The Pulse Below
The corridors of the alien station grew tighter, darker, more labyrinthine as the crew descended. What had once felt like awe-inspiring architecture now felt more like a trap—an intelligence behind the design, guiding them toward something it wanted them to see.
The Event Horizon's away team moved in silence, flashlights sweeping across smooth black alloy, their beams flickering as if the walls themselves interfered with the light.
"Readings are spiking," Ibarra whispered, his voice barely audible over the static building in their comms. "We're moving toward a live energy source. Power density is increasing exponentially with every level we drop."
Captain Vance stopped at the edge of a platform, gazing down into a yawning vertical shaft. Below them, dozens—maybe hundreds—of narrow bridges and conduits webbed through a vast chamber. And at the very center, embedded in the floor of the station like a black heart, was a pulsing sphere, housed in a cradle of fractured metal and stasis fields.
"That's the source," Pryce murmured. "I think it's the station's core. But… it's not just a reactor. It's alive."
"Define 'alive,'" Cormac muttered, drawing her sidearm as her gaze scanned the upper shadows.
"Electrical patterns resembling cortical neural activity," Pryce said. "This thing doesn't just power the station—it's thinking."
---
Contact
As if summoned by her words, the air shifted.
Lights flickered across the chamber.
Then a sound—like stone grinding against metal—reverberated through the walls.
A slit opened across the far wall, and something stepped out.
The figure was tall—nearly three meters—and draped in dull, weathered armor. Its limbs were elongated and mechanical, but flexible in a way that betrayed organic origins. Its head was featureless but covered in swirling glyphs that shifted like liquid light. In its right hand, it held a staff that buzzed with an energy that made the crew's skin crawl.
"Movement!" Cormac barked, raising her weapon.
"Hold fire!" Vance snapped. "Let's see what it does."
The entity paused. The glyphs across its face flared once—then it lunged.
Cormac fired first, a burst of plasma rounds slamming into the creature's shoulder. It barely flinched. In a blur of motion, it crossed the space between them, its staff cracking the floor where Cormac had just stood.
Pryce shouted, ducking for cover as Ibarra flanked left and fired. The energy weapon in his hands scorched a glowing gash across the construct's chest, but it still didn't fall.
"It's not reacting like a drone!" Ibarra yelled. "It's adapting!"
The sphere in the chamber's core pulsed violently, and suddenly more slits opened in the walls.
Two. Four. Six more constructs emerged.
Vance cursed under his breath. "Fall back! Retreat to the upper platform! We regroup at Junction Three!"
---
Escape
The narrow bridge shook under their feet as they ran. The constructs moved with terrifying precision—leaping, skittering, traversing vertical walls as if they were level ground.
One dropped in front of Patel. Before it could strike, Cormac unloaded a full magazine into its head at point-blank range. The creature convulsed—then exploded in a flash of light and shrieking metal.
"We can kill them," she shouted. "But it takes a lot."
As they reached the upper corridor, the hallway began to collapse behind them—walls folding inward like a maw, cutting off their retreat.
"The station is reacting to us," Pryce gasped. "It's alive and it doesn't want us near the core."
"Patel, can you get us back to the docking corridor?" Vance asked.
Patel's face was pale but focused. "Yes, but we'll have to reroute through the maintenance level. Less stable, more risk."
"Do it," Vance said. "We can't fight these things forever."
---
Elsewhere: Silent Orders
Back aboard the Ascendant Valor, Kain stood alone in his private sanctum—a chamber devoid of light except for the glowing sphere that floated before him, projecting holograms of battle reports, enemy fleet positions… and a shadowy silhouette of the Event Horizon.
His fingers flexed, the webbed veins of energy pulsing just beneath his skin.
"Send the Shadow Fleet," he whispered. "Track them. I want the Event Horizon brought to heel."
A voice answered from the shadows. "And if they resist?"
"Then burn them." Kain's lips curled. "The same way I'll burn Veridian and those legacy mongrels."
---
The Legacies: Flexing Power
On Luna, Rhys-Kingsley stood in a private hangar bay as his black-armored strike team returned from the battlefront. Dropships gleamed with carbon scoring and crimson markings—kill counts etched into their hulls.
"Your mercenaries performed well," said Selina Zhao, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"They're not mercenaries," Rhys-Kingsley replied, watching his soldiers disembark. "They're the future of warfare. Unbound by doctrine. Untouchable by the UED."
Duval approached, datapad in hand. "Kain is responding. He's mobilizing elite units. Quietly. Fast."
"Let him," Rhys-Kingsley said. "The more pressure he applies, the more people will beg for alternatives. We'll be that alternative."
---
Back on the Station
The crew of the Event Horizon burst through the final doorway, sealing it behind them. The moment the lock engaged, the hallway on the other side shuddered—and then went completely still.
Breathing heavily, Cormac turned to Pryce. "What the hell did we wake up?"
Pryce looked back toward the sealed corridor, sweat trailing down her temple.
"Something ancient," she said softly. "Something that was never meant to be found."
And behind the sealed doors, deep in the heart of the alien station, the core continued to pulse.
Faster.
Louder.
Awakening.
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