, an overwhelming tide of fragmented phrases crashing through my mind, pulling me under. My fingers shook as I held a tool, struggling to concentrate while Reid muttered something about wiring. Then, the voice came, cutting through everything like a blade of ice: "Project Phoenix is the final evolution, open the door." The words weren¡¯t muffled or distant this time. They were clear and undeniable, freezing me in place. My hands hovered over the controls, trembling, as a chill spread through my body. It wasn¡¯t a memory. It wasn¡¯t a dream. It was alive, immediate, and impossible to escape. No matter how much weight I regained, no matter how much the cravings faded, I couldn¡¯t quiet this. And I knew, deep down, that there was no escaping it¡ªnot until I found the answers. And maybe not even then. ¡°You good?¡± Reid asked, his voice snapping me back. I forced a nod, my throat dry. ¡°Yeah. Just tired.¡± But it wasn¡¯t tiredness. It was the weight of the whispers, the pull of Lab 3, a door I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about. Every time I passed this section of the ship, they seemed to get louder, like my father¡¯s voice was reaching for me through the walls, unraveling the threads of my resolve. The crew might have thought they were protecting me, redirecting me, keeping me away from the labs¡ªbut I was starting to see the truth. It wasn¡¯t about keeping me safe. It was about keeping me out. ¡°We just need to check a few calibrations,¡± Reid said, glancing at his datapad. ¡°Won¡¯t take long.¡± I barely heard him. My attention was on the sterile coldness of the air, the way it felt heavier the closer we got to Lab 3. The lab wasn¡¯t visible yet, but I could feel its presence like a weight pressing against my chest. The whispers were no longer faint. They were roaring now, flooding my mind with fragmented phrases. Unlock the door and you unlock the truth. Find it. Claim your legacy. Evolve. I gripped the tool tighter, willing myself to focus on the task, but my hands shook as the words hammered into me. Every second we spent here felt like the ship itself was pushing me closer to that sealed door. The thought of what might be behind it¡ªwhat truths, what horrors¡ªtwisted in my gut, but it didn¡¯t stop the pull. Reid worked quietly beside me, unaware of the storm in my mind. I forced myself to breathe, to move, to mimic the calm focus he showed, but my pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything but the whispers. I glanced down the corridor where Lab 3 lay, its sealed door hidden just around the bend. The pull was undeniable now, almost physical, like a tether wrapped around my chest. It wasn¡¯t coincidence that brought me here today. It couldn¡¯t be. The whispers wouldn¡¯t allow that. The ship wouldn¡¯t allow that. And as the voice echoed again in my mind¡ªsharp, commanding, undeniable¡ªI knew one thing for certain: Lab 3 was waiting for me. ¡°We just need to check a few calibrations,¡± Reid said, his tone casual as he tapped something on his datapad. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t take long.¡± I followed him down the narrow hallway, the glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows that flickered with each step. At the end of the hall stood Lab 3, its thick steel doors shut tight. Just looking at it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. As we approached, the sound of voices carried down the hall¡ªsharp, low murmurs that I recognized immediately. Garin. He was standing with Jimmy near the entrance to one of the other labs. When they saw us, Garin¡¯s sharp gaze immediately fixed on me, his eyes narrowing in a way that made my stomach tighten. My stomach growled, sharp and insistent. I bit my tongue, wincing at the metallic tang of blood. For a split second, the thought of sinking my teeth into him¡ªinto flesh¡ªflashed through my mind. I clenched my fists, shaking it off, but the anger twisted into something darker, something primal. What the hell is happening to me? Reid, however, didn¡¯t flinch. He met Garin¡¯s stare head-on, his expression calm but firm. Whatever silent challenge passed between them ended when Garin finally looked away, muttering something to Jimmy under his breath. The two of them laughed quietly, their voices dripping with a disdain that made my cheeks burn. Ashly was with them, standing slightly behind Garin, her hands clutching a tablet close to her chest. When Garin turned to leave, muttering something about wasted time, Ashly hesitated for a moment before giving me a small wave. Her movements were quick, furtive, like she didn¡¯t want Garin to notice. A faint bruise still lingered on her temple, partially hidden by a bandage, but she seemed otherwise okay¡ªif not a little nervous. ¡°Come on,¡± Reid said, his voice pulling my attention away from them. He gave Garin and Jimmy one last pointed look before turning back to the task at hand. I followed Reid, glancing back over my shoulder as Garin and Jimmy disappeared into another lab. Ashly lingered for a moment longer before hurrying after them, her head low. When we finally stopped near the base of Lab 3, Reid knelt to check one of the systems, muttering under his breath as he tapped at the exposed panel. ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet,¡± he said without looking up. I hesitated, my gaze drifting toward the massive doors of Lab 3, looming like a weight I couldn¡¯t shake. ¡°I need to know what¡¯s in there.¡± Reid didn¡¯t answer immediately. He finished tightening a connection, then stood, brushing his hands off on his pants. His usual easy grin wasn¡¯t there this time; instead, his expression was cautious, careful. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know everything,¡± he said finally, his voice low. ¡°But I know enough to say you¡¯re better off staying away from it.¡± ¡°Why?¡± My voice came out sharper than I intended, the frustration spilling over. ¡°What¡¯s so bad in there that it has to stay sealed?¡± Reid rubbed the back of his neck, glancing briefly at the door before meeting my gaze. ¡°I wasn¡¯t part of whatever happened in there, alright? That was Warren¡¯s call, and I trust him. If he says it needs to stay shut, then I believe him.¡± He hesitated, his tone softening just slightly. ¡°From what I¡¯ve picked up, it was... bad. Your father¡¯s work didn¡¯t stop when he was gone. They kept going, and it went too far. That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got.¡± His words hung in the air, heavy and incomplete. ¡°What does ¡®too far¡¯ mean?¡± I asked, stepping closer. Reid shook his head, his jaw tightening. ¡°I¡¯m not a scientist, Sol. But from what I¡¯ve pieced together, it¡¯s human experimentation. The kind you don¡¯t come back from.¡± He glanced at the door again, a flicker of unease crossing his face. ¡°And whatever¡¯s in there... it doesn¡¯t belong out here with the rest of us.¡± I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. ¡°So you¡¯re just going to trust Warren? No questions, no doubts?¡± Reid¡¯s gaze hardened, his voice steady. ¡°Yeah. I trust him. You should, too.¡± He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened, but I know this¡ªif Warren says it stays shut, then it stays shut. He¡¯s kept us alive this long, hasn¡¯t he?¡± I clenched my fists, the pull of the door stronger than ever. ¡°You¡¯re not curious? Not even a little?¡± ¡°Curious? Sure,¡± Reid admitted, a faint edge of discomfort slipping into his voice. ¡°But not stupid. There¡¯s nothing in there worth opening that door for, Sol. Believe me.¡± He gave me a faint, tired smile, but it didn¡¯t reach his eyes. I could see the unease lingering behind it, the weight of things he wasn¡¯t saying. ¡°You should let it go,¡± he added, his tone softer now. ¡°Whatever¡¯s in there, it¡¯s not your problem to solve. Don¡¯t go looking for something you can¡¯t unsee.¡± I forced a weak smile, but his words did nothing to quiet the whispers clawing at the edges of my thoughts. ¡°Sure, Reid,¡± I said, my voice light enough to sound believable. ¡°I¡¯ll let it go.¡± But as he turned back to the panel, the knot in my stomach tightened. I wasn¡¯t going to let it go. I couldn¡¯t. The whispers wouldn¡¯t let me. Claim your birthright. Humanity was born to inherit the stars. Lab 3 holds the key. The words threaded through my mind, fragments of my father¡¯s voice too sharp and vivid to dismiss. It wasn¡¯t just the whispers anymore. Sometimes, when I passed this section of the ship, I swore I heard faint noises¡ªshuffling, scraping. Barely audible, but enough to chill me. Lab 3 loomed in my thoughts, its presence growing heavier with each passing day. Whatever was sealed behind that door wasn¡¯t silent¡ªit was waiting. As we left the lower decks, the tension in my chest lingered. My strength was returning, but the whispers gnawed at me, their urgency sharpening with every step away from Lab 3. Find it. Unlock the truth. Claim your legacy... Evolve. Flashes of memory blurred with the whispers¡ªmy father¡¯s lab, sterile lights, the sharp tang of antiseptic. His voice cut through the haze, commanding: ¡°Humanity must adapt, Sol. You must adapt.¡± The whispers didn¡¯t feel external anymore. They were becoming part of me, unraveling the threads of my resolve. I glanced back down the corridor where Lab 3 stood, sealed and impenetrable. Yet something felt different this time. Or maybe it was just me. How would I even get in? The locks were High-level clearance, impossible to bypass without someone letting me in. Directly asking for access wasn¡¯t an option¡ªGarin would seize the chance to drag me down further. But if anyone held the key, it was Knight. The idea gripped me. Knight. My father¡¯s most trusted ally. She knew more about him and his work than anyone else, likely more than Garin ever could. Her loyalty to him ran deep; it had to. But so did her bitterness. That much I¡¯d pieced together even before she went into cryo. Garin¡¯s promotion over her had cut her down, humiliated her. If I could use that bitterness, twist it just enough, maybe she¡¯d help me¡ªnot because she cared about me, but because she¡¯d see it as a way to strike at Garin. I didn¡¯t trust her, couldn¡¯t, but loyalty to my father¡¯s work and spite for Garin might be enough to get her on my side. Still, I couldn¡¯t rely on that gamble. Time wasn¡¯t on my side. I could feel the invisible clock ticking down, pushing me closer to the edge. They¡¯d send me back into cryo eventually, sealing me away while they continued their work, while the secrets behind Lab 3 stayed buried. If I went under again without answers, without seeing what was locked behind that door, I might never know the truth. The note surfaced in my mind once more, the words seared into my thoughts: I¡¯m so sorry for what we have done. Nature never meant for anything to live forever, let alone become¡­ this. Lab 3 must stay sealed. Live your life. The horrors in Lab 3 should be forgotten. Evolution is better left to nature and god. Abandon your father¡¯s legacy¡ªI beg you. I didn¡¯t know who left it or why. Were they trying to protect me? Manipulate me? Did they know what I¡¯d become, or were they simply terrified of the past? The questions churned, relentless, impossible to ignore. Live your life. The words clung to me, fragile yet weighted with impossible hope. What life? Did I even have one to live? For a moment, I let myself dream¡ªwhat would it be like if I¡¯d ever had a choice? If my father hadn¡¯t shaped every step, carved every path before I even learned to walk my own? When I was younger, I¡¯d tried to fight against him¡ªsneaking out, defying his expectations, imagining a future that didn¡¯t orbit his towering influence. But those acts of rebellion had been fleeting, snuffed out by his quiet, unshakable authority. He didn¡¯t need to yell or punish. His disappointment alone was enough to crush my resolve. Even now, long after his death, I couldn¡¯t escape him. His voice lingered in the whispers, his presence seeped into the ship, into the sealed door, into my blood and bones. His legacy clung to me, pulling me toward the fragments he¡¯d left behind. Could I ever be more than his creation, more than his experiment? The thought sliced through me, raw and unyielding. I tried to imagine a life that was mine¡ªa life untethered from his shadow. But it felt distant, hollow, like reaching for a star that would only burn me if I got too close. Every choice I made still echoed with his influence, every step taken still felt bound to the path he¡¯d set. And the truth that gnawed at me most? God damn it, Daddy... I miss you so much. How could you do this to me? I know you loved me, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you¡¯re a monster. I just want to be free. Is that so much to ask? Just one life¡ªone moment¡ªthat¡¯s mine. Not yours, not your legacy, not your damn plan for humanity. Just mine. But even now, after everything, I can¡¯t let go. I still hear your voice. I still feel you here, in every step I take, in every mother fucking breath I draw. You¡¯ve been dead for decades, and I¡¯m still trapped in your shadow. And the worst part? I don¡¯t even know if I want out. And then there was Knight. Would she be the key to unlocking Lab 3, or just another lock keeping me out? I turned back toward the upper levels, my fists clenched, my jaw tight. The whispers lingered, their pull sharper than ever, tugging at the edges of my resolve. They didn¡¯t just call me toward the door¡ªthey called me toward the truth. Toward him. Lab 3 loomed in my mind, the answers buried behind its sealed door like a black hole, pulling everything into its gravity. I already knew I¡¯d go back. I already knew I couldn¡¯t leave it alone. The real question wasn¡¯t just what I¡¯d find when I did¡ªit was what I¡¯d become. Chapter 8 : The Monster Inside The wrench slipped from my grip, and I swore under my breath as it clattered against the steel floor. ¡°Piece of shit,¡± I muttered, glaring at the panel like it had personally insulted me. My arms were already sore, my shirt sticking to my pressure suit from the sweat I¡¯d worked up. ¡°Careful, Princess,¡± Reid called from where he leaned lazily against the ladder. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but I could hear the grin in his voice. ¡°If you keep glaring like that, it might just unscrew itself out of fear.¡± ¡°Thanks for the help, really,¡± I snapped, wiping sweat from my brow with my shoulder. ¡°Are you actually going to pitch in, or is moral support all I¡¯m getting?¡± ¡°Moral support¡¯s important,¡± he said, shrugging. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re doing fine. Slow and steady wins the race, right?¡± I yanked harder on the wrench, my new teeth clenched. ¡°Slow and steady is useless when the nanos and drones are supposed to be doing this crap. What¡¯s the point of having a self-healing ship if it¡¯s going to slack off?¡± ¡°Now, now,¡± Reid said, stepping closer, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. ¡°Sometimes it needs the human touch. You know¡ªblood, sweat, and tears. Though in your case, we¡¯ve got all three covered, so I guess we¡¯re good.¡± I gave him a flat look. ¡°Funny. I¡¯m struggling over here, in case you didn¡¯t notice.¡± He crouched down next to me, inspecting the panel like he was actually considering helping. ¡°Oh, I noticed. Nothing new there. And hey, I get paid by the hour, so take your time.¡± ¡°Paid in beer,¡± I shot back. ¡°And damn fine beer, thank you very much,¡± he replied, tapping the side of the panel. ¡°Alright, show me what¡¯s got you so pissed off.¡± I shifted to show him the bolt. ¡°It¡¯s stuck. Like, stuck-stuck.¡± Reid let out a low whistle. ¡°Well, yeah, looks like it. You just need to give it a little more muscle. Come on, Princess, you¡¯ve got it.¡± ¡°If I¡¯m royalty, you must be the village idiot,¡± I muttered automatically, planting my feet and gripping the wrench with both hands. I shoved hard, and with a loud, reluctant screech, the bolt finally gave way. Unfortunately, so did my grip. My hand slipped, and my knuckles slammed into the edge of the panel. ¡°Fuck!¡± I hissed, clutching my hand as pain flared hot and sharp. ¡°See? Blood, sweat, and tears,¡± Reid said, smirking as he leaned back. ¡°Though I¡¯m still not seeing the tears. You¡¯re tougher than I gave you credit for.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± I muttered, watching as the cut on my knuckles closed itself within seconds, the pain fading as quickly as it came. But not fast enough to stop the familiar pang that followed¡ªa deep, gnawing hunger that twisted my stomach like a fist. Reid¡¯s eyebrow quirked as he watched me flex my fingers. ¡°You good?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said quickly, shoving the hunger down. ¡°Just caught it wrong.¡± Reid raised an eyebrow, his smirk firmly in place. ¡°If you say so, Doc.¡± His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of something behind his sunglasses¡ªlike he didn¡¯t quite believe me. Still, he let it slide, his grin shifting to something more mischievous. ¡°Though I gotta say, you¡¯re looking a lot healthier these days. That tight suit of yours wasn¡¯t filling out so nicely a few weeks ago. Almost like you¡¯ve been sneaking an extra ration or two.¡± My jaw tightened, heat creeping up my neck. ¡°Careful, Reid. You¡¯re about one sentence away from me ¡®accidentally¡¯ leaving a wrench where the sun don''t shine.¡± ¡°Relax,¡± he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Just making an observation. I mean, I don¡¯t mind the extra curves¡ªit¡¯s good for morale.¡± ¡°You¡¯re an ass,¡± I muttered, turning back to the panel to hide the flush spreading across my cheeks. ¡°And you¡¯re good at this,¡± he replied, ignoring my insult entirely. ¡°Even with all the grumbling. Which, by the way, you and Garin have in common.¡± I rolled my eyes, still not looking at him. ¡°Great. Now I¡¯m being compared to the guy who thinks being a dick is a personality trait. Thanks, Reid.¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t sell yourself short,¡± Reid shot back, grinning. ¡°At least you¡¯re useful when you¡¯re pissed off. Garin just turns into background noise. Honestly, I think he complains out of habit at this point.¡± I gritted my teeth, adjusting the wrench. ¡°He¡¯s got nothing better to do. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be helping me. What the hell is with you standing around while I do all the work?¡± ¡°And ruin the fun? Nah,¡± he said, stretching like he¡¯d been hard at work instead of watching me sweat for the past twenty minutes. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re doing better than fine. At this rate, I¡¯ll be out of a job. Unless, of course, you want me sticking around to enjoy the view.¡± ¡°You wish,¡± I shot back, wiping my hands on my shirt. The hunger clawed at my stomach again, sharp and insistent, but I forced myself to focus on the task, ignoring the ache and Reid¡¯s smirk. ¡°Delegation is a skill, Princess,¡± he added, still grinning. ¡°And moral support? That¡¯s a goddamn art form. You¡¯re welcome, by the way.¡± I huffed, trying not to laugh, but a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. Damn him. Reid had that effect¡ªinfuriating as hell, but somehow making the shit jobs feel a little less like, well, shit. The comm system crackled to life before I could respond, Captain Warren¡¯s voice cutting through the air. ¡°All crew to the bridge. Briefing in five. Move it.¡± Reid groaned dramatically, peeling off his gloves and tucking them into his belt. ¡°Well, sermon time it is. Let¡¯s see what fresh hell Warren¡¯s cooked up for us today.¡± I shoved the wrench into my tool belt and followed him out of the maintenance bay. The hum of the ship filled the silence between us, steady and familiar, but for once, it didn¡¯t grate on my nerves. Maybe it was just Reid¡¯s presence¡ªhis stupid confidence and that cocky grin that somehow made the oppressive weight of the day feel lighter. As we stepped into the corridor, a maintenance drone whirred to life behind us, its mechanical arms extending to finish the job I¡¯d been struggling with. It effortlessly tightened bolts and sealed the panel, accomplishing in minutes what would¡¯ve taken me hours of sweat and swearing. I paused mid-step, glancing back to see the machine¡¯s precise movements. ¡°Of course,¡± I muttered, rolling my eyes at the infuriating efficiency. ¡°Lazy piece of junk waits until I¡¯m done bleeding to step in.¡± Reid smirked, barely glancing over his shoulder. ¡°But then how would you ever learn? Can¡¯t trust AI all the time, Princess.¡± I shot him a glare, but he just shrugged, his grin widening as he sauntered down the hall. The drone¡¯s soft mechanical hum faded behind us, its irritating competence just one more reminder that even the machines seemed to have their act together better than I did. The whispers, always there in the back of my mind, clawing and relentless, had slowed to a crawl. It was strange¡ªunsettling, even¡ªbut in the best way. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt... quiet. Peaceful. I glanced at Reid as he walked beside me, his sunglasses catching the dim light, his Hawaiian shirt swaying with each step. He was relaxed, almost carefree, like the galaxy¡¯s problems couldn¡¯t touch him. It wasn¡¯t ignorance, though. It was the kind of calm that came from just not giving a damn. And for a fleeting moment, I let myself soak in that peace, let it bleed into the corners of my thoughts, dulling the hunger and the whispers. It wouldn¡¯t last. It never did. But for now, it was enough. The bridge came into view as Reid and I rounded the last corner, the usual low murmur of the crew falling silent as we entered. The air was thick with tension, the kind that pressed on your chest and made every breath feel heavier. Captain Warren stood at the central display, his silhouette sharp against the glowing hologram that flickered in the middle of the room. Reid leaned in close, his grin firmly in place. ¡°Think this is about topping off the tank again? Maybe another ¡®borrowed¡¯ star to refuel the core? Nothing says sustainable energy like cosmic theft.¡± ¡°Careful, Prometheus,¡± I murmured back, keeping my voice low. ¡°You pitch ideas like that, and Warren might tie you to the hull¡ªthough knowing you, you¡¯d probably enjoy it.¡± Reid¡¯s grin widened, a mischievous glint flashing behind his sunglasses. ¡°Depends on who¡¯s tying the knots, Princess.¡± I rolled my eyes, fighting back the heat creeping up my neck. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡± ¡°And yet, here I am,¡± he shot back, clearly pleased with himself. Reid¡¯s chuckle was quick and sharp, but it faded the moment my eyes locked on the hologram. A ghost ship dredged up from the darkest days of survival. The whispers clawed their way back into my mind, sharper than before, cutting through the fragile quiet like a blade. The Hemlock, the voice murmured, low and insistent. My family''s legacy. Humanity¡¯s first step to the stars. Look closer. I froze, my pulse pounding in my ears, the world narrowing to the sight of the ship. The laughter that had lingered in Reid¡¯s voice vanished. Every muscle in my body tensed as that single word echoed again, relentless. The Hemlock. It wasn¡¯t just a ship. It was a piece of him, a piece of the shadow I could never escape. And now it was here, dredged up from the void like some relic that refused to die. The Hemlock wasn¡¯t just a relic of humanity¡¯s past¡ªit was a ghost of desperation, woven into the myths and whispers that followed my family¡¯s name. Officially, it was said to have been built by my great-great-grandfather over two centuries ago, during Earth¡¯s final golden age. But darker rumors claimed my father himself had overseen its construction, not just as a scientist or engineer, but as something more¡ªa shadow from humanity¡¯s fading glory, lingering far beyond the years he should have lived. I swallowed hard, my throat dry. How old was he when he had me? I¡¯d tried to do the math, but it never made sense. Born in 2448, I was part of Earth¡¯s final chapter, but my father was always... older. Untouchable. His age was obscured by layers of genetic manipulation and whispered legends. Some said he had been there before the first fusion core ignited, guiding humanity through its darkest hours as a king without a crown. A "king" who had ruled too long. Even now, decades after his death, his shadow lingered, etched into ships like the Hemlock, into whispered stories of salvation and control. And here it was¡ªdredged up from the void like a relic that refused to die. The Hemlock hung in the hologram, spinning slowly, its skeletal framework stark and haunting. Captain Warren¡¯s voice cut through the tension that filled the bridge as we gathered around the glowing projection. ¡°This ship,¡± he began, his voice even but weighted with meaning, ¡°was the first of its kind. The Hemlock launched on August 17, 2287, after the fires of World War IV had barely cooled. Earth wasn¡¯t just dying¡ªit was clinging to life by its fingertips. The air was poison, the oceans rising, food scarce. People called it the end times. The Hemlock was humanity¡¯s first attempt to escape, built with the kind of desperation that left no room for error.¡± I couldn¡¯t tear my eyes from the ship. It was crude but bold¡ªa monument to the desperate gamble of survival. The Hemlock relied on centrifugal force to simulate gravity, each slow rotation of its frame a stark reminder of an era when technology hadn¡¯t yet caught up to humanity¡¯s ambition. Its design was bare-bones, functional to a fault. If the Jericho was humanity¡¯s crowning achievement, the Hemlock was the desperate prototype that made it possible. Warren gestured to the spinning projection, its compartments harsh and utilitarian compared to the Jericho¡¯s sleek form. ¡°Its systems were barely functional,¡± he continued, ¡°held together with post war tech, scavenged resources, and hope. Its fusion core was the first of its kind. The FTL drive? Calling it experimental would be generous.¡± Vega, standing at the navigation console, let out a low whistle as her sharp eyes scanned the details. ¡°This thing¡¯s a fossil,¡± she said. ¡°No artificial gravity, no shielding worth a damn, and life support systems that probably ran on luck more than tech. It¡¯s not just a step back in time¡ªit¡¯s the stone age of space travel.¡± Warren nodded, his tone grim. ¡°The Hemlock was humanity¡¯s first shot at interstellar survival¡ªa prototype for the ships that followed, built on desperation and the barest hope. It¡¯s a miracle it launched at all.¡± The whispers stirred faintly in my mind, threading fragments of my father¡¯s voice through the heavy silence. Legacy. Progress. Evolution. Warren shifted the display, zooming in on the Hemlock¡¯s central fusion core, its outline flickering in pale blue light. ¡°The Hemlock was built on the foundations laid by Voss Industries,¡± he said, his tone steady. ¡°The only megacorp in North America to survive the chaos of World War IV. Without their advancements in fusion technology and early FTL drives, this ship wouldn¡¯t have left the ground.¡± I stared at the schematic, the glowing core at its heart. Records credited John Voss, my great-great-grandfather, a relentless industrialist who had driven humanity¡¯s first steps off a dying Earth. But the rumors were louder, more insistent. Was it really him¡ªor was it my father, pulling the strings even then? To some, Julian Voss was a savior; to others, a manipulator, shaping humanity¡¯s trajectory from the shadows. Even I didn¡¯t know where the truth ended and the myths began. Warren¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts. ¡°Voss Industries didn¡¯t just shape the Hemlock¡ªit shaped everything that followed. This ship is a testament to humanity¡¯s desperation¡ªand its ability to survive.¡± Vega stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning the projection. ¡°Desperation¡¯s one word for it. But whatever tech they slapped on this thing back then, it worked. Even if cryo was just a prototype, there might still be survivors onboard. That¡¯s where we need to focus.¡± Her words grounded me, pulling me back to the present. The whispers faded to the edges of my mind as I forced myself to focus on the flickering projection. The Hemlock wasn¡¯t just a relic of humanity¡¯s past¡ªit was a gamble that could still carry danger. Warren¡¯s tone sharpened, pulling the room¡¯s attention. ¡°The Hemlock launched carrying the first generation of humanity¡¯s great experiment. Genetic editing protocols were rushed, cryo systems were untested, and side effects were severe¡ªmutations, instability, death. The ship lost contact with Earth just decades after launch and was presumed destroyed. Until now.¡± A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the hum of the Jericho¡¯s systems. A few of the crew glanced my way¡ªquick, fleeting looks, but enough to send a prickling heat crawling up the back of my neck. They weren¡¯t looking at me because I was speaking. They were looking because of who my father was. The rumors. The stories. I clenched my fists against the rising tide of unease. They all know. They¡¯ve heard the whispers, same as me. That Julian Voss hadn¡¯t just created the technology that built the Hemlock¡ªhe might have been there. Pulling strings. Shaping history. Warren¡¯s sharp tone cut through the hum of the bridge, his words landing heavily. ¡°I don¡¯t bring this up lightly,¡± he said, his gaze sweeping over the room. ¡°I want you all to understand the gravity of this situation. The Hemlock is less than a month away. That¡¯s barely enough time to prepare for something of this magnitude. If there¡¯s anything onboard¡ªanything¡ªthat resembles the dangers we¡¯ve already faced, this crew needs to be ready.¡± He gestured to the hologram, and the display shifted, zooming in on the fractured, jagged signal that had brought us here. The sound of the faint pulse, erratic and uneven, filled the room, amplifying the unease. ¡°This signal,¡± Warren continued, his voice low but deliberate, ¡°was sent over 100 years ago. Whatever message it carried is long gone, degraded beyond recognition. We can¡¯t decipher its meaning, and that uncertainty should have you all on edge.¡± The silence that followed was suffocating. A distress signal that old meant the Hemlock had been in trouble long before any of us were even born. The faint pulse, that whisper from the void, wasn¡¯t just ancient¡ªit was a ghost, lingering far beyond its time. What could possibly have survived a century of silence? Even Vega, usually composed, let out a quiet breath as she studied the shifting projection. ¡°So, we¡¯re heading toward the unknown,¡± she said, her voice softer than usual. ¡°A century-old cry for help, and no way of knowing what we¡¯re walking into.¡± Warren nodded grimly. ¡°Precisely. This isn¡¯t just a salvage mission. The Hemlock represents the desperation of a dying Earth¡ªbut that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s harmless. If we aren¡¯t prepared, we¡¯ll find ourselves dealing with more than outdated tech or failed cryo systems. And let me be clear¡ªLab 3 was sealed for a reason.¡± The mention of Lab 3 sent a ripple through the room, subtle but undeniable. Even those who tried to maintain their composure shifted uncomfortably. Warren¡¯s comparison wasn¡¯t just a warning¡ªit was a declaration that the stakes were as high as they could be. Whatever waited aboard the Hemlock wasn¡¯t just history; it was a potential threat. Glances flickered my way, brief but heavy, as though my very presence stirred the rumors tied to my name. Voss Industries had built the Hemlock. Everyone knew that. And whether they believed the stories about my father or not, the shadow of my family¡¯s legacy loomed over this moment, cold and suffocating. The whispers stirred faintly, threading through my mind like smoke, disjointed and insistent. ¡°Find the clearance. The bloodline remains. A young Voss¡­ his codes still breathe.¡± My breath hitched, my pulse quickening as the words needled their way deeper into my thoughts. The whispers rarely made sense, but there was something deliberate about these fragments¡ªsomething that refused to be ignored. ¡°The door knows you. Lab 3 remembers. The key¡­ buried in the Hemlock.¡± I clenched my fists, grounding myself against the spiraling thoughts. My father¡¯s voice, or the memory of it, seemed to echo through the words. The whispers had a way of making everything feel inevitable, like they were speaking truths I didn¡¯t want to acknowledge. If the Hemlock was truly his design¡ªhis work¡ªthen maybe the whispers were right. If the clearance existed, if it tied to a younger version of Julian Voss, then maybe¡­ just maybe¡­Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. The thoughts coiled tightly around my mind, refusing to let go. The whispers grew softer, fading to a faint hum, but their suggestion lingered like an itch I couldn¡¯t scratch. If the Hemlock was the key, then Lab 3¡¯s secrets were waiting¡ªburied but reachable. I just had to claim them. Warren¡¯s voice cut through the haze, sharp and steady, grounding me in the present. ¡°The signal¡¯s degradation complicates everything,¡± he said, his gaze sweeping the room. ¡°For all we know, it could have been corrupted decades ago. But if there¡¯s even a chance survivors remain¡ªor that remnants of Voss Industries¡¯ early work are still active¡ªwe need to prepare for the worst.¡± His eyes locked on me, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. ¡°Sol, you and Ashly have the most important task here. Your job is to dig through the archives¡ªfocus on anything tied to Voss Industries¡¯ early genetic editing, fusion core development, or cryo protocols. If there¡¯s any connection between their work and the Hemlock¡¯s systems, I want to know about it before we¡¯re within range.¡± I nodded quickly, forcing myself to stay composed even as Ashly shifted nervously beside me. The whispers brushed against my mind again, their tone insistent and demanding. I clenched my fists, grounding myself in the weight of the moment. Warren¡¯s gaze moved across the room, assigning tasks with the same clipped efficiency. ¡°Reid, Garin¡ªyou¡¯re on weapons and defense. I want the railguns operational, shield systems at peak capacity, and all secondary systems tested and ready to engage.¡± Reid gave a mock salute, his grin flickering despite the tension. ¡°Ready to blow something up, Cap.¡± Garin rolled his eyes but nodded, already flipping through the schematics on his tablet. ¡°Holt, Jimmy,¡± Warren continued, turning to them. ¡°You¡¯ll focus on manufacturing more ammunition and reinforcing the hull integrity. If the Hemlock¡¯s tech has degraded this much, we can¡¯t assume it¡¯s the only thing falling apart out there.¡± Holt nodded silently, his expression unreadable. Jimmy muttered something about logistics but didn¡¯t protest. ¡°Vega,¡± Warren said, his tone softening slightly as he addressed her. ¡°You¡¯ll coordinate our approach along side Jericho and monitor the Hemlock¡¯s signal. If there¡¯s any change in its trajectory, I want to know immediately.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Vega said, her fingers already flying over her console. Warren stepped back, his gaze sweeping over the room one final time. ¡°This isn¡¯t just another mission. The Hemlock is a relic from a time when survival demanded reckless gambles and impossible choices. That doesn¡¯t make it any less dangerous. Whatever¡¯s waiting for us onboard, we¡¯re stepping into the unknown. Stay sharp and be ready for anything. Dismissed.¡± As the crew began to scatter, I lingered, my gaze fixed on the Hemlock¡¯s skeletal form. The whispers stirred again, faint but insistent. Legacy. Secrets. Claim what¡¯s yours. Ashly hovered nearby, clutching her tablet tightly, avoiding my gaze as she hurried out of the room. Reid fell into step beside me, his easy grin in place as we made our way out of the bridge. ¡°Looks like you¡¯ve got some digging to do,¡± he said, his tone light. ¡°Meanwhile, I¡¯ll be blowing stuff up. Fair trade, right?¡± ¡°Right,¡± I muttered, my thoughts still spinning. Reid stopped as we reached the intersection that split toward the archives and engineering. ¡°Hey,¡± he said, grinning as he adjusted his gloves. ¡°Try to behave yourself down there, alright? Poor Ashly¡¯s probably shaking in her boots already. She¡¯s sweet¡ªyou lucked out.¡± I snorted, rolling my eyes. ¡°Right, because digging through half-corrupted files is paradise.¡± ¡°Hey, could be worse,¡± he said, his grin widening as he started backing away toward engineering. ¡°You could be stuck with Garin. Trust me, Princess, you¡¯d lose your mind in five minutes. Guy treats every malfunction like it¡¯s a personal insult.¡± I gave him a flat look, crossing my arms. ¡°And you don¡¯t?¡± ¡°Difference is,¡± he said, pointing finger guns at me, ¡°I make it look good. Garin¡¯s just loud, sweaty, and impossible. Count your blessings, Sol.¡± He turned with a chuckle, heading off toward his workstation, leaving me shaking my head. Great, I thought. I get whispers clawing at my brain, and Reid gets to crack jokes and blow stuff up. Fantastic. The whispers slowed to a faint hum as I turned toward the archives, but they didn¡¯t leave me entirely. They lingered at the edges of my thoughts, persistent and relentless, as if they were waiting for the right moment to strike. Ashly walked beside me, her tablet clutched tightly in her hands, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to make herself smaller. For a while, we said nothing, the silence between us stretching thin. ¡°What do you think of the crew?¡± I asked, trying to cut through the oppressive quiet. Ashly glanced at me, startled, then shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re fine, I guess.¡± ¡°Just fine?¡± I pressed, my voice sharper than I intended. ¡°Come on, you¡¯ve worked with Garin. He¡¯s... a lot.¡± Her grip on the tablet tightened, her shoulders stiffening. ¡°He¡¯s demanding,¡± she admitted cautiously. ¡°But he knows what he¡¯s doing. It¡¯s not my place to question him.¡± The rehearsed tone of her response didn¡¯t sit right with me. ¡°Not your place?¡± I echoed, side-eyeing her as we walked. ¡°Even when he¡¯s barking orders and acting like he¡¯s better than everyone?¡± Ashly¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°He¡¯s a perfectionist,¡± she said evenly. ¡°He expects a lot, but that¡¯s because he has to. People like him... they keep the rest of us in line.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you¡¯re okay with that? Following orders without asking questions?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not about being okay with it,¡± she said, her voice tight. ¡°It¡¯s about getting the job done.¡± Her defensiveness piqued my curiosity, but I let it drop¡ªfor now. There was something else I needed to know, something I couldn¡¯t ignore any longer. ¡°What about Dr. Knight?¡± I asked casually, watching her out of the corner of my eye. The question made her falter, her step slowing for a split second before she quickly recovered. ¡°What about her?¡± Ashly said, her tone carefully neutral. ¡°She worked with my father,¡± I said, leaning into the inquiry. ¡°You worked with her too, didn¡¯t you?¡± Ashly hesitated, her grip tightening on the tablet again. ¡°I don¡¯t see how that¡¯s relevant,¡± she said softly. ¡°Dr. Knight was brilliant. That¡¯s all you need to know.¡± I stopped walking, forcing her to halt a few steps ahead of me. ¡°That¡¯s all I need to know?¡± I repeated, my voice sharper now. ¡°Come on, Ashly. You were there. You know more than you¡¯re letting on.¡± Her shoulders stiffened, and she turned to face me, her eyes wide and wary. ¡°Sol, please,¡± she said, her voice low. ¡°Just leave it alone.¡± The plea in her tone made me hesitate, but only for a moment. The whispers buzzed faintly in my mind, tugging at my resolve. Push. Find the truth. Ashly must¡¯ve seen the determination in my expression, because she quickly turned and resumed walking, her pace brisk. ¡°We¡¯re here to focus on the Hemlock,¡± she said over her shoulder, her tone clipped. ¡°Let¡¯s just do the job.¡± I frowned but followed her, the tension between us thickening with every step. When we finally reached the archives, the door slid shut behind us with a soft hiss. The room was cold, sterile, its walls lined with screens and sealed cases of physical records. Ashly immediately moved to a terminal, her fingers dancing over the keys as she pulled up files. But her earlier words¡ªand the hesitation in her voice¡ªclung to me like smoke. The whispers stirred again, faint but insistent, as I watched her work. Ashly dove into her work, her movements sharp and deliberate, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her. The faint glow of the terminal illuminated her face, casting deep shadows under her eyes. I leaned against the edge of the console, pretending to study the files she pulled up, but my attention kept darting back to her. The first few files were a mess of redactions and incomplete data. Reports on the Hemlock¡¯s genetic editing protocols. Cryo experiments riddled with failures. Notes on harrowing mortality rates. ¡°Early fusion cores,¡± Ashly murmured, her voice strained. ¡°And genetic augmentation. They threw everything they had into that ship, didn¡¯t they?¡± ¡°Desperation,¡± I muttered, barely louder than a whisper. ¡°It¡¯s the only game humanity¡¯s ever been good at.¡± She froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, before resuming her work, her jaw tightening. ¡°And look where that¡¯s gotten us.¡± There was something in her voice¡ªa bitterness that wasn¡¯t just about the files in front of her. I let the silence stretch as she opened another document, its contents scattered and incomplete. But one phrase, highlighted in flickering text, sent a chill crawling up my spine: mutation rates, psychological degradation, cellular instability. ¡°How many people were on the Hemlock?¡± I asked, my voice lower now. ¡°Hundreds,¡± Ashly replied, her voice thin and brittle. ¡°But between the rushed editing protocols and cryo complications...¡± She trailed off, her breath catching as she read further. ¡°Dear God. How many centuries have we played God?¡± Her words struck something deep in my chest, dragging a memory to the surface. The note. Evolution is better left to nature and God. My pulse quickened, the pieces clicking into place like the sharp edge of a blade. ¡°It was you,¡± I said, my voice low, cutting through the stillness. Ashly¡¯s shoulders stiffened, her hand freezing over the terminal. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°You left the note,¡± I pressed, stepping closer. My voice sharpened, slicing through the thin air. ¡°You know about Lab 3. About the yellow-eyed monster.¡± Her breath hitched, but she didn¡¯t turn to face me. Instead, her trembling fingers resumed tapping at the screen. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re¡ª¡± ¡°Stop lying!¡± The words tore out of me louder than I intended, and she flinched. The whispers surged in my mind, relentless, their voices drowning out everything else. She¡¯s hiding it. She knows what happened. Make her talk. Ashly turned slightly, just enough for me to see the fear in her wide eyes. ¡°Sol, you¡¯re upset. Let¡¯s... let¡¯s just focus on the archives, alright? We can¡ª¡± ¡°Why did you want me to give up on my father¡¯s legacy?¡± I cut her off, my voice trembling with barely restrained anger. My hands curled into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. ¡°What happened to Wilks in Lab 3? What are you so afraid of?¡± Her back hit the console as she edged away from me, her voice cracking. ¡°Sol, please, you don¡¯t understand¡ª¡± ¡°Then make me understand!¡± I snarled, the whispers pushing me forward, my hunger flaring alongside the rage. ¡°Tell me what he did! What you did! What¡¯s in Lab 3?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t!¡± she cried, shaking her head violently. ¡°You don¡¯t want to know. It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s worse than you can imagine.¡± The whispers roared, their command undeniable. She¡¯s lying. She¡¯s hiding it. Force the truth out of her. Before I realized it, my hand shot out and latched onto Ashly¡¯s wrist. The tablet clattered to the floor, forgotten, as she yelped and tried to pull away. Her breaths came in shallow, panicked gasps, but I didn¡¯t let go. My fingers tightened around her wrist, my nails digging into her soft flesh, leaving crescent-shaped marks that quickly darkened to angry red. ¡°Sol¡ªlet go!¡± she whimpered, her voice trembling. Her other hand clawed weakly at my arm, but I held firm. My grip was unrelenting, driven by the whispers that surged in my mind like a rising tide. ¡°What are you hiding?¡± I hissed, my voice low and dangerous. ¡°What do you know about the yellow-eyed monster? About Lab 3?¡± Her face twisted in pain, her wide, tear-filled eyes darting to my face and then downward, to where my nails bit into her wrist. Blood welled up in tiny, perfect beads beneath the crescent indents, trailing down her pale skin in thin, glistening lines. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t¡­¡± she stammered, her words faltering under the mounting pressure. She writhed in my grasp, her breaths hitching as I tightened my hold. ¡°What monster?¡± The whispers surged again, louder now, insidious and commanding. The answer is in her flesh. In her bones. Break her open! Make her talk! ¡°Stop lying,¡± I snarled, my voice trembling with fury and something darker, something alien. My hunger surged, clawing at my stomach, sharp and insistent. My teeth ached in my jaw, the familiar pressure flaring. I could feel my canines sharpening, lengthening, brushing against the edge of my lips. Ashly¡¯s eyes darted up to my mouth, widening in pure terror. ¡°Your¡­ your teeth,¡± she stammered, her voice breaking into a panicked sob. ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡± I didn¡¯t need a mirror to know what she saw. The sharp, unnatural curve of my fangs glinted in the harsh lab light. The hunger roared louder, relentless, and the whispers pushed me further. Tear her flesh. Devour her. Sink your teeth in. The truth is inside her. I leaned closer, my nails digging deeper into her flesh. Her blood smeared against my hand, hot and sticky, the metallic tang hitting my senses. My stomach twisted with a brutal, gnawing ache. ¡°Tell me the truth!¡± I growled. ¡°What are you hiding? What is it?¡± Her chest heaved, and for a moment, I thought she¡¯d stay silent. Then, with a choked sob, the words tumbled out, strained and broken. ¡°We¡­ brought him back.¡± My heart thudded in my chest, the words hitting me like a blow. ¡°Brought who back?¡± I demanded, my voice rising. Her lips quivered as she gasped for air, her tears streaking her face. ¡°Wilks,¡± she choked out, the name barely audible. I froze, my blood running cold. ¡°What do you mean, you brought him back?¡± I tightened my grip without realizing it, and Ashly screamed as my nails bit deeper into her flesh. Her blood smeared against my hand, hot and sticky, dripping onto the floor. ¡°The¡­ the serum,¡± she gasped, each word a struggle. ¡°Knight gave him the serum¡­ the same one your father gave you¡­ Project Phoenix.¡± Her wrist twisted under my hand, her skin bruising rapidly, angry purples and reds blooming beneath the thin layer of blood. The hunger clawed at me again, sharp and demanding, as I leaned closer. My canines grazed my bottom lip, and I fought the rising urge to bite down, to taste the blood I could smell, rich and metallic. ¡°The same serum?¡± I growled, my voice rough and trembling. ¡°But it didn¡¯t work on him, did it?¡± She whimpered, her head shaking weakly, the pain clearly overwhelming her. Her tears mixed with the sweat on her pale face, her sobs ragged and broken. ¡°It¡­ killed him,¡± she finally spat out, her voice raw. ¡°Then¡­ the Hydra dose¡­ after he was¡­ dead¡­¡± She choked the words out between gasps, her teeth clenched against the pain. Her words sent a cold wave of dread washing over me, but I couldn¡¯t stop. The whispers urged me on, their relentless command echoing in my mind. Break her open. The answer is inside. Make her talk! ¡°And then what? What happened to him?¡± My voice cracked, rising with desperation. ¡°What did he become?¡± Ashly writhed in my grip, her breath catching in gasps, her body trembling violently. ¡°Please,¡± she sobbed, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Stop, Sol¡­ please¡­ it hurts¡­¡± ¡°What did he become?!¡± I roared, shaking her arm. Her head lolled back against the console, and her legs gave out beneath her as her strength waned. Her blood slicked my palm now, sticky and warm, pooling in the grooves where my nails pressed deeper. Ashly¡¯s lips trembled as she forced out a hoarse, gasping whisper. ¡°A monster¡­ he became a monster¡­ like you¡­¡± The words hit me like a physical blow, and my breath caught in my throat. Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked on mine, terror etched into every line of her face. She opened her mouth to speak again, but no words came¡ªonly a strangled, wet gasp. Her body jerked violently as she tried to twist free, her efforts sending fresh waves of pain through her wrist. The sobs that escaped her were ragged, broken, powerless. You are not a monster, Sol. You are the chosen one, humanity¡¯s last hope, humanity¡¯s queen. The whispers hissed, dark and relentless, slithering into every corner of my mind. They wrapped around my thoughts, strangling reason, twisting my rage and hunger into something feral, something unstoppable. The smell of her blood hit me like a drug¡ªhot, metallic, alive. It crawled up my nose, invaded my senses, and ignited the fire that already raged in my veins. My stomach clenched, the hunger clawing at me, screaming for more, louder with every second. My heart thundered in my chest, every beat amplifying the insidious voices. This is your gift, Sol. Do not deny it. Do not resist what you are. Heat surged through me, wild and uncontrollable, burning away anything soft or rational. My grip tightened, her blood slick between my fingers, the pulse beneath her skin a maddening rhythm that made the whispers louder. My teeth throbbed with sharp, unnatural pressure, the ache deep and primal. I could feel my jaw tightening, the points of my canines sharpening, aching to bite, to tear. Ashly¡¯s voice broke through, desperate, a weak, trembling plea. ¡°Sol¡­ please¡­ stop¡­¡± CRACK!! The sound was obscene, a bone-deep snap that echoed in the suffocating silence. Her wrist shattered in my grasp, the jagged bone pressing grotesquely against the skin, threatening to break through. The wet, visceral noise reverberated through the room, dragging a raw, primal scream from Ashly¡¯s throat. It wasn¡¯t just pain in her voice¡ªit was betrayal, fear, horror, all bleeding together in a sound that felt like a knife against my ears. Her body crumpled beneath me, her arm limp and broken. Blood streamed down her wrist, warm and sticky, coating my hand. The scent filled the room, thick and suffocating, driving the hunger to a brutal, razor-sharp edge. The taste of iron flooded my mouth before I even realized I¡¯d licked my lips. The whispers surged, triumphant now, louder than ever: This is strength. This is power. You are perfection, Sol. Take what is yours. Tear. Devour. My pulse roared in my ears as her sobs filled the air, weak and gasping, her strength drained. The trembling of her body against mine fed the darkness growing inside me. My teeth pressed harder into my bottom lip, the tips of my sharpened canines drawing blood. The whispers didn¡¯t just suggest¡ªI could feel their command, a driving force as natural as breathing, impossible to resist. I stared at her wrist, the jagged edges of bone pressing against torn flesh, her blood pooling in vivid, glistening red. My stomach twisted violently, not with revulsion but with need. The hunger consumed everything, turning the smell of blood into the sweetest torment, each drop calling to me. Take it. You need it. You deserve it. She is nothing. You are everything. A low, guttural snarl tore from my throat as I fought to steady myself. My hands trembled, slick with blood, as my hand flexed unconsciously. The room spun, hazy and red, as if the walls themselves had been painted in violence. I wanted to stop¡ªGod, I wanted to¡ªbut the hunger, the whispers, the fire in my veins were too strong. Too loud. I wasn¡¯t Sol anymore. I was something else, something raw and brutal, something made of instinct and rage. I was my father¡¯s masterpiece, his twisted vision of salvation. I was his legacy. The guilt hit instantly, sharp and suffocating. Ashly¡¯s screams echoed in my ears, her sobs carving into my chest. Her blood. Her pain. My fault. This wasn¡¯t salvation. It was destruction. My father¡¯s shadow loomed, but this? This was me. Ashly¡¯s face contorted in pure agony, her eyes squeezing shut as her screams turned into broken, gasping sobs. ¡°Oh God¡­ oh my God, Sol¡­¡± she whimpered, clutching her shattered arm against her chest. Her voice trembled with shock and pain, her tears streaming freely down her face. ¡°You broke it¡­ you broke it¡­¡± The door slid open with a hiss, and Holt¡¯s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. ¡°Sol! Stand down, now!¡± His presence filled the room like a storm, his heavy footsteps echoing with authority. My vision blurred as I turned to him, my hands trembling. Ashly¡¯s pale, tear-streaked face twisted in pain as she cradled her broken arm, and my chest tightened, suffocating under the enormity of the moment. Holt¡¯s gaze shifted from Ashly to me, his expression a cold, unyielding mask of fury. ¡°What the hell is going on here?¡± His tone was low, clipped, and full of restrained anger. I opened my mouth to explain, but nothing came out. My teeth ached, sharp and unnatural, and the whispers lingered like a shadow, faint but taunting. Before I could react, Holt¡¯s hand snapped to the cuffs on his belt, the metallic glint a warning I was powerless to stop. ¡°On the ground. Now!¡± he barked, his voice brooking no argument as he stepped toward me. I hesitated for a moment too long. He grabbed my arm with a strength that left no room for resistance, forcing me down with brutal efficiency. My knees hit the cold floor hard, the impact jarring. He twisted my arms behind my back, the cuffs biting into my wrists with a harsh snap. I gasped, the sudden restraint cutting through the remnants of the whispers like a bucket of freezing water. Holt leaned in close, his voice low and deadly. ¡°Stay down. Don¡¯t fucking move. Don¡¯t even think.¡± I didn¡¯t resist. I couldn¡¯t. My breaths came shallow and ragged, the weight of my actions crashing over me like a tidal wave. Ashly¡¯s sobs echoed in the room, raw and painful, each one a reminder of the damage I¡¯d done. Holt released me and turned his attention to her, leaving me kneeling on the floor, bound and trembling. ¡°Yates,¡± Holt barked into his radio, his tone sharp and urgent. ¡°Get to the archives now. Medical emergency.¡± Ashly whimpered softly, clutching her arm as she leaned against the console, her body trembling with pain. Holt crouched beside her, his voice softening slightly but still firm. ¡°Ashly, stay with me. Look at me. Help¡¯s on the way, alright? Just breathe.¡± Her only response was a broken sob, her eyes screwed shut against the pain. I couldn¡¯t tear my gaze away from her crumpled form, the bruising already spreading across her arm, the way she flinched when Holt gently touched her shoulder. The whispers had gone silent now, retreating to the edges of my mind, but their damage was done. I stared at the floor, my heart pounding in my ears, my breaths hitching as I fought to suppress the rising panic. My teeth throbbed in my skull, my jaw aching from the unnatural sharpness of my canines. I¡¯d felt the hunger flare in that moment, the heat of anger fusing with the terrible need¡ªand it had consumed me. I am a fucking monster. The words lingered in my mind, unspoken but deafening, a judgment that sank its claws deep into my chest. Holt shot a glance back at me, his expression dark and unreadable, but he didn¡¯t say anything. I didn¡¯t either. What could I say? The burn of the cuffs, the sound of Ashly¡¯s choked sobs, and the crushing realization of my strength left me hollow. The whispers were gone now, but their damage remained. I hurt her. The thought twisted in my chest, sharp and cruel. Not just anyone¡ªAshly. Sweet, timid Ashly, who had never done anything but try to help, who flinched at shadows and apologized for breathing too loudly. She tried to warn me, protect me in her own way¡­ I didn¡¯t know why she left the note, but I¡¯d broken her. For what? Knowledge? Truth? My hands trembled, the cuffs biting deeper into my wrists as I tried to move. What kind of monster does that make me? Garin was right. The admission seared through me like acid. He said I was just a lab rat, an experiment gone wrong. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. And maybe he¡¯s right. Maybe that¡¯s all I am. Some twisted byproduct of my father¡¯s ambition, his obsession with saving humanity. I shut my eyes tightly, willing the thoughts away, but they came rushing in like a flood. What the hell did he do to me? My father, with his steady hands and brilliant mind, always telling me I was special, that I was humanity¡¯s hope. Was this what he meant? To turn me into something unrecognizable? Something capable of this? Or was this all me? What if it wasn¡¯t the serum, the whispers, or the hunger? What if I¡¯m just like this? Broken. Vicious. The thought turned my stomach, and I pressed my face against the cool floor, the weight of it pressing me down like a black hole. What if I was always like this? Wilks. His name clawed its way into my mind, sharp and unrelenting. What the hell happened to him? I clenched my fists, the cuffs digging into my wrists. He wasn¡¯t just another experiment¡ªhe was a person. He was like me, another victim of my father¡¯s ambitions. Just a pawn in a game none of us understood until it was too late. But unlike me, Wilks didn¡¯t survive. He wasn¡¯t ¡°special.¡± He didn¡¯t come out the other side as something even remotely human. What kind of life did he have before Lab 3? Did he trust my father? Did he trust Knight? Did he think, for even a moment, that he was going to be saved? My chest tightened as the thought burned through me. Was this what my father¡¯s hope looked like? Was this the legacy he wanted to leave behind¡ªmonsters and victims, all stitched together by his genius? And it didn¡¯t stop with him, did it? Knight, Garin... they picked up where he left off. They didn¡¯t look at Wilks and see a tragedy¡ªthey saw an opportunity. They saw progress. My stomach churned. They¡¯re the ones keeping this alive. My father might have started this nightmare, but it¡¯s their hands pushing it forward. I pressed my forehead against the floor, the cold seeping into my skin. How many more Wilkses would there be? How many more lives would they twist and break, all in the name of hope? Phoenix. Hydra. Dragon. If these were the ones they admitted to, how many more were they hiding? The thought sank into me like a stone. As many as it takes. I glanced at Ashly, curled up and sobbing softly, holding her broken arm like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Her tears glistened on her pale cheeks, each one a knife in my gut. She¡¯s never going to trust me again. Hell, no one would. And they shouldn¡¯t. For once, the whispers had nothing to say. And I couldn¡¯t escape what I¡¯d done. Chapter 9 : The King’s Legacy The med bay felt like a trial chamber. Holt stood near the doorway, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. Garin paced in tight, frustrated circles, his arms crossed, every movement dripping with barely-contained disdain. Reid leaned against the far wall, his face taut with anger, his eyes flicking between me and the others as he argued on my behalf. Warren stood in the center, silent and commanding, his gaze locked on me like a judge waiting for the accused to break under scrutiny. I stood with my hands cuffed behind my back, the cold metal biting into my wrists. My shoulders ached from the awkward position, but I didn¡¯t complain. I kept my chin up, though the weight of Warren¡¯s unrelenting stare made it feel like a struggle just to breathe. ¡°This isn¡¯t like her,¡± Reid said, his voice firm. ¡°You all know that. Whatever happened with Ashly, it was an accident. She¡¯s not dangerous.¡± He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his frustration mounting. ¡°I¡¯ve been working with her for weeks now. She¡¯s pulled her weight. Hell, she¡¯s gone above and beyond fixing those systems. She¡¯s proven herself. And now you¡¯re gonna throw her in a cage?¡± ¡°An accident?¡± Garin barked, stopping mid-pace to glare at him. ¡°She snapped Ashly¡¯s arm like a twig, Reid. That¡¯s not a mistake¡ªit¡¯s a sign of what she¡¯s becoming. And you¡¯re sitting here defending her like she didn¡¯t prove exactly why Lab 3 was sealed in the first place.¡± ¡°She didn¡¯t resist,¡± Holt said, his voice low but steady. It was the first thing he¡¯d said since the meeting began. All eyes turned to him, but he kept his focus on Warren. ¡°When I got there, she could¡¯ve fought me off. Easily. But she didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t change the fact that she¡¯s dangerous,¡± Garin shot back, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°Her father¡¯s work was dangerous. We all know it. That¡¯s why Lab 3 was locked, and that¡¯s why you put me in charge after he died¡ªbecause you knew Knight would¡¯ve kept playing God with things she didn¡¯t understand. And now we¡¯ve got this walking experiment proving exactly why I was right.¡± He jabbed a finger in my direction, his face twisted with contempt. I glared at him, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. ¡°Don¡¯t talk about him like that.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Garin sneered. ¡°You think I¡¯m wrong? Your father¡¯s reckless experiments got Wilks killed, and now we¡¯re all stuck dealing with the fallout.¡± ¡°Oh, fuck off,¡± I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. ¡°Like you give a shit about Ashly. You don¡¯t care about her¡ªyou¡¯re just jealous of my father. You idolize him, even if you can¡¯t stand that you¡¯ll never be him.¡± ¡°Sol, stop,¡± Warren said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the tension. His tone wasn¡¯t angry¡ªjust tired, like he¡¯d already anticipated this argument before it began. But I couldn¡¯t hold back anymore. The cuffs bit into my wrists as I took a step forward, my anger boiling over. ¡°What happened to Wilks wasn¡¯t his fault,¡± I snapped, my voice shaking with barely-contained fury. ¡°It was yours. Yours, Knight¡¯s, and Ashly¡¯s. Ashly told me the truth before¡­¡± I hesitated, guilt tightening in my chest, but I pushed on. ¡°Before I hurt her.¡± Garin froze, his eyes narrowing. ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡± ¡°She told me what you did,¡± I said, my voice cold and steady. ¡°You followed knights lead, even though you condemn her, and gave him the serum, didn¡¯t you? You turned him into a monster trying to replicate my father¡¯s work, and when it all went to hell, you locked Lab 3 and pretended it never happened.¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Warren said sharply, but I ignored him. ¡°You¡¯re scared of what¡¯s down there,¡± I said, glaring at Garin. ¡°Scared of what you did. So what really happened to Wilks? What¡¯s in that lab that you¡¯re so afraid to face?¡± Garin¡¯s face darkened, his lips thinning into a hard line. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°Don¡¯t I?¡± I challenged, my chest heaving. ¡°Ashly called them Project Hydra and Phoenix. What the hell is it, Garin? What else are you hiding?¡± ¡°Sol, I said that enough,¡± Warren said, his voice calm but rising, like the steady warning before a storm. ¡°I mean it.¡± I turned to him, my anger giving way to desperation. ¡°Captain, I deserve to know the truth. Not just about Wilks, but about what my father was working on. Whatever he gave me, it¡¯s not complete¡ªI can feel it. If I can figure out what he was trying to do, maybe I can fix it. Not just for me, but for all of us.¡± Warren¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes¡ªregret, maybe. He exhaled slowly, the weight of his authority pressing down on the room. ¡°Lab 3 stays sealed, Sol,¡± he said, his tone heavy but deliberate. ¡°This isn¡¯t about what you deserve to know. It¡¯s about what we need to survive.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± I demanded, my voice rising. ¡°Why are you so afraid to open it? Because Garin doesn¡¯t want to face what¡¯s in there? Because you don¡¯t want to admit that locking it away doesn¡¯t make it go away?¡± Warren¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°It means,¡± he said, his voice steady but carrying an edge, ¡°that right now, we can¡¯t afford to risk it. This ship, this mission¡ªeverything is already hanging by a thread. The Hemlock is still out there, and our people are walking into a salvage op blind because we don¡¯t have enough intel to guarantee their safety. If Lab 3 opens now, if something happens¡ªanother infection, another monster¡ªwe don¡¯t have the resources to contain it. Do you understand that? There¡¯s no backup. No second chances. We are it.¡± I swallowed hard, his words cutting through my anger. "Then help me understand," I said, my voice quieter but still firm. "You keep saying I don''t know enough, that it''s too dangerous. Fine. Tell me what happened to Wilks. Tell me what''s down there, so I know what I''m fighting against. Why don''t you just tell me what you all know is happening to me?" ¡°Because that¡¯s not how it works,¡± Warren said, his tone softening but still resolute. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about the lab or your father¡¯s research¡ªit¡¯s about you. You¡¯re asking me to let you dive into something you don¡¯t understand, something even Garin doesn¡¯t fully understand, when you¡¯re already changing faster than any of us predicted. What happens if it accelerates? What happens if we lose you?¡± ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± I said through gritted teeth, my frustration mounting. ¡°But if you don¡¯t tell me the truth, how am I supposed to keep it under control? You can¡¯t keep hiding everything from me and expect me to just sit here and wait to implode!¡± Warren shook his head, his expression unreadable. "The truth is, Sol, we don''t know, not fully. But this isn''t just about you," he said quietly. "You''ve been trying to carry this burden alone, and I understand¡ªI do. However, there are too many unknowns. I can''t risk losing you, and I can''t risk the crew. So here''s what''s going to happen: you''ll stay confined to your quarters until Yates clears you. If you push this further, you''ll go back into cryo until we reach Haven. That''s the line." The weight of his words hit me like a blow, and I took a step back, my hands shaking in the cuffs. My chest heaved with a mix of fury and desperation. ¡°You¡¯re just going to ignore it?¡± I asked, my voice trembling. ¡°Pretend like locking me away solves anything?¡± ¡°No,¡± Warren said, his tone soft but resolute. ¡°But it gives us time. Time to figure out what¡¯s happening to you. Time to prepare for what¡¯s coming next. Right now, that¡¯s the best I can give you.¡± Reid stepped forward, his voice rising. ¡°Captain, you can¡¯t just¡ª¡± ¡°This discussion is over,¡± Warren said, cutting him off with a look. ¡°Holt, take her back to her quarters.¡± Holt moved forward, his expression unreadable. He didn¡¯t grab me or force me to move; he just gestured toward the door, his presence alone enough to make me follow. As I walked out of the med bay, the whispers stirred in the back of my mind, low and mocking. They¡¯re scared of you, Sol. And they should be. The thought lingered, unwanted, as I was escorted back to my quarters. The cuffs chafed against my wrists, the cold bite of metal a constant reminder of how little freedom I had left. The door slid shut behind me with its usual soft hiss, locking me into my sterile little box of a cell. I glanced around, the faint hum of the overhead lights grating against my nerves. The drone hovered in its corner, its red sensor blinking periodically, always watching. Always there. My reflection caught my eye in the warped, scratched mirror bolted to the wall. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was enough to make my stomach twist every time I looked at it. I stepped closer, unable to resist the compulsion to face the thing I was becoming. My mismatched eyes stared back¡ªone red, one blue¡ªsharpened by exhaustion and something darker. My long white hair, which had grown even longer over the past few weeks, now tumbled in tangled waves all the way down to my waist. It framed my pale, almost doll-like face, the messy strands making my features feel even less like my own. The tank top and shorts clung loosely to my frame, my skin almost glowing under the harsh fluorescent lights. I was barefoot, the cold floor leeching warmth from me as I stood there, rooted in place. The sight of myself was a bitter reminder: I wasn¡¯t Sol anymore. Not really. Just a ghost of who I used to be, twisted into something else entirely. The whispers stirred again, soft and sweet in the back of my mind. Beautiful, Sol. You¡¯re perfection itself. Why hide it? I scowled, tearing my gaze away from the mirror and slumping against the wall. My fingers twitched behind me, the cuffs biting into my skin. The ache of my stomach gnawed at me like a second heartbeat, the hunger an ever-present weight I couldn¡¯t ignore. Frustration surged, and I yanked hard against the restraints. Pain shot through my wrists as the metal tore into my skin, a sharp, searing flash that made me hiss. Blood welled up in thin rivulets, only for the wounds to seal themselves moments later, the skin knitting back together as though it had never been touched. But the hunger¡ªoh, the hunger¡ªit roared in response, a clawing, ravenous beast that demanded to be fed, every pulse of it worse than the ache that had preceded it. The first few days passed in stifling monotony. The drone hummed around me like a mechanical warden, its red lens blinking at regular intervals, always watching. It wasn¡¯t just surveillance; it was a constant, unspoken reminder that every move I made was being logged, measured, and scrutinized. The tiny room grew smaller with every passing hour, the walls pressing in with the weight of silence. When the drone first approached me, I hadn¡¯t known what to expect. Its arm extended, joints clicking as it drifted closer. I thought, for one ridiculous moment, that it was going to speak to me like Yates might, offer something remotely human. Instead, its voice crackled to life, cold and clinical. ¡°Is there anything this unit can assist you with?¡± The words hit like a slap. I snorted, my lips curling into a humorless smirk. ¡°Yeah. Take these cuffs off and go throw yourself out the airlock.¡± ¡°Request logged,¡± it replied without hesitation. ¡°Processing.¡± I blinked, thrown for half a second, before letting out a bitter laugh. ¡°Right. Like Jericho would ever let that happen.¡± Its lens scanned me, the mechanical arm lowering slightly. ¡°This unit is unable to comply with that request. Is there anything else you require?¡± I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the cold wall. ¡°Yeah, peace and quiet. Think you can manage that?¡± It didn¡¯t respond, of course. It hovered there for a moment longer, like it expected me to fold and ask for something sensible. When I didn¡¯t, it drifted back to its corner of the room, its lens blinking intermittently. Watching. Always watching. By the second week, the drone¡¯s presence was a needle under my skin, its flat, mechanical voice grinding against the fragile threads of my patience. It hovered in and out of my sterile little world, ensuring compliance with relentless precision. Hydration. Hygiene. Meal schedules. Rules Jericho decided I wasn¡¯t trustworthy enough to handle myself. The only thing it didn¡¯t monitor was the whispers, though part of me wondered if it could hear those too. Yates¡¯s daily visits were the only reprieve. She brought medical tools, charts, and study materials¡ªanything to keep me occupied and out of my own head. ¡°Keep your mind sharp,¡± she¡¯d say, her tone brisk but not unkind. I forced myself to focus on the work, throwing myself into equations and schematics as if solving them would somehow fix me, too. But the whispers clawed at the edges of my concentration, murmuring promises and threats I couldn¡¯t escape. I didn¡¯t tell Yates. Not about the whispers. Not about the hunger that gnawed at me day and night. Not about the way my hands twitched behind my back, itching to be free from the cuffs even if it meant shredding my wrists in the process. If I told her, they¡¯d never let me out of here. The Jericho didn¡¯t have a proper brig, so my quarters had been hastily repurposed into a makeshift cell. Reinforced doors. Constant surveillance. A drone that monitored my every breath. To the crew, my confinement wasn¡¯t just about protecting them from me¡ªit was about protecting me from what they thought I might become. And maybe they weren¡¯t wrong. The cuffs bit into my wrists whenever I tested them, the cold metal a cruel reminder of how little they trusted me. But I knew¡ªI knew¡ªI could escape if I wanted to. The serum coursing through me made sure of that. The metal itself was unbreakable, but if I had the willpower, I could dislocate my thumbs, rip my hands through despite the agony, and let the serum repair the shredded flesh and broken bones. It would heal, just like it always did. The whispers never let me forget. They can¡¯t hold you. They never could. You don¡¯t have to stay here, Sol. But escaping wasn¡¯t the problem. It was what came after. The hunger gnawed at me constantly, sharpening its teeth against my willpower. The whispers would grow louder, the red haze threatening to swallow my vision entirely. The serum wasn¡¯t just changing my body¡ªit was changing me. I saw it in the fear in their eyes when they looked at me, the hesitation in Yates¡¯s questions, and the distance everyone kept when I was in the room. If I got free, I wasn¡¯t sure I could stop myself. So I stayed. I let Yates come in daily to check my vitals, her gaze flicking to the cuffs but never commenting. She made her quiet notes about the changes she couldn¡¯t explain, avoiding the question of what I was becoming. I didn¡¯t tell her about the whispers, or the itching need in my hands to tear themselves apart in my quest for freedom. If I did, they¡¯d lock me away forever, and I¡¯d never have a chance to fix what my father left behind. At least here, in my room or the bathrooms down the hall, I hadn¡¯t seen the yellow-eyed monster. It was a small comfort, one I held onto despite knowing how thin the walls separating us might really be. When it became too much¡ªwhen the whispers were louder than reason, pushing and pulling at the edges of my mind¡ªI turned to the last of the moonshine Reid had left me. The sharp burn quieted the voices, if only for a while, leaving me in a haze of silence I almost welcomed. It wasn¡¯t a solution, but it was enough to make the nights bearable. Enough to make me believe I still had some kind of control. The drone hovered and hummed, managing my existence like I was just another malfunctioning system Jericho needed to troubleshoot. I endured the monotony, letting the routines become a way to ground myself until the bottle ran dry. And every day, I bit my tongue¡ªliterally and figuratively¡ªand refused to give in to the voices. Because if they knew how loud the whispers had become, how close I was to breaking under their weight, they wouldn¡¯t just keep me locked up. They¡¯d send me into cryo and forget about me entirely. Then came this morning. The same hum, the same mechanical greeting, the same cold lens fixed on me. "Please," I said, my voice low but strained, as I begged. "Let me do it myself this time. Just this once, you can put them right back on after." The drone hovered closer, its polished metal arm extending to present the toothbrush attachment. Its voice crackled to life, flat and unyielding. ¡°This unit is tasked with maintaining hygiene compliance. Please open your mouth to commence cleaning.¡± I clenched my jaw, glaring at it. ¡°I¡¯m not a child. I can do it myself. Just take the cuffs off.¡± The drone¡¯s lens tilted slightly, the red glow of its sensor unwavering as it scanned me. ¡°Non-compliance will be logged. Please open your mouth to commence cleaning.¡± My chest tightened as I swallowed back a sharp retort. The humiliation burned, twisting in my stomach like molten lead. ¡°You know what?¡± I snapped, leaning forward as much as my restraints allowed. ¡°Go fuck yourself.¡± The drone hesitated for a fraction of a second, its scanner flickering faintly. Then the flat, mechanical voice replied: ¡°Statement logged. Non-compliance has been marked. Please open your mouth to commence cleaning.¡± I barked out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow in the quiet room. ¡°Of course it¡¯s been logged,¡± I muttered, leaning back against the cold wall. ¡°Jericho, I hope you¡¯re enjoying the show.¡± The drone didn¡¯t respond. It never did, no matter how much venom I spat. It hovered closer instead, bristles of the toothbrush attachment primed. Resignation settled over me like a heavy blanket, and I opened my mouth, not bothering to hide the glare that could¡¯ve burned through the damn thing if it were alive. The bristles dragged over my teeth, and I winced as they scraped against my unnaturally sharp canines. They were longer now¡ªalmost absurdly so. The two on top jutted down like a predator¡¯s, their edges honed enough to split skin with the barest pressure. The bottom ones weren¡¯t as long, but they¡¯d sharpened too, jagged enough to nick my tongue more times than I could count. Each time they¡¯d grown back after Holt¡¯s punch, they¡¯d come back sharper, hungrier. Every scrape of the bristles against their edges made my skin crawl, a metallic tang lingering in my mouth where I¡¯d cut myself countless times before. The taste of my own blood was something I¡¯d grown sick of, the hunger it stirred in me only twisting the knife deeper into my already-frayed sanity. The drone adjusted its angle, brushing carefully around the protruding teeth as if it had adapted to their presence. My nails bit into my palms behind my back as I endured the humiliation, the helplessness. I could feel the ache of my stomach as the whispers stirred again, faint but ever-present: They¡¯ll grow back, stronger. They¡¯re part of you now. Just like everything else. My jaw tightened, and I swore under my breath. I could bite the damn drone¡¯s metal arm if I wanted¡ªfeel it shatter my teeth into splinters¡ªbut what would that solve? They¡¯d grow back anyway. They always did. And Jericho would be watching, logging every desperate attempt at rebellion. I wasn¡¯t about to give it the satisfaction. The drone pulled back after a painfully long few minutes, its bristles retracting. ¡°Hygiene compliance complete,¡± it announced, hovering toward the corner of the room where it would idle until it was next summoned. I glared after it, clenching my jaw tight enough to make those sharpened canines ache. "Great," I muttered bitterly, "glad that''s done. Now fuck off." The drone whirred off to its corner, finally giving me a moment of peace¡ªif you could call it that. I let my head thunk back against the wall, my jaw aching from the tension I hadn¡¯t realized I was holding. My teeth¡ªthose jagged, overgrown monstrosities¡ªthrobbed faintly, a reminder of how far I¡¯d strayed from what I used to be. The soft hiss of the door broke through my spiraling thoughts, and I didn¡¯t need to look up to know who it was. Yates always came at the same time, her visits a rigid anchor in the otherwise shapeless void of my confinement. I heard the familiar shuffle of her boots against the metal floor, the gentle click of her med bag snapping open. ¡°Afternoon, Sol,¡± she said, her voice as brisk as ever, though it carried a hint of weariness today. ¡°Yates,¡± I replied, not bothering to meet her gaze. My tone was as flat as the drone¡¯s, though I didn¡¯t have the excuse of being programmed that way. The silence stretched between us as she moved about the room, her presence as methodical as always. She set her tools on the counter and turned to face me, her dark eyes scanning me with that same clinical precision I¡¯d come to expect. ¡°I heard about the toothbrush incident,¡± she said after a beat, her tone clipped but not sharp. ¡°Did you?¡± I replied, my lips twitching into a half-smirk. ¡°Guess word travels fast when you¡¯re under constant surveillance.¡± Yates didn¡¯t rise to the bait. She just stared at me, her brows knitting together in that way they always did when she was trying to decide whether to scold or sympathize. It was usually both. ¡°You¡¯re spending too much time around Reid,¡± she said finally, a faint trace of dry humor in her voice. ¡°He¡¯s rubbing off on you.¡± ¡°Is that supposed to be a bad thing?¡± I shot back. ¡°He¡¯s the only one who doesn¡¯t look at me like I¡¯m a ticking time bomb.¡± ¡°Reid thinks duct tape is the closest thing we have to divine intervention,¡± Yates quipped. ¡°You¡¯re better than that.¡± I barked out a short laugh, though there wasn¡¯t much humor in it. ¡°Am I? Pretty sure everyone else in this floating tin can disagrees.¡± Yates sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she pulled up a stool and sat across from me. ¡°They¡¯re scared, Sol,¡± she said softly. ¡°And maybe they have a right to be. You¡¯re... changing. Faster than any of us expected. But that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯ve given up on you.¡± ¡°Could¡¯ve fooled me,¡± I muttered, glancing away. ¡°I feel like a zoo exhibit with a bad reputation.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Yates said firmly, leaning forward. ¡°You¡¯re a person, Sol. And I¡¯m not going to let you forget that.¡± Her words hung in the air, heavier than I wanted them to be. I shifted uncomfortably, the cuffs biting into my wrists again. ¡°You say that now,¡± I muttered, my voice barely audible. ¡°But what happens when I stop being one?¡± ¡°You¡¯re still you,¡± Yates said, her voice calm but unwavering. ¡°No matter what¡¯s happening to your body. And as long as you¡¯re still you, I¡¯ll keep coming through that door every day. Even if you keep mouthing off to the drones.¡± I couldn¡¯t help the small smirk that tugged at my lips. ¡°That¡¯s a bold promise, Doc. What happens if I tell you to fuck off too?¡± Her brow arched, and for a moment, the faintest hint of a smile ghosted across her face. ¡°Then I¡¯ll know for sure you¡¯ve been spending too much time with Reid.¡± I laughed¡ªa real laugh this time¡ªand the sound was so unfamiliar it startled me. Yates¡¯s expression softened just enough to remind me why her visits mattered. She didn¡¯t look at me like I was a freak or a monster in the making. She looked at me like someone worth saving, even when I didn¡¯t believe it myself. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, standing and slipping on her gloves. ¡°Let¡¯s check your vitals. No biting, okay?¡± ¡°No promises,¡± I quipped, baring my teeth in an exaggerated grin. Yates rolled her eyes but didn¡¯t comment as she began her routine. Her hands were steady as she pressed the stethoscope to my chest, her movements efficient but not rushed. She checked my pulse, my blood pressure, my reflexes¡ªall the usual. But when her fingers brushed against the cuffs as she reached for my wrist, she paused. ¡°Do they hurt?¡± Yates asked quietly, her gaze flicking to my face. ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± I said quickly, too quickly. ¡°Not like I¡¯ve got much of a choice.¡± Yates¡¯s frown deepened, and instead of moving on, she pulled a small device from her pocket. Without hesitation, she pressed a button. The cuffs clicked softly before falling away, clattering to the floor. I stared at my freed hands, the faint red marks left by the restraints a quiet testament to the weeks I¡¯d spent bound. For a moment, I didn¡¯t move. I just stared, half-expecting the cuffs to snap back into place as part of some cruel joke.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°You¡¯re free,¡± Yates said, her voice softer now. ¡°It wasn¡¯t unanimous, but the crew voted to trust you again. Warren approved. Whatever you said in the med bay seemed to stick with him. After the confrontation, he briefed the crew about Lab 3¡ªenough to give them context. He made it clear it¡¯ll be dealt with after the Hemlock mission.¡± Relief crashed over me like a wave, leaving me momentarily breathless. I flexed my fingers, the ache in my wrists fading as I rubbed at the sore spots. It felt¡­ surreal. For the first time in weeks, I wasn¡¯t bound. I wasn¡¯t trapped. ¡°They trust me?¡± I repeated cautiously, skepticism lacing my voice. Yates hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°Trust is a strong word,¡± she admitted. ¡°But some of them do. Reid, Ashly, Holt, and Warren voted in your favor. That¡¯s not nothing.¡± I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. ¡°Ashly voted for me?¡± I asked, disbelief plain in my voice. ¡°After what I did to her?¡± ¡°She did,¡± Yates said, nodding. ¡°She forgives you, Sol. More than that, she argued that you weren¡¯t acting maliciously and haven¡¯t shown signs of losing control since. She also feels guilty about Lab 3¡ªshe sees you as proof that things can still be made right. Holt, surprisingly, backed her up. He pointed out that if you wanted to escape, you¡¯d have done it weeks ago. That carried a lot of weight.¡± I swallowed hard, my stomach churning at the mix of relief and guilt. ¡°Garin¡¯s still an ass,¡± I muttered before I could stop myself. ¡°Garin is Garin,¡± Yates said with a shrug. ¡°He¡¯s convinced you¡¯re dangerous because it fits his narrative. And Jimmy? He follows Garin¡¯s lead¡ªhe¡¯s more loyal to him than anyone else. But they were outvoted.¡± I nodded, unsurprised. Of course Garin and Jimmy had voted against me. They¡¯d made it clear from day one that they saw me as a liability¡ªor worse, a monster in the making. What else was new? ¡°And Vega?¡± I pressed, frowning. ¡°I didn¡¯t think she had a problem with me.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t,¡± Yates said carefully. ¡°Her vote wasn¡¯t personal. Vega¡¯s cautious, and she doesn¡¯t rush decisions. She thought waiting longer was safer, especially with everything still unresolved.¡± The knot in my chest tightened. Vega¡¯s pragmatism made sense, but it still stung. ¡°So she doesn¡¯t trust me either.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t distrust you,¡± Yates clarified. ¡°She just doesn¡¯t make decisions lightly. It¡¯s how she¡¯s wired. Her vote wasn¡¯t about doubting you¡ªit was about wanting more time to assess the risks. That¡¯s not the same as Garin¡¯s angle.¡± The distinction felt small, but it was something. I nodded slowly, though the tension in my chest didn¡¯t fully ease. ¡°And Warren?¡± ¡°He made the final call,¡± Yates said, her expression softening. ¡°After hearing the arguments, he sided with Reid, Ashly, and Holt. He trusts you, Sol. That¡¯s why you¡¯re free now.¡± I nodded again, trying to process the mix of relief, guilt, and confusion swirling in my chest. ¡°Thanks,¡± I muttered, though the word felt awkward on my tongue. ¡°You¡¯ve earned it by playing to good prisoner,¡± Yates said, her tone firm but kind. ¡°Just remember¡ªtrust isn¡¯t unlimited. Stick to the deal. No pushing for Lab 3 until Knight is awake and the other captains can weigh in. After the Hemlock mission, we¡¯ll address everything else.¡± ¡°And if Knight won¡¯t help?¡± I asked. Yates hesitated, her gaze steady. ¡°Knight knows more than she¡¯s ever admitted, and I think she¡¯ll help¡ªif Warren can convince her. But until then, you need to stay focused, Sol. Don¡¯t push. The crew doesn¡¯t need any more reasons to doubt you.¡± I nodded reluctantly, my jaw tightening. ¡°Fine. But if something happens¡­¡± ¡°We¡¯ll come get you,¡± Yates said firmly, cutting me off. ¡°You¡¯re free now, Sol. Don¡¯t waste it.¡± As the words hung in the air, the whispers stirred, low and insidious, curling around my thoughts like smoke. They don¡¯t know, Sol, the voice said, deep and resonant, unmistakably his. My father. They think they¡¯ve freed you, but they¡¯ve only set you on the path. My path. Our legacy waits for you to claim it. The laughter followed, soft and mocking, the sound digging into my skull. You can¡¯t escape it, my daughter. You never could. The stars will bow, and you will finish what I began. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood, the metallic tang grounding me as I pushed back against the voice. My jaw tightened, and I muttered under my breath, ¡°Not if I have anything to say about it.¡± The whispers faded, but their weight lingered, pressing down on me like the shadow of his ambitions. A few days passed, each one suffocating in its monotony. Though I wasn¡¯t restrained anymore, I stayed in my quarters, only stepping out to use the bathroom down the hall. Even then, the drone followed, its blinking red sensor fixed on me like a silent overseer, always watching. To suppress the gnawing hunger, I shoved down ration bars. They were dense and flavorless, but they worked. Without injuries to heal, my body maintained itself, though the constant ache of restraint lingered beneath the surface. I kept myself busy, poring over the schematics Yates had left, committing the Jericho¡¯s systems to memory. When the hunger wasn¡¯t gnawing at my focus, I practiced the combat moves Holt had shown me, running through sequences in the narrow confines of my quarters. Muscle memory steadied my mind, each punch and kick reminding me I still had control¡ªeven as the whispers taunted me. The drone hovered nearby during these moments, and I felt its gaze more than saw it. The whispers slithered through my thoughts. Jericho¡¯s always been a perv, hasn¡¯t it? Watching your every move, judging. I glared at the hovering machine. ¡°Shut up,¡± I muttered, though I wasn¡¯t sure if I meant the whispers, the drone, or the ship itself. The day of the mission, the tension in the air was palpable, even from my quarters. I told myself to stay put, to respect their decision to keep me out of it. But as hours dragged by, unease gnawed at me like a living thing. Something felt wrong. Finally, I gave in, sitting at the console embedded in my wall. My clearance code still worked, a holdover from my father. Nobody knew I had it¡ªor if they did, they¡¯d long since forgotten. I keyed in the sequence, hesitating only for a moment before pressing Enter. The mission feed appeared in fragmented windows: helmet cams, vitals, comm logs. Static crackled through the audio, but fragments of conversation came through clearly enough. Holt¡¯s voice was steady as always, giving quiet directions. Reid made an offhand joke, earning a low chuckle from Jimmy. Even Garin¡¯s irritated muttering felt normal. For a moment, I exhaled, tension easing slightly. Maybe it really would be just a routine salvage mission. Then Holt¡¯s voice cut through the chatter, sharp and tense. ¡°Picking up movement. Switching to thermal.¡± The helmet cams adjusted, the feed flickering as the display switched modes. I leaned closer, my breath catching. At first, it was nothing but static and shadows, but then something moved. A flicker at the edge of the frame. Too fast. Too big. ¡°Contact,¡± Holt said, his voice low and clipped. ¡°Confirmed humanoid.¡± The comms erupted. Garin shouted something I couldn¡¯t make out. Jimmy¡¯s vitals spiked. Reid¡¯s voice, calm but urgent: ¡°Jericho, override the clamps! We¡¯re pulling back.¡± Jericho¡¯s reply was maddeningly calm. ¡°Override requires captain¡¯s authorization.¡± The feed grew more chaotic. The thermal imaging flared as shapes closed in, grotesque and wrong. My stomach twisted as I caught flashes¡ªelongated limbs, too many joints, skin that rippled unnaturally. Jimmy¡¯s camera jolted wildly before going dark. Garin was screaming orders, but I couldn¡¯t see him. Reid¡¯s vitals spiked again, his breathing audible through the comms as he fired into the shadows. ¡°Seal it off!¡± Holt shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of gunfire. ¡°We¡¯re outnumbered¡ªneed immediate evac!¡± Static swallowed his words. The helmet feeds froze, one by one, until the screen displayed only a single notification: Signal lost. I sat frozen, staring at the blank screen, my heart pounding in my chest. The whispers stirred, soft and insidious. Do something, Sol. They¡¯re going to die.
I shot to my feet, the chair skidding back behind me. My pulse raced as I grabbed my pressure suit, hastily pulling it on. I couldn¡¯t sit here while they died¡ªnot Reid, not any of them. If they weren¡¯t going to act, I would. In my rush, I quickly yanked off my tank top and dropped my shorts, the thin fabric pooling around my ankles. My hands moved on autopilot, pulling the suit over my legs and torso, the snug material clinging tightly as I zipped it up. The thought of my usual ritual¡ªthrowing on the loose T-shirt I wore over the suit¡ªdidn¡¯t even register. I was already halfway through pulling on the gloves when the door hissed open behind me. I whirled around, startled, and froze. Warren stood in the doorway, his face drawn and grim. His uniform was rumpled, his sharp eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He held his worn leather jacket slung over one shoulder, its weight seeming to mirror the burden etched into his features. His salt-and-pepper beard, which had always given him an air of quiet authority, now seemed to have more white in it, as though the strain of command had aged him overnight. His gaze flicked to the console behind me, his jaw tightening, but he didn¡¯t comment on it. ¡°The mission¡¯s gone to hell, but it seems you already know that,¡± he said, his voice clipped and heavy. I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°Reid, Jimmy, Holt, and Garin¡ªthey¡¯re trapped on the Hemlock,¡± he said, stepping inside. The door slid shut behind him, sealing us in. ¡°The ship¡¯s overrun.¡± ¡°Overrun?¡± I repeated, dread pooling in my chest. ¡°By what?¡± ¡°Mutants,¡± he said, his voice low, the word heavy with disgust. ¡°Grotesque, hyper-evolved humans. We don¡¯t know how they¡¯ve survived for so long, but it¡¯s clear they¡¯ve adapted in ways that make them... dangerous.¡± I stared at him, trying to process the words. ¡°I thought the Hemlock was a derelict. It¡¯s been floating out there for over a century¡ª¡± ¡°It was supposed to be,¡± Warren said, cutting me off. His jaw tightened. ¡°We don¡¯t have the full picture yet, but from what we¡¯ve pieced together, these things didn¡¯t just survive¡ªthey¡¯ve turned the Hemlock into a hunting ground. They¡¯ve adapted to the environment, to starvation, to whatever hell they¡¯ve been living in. And now they¡¯re using it against us.¡± ¡°Mutated cannibals,¡± I said softly, the word making my stomach churn. "Among other things," Warren said grimly. "Whatever they were before, the genetic experiments increased their evolution speed. They''re not human anymore. We''ve seen enough to know they hunt in packs. They''re fast, coordinated, and relentless." I forced myself to focus, to push past the growing dread. ¡°What about the crew?¡± ¡°Jimmy¡¯s lost a leg,¡± Warren said bluntly. ¡°Reid and Holt are injured¡ªbadly. Garin¡¯s barely holding it together. They managed to barricade themselves in one of the ship¡¯s compartments, but it won¡¯t hold forever.¡± ¡°What are you going to do?¡± I asked, my voice tight, barely masking the tension clawing at my chest. Warren¡¯s gaze met mine, unflinching and resolute. ¡°We¡¯re waking the Royal Guard,¡± he said firmly. Then, his tone softened, a rare crack in his otherwise steady demeanor. ¡°But we need you, Sol. I never should have sent them in there, and I hate to put this on you... but we¡¯re desperate.¡± The words struck like a physical blow. My chest tightened as the weight of his admission sank in. ¡°The Guard?¡± I whispered, my voice trembling with disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡± ¡°Dead serious,¡± Warren said, his tone like iron. ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice. The Hemlock¡¯s corridors are too thick for our drones to maintain signal contact. Without it, they¡¯re worthless. The Guard is the only option we have left.¡± The weight of his words pressed down on me, cold and suffocating. The Royal Guard¡ªmy father¡¯s creations. His ultimate weapons. Soldiers designed to be unstoppable. And they theoretically would answer only to me now that he was dead. ¡°They were his soldiers. How will they react now that he¡¯s gone?¡± I asked softly, my voice trembling. ¡°What if they don¡¯t listen? What if¡ª¡± ¡°They¡¯ll listen,¡± Warren said, cutting me off. ¡°They¡¯re keyed to your genetic signature. And don¡¯t forget, even in cryo, they¡¯re not fully unconscious. Cybernetically, they¡¯re always slightly aware. Jericho would have updated them on the situation by now. They¡¯ll follow your orders, Sol. Right now, they¡¯re the only chance we have to bring the crew back alive.¡± I hesitated, the whispers curling at the edges of my mind. This is what you were made for, Sol. Show them your worth. I shook my head, disbelief flooding my chest. ¡°You¡¯re trusting me with this?¡± I asked, my voice barely audible. ¡°You know what it means to wake them. After what happened with Ashly, after everything¡­ How can you trust me with that power, after locking me up for weeks?¡± Warren¡¯s jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering. ¡°I know exactly what it means,¡± he said quietly. ¡°And I know the risk. Vega has made sure I hear about it to no end, trust me. But we have no other options. You said you didn¡¯t mean to hurt Ashly, and I believe you. I think you¡¯re still in control, Sol¡ªmore than you give yourself credit for.¡± He took a step closer, his tone softening but his resolve clear. ¡°This isn¡¯t just about trust. It¡¯s about necessity. The crew needs you, and I¡¯m not about to let fear hold us back. Not when lives are at stake.¡± My breath caught in my throat, his words hitting harder than I expected. ¡°What if I hurt someone again?¡± I asked, my voice trembling. ¡°I still want answers about Lab 3.¡± Warren exhaled slowly, his expression softening, though his shoulders still bore the weight of his guilt. ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± he said firmly, his voice steady but heavy. ¡°Because I know you, Sol. You care more about saving those men than anyone else on this ship. Your father told me once how much grief you gave him about leaving Earth behind. That¡¯s why I¡¯m trusting you now.¡± His gaze hardened, though his tone remained resolute. ¡°When this mission is over, I¡¯ll tell you everything. Lab 3, the Guards, Knight¡ªall of it. But right now, none of that matters more than bringing our people home. Fixing this mess is my top priority. Fixing my mistake.¡± He stepped back, his voice regaining its commanding edge. ¡°I know you¡¯ll do the right thing, Sol. And in return, I¡¯ll do right by you. I¡¯ve already talked to Yates¡ªwe¡¯ll wake Knight and figure out how to handle Lab 3, maybe even find a cure for you. But right now, we¡¯re out of time.¡± I stared at him, my chest tight under the weight of his words and the pressure to live up to his faith. A part of me wanted to argue, to push back against the trust he¡¯d suddenly placed in me. After all, no one had ever handed me control¡ªnot Knight, not the Guards, not even my father. But deep down, I knew he was right. The mission couldn¡¯t wait, and neither could they. Finally, I nodded, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. ¡°Let¡¯s wake them.¡±
The door to the cryo bay slid open with a low hiss, releasing a chilled fog that curled along the floor. The room was cavernous, dimly lit, and filled with rows of reinforced cryo-pods. Each pod bore a unique engraving of an extinct animal, its design ornate and deliberate. These weren¡¯t the utilitarian pods used for the crew¡ªthese were thrones for gods. I stepped inside, my breath misting in the cold air. The whispers stirred immediately, curling through my thoughts like smoke. Do you remember, Sol? When I unleashed them upon our rivals? It was my masterpiece... and you, my greatest creation. My fingers trailed along the nearest pod¡ªLion¡¯s. The engraved head of a roaring lion gleamed faintly under the flickering lights, surrounded by intricate rays like a blazing sun. I swallowed hard, knowing what this meant, what I was about to do. Memories surged unbidden. The first time I saw the guards deployed, I¡¯d been just a child. My father¡¯s voice had been calm but firm as he explained the situation. A rebellion had risen in the Euro-African Federation, a coalition of desperate nations refusing to bow to the mega-corporations. The guards were sent in as a deterrent, but they didn¡¯t just stop the uprising¡ªthey erased it. I remembered watching the grainy footage on my father¡¯s private monitor: Lion, Wolf, and Eagle moved with brutal efficiency, their plasma blades carving through fortified bunkers as if they were paper. The rebellion¡¯s forces, over a hundred thousand strong, were obliterated in hours. My father had stood behind me, his hands resting on my shoulders. This is power, Sol. Controlled. Precise. Irrefutable proof of our family¡¯s greatness. All of Earth knelt. Now, so will the stars. My hand moved to Eagle¡¯s pod. Black, angular designs of razor-sharp feathers encased the cryo unit, the engraving of a bird mid-dive etched across its surface. The plasma wing-blades this soldier wielded had been my father¡¯s pride¡ªa fusion of agility and lethality. The second time, it wasn¡¯t a rebellion. It was a rival corporation, Ju Wang International, the last mega-corporation resisting Voss Enterprises. I¡¯d been older then, old enough to grasp the stakes. Ju Wang controlled Asia¡¯s resources, from its weaponry to its AI factories, and their assassins had come for Julian Voss. The counterattack was swift and brutal. All twenty guards were awakened. I could still picture their march into battle, their glowing visors cutting through the night like fireflies of death. They dismantled Ju Wang¡¯s armies with clinical precision, their plasma rifles and swords carving through millions of soldiers. Cities burned in their wake. The Jericho¡¯s prototype AI, still in development, had coordinated the strike, annihilating the corporation¡¯s infrastructure within days. By the end, Ju Wang wasn¡¯t just defeated¡ªit was erased. Voss Enterprises had absorbed what was left like a snake swallowing its prey. The whispers pushed again, soft and insistent. My masterpieces, Sol. Each one a testament to my brilliance. Yet none will ever surpass you. Show them what it means to hold true power. I brushed my hand against Wolf¡¯s pod. Its silver-gray casing shimmered like the pelt of its namesake, etched with jagged, fur-like lines. The face of the pod was adorned with the image of a wolf mid-leap, its jaws wide and teeth bared, captured in a moment of primal ferocity. The plasma daggers stored inside had once torn through the defenses of the South American Alliance, a coalition that had attempted to break free from corporate control. I hadn¡¯t been allowed to watch that campaign, but the stories had been whispered across the globe. A single soldier with cloaking technology had infiltrated the capital city¡ªa sprawling metropolis of millions¡ªduring a summit of hundreds of leaders from across South America. By dawn, they were all dead, assassinated with surgical precision, leaving the city in chaos and the rebellion leaderless. Now, as my gaze swept across the bay, I whispered their names like a prayer. Lion, Eagle, Wolf, Black Widow, Great White, Jaguar, Viper, Hyena, Grizzly, Owl, Falcon, Bull, Badger, Rhino, Cheetah, Fox, Scorpion, Crocodile, Mantis, Tiger. Each name carried weight, a legacy of destruction and obedience. I stepped back, taking in the sight of them all. Each pod was unique, bearing its animal engraving and gilded details. My father hadn¡¯t been a vain man, but he¡¯d understood the value of spectacle. The guards weren¡¯t just soldiers¡ªthey were symbols, reminders of a power no one could defy. Their armor had been designed to be striking, almost gaudy. Every detail spoke of dominance, from the clawed gauntlets of Grizzly to the sleek, predator-like sheen of Cheetah. ¡°These animals have been extinct in the wild for centuries,¡± I murmured, my hand trailing over Black Widow¡¯s pod, its sleek black surface engraved with a red hourglass like her armor. ¡°But here their legends endure.¡± My fingers lingered on the engraving, memories surfacing unbidden. I¡¯d met people once¡ªreal people, not the sterile, calculated figures of my father¡¯s lab. I was 18, just bold and foolish enough to sneak out and see the undercity for myself with my emergency clearance. The ones I met didn¡¯t know who I was, and for a while, neither did I. We shared stories, food, drinks, laughter... and more. It was the first time I¡¯d felt like a person and not some grand experiment. But it didn¡¯t last. It never could. I was still my father¡¯s daughter, and when two Royal Guards appeared to drag me back to the lab, the truth came crashing down. Their fear was the worst part¡ªfear of me, of what my family represented, of the unstoppable machines that had come for me. I never saw them again. Whether it was the guards or the weight of what I was that scattered them, I didn¡¯t know. Maybe I never wanted to. Earth was gone, and so were they. I was the only one left to command these ghosts of my father¡¯s vision. Warren stood beside me, silent but tense. ¡°Do you know what this means?¡± he asked, his voice breaking the cold silence. ¡°What it truly means to wake them?¡± I exhaled slowly, the whispers curling through my thoughts like tendrils of smoke. They will obey only you, Sol. No one else. You hold their leashes now. Command them, and they will bring the galaxy to its knees. ¡°I know what it means,¡± I said softly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. My finger hovered over the control panel. For a brief moment, I hesitated. The power these soldiers wielded wasn¡¯t just destructive¡ªit was transformative. I¡¯d seen my father use them to control a dying Earth, to bend entire nations and mega-corporations to his will. He had declared himself humanity¡¯s king in all but name, and few had dared to challenge him. Those who did didn¡¯t live long enough to regret it. Now, the whispers spoke in his voice, insidious and full of promise. They are yours now, Sol. The stars, the remnants of humanity¡ªall of it is yours to inherit under your rule. They will kneel, not in fear, but in reverence. They will call you their queen, as they once called me their king. My chest tightened. The image of the galaxy bowing at my feet rose unbidden, and for a moment, I let myself feel the enormity of it. The whispers twisted around my thoughts, drawing them closer to the precipice. This is your destiny, Sol. Take it. Rule, as you were born to. The Guard is yours, the stars are yours, humanity itself waits for you to claim it. ¡°No,¡± I whispered, barely audible over the hiss of the cryo bay. The thought repulsed me. It wasn¡¯t my destiny. It wasn¡¯t who I wanted to be. I pressed my hands harder against the console, forcing my thoughts back to the task at hand. This isn¡¯t about me. It¡¯s about the crew. I¡¯ll save them¡ªnot claim them. My finger descended, activating the command sequence. The room shuddered as the pods hissed open in perfect unison. Cold mist poured out, swirling around the emerging figures like smoke heralding their arrival. One by one, the guards stepped forward, towering over me at nine feet tall¡ªalmost an entire person taller than my five-foot frame. Their gleaming armor reflected the sterile overhead lights, each plate and joint humming faintly with energy. Their shoulders were impossibly broad, the armor sculpted to enhance their massive frames, giving them an almost mythical presence. They moved with a fluid precision that belied their immense size, their presence filling the space with an oppressive weight. Even standing still, they radiated an aura of power, making me feel like little more than a shadow in their overwhelming presence. Lion was the first to speak. His voice was deep and resonant, laced with an unnatural calm. ¡°Your Highness,¡± he said, his massive form lowering to one knee before me, bringing him to eye level. His golden armor gleamed, every plate meticulously crafted, and the roaring lion insignia on his chest plate seemed to almost come alive under the flickering lights. He paused, his golden visor tilting upward as if studying me, the faint hum of his suit breaking the silence. ¡°Your hair¡­ your eyes¡­¡± His voice carried an almost reverent weight. ¡°So, he gave you the serum after all. Welcome to being post-human.¡± There was no malice in his tone, only an unsettling acceptance, as if he had known this day would come. ¡°We await your command.¡± Behind him, the others knelt in perfect synchronization, their voices a unified echo: ¡°Your Highness. Awaiting orders.¡± I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms as the hunger stirred deep in my chest. I¡¯d only seen them all awake once before¡ªwhen my father had commanded them. Back then, their power had terrified me. Now, that power was mine to wield. The whispers surged, louder now, almost gleeful. They are the sword I forged, my Princess, but you¡ªyou are the hand that wields it. Each of them is a testament to my vision, yet none hold the purpose you do. You are my knight, the one meant to bring my will to life. Take up the blade they represent and carve the path to what is already yours. I bit down hard on my tongue, the taste of blood grounding me. The hunger flared, sharp and insistent, as the whispers coiled tighter. Warren¡¯s gaze was heavy on me, his expression unreadable but firm. ¡°They¡¯re yours now,¡± he said, his voice low but steady. ¡°Let¡¯s bring our people home.¡± I swallowed hard, the whispers still lingering in the back of my mind like a shadow I couldn¡¯t quite shake. Straightening my shoulders, I let the weight of responsibility settle over me. The crew needed me. This wasn¡¯t about ruling. This was about saving lives. If I had to bear this power, I¡¯d use it for them¡ªnot for myself. ¡°Guards,¡± I commanded, my voice ringing out through the bay. ¡°Prepare for deployment. You¡¯re going to war.¡± The guards rose in unison, their armor gleaming under the sterile lights as they moved with terrifying grace. Each step was deliberate, their towering frames radiating unstoppable power. Along the back wall, their weapons awaited¡ªplasma rifles, railguns, and gravity hammers standing at attention like soldiers in their own right. As they moved to arm themselves, the arsenal came alive with the hum of energy. A crackling laser whip coiled in one hand, while another gripped a shotgun that seemed to promise devastation with every pull of the trigger. One reached for a massive blade that shimmered with a plasma edge, its glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Every weapon was impossibly large, perfectly attuned to the sheer strength of the giants wielding them. Watching them prepare, I couldn¡¯t help but feel the weight of their presence¡ªthe quiet efficiency of soldiers who were more than human, each one a living embodiment of a god of war. Their armor wasn¡¯t just protection¡ªit was part of them now, fused to their bodies through years of cybernetic enhancement and genetic engineering. Towering over the rest of us at nearly nine feet tall, the Royal Guards were living giants, something more than human yet terrifyingly close. I remembered watching them in training as a child, their movements impossibly fluid for beings so massive. They were legends, not just because of their strength, but because of what had been done to them to make them that way. My father had called them perfection. "The pinnacle of evolution and engineering," he¡¯d once told me, his voice filled with pride. And standing in their presence, it was hard to argue. They had multiple hearts and redundant vital organs, their bodies a marvel of reinforced biology. Their bones were strengthened with alloys, their muscles enhanced to deliver unimaginable power while retaining a disturbingly human form. Even without their armor, they were walking tanks. And yet, the armor wasn¡¯t separate from them¡ªit was part of who they were now. Miniature hybrid reactors, combining both fission and fusion technology, were embedded into their backs, powering their every move. These reactors were more than just energy sources; they were lifelines, fueling not only their systems but also their augmented biology. Their personal shield generators hummed faintly, always active, ready to absorb the most devastating impacts. Even without the seemingly endless weapons mounted on the wall behind them, the Guards were living arsenals. Fusion gauntlets glowed with barely-contained energy, plasma blades extended seamlessly from hidden compartments, and wrist-mounted flamethrowers were primed to ignite at a moment¡¯s notice. Their jetpacks and rocket boots gave them flight, while experimental systems embedded within their frames hinted at capabilities only they¡ªand my father¡ªtruly understood. And then there were the nanobots in their blood. I shuddered just thinking about them. The bots were constantly at work, repairing damage, erasing toxins, and maintaining peak performance. It didn¡¯t matter if a Guard was burned, shot, or stabbed; within minutes, they¡¯d be whole again. It was terrifyingly efficient. The Guards could survive without food or water for years, their armor recycling everything to keep them alive indefinitely. When they did eat, anything organic would suffice¡ªplants, animals, even substances no human would dare touch. They were long-lived, too. I¡¯d once seen a decades-old photo of Lion, taken during the Guard¡¯s earliest campaigns. In the midst of war, his face had been sharp and weathered with experience. Yet when I saw him as a child years later, he looked younger¡ªstronger, as though time itself had surrendered to their design. I¡¯d heard whispers of their weapons being powered by antimatter¡ªunthinkable technology that my father had supposedly dabbled in during his more ambitious years. The schematics for such weapons were beyond even my clearance, locked away in the depths of Jericho¡¯s archives. No one dared confirm it, but the rumor persisted: the antimatter arsenal was a last resort, a power so dangerous it had been shelved after testing. If anyone had been audacious¡ªor insane¡ªenough to design something so destructive, it was Julian Voss. For all their enhancements, though, the Guards weren¡¯t immortal. My father had always been clear about that. They could die, though it wasn¡¯t easy. One name stood out in my mind: Bloodhound. He¡¯d been the first and only to fall, a casualty of the Ju Wang war that had brought all of Asia under my father¡¯s control. My father rarely spoke of him, but I¡¯d pieced together the story from the records I¡¯d stumbled upon. Bloodhound had been caught in the blast radius of a tactical nuke during the war¡¯s final days. His shields had been depleted during the assault, leaving him vulnerable for a brief but catastrophic moment. Even for someone like him, there was no surviving that kind of force without his shields. His death had been a rare and devastating loss, one that had exposed a critical flaw in the Guards¡¯ power systems. My father, of course, had learned from it. He¡¯d added a redundancy to their reactors, incorporating fission-based uranium power cells that could kick in during emergencies. These cells ensured that shields could be recharged on the fly, buying enough time for the fusion cores to reignite. It was an ingenious fix, though it had come too late for Bloodhound. Looking at them now, I felt a cold knot of unease tighten in my chest. They were my father¡¯s greatest creations, his ultimate soldiers. But they weren¡¯t just his legacy¡ªthey were mine now. They answered only to me, and as I stood there, I couldn¡¯t shake the weight of that responsibility. Dad, you did so much to advance humanity already... why did you have to do this to them? Hell, why did you have to do this to me, your own daughter? My gaze lingered on the details my father had obsessed over. Each suit was a masterpiece, adorned with the emblem of its namesake¡ªa testament to the extinct animals they honored. The etched designs and gilded edges were like trophies, tributes to a world long gone. My fingers grazed the surface of Lion¡¯s pod, the memory of my father standing beside me in the lab flickering into focus. His voice had been calm, steady back then, a comforting anchor in the chaos of the world he claimed to be saving. The whispers crept in again like smoke curling through a cracked door. I did it for you, Sol, as I left them for you. Do you see it now? They are yours, as is the gift of your changes. The galaxy has never known their equal... until you. But soon, if you follow the hunger, the universe will know something even greater¡ªfor once. But his voice wasn¡¯t comforting anymore. It was a phantom clawing at the edges of my mind, a twisted echo of what it once was. Whether he¡¯d always been corrupted or the whispers had warped him into this insidious presence, I didn¡¯t know. All I knew was that it was the last thing I wanted to hear. My fists tightened at my sides, nails digging into my palms drawing blood. ¡°So I¡¯m just fucking crazy, is that it, Dad? Like father, like daughter?¡± The words came out harsh, almost a growl. For a moment, silence stretched around me, heavy and suffocating. Then, the whispers laughed¡ªa sound like dry leaves crackling in the wind, soft but mocking. My jaw tightened, and I flicked my tongue across my teeth, sharp enough to slice into the soft flesh. Blood pooled in my mouth, warm and metallic, as the cut sealed itself shut almost instantly. The hunger stirred, deep and insistent, a hollow ache that clawed at my insides. I swallowed hard, forcing it back down, but the thought slithered through my mind like a serpent: If any monster should lead them, it should be me. I straightened, my gaze fixed on the towering figures as they moved with relentless precision toward the shuttle bay. Each step was deliberate, calculated¡ªa terrifying display of power harnessed to perfection. These weren¡¯t just soldiers; they were monsters, creatures forged for destruction. And now, they answered only to me. But I wouldn¡¯t be like my father. The determination settled in my chest like iron, heavy but unyielding. If I have to play the role of the monster you left me, so be it, I thought, my mind resolute. But I will be better than you. I care if they live¡ªeven Garin... but especially Reid. I¡¯ll save them because someone has to, and I¡¯ll bear the cost if I must. I took a deep breath, steeling myself as I followed the Guards toward the shuttle bay. The hunger and the whispers would wait. The crew needed me, and I¡¯d do whatever it took to bring them home. Even if it meant becoming the very thing I feared. Chapter 10 : The Royal Guard 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.
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¡ªhe 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.¡±
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¡ªhuman or otherwise¡ªthat 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¡ªor whatever that is¡ªoff 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¡ªstay with the ship. Monitor comms and maintain a secure perimeter.¡± Badger muttered something under his breath¡ªbarely 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¡ªthey 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¡ªno blood, no bodies¡ªjust 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¡ªgnarled, 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¡ªthe 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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªits bloated torso pulsating with sores¡ªcharged 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¡ªcompared to them¡ªit 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¡ªit 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¡ªbut 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¡ªa 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¡ªnot 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¡ªimpervious 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¡ªoverturned crates and hastily placed panels¡ªhad 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¡ªor 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¡ªthis 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¡ªit 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¡ªshredded 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¡ªabove, 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¡ªand 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¡ªthey 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¡ªthey 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¡ªhumanity¡¯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¡ªit 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¡ªNothing will get through¡ªsat 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¡ªanything. 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¡ªhope, 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¡ªone 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.
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¡ªno time to think about what I had done, the feral beast I had become in the hallway. The claws, the teeth¡ªfar longer than they should have been, like fangs¡ªhaunted 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¡ªgrotesque 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¡ªflesh 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¡ªblood 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¡ªnot too heavy, not too light¡ªjust 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.
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¡ªa 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¡ªpeople in cryo¡ªanswers 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.¡±
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¡ªsoon, so will the Captains.¡± 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¡ªpeople who can tell us what happened. That ship¡¯s been drifting for decades, maybe longer. Destroying it now doesn¡¯t just erase evidence¡ªit 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¡ªthis 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¡ªto 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¡ªby aliens or something else¡ªbut 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¡ªand 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¡ªyou 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¡ªhe said it was too dangerous, that your changes could be unpredictable¡ªbut 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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªsurvivors. 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¡ªor 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¡ªall 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¡ªafter 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¡ªnot 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¡ªafter 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¡ªthe 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¡ªthis 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¡ªa 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¡ªone 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¡ªthey 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¡ªthe 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¡ªanswers or horrors¡ªI had no choice but to follow. Chapter 11 : The Captains Gambit 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¡ªonly 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¡ªmy 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¡ªlong, white, and snarled¡ªfanned 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¡ªstill too sharp, but smaller than the fangs that had grown to fight the monster¡ªpressed 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¡ªcleansing 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¡ªlike 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¡ªopen 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¡ªor 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¡ªan 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¡ªand 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¡ªjust 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¡ªa 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¡ªor scream during your night terrors. Jericho monitors your biometrics: your pulse, your breathing, even your dreams. The signals your father¡¯s implants left behind¡ªJericho 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¡ªunless 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¡ªthat 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¡ªwhy 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¡ªemergency 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¡ªmy 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¡ªa 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¡ªsleek 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¡ªboth 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¡ªlingering on Knight¡¯s¡ªbefore 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¡ªa 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¡ªan 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¡ªwhat 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¡ªa 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¡ªand 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¡ªa 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¡ªafter the council let Knight try to pick up where Voss left off¡ªyou¡¯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¡ªbut 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¡ªof 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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªwhat she might become¡ªespecially 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¡ªeven 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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªa 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¡ªand 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¡ª¡±
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¡ªnone 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¡ªa 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¡ªmaybe less¡ªthat¡¯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¡ªand 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¡ªwithout your approval. They found the ship crawling with mutants, but that wasn¡¯t the real surprise. Plasma scorch marks¡ªcenturies old¡ªon 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¡ªor 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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªthey 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¡ª¡± ¡°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¡ªone 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¡ªand the silent agreement of Blackwell¡ªhung in the air. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging in reluctant concession. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, his tone brittle. ¡°But if we¡¯re wrong¡ªif this threat is real¡ªit 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¡ªand 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¡ªwhether 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¡ªyou 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¡ªwhy 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¡ªa 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¡ªeverything 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¡ªI 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¡ªit¡¯s a reality. And let¡¯s not forget¡ªwe¡¯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¡ªshe¡¯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¡ªthe culmination of everything he learned. She¡¯s not just another experiment; she¡¯s our best¡ªand only¡ªshot 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¡ªone 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¡ªhell, 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¡ªmy 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¡ªeven 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¡ªand 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¡ªit¡¯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¡ªbut 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¡ªthat 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¡ª¡± he gestured toward me, ¡°¡ªI 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¡ªand 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¡ªI 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¡ªlet 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¡ªbe 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¡ªproperly, 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¡ªand 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.¡±
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¡ªall of it was mine to bear. I wasn¡¯t ready for this¡ªnot 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¡ªdispensing 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¡ªJulian 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¡ªtwisted 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¡ªnot 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¡ªhe 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¡ªdata 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¡ªit 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.
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¡ªthe 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¡ªsilent, watching¡ªwho 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¡ªor was it disdain?¡ªcrossing 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.