A deafening hiss filled the chamber as pressurized gas vented from the sides of the cryo-pod. Frost clung to the reinforced glass like skeletal fingers, slowly melting away to reveal the figure inside. Cain Voss's eyelids fluttered, his breath ragged and uneven as his body struggled to remember how to exist outside the frozen void.
Then came the pain.
Every nerve in his body screamed in protest, muscles trembling violently as if they were trying to escape his skin. He gasped, choking on stale, recycled air that tasted of metal and chemicals. His vision blurred before sharpening into harsh, fluorescent clarity. Blinking rapidly, he stared up at the ceiling—cold, sterile, lined with glowing blue conduits that pulsed in an unnatural rhythm, like the ship itself was alive.
"Subject 07, Cain Voss," an artificial voice echoed overhead. "Cryostasis complete. System check initiated. Please remain still."
Cain groaned, feeling like he'd been hit by a freight train. His joints cracked as he flexed his fingers, testing his body's functionality. His chest heaved as he sucked in another breath, feeling the weight of reality settle onto him like an iron shroud. He was awake. Again.
He knew better than to panic. He'd done this before. Cryosleep wasn't new to him, but it never got easier. Slowly, he shifted his weight and pressed his hands against the inner walls of the pod. The glass canopy retracted with a pneumatic hiss, releasing him into the sterile, dimly lit corridor of the Voidwalker vessel. The air was thick, carrying a faint metallic tang, a signature of long-haul space travel.
His bare feet touched the grated floor, sending a shiver up his spine. Around him, other cryo-pods lined the walls, still locked in their frozen state. Shadows of figures trapped inside flickered under the dim light—some faces familiar, others strangers. Cain rolled his shoulders, feeling the stiffness fade, and stepped forward.
He glanced at the red tattoo inked into his forearm—VOIDWALKER 07. A reminder. A sentence. A death wish.
"Welcome back to hell," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his damp, sweat-soaked hair.
The ship's ambient hum filled the silence as he staggered down the narrow corridor. The polished steel walls reflected his disheveled image—a gaunt face, sharp eyes, and a perpetual scowl. He had been selected for this mission not because of his skills, but because he was disposable. They all were.
The lights flickered once. Twice.
Cain frowned, his instincts sharpening. Something wasn't right.
A distant thud echoed through the ship, followed by an unsettling vibration beneath his feet.
"System error detected," the ship's AI announced. "Please report to the main deck for briefing."
Cain exhaled sharply. "Yeah, sure. Let me just enjoy my vacation first." He rolled his neck and trudged forward, shaking off the remnants of cryo-sleep. His gut twisted—whether from the aftereffects of stasis or an unnamed dread, he couldn't tell.
As he approached the airlock leading to the crew quarters, a figure emerged from the mist of freezing air.
Commander Ryker Shaw.
Sharp. Cold. Dangerous. The man's piercing gaze locked onto Cain like a predator assessing prey. Clad in his standard-issue military uniform, Ryker's expression was unreadable, but there was always a hint of suspicion lingering beneath.
"Voss," Ryker said, his voice as cold as the ship itself. "Nice to see you're still breathing."
Cain smirked, shaking off the last of his sluggishness. "Wouldn't want to disappoint you, Commander."
Ryker didn't smile. He never did. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice low. "Get dressed. We've got work to do. Something's off with the ship."
Cain's brows furrowed. "Define 'off'."
Ryker hesitated, his jaw tightening. "AI glitches. Power fluctuations. And..." He glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. "...something's moving in the lower decks."
Cain's smirk faded. He ran a hand down his face and exhaled. "Perfect. I wake up and the ship's already haunted."
Ryker's eyes darkened. "I don't believe in ghosts, Voss. But I do believe in failure. Let's make sure we don't add to the list."
Without waiting for a response, Ryker turned and strode toward the control hub. Cain watched him go, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. A distant, distorted whisper crackled through the intercom for a brief second before cutting out.
Cain sighed. "Yeah. This is gonna be one hell of a ride."
He moved to the locker bay, grabbing a standard flight suit and pulling it on. His hands trembled slightly—whether from the cold or from something deeper, he wasn't sure.
As he sealed the suit and checked his gear, he caught sight of something odd in the reflection of the polished metal wall. For a fleeting moment, his own face stared back at him... but the eyes weren't his.
Dark. Hollow. Watching.
He whipped around—nothing. Just the empty, sterile corridor behind him.
Cain swallowed hard, forcing himself to ignore the unease clawing at his gut. It's just cryo aftereffects, he told himself.
But deep down, he wasn't so sure.
"Voss," Ryker's voice crackled over the comm. "Report to the bridge. Now."
Cain exhaled and forced himself forward, footsteps heavy against the grated floor. Whatever awaited him on Exo-9, he had a sinking feeling it was only the beginning.