The air in the cockpit tasted metallic, like rusted wire on the tongue. Captain Mara Voss gripped the control yoke, her knuckles pale against the worn leather. Outside the reinforced glass, the stars stretched in endless rows, cold and indifferent. The *Erebus* hummed beneath her hands, a living thing with a heartbeat of vibration that pulsed through her bones. She hadn’t slept in two days. The ship’s systems flickered with warnings, red glyphs blinking like dying fireflies. “We’re not alone out here,” she muttered, more to herself than the crew. Lieutenant Jarek’s voice crackled over the comms, dry and clipped. “You’re not the first to say that, Captain. But I’ll take your word for it.” Mara ignored him. The navigation console beeped again, a low, persistent tone that set her teeth on edge. She leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the readout. A signal. Not from any known vessel. Not from the colony they’d been sent to reinforce. Something else. Something *waiting*. The ship shuddered as if the universe itself had heard her thought. Mara’s pulse thrummed in her ears. “Status report,” she said, voice steady despite the knot in her gut. “Life support is stable,” said Engineer Tessa, her tone flat. “But the external sensors are glitching. I’m getting… interference. Like something’s blocking the signal.” “Could be a solar flare,” Jarek suggested. “Or a trap,” Mara countered. The silence that followed was heavier than the void outside. She didn’t need to look at the others to know they were exchanging glances, the unspoken questions hanging between them. They’d all heard the stories—the ones that never made the official reports. Ships vanishing without a trace. Crews found hours later, their eyes wide and empty, muttering in a language no one recognized. Mara exhaled slowly. “We keep moving. But watch every sensor. And if anything changes—” She didn’t finish the sentence. They already knew. The *Erebus* lurched again, this time sharper, like a fist slamming into the hull. The lights dimmed, casting the cockpit in flickering amber. Mara’s fingers flew over the controls, scanning for anomalies. A shadow passed across the viewfinder—too fast, too dark. She turned, but the viewport was empty. Just stars. “Did you see that?” she asked, voice taut. No one answered. The comms were silent. “Jarek? Tessa?” Still nothing. Her breath came quick now, a frantic rhythm against the static. She reached for the comms panel, but the screen was black. The hum of the ship had gone quiet, leaving only the sound of her own heartbeat, loud and raw. Then, a voice. Not over the comms. Inside her head. “You should have stayed where you belonged.” Mara froze. The words weren’t spoken, but felt—like a whisper against the inside of her skull. She stumbled back, knocking over a chair. The cockpit door hissed open, and Lieutenant Jarek stepped in, his face pale. “Captain?” He looked at her, then at the darkened console. “What happened?” She couldn’t answer. The voice was gone, but the weight of it remained, pressing against her ribs like a hand trying to pull her apart. Jarek frowned. “You okay?” She nodded, though every instinct screamed otherwise. “We need to get off this sector,” she said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. “Now.” Jarek hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll alert the others.” As he left, Mara stared at the viewport, half-expecting to see something there. But the stars remained still, their light cold and unyielding. She didn’t know if she was running from the unknown or chasing it. Either way, the *Erebus* was no longer hers to command.
