In the Wake of Stars

Chapter 7: In The Dark

Nora’s heartbeat quickened as they stepped further into the lower levels, her flashlight casting long shadows against the walls. She and Cal had descended far below the main deck, and down here, the air felt different—thick with humidity, heavy with an unexplainable dread. They were moving into the heart of the ship, and it felt as though it was breathing right along with them.

“We should be close to the control room,” Cal murmured, breaking the silence.

Nora glanced at him, noting the slight edge to his usual calm. “You nervous?”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning a smirk. “Not at all. Just making sure you’re not planning to pass out on me when things get… intense.”

“Oh, please,” she shot back, rolling her eyes to mask the unease curling inside her. “I’ve handled way worse than a few creepy recordings.”

“Sure,” he replied, tone dripping with sarcasm. But his gaze held hers for a moment longer, and something in his expression softened, as if he wanted to say something but held back.

They continued in silence, the walls seeming to narrow around them as the darkness thickened. Nora's flashlight caught glimpses of worn signs, cracked displays, and rusted panels, all relics of a once-functioning ship. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for the lives that had once filled this space.

As they rounded a corner, they found the entrance to the control room—a solid metal door with scratch marks along its edges. Nora hesitated, her hand hovering over the access panel.

“This is it,” she said, forcing a breath. “Ready?”

Cal gave her a sharp nod, drawing his weapon. “Let’s hope this is the place with all the answers.”

She keyed in the access code they’d found earlier, and the door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in the dim, blue glow of emergency lights. Panels lined the walls, covered in dust and cobwebs, with several consoles blinking faintly as if barely clinging to life. In the center, a large, circular table displayed a three-dimensional map of the ship, parts of it flickering in and out.

Nora approached the table, examining the flickering sections of the ship’s layout. “Looks like the whole lower level has been on emergency power since… forever. Most of these systems are barely functional.”

Cal moved to one of the control panels, brushing dust away from a blinking button. “We might be able to reactivate some systems from here—maybe get access to more recordings, or even open the maintenance logs.”

She nodded, eyes sweeping over the maps and files displayed in front of her. Her fingers hovered over a touchpad. “I’ll see if I can pull up any more logs. Maybe they’ll explain why the crew started hearing things.”

As she sifted through files, her pulse quickened when she found another log labeled “Incident Report – Anomalies.” She hit play, and a distorted voice crackled to life.

“...Crew reports auditory phenomena—sounds from the vents, voices in empty rooms. Medical assessments show no sign of illness… but the psychological strain is… significant. We are initiating lockdown protocols to isolate affected members…”

The recording cut off abruptly, leaving a heavy silence.

“That’s just great,” Cal muttered, leaning closer to read the log details. “Psychological strain? Isolation protocols? Sounds like they were just covering up their failure to fix whatever was really going on.”

Nora’s jaw clenched. “You think they were trying to hide it?”

“Looks like it. And by the time things got out of hand, it was too late,” he replied, his tone unusually grim.