Vice Captain Aria

Log Entry 3162.10.29 Situation Summary: Main reactor stabilizing at 48% output. Communications array partially restored. Command authorization maintained by Vice Captain Aria Venn. Captain—status unknown. Medical Officer Korr—unresponsive. Morale: critical. --- Chapter XIII — Vice Captain Aria Venn Aria's reflection looked older in the cracked display — hair matted with sweat, uniform streaked in oil and blood, eyes hollow but still alert. Forty-eight percent power. She’d been nursing that reactor back from the dead for two days straight. “Almost there,” she muttered, watching the gauge flicker green. “Come on, you beautiful bastard.” The console responded with a low hum, a heartbeat she’d come to depend on. The Vigilant Dawn might limp, but she’d live. Aria allowed herself the smallest exhale of relief. Maybe—just maybe—they’d make it. She leaned back, cloIt’s too qsing her eyes for one second too long. The air was hot, thick with recycled oxygen. Every muscle screamed for rest. Then the comms terminal chirped. At first, she ignored it—routine diagnostics, probably. Then it chirped again. And again. And again. A cascade of encrypted signals began filling the screen, dozens at once—each tagged PRIORITY // DISTRESS. Her breath caught. Crew IDs scrolled by faster than she could read: Deck 5. Hydroponics. Lower Med Bay. Maintenance Corridor 3B. She opened the first one. > “This is Ensign Mara. Something’s wrong with Dr. Korr—she’s—” Static. Next. > “Engineering Section 4 requesting—oh gods, they’re growing out of the walls—” Cut. Another. > “We sealed the bulkheads but it’s inside the vents, it’s inside—” The last message was only four seconds long. Just breathing. Then a wet sound—like something unfolding. Aria froze, her hand hovering above the controls. The ship hummed around her. But now, she could hear something beneath the hum—a low resonance, almost a voice. A sound that didn’t belong to engines or metal.