Chapter 5
ELLA
One second I’m running a diagnostic on a blown conduit, the next I’m slamming shoulder-first into the bulkhead as the artificial gravity hiccups like a drunk. Everything tilts. Sparks spit from the ceiling. Then the klaxons start. Shrieking like the ship itself is screaming.
“What the hell—” Marla’s voice cuts off as the floor kicks under us.
Boom. Boom.
Explosions, close and getting closer. The lights snap back on—emergency red, painting everything in pulsing horror.
“We’re under attack,” I whisper, my throat bone-dry.
“No shit,” Marla snaps, fumbling for the emergency locker. She tosses me a suit, halfway sealed herself already. “Come on!”
My fingers are shaking as I jam myself into the pressure harness. I don’t even bother with the comms link—I need to move. Fast. I sling my toolbelt around my waist and grab the only thing that might matter: my override spanner. It’s not a weapon, but it’s the closest thing I’ve got.
We bolt.
The corridor is bedlam. Smoke clogs the vents, making everything smell like burning plastic and ozone. I stumble over something soft and wet. I don’t look down.
Marla veers left. “Engineering’s this way!”
“I know!” I yell, coughing. The emergency air scrubbers are struggling. I taste ash and blood in the back of my throat.
The next blast hits so close the deck plates ripple. The ceiling groans. A pipe bursts, vomiting steam. We duck through it, squinting.
And then we see them.
They don’t move like people. They move like predators. Seven feet tall. Gleaming armor, black with acid-green accents that shimmer in the emergency lighting. They stalk the halls like they own them. Soldiers.
Coalition.
I grab Marla’s arm, yanking her behind a partition. We press ourselves flat against the wall as two of the monsters pass.
“They’re inside,” Marla breathes.
“No kidding.”
They’re not just shooting. They’re clearing. Precision strikes. Vibroblades for close work. I catch sight of one dragging a body out of a lift and casually tossing it aside like trash.
Commander Vris.
I know that limp, cocky stride anywhere. He’s trying to rally a group of security officers, half-suited and panicked.
He doesn’t stand a chance.
One of them steps forward. A flicker of movement—a blade flashes—and Vris folds like paper. He drops to his knees, hands pressed to the wound in his gut. Blood spatters the wall.
I want to scream. I want to move.
I do neither.
Marla clutches my sleeve. Her eyes are wide, lips pressed shut like she’s holding in a sob. I grab her hand and tug her down a maintenance shaft—one of the old ones. Forgotten. My boots clatter too loud, but there’s no time for subtlety.
We drop into the crawlspace, chest to floor. I twist the valve behind me, sealing the panel. Darkness presses in. I can’t hear anything but my own breath rasping loud inside my helmet.
Footsteps.
Thick. Heavy. Measured.
They’re looking.
A grate creaks. Light slants in.
And he’s there.
The lizardman.
He doesn’t charge. Doesn’t attack.
He looks straight at me.
And for a heartbeat… the world stops.
Not figuratively. Literally. Time distorts. My vision narrows. His red eyes bore into mine—not with rage, not with malice. With something else. Something deeper. Older.
I feel it slam into my chest like a gravity surge.
My skin tingles. My mouth goes dry. My body reacts before my brain catches up. Every nerve lights up with recognition I can’t explain.
My breath catches. His does too.
He stares.
Just like that—he’s gone.
One blink and he turns, disappearing into the smoke and screams.
I suck in a ragged breath. I’m shaking. My hands feel like ice. The moment lingers in my bones like a brand.
“Ella,” Marla hisses. “What the hell was that?”
“I… I don’t know.”
But I do.
Not the specifics. But something in me shifted.
Changed.
I don’t have time to unpack it.
We crawl through the shafts, gagging on recycled air. I lead us toward a secondary escape route. Engineering’s sealed off now—too hot, too many hostiles. Survival is the only goal. For now.
The ship groans around us. The drive is unstable—I can feel it like a buzz in my teeth. Whoever lit the core did it too early. The harmonics are off. We’re dancing on the edge of a singularity, and the floor's about to drop.
We make it to a junction panel. I twist it open, and light floods in. The corridor is clearer here, quieter. I check both directions. Empty. I help Marla out first, then follow.
My comm buzzes.
Static. Then a garbled voice: “...emergency evac point… shuttle bay seven…”
“Marla,” I whisper, “we have a shot.”
We move again, crouched and fast. My muscles ache. My boots squish with something sticky I refuse to examine. We pass a group of corpses. Alliance crew. Faces frozen in shock.
And I hear him again.
The footsteps. The heavy cadence.
I freeze.
He’s nearby.
I don’t know if I want to run.
“Ella!” Marla yanks me forward.
We reach the lift. It still works—miraculously. The doors hiss open and we slide inside.
The panel is smeared with blood. I wipe it clean and jab the button for deck twelve. Shuttle bay seven.
The lift hums. I clutch the rail. My chest is a storm of emotions—terror, grief, confusion…
And something else.
That look. That pull.
I don’t understand it, but I felt it. Deep. Irrevocable.
He looked at me like he knew me.
And I don’t know what scares me more.
That he did, or that a part of me looked back and felt the same.