Mark's eyes opened to a searing white light. Cold air stabbed his lungs like glass shards. He lurched out of the cryopod, collapsing onto the floor. His joints screamed—25 years of stillness crammed into his muscles. He gagged, ribs heaving, and tasted copper. *Hunger*. It hit him like a punch, his stomach hollow and ravenous. But all he could think about was Lena. Her laugh, the way she'd tucked a sunflower into his pocket before he boarded the *Ark Horizon*. *"Come back,"* she'd said. *"Or I'll kill you myself."*
Around him, pods hissed open. A woman nearby retched bile onto the floor. A teenage boy stumbled out, eyes wild, clutching his chest like he'd forgotten how to breathe. Mark counted maybe 200 people in the chamber, their faces gaunt, skin waxy from decades frozen. A man with a scarred cheek helped a trembling elderly woman to her feet. *We look like ghosts*, Mark thought.
The chamber's walls were scuffed and stained, holopanels flickering with static. A robotic voice chirped: *"Colonist Squad 719, proceed to Sector Hydra for debrief—"*
"Debrief?" the teenage boy snapped, voice cracking. "Where the hell are we? What happened to 'wake up on Exidous'?"
Before anyone could answer, the central screen fizzed to life.
Dr. Elias Vorne filled the frame, his lab coat splattered with something black. His glasses were cracked, his breathing ragged. *"If you're seeing this… they're already here. They're in the code, the air, the—"* A guttural roar drowned his words. The camera jerked. Behind him, a shadow *twitched*, like a corrupted hologram. Then it lunged—a blur of crimson sinew and jagged bone.
The creature's talons hooked into Vorne's shoulders. The scientist screamed as its jaws—too wide, too many teeth—clamped over his skull. The feed cut.
Silence. Then a whimper. A woman clutched her face, tears streaking her cheeks. "That… that was my *dad's* lab," she whispered. Mark recognized her—Maya Vorne, the botanist. Her hands shook as she gripped a pendant around her neck.
A metallic *clang* echoed. At the chamber's rear, a panel slid open, revealing racks of weapons: rifles, knives, shock batons.
"Oh God," a voice muttered. A tall woman with a buzzcut—Priya, Mark remembered, an ex-marine—stared at the guns. "They armed us. They *knew*."
The lights flickered.
Then—*boom*.
The iron door shuddered. Colonists screamed, scrambling back. *Boom*. The metal dented inward. *Boom*. Hinges snapped.
A man in a mechanic's jumpsuit—Jake—lunged for a rifle. "Barricade the door!"
Too late.
The door exploded inward. A colonist near the front vanished in a mist of red. Through the smoke, it *crawled*.
The creature was worse up close. Its body glitched, flesh peeling into static. Crimson sinew pulsed like exposed wires, and its face—a gaping maw lined with serrated bone. Eyes like dying stars locked onto the crowd. The air vibrated, a subsonic hum that made Mark's teeth ache.
It moved.
One moment it was across the room; the next, its talons phased through a young man's chest. The boy gasped, staring down as the creature's claw *materialized* inside him, gripping his heart from behind. It yanked—a wet *pop*—and the boy crumpled. Blood hovered in the air like rubies.
Chaos erupted.
A pulse rifle barked. The creature staggered, ichor spraying from its shoulder. It shrieked, the sound shattering holoscreens. Priya grabbed Maya, shoving her behind a pod. "Aim for the head!" she roared.
Mark fumbled for a knife, his wedding ring catching the light. *Lena*. He'd promised her he'd plant a garden on Exidous. Now his hands shook as he lunged at the creature, driving the blade into its flickering eye. The knife sizzled, smoking. The thing thrashed, talons ripping through a woman's throat.
"Get back!" Jake tackled Mark as the creature swung. They hit the floor, Jake's breath reeking of stale cryo-air. "You got a death wish, grandpa?"
Five colonists unloaded their rifles. The creature's skull burst in a spray of black ichor. It collapsed, dissolving into static and leaving only a stench of burnt hair.
Silence.
182 survivors stood panting. Blood pooled on the floor. The teenage boy vomited. Maya knelt beside a corpse—a girl no older than 20, her hand still clutching a photo of a smiling couple.
"What… what *was* that?" Jake rasped, clutching a gash on his arm.
Mark stared at the knife in his hand. Lena's sunflower was still in his pocket, crumpled and brown. "Something they didn't tell us about," he muttered.
The AI's voice crackled, warped: *"Squad 719… proceed to Sector Hydra."*