Aventus held Doctor Fenwick's gaze as the gnome exited, a faint flicker of something—perhaps gratitude, perhaps weariness—passing over his features. Once the door hissed shut, leaving him alone, Aventus exhaled deeply, letting his tension drain as he flexed his fingers at his sides. After a moment, he rolled his shoulders back, feeling the stiff pull of muscles still recovering from cryo-stasis. His body felt like it was dragging through molasses, but his determination pushed him forward.
He left the room quietly, his boots clicking softly against the station's metal floors as he began his slow trek toward the gym. As he walked, he alternated between loosening his shoulders and neck, his hands occasionally brushing the walls to steady himself when his balance faltered. The hum of the station's systems provided a steady rhythm, broken only by the occasional hiss of doors opening in the distance or faint echoes of unseen activity.
When he reached the gym, Aventus paused just inside the entrance, scanning the space. The room was dimly lit by overhead panels, their soft glow casting long shadows over a variety of equipment—weights, sparring mats, resistance bands, and a row of treadmills against the far wall. The faint scent of oil and old rubber filled the air, mingling with the sterile metallic tang that seemed ever-present aboard Horizon Drift.
Aventus began by stretching his lower body, his movements deliberate and measured. He felt the pull in his hamstrings and calves, his breathing controlled despite the ache that lingered in his limbs. Once warmed up, he stepped onto one of the treadmills and started a light jog. The machine hummed softly beneath him, its rhythmic motion aligning with the steady pounding of his boots. Despite his best efforts, his pace faltered after a few minutes, his breaths coming faster and shallower. The aftereffects of cryo-stasis still clung to him like a stubborn fog, and his endurance wasn't what it should have been.
Frustrated but determined, he stepped off the treadmill and moved to the mats, settling into a slow series of yoga poses. Each stretch was deliberate, his body bending and twisting in practiced forms as he worked to loosen the stiffness in his joints. He let his breathing steady again, focusing on the fluidity of each motion until he felt more grounded, more in control.
From yoga, he transitioned into hand-to-hand combat drills. His feet shifted across the mat in slow, methodical patterns as he shadowboxed, each punch and block carefully placed. He followed with knife drills, drawing invisible arcs through the air with his hands, as though wielding his antimatter daggers. He moved slower than usual, his motions precise but lacking the speed and fluidity he was accustomed to. His dissatisfaction was evident in the way his jaw tightened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his dark indigo eyes each time he stumbled or felt his body lag behind his intent.
As sweat began to drip down his face, he paused, his breathing heavy but steadying. The sound of something faint, a soft metallic clink, caught his attention. He turned his head sharply toward the corner of the room, where a vent cover rested just above eye level. The faint glow of the overhead lights illuminated the slats, and for a moment, Aventus saw the faintest glint of movement behind them.
Before he could focus on it, the vent cover snapped shut with a soft clang, the sound sharp in the relative quiet. A second later, he heard it—the unmistakable scuttling of something moving rapidly away, its pace frantic and irregular. The sound disappeared into the walls, leaving only the fading echo and the steady hum of the station's systems.
Aventus straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the now-closed vent. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Whatever it was, it hadn't been his imagination. Something—or someone—had been there, watching.
Aventus approached the vent cautiously, his boots making barely a whisper against the gym's padded floor. His hand drifted to his holster with practiced ease, drawing his phaser in a smooth motion. With a quick press of a button, the weapon's integrated flashlight flickered to life, casting a bright, focused beam of light into the slats of the vent cover. The light sliced through the darkness, revealing the metallic interior of the vent, its walls lined with dust and faint scratches—marks that didn't seem entirely mechanical in origin.
He tip toed slightly, leaning in closer to peer through the narrow opening. The vent stretched on into the ship's labyrinthine innards, its path disappearing into shadow just beyond the reach of the flashlight's glow. Aventus's dark eyes narrowed, his gaze sweeping every visible inch, straining to pick out details against the oppressive blackness.
At first, all he saw was the emptiness of the vent—a silent tunnel that seemed to stretch endlessly into the ship's structure. But then, just at the edge of his perception, there was movement. A faint glint, like the reflection of his light on something metallic, flickered deeper within. It was gone almost as soon as he noticed it, vanishing into the inky darkness, but not before his keen eyes caught the faintest hint of a shape—a shifting, organic form that clung unnaturally to the side of the vent.
A quiet, rhythmic clicking sound echoed faintly from the depths, growing softer as it moved further away. It was the same sound he'd heard earlier, unnatural and deliberate, like claws tapping against metal. The warmth he'd felt earlier seemed to radiate faintly from the vent, a subtle heat that carried with it the unsettling sensation of being observed. Whatever was inside wasn't just retreating—it was deliberately avoiding the light, slipping further into the shadows as though it understood it was being pursued.
Aventus straightened slowly, the flashlight beam still aimed at the vent, his fingers tightening around the grip of his phaser. His breathing was steady, his body tense but controlled. Whatever was in there, it wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Something alive—or something close to it—was crawling through the walls of Horizon Drift.
Aventus took a slow step back from the vent, his boots making a faint squeak against the gym's padded floor. His flashlight lingered on the slats for a moment longer, the beam steady as if willing whatever lurked beyond to show itself again. When nothing came, he exhaled quietly, lowering the weapon but keeping his grip firm.
The faint heat from the vent seemed to cling to his skin as he backed further away, the unease growing with each passing second. His free hand hovered close to his side, steady but ready, as though expecting something to burst forth from the walls at any moment. His indigo eyes darted across the room, checking the vents along the edges of the gym, looking for signs of movement. Nothing stirred, but the weight of the silence felt heavier now, like the calm before a storm.
When Aventus reached the door, he holstered his phaser with a quiet click. His hand hesitated near the grip for a moment, as if reluctant to let go, before he turned and stepped into the corridor beyond. The quiet hum of the station greeted him, a stark contrast to the scuttling noise still echoing faintly in his memory.
His pace quickened as he moved through the halls, the long strides of his lanky frame carrying him with urgency. His hands remained loose at his sides, though his mind was anything but calm. The image of the faint, shifting form in the vent replayed in his head, each detail burned into his thoughts. Whatever it was, it hadn't been random—it had been deliberate, intentional. And now, it was somewhere out of sight.
The path back to the medical bay was eerily quiet, the occasional hiss of doors and distant hum of machinery feeling almost intrusive in the silence. Aventus's gaze flicked to the walls as he walked, searching for any sign of warmth or movement, but the corridors remained empty. Still, the unease lingered, a knot of tension in his chest that refused to ease.
When he reached the door to the medical bay, he tapped the panel to open it, stepping inside quickly and letting the door hiss shut behind him. For a moment, he leaned back against the cold metal, exhaling deeply as he let his head tilt back. The sterile scent of the room grounded him slightly, though the tension in his muscles remained.
Straightening up, Aventus glanced around the room, his eyes scanning every corner for anything out of place. It was the same as he'd left it—quiet, dim, and sterile. But now, even the stillness of the room felt like it held something just out of reach, waiting.
Aventus pushed off the door, his long strides carrying him to the nearest medical console. The screen flickered faintly to life as his fingers hovered over its surface. He tapped at the interface, navigating through the menus with a combination of instinct and logic, his sharp indigo eyes scanning for any kind of communication or call function.
The console's layout was simple, its options clearly marked for medical purposes—patient diagnostics, supply inventory, system checks. Finally, near the corner of the screen, he spotted a tab labeled "Internal Communications". He selected it, and a list of station personnel appeared, each name accompanied by a small icon indicating their role.
Aventus quickly skimmed the list until he found the names he was looking for:
Dr. Fenwick (Medical Lead)
K'Raal (Head of Security)
Without hesitation, he tapped K'Raal's name first. The console emitted a faint chime as it initiated the call, the screen displaying a small loading indicator. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the low hum of the station, the console's soft glow casting a pale light over Aventus's face.
The call connected, and a voice, smooth and deliberate, came through the speaker. "K'Raal here," the reptilian security lead said, his tone immediately sharp and alert. "What's the situation?"
Aventus leaned closer to the console, his voice calm but laced with a faint edge of concern. "This is Aventus. I'm in the medical bay. While I was in the gym, I heard something coming from one of the vents. It was… organic. Clicking, like claws tapping metal. When I looked closer, I saw movement—something alive, not mechanical. It closed the vent cover and scuttled away, avoiding the light. There was also heat coming from the walls. It didn't feel random. It felt deliberate."
He paused for a moment, his fingers resting lightly on the edge of the console as he collected his thoughts, then added, "Whatever it is, it's avoiding direct contact. It was watching me."
The line went quiet for a moment, the faint hum of the station filling the silence. When K'Raal finally responded, his voice was sharp, but measured. "Understood. Stay where you are, Aventus. I'll head there immediately and bring additional personnel if needed. If it moves again or you notice anything else—anything at all—use the console or comms. Don't engage. We don't know what we're dealing with yet."
Aventus moved to the center of the room, his boots whispering against the sterile floor. His phaser was already drawn, held at a low ready with both hands, the muzzle angled slightly downward but ready to snap upward at the first sign of movement. His dark indigo eyes remained fixed on the vent, unblinking, their intensity cutting through the dim light of the medical bay.
The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the faint hum of the station's systems and the soft vibration of recycled air moving through unseen ducts. Every muscle in Aventus's body was coiled, his long, wiry frame taut with anticipation. He wasn't just waiting—he was daring whatever was out there to show itself.
The vent remained still, its slats dark and silent, but the weight of something unseen pressed down on the room. Aventus's sharp senses prickled, the hair on the back of his neck rising as the atmosphere grew heavier, almost charged. His fingers flexed subtly around the grip of his phaser, his breaths controlled and quiet.
Then, just as his focus narrowed to the vent, it happened.
A sound—sharp, visceral, and unnervingly close. The unmistakable click of something snapping shut, like mandibles clamping together, came from just behind his head. The air shifted faintly, a warm, almost moist current brushing the back of his neck. The sensation was fleeting, gone almost as soon as it registered, but it was enough to send a cold spike of adrenaline coursing through his veins.