Disclaimer: Halo and Signalis DO NOT belong to me. They're owned by their respective owners and the only thing to my name is possible OC's and this story.
Anyway, enjoy.
"Internal Dialogue"
"Regular Speech"
"Foreign language translated"
Sound Effects
... Scene Break
Darkness fell in layers.
It wasn't the clean, predictable void of space. No, this was different—deeper somehow. Denser. It crawled. A darkness thick with presence, where shadows folded in on themselves like meat turned inside out. There was no orientation. No up. No down. Only a sense of movement that didn't come from his body, as if he were both heavier and lighter at times.
Master Chief stood somewhere planted on the familiar metal floor of the Dawn. A corridor stretched before him, UNSC-standard bulkheads lined the walls, but they bent where they shouldn't, twisting at odd angles, joining together in looping tessellations like someone had copied a hallway from memory and failed to grasp the logic of its construction. The sharp angles turning organic akin to a Covenant ship.
Flickering white lights pulsed overhead in a slow, aching rhythm. He grabbed his rifle at the ready and walked forward, his head on a swivel as he observed his surroundings. Both for clarification and for hostiles, his heart beating in-sync with the lights. Almost as if it were a Heartbeat tempo. With each step forward, each flash of light revealed more - rusted panels and peeling wall signage. Then the lights flashed a dark red before winking off, bathing him in darkness.
Slosh-Slosh-Slosh
The sounds of a sloshing liquid reached his ears. He turned his helmet lights on, the cones of light revealing he no longer stood in the corridor. He peered down, seeing that he was nearly hip deep in... blood. Looking around, he was back in the medical bay where he had left Araine. Except when he peered towards where the pod laid, she was gone. The hatch glass shattered as if something broke out of it, and through the hole blood poured out and fed the red pool.
Slosh-Slosh-Splash!
His motion tracker showed a red dot suddenly appearing to his 5'clock. He whipped around before he felt himself get slammed with great force, his rifle knocked out of his hands along with him and whatever collided with him to fall into the pool. Something sharp tried to pierce through the soft-armor that was his skinsuit, but his shields took the brunt of it; his form shimmering gold. He whipped a hand out, his hand feeling something slick yet sturdy. He squeezed hard, feeling the material give way that resulted in a electronic screech piercing through the red depths.
Another strike hit him, draining his shields further. He kept a harsh grip and pulled himself out the depths, his form absolutely drenched and dripping. He lifted what was a clawed arm, revealing what used to be the LSTR unit except it's armor nearly torn apart with large cracks. In their depths pulsed writhing red flesh that grew out of it, the armor segments digging into the flesh and making them bleed profusely. It's face was split apart in an clobbered mimicry of an elite, the bottom jaw torn apart in half with jagged tears of metal for teeth. It screeched and lunged for his face, trying to claw and bite it off.
The Spartan grabbed the creature's throat, slammed it against the wall. Pinning it. He reared back a fist and slammed it into the creature's head, punching straight through and embedding his fist. The body gave a few spams before hanging limp. He went to pull his fist out-
Squelch!
The same pulsating flesh burst out of the LSTR unit, clinging onto him like parasites. Growing on him, settling of one of the very few times he's truly felt true fear. His mind subconsciously recalling how he had nearly been infected by a flood infector only to be saved by Cortana. He used his free hand to tear a chunk of flesh off, but that same piece latched onto his hand; growing uncontrollably. It reached his legs, making him trip into the pool of blood, his vision turning red. The flesh continued growing like a cancer, growing until his vision turned dark.
His eyes opened, sharply flickering around the room..
Dim light filtered through the ceiling of the barracks. The hum of Dawn's life support thrummed softly in the background. Gravity held him down in a familiar way.
No blood. No cryopod. No flesh.
Just silence.
Chief stared upward for a moment, his breath slightly unsteady. He quickly took control of that. Didn't need to panic, was only a dream. A rather vivid one, but a dream nonetheless.
He had seen worse. Felt worse.
Still… Why is he suddenly getting a dream- no, a nightmare? He's not getting compromised is he?
"Cortana," he said, voice low and even. He sat up, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed to rest on the floor. "Report." No, he can't afford to get distracted now. For everyone's sake.
She responded instantly, her avatar blooming softly into view by the central terminal. Arms crossed. A concern behind her holographic eyes, but she masked it well.
"You're awake earlier than expected."
"The update."
Cortana tilted her head, expression shifting back to neutral—professional now.
"The Elster unit's decontamination are complete. Radiation levels on her frame are down to minimal thresholds."
He gave a small acknowledging nod.
"And Ariane?"
Cortana's image flickered slightly. A pause.
"Still in cryo. Stable despite her poor condition. Her brain activity is minimal, as expected when sleeping in cryosleep."
He nodded, then after a moment of contemplation.
"What about the Penrose?"
Cortana didn't answer immediately.
"The radiation is embedded. I've isolated its source, it backs in that room controlling the coolant system. Directly under the floor, out of reach. If we can cut through the floor plating, we can take out the fuel cells within and scrape the shielding. Then we can focus on scrubbing the Penrose as most of the ship is still unsafe from long-term radiation exposure."
He nodded. Quiet again.
"Any viable scrubbers?"
"None onboard the Dawn with that capacity to be quick. We'd need to retrofit some equipment and leave it be for a while."
"For how long?"
"At minimum a few weeks, perhaps a month. We can't take any chances with any lingering amounts of radiation. At least for the company we brought."
"Speaking of, what exactly do you propose to do with Araine? Keep her in cryo until rescue?" The AI pursed her lips, uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on her hips.
"Actually, I've been thinking, but I'm still gathering data and simulating. That's where I need you." Chief only tilted his head towards her, putting his sole attention on her.
"It's about that Elster unit."
...
He stood before the dead LSTR unit, laid flat across an operation table. He was fully armored once more. He had brought a bag of tools, the intent on disassembling the LSTR unit being clear. Though strangely... and somewhat concerning is that Cortana specifically told him to bring a medicinal bag of tools used for operating on humans.
"Cortana..." He hefted the bags and set them on the table. "I'm not one to ever question your judgment, but why do we have surgical tools?"
"The initial decontamination revealed interesting features concerning the design," she replied, voice calm but measured. "It's best you see it with your own eyes."
His HUD lit up, tagging points of interest—joints, bolts, subtle seams hidden beneath the synthetic flesh. Chief opened the first bag. Standard mechanical tools—power drivers, torque shears, magnetic wedges. He was grateful for the overlay. The synthetic anatomy was uncannily real, and without obvious mechanical lines, the connections were almost indistinguishable from human tissue.
He found a seam where metallic hip plating met the soft, artificial musculature of the stomach. With careful effort, he pried the lip upward, revealing a line of precision bolts running from hip to rib. One by one, he extracted them, setting each aside in a magnetic dish. With the last bolt removed, he gripped the abdominal plate and pulled. A wet squelch echoed in the air as the seal broke. When he set the front aside and peered back, the sight immediately changed his tone of this disassembly.
What should have been clinical disassembly of a machine turned more invasive. Inside laid not what one would have thought to be mechanical and electrical systems hidden under a sculpted body. No... it was organs. A heart. A pair of lungs. A digestive track. It was as if it were human. Hell, for all he knew it could be human.
Though there were differences. The ribcage was purely metal, a dull blue. The organs themselves were almost carbon copies of real organs if they didn't have subtly circuity running deep across it's surface. The inside of the chest cavity and veins were red, with multiple wires lining deep into the back where the spine is. Tubing fed through its base like arteries. Veins of fine filament laced outward, pulsing faintly with small lingering charge as if it didn't know the LSTR unit has long fallen.
Though there were flaws. All said organs have discolorations of black across their surfaces and what he can assume to be within. Then it hit him. Radiation damage akin to Araine, but worse. The cybernetics engineering must have made her more vulnerable to radiation, having her die first.
He stared for a moment too long.
This wasn't a just machine nor a human. This was something else entirely yet impossibly in-between.
And here he is tearing it open after learning it's fate and history.
"Cortana…" he muttered, voice lower than before. "Why does it have organs?"
"That's what I've been asking myself," she replied, her tone calm—almost too calm. "You see it now, don't you? They didn't just imitate human anatomy—they recreated it. Like someone took a person apart and rebuilt her from the inside out. Though there's only one way to find out how deep it goes."
"You want to cut them open?" Cortana only glanced at him, giving him a nod.
"Of course. It's not like it'll affect anything, the organs are useless except for study." It seems very ironic that he seemed... well squeamish with dissecting a dead body, but it's not as simple as that. Spartans weren't surgeons. They were soldiers. He can bash in flesh, loot weaponry from the dead, and faced grotesque horrors. He can compartmentalize this, it was quick, he'd always did it for survival. This was different. Closer. Intimate. Like desecrating a corpse instead of salvaging a machine.
Still... he always trusted Cortana's judgement and she never, ever betrayed him or his expectations. He reached down to the started from the top to bottom. He started on the right lung, lightly pressing the blade against the organs skin.
Shhhk.
The surface split open cleanly.
No sparks. No servos. Just the gentle resistance of synthetic skin and a slow trickle of a suspicions red liquid that coated his hands.
"Fascinating... oxidizing coolant for 'blood'." Cortana casually remarked, completely clinical. "You're hesitating." Cortana's voice was quieter now through the speakers. "You've seen what the Flood can do. This shouldn't be new."
"It's not the same." His voice came out cold. Steady. "Flood turns the living into abominations, something that needed to be killed."
"And this?" Cortana asked.
Chief didn't answer. He focused instead on the incision, guiding the scalpel along the curvature of the lung, revealing its layers. Beneath the membrane, there were ridged structures on the outer surface—breathing sacs lined with fine metallic mesh. Breather ports, maybe. Filters. Functionally similar to a human's, but clearly designed for something less oxygen-rich.
"They even gave her a diaphragm," Cortana murmured. "She breathes, John. Or... she did."
"Why?"
"I can think of a large one. Cooling. She breathes in and breaths out, expending heat. Less noisy too when constantly in use, when she's moving. Or perhaps they can't synthetic equivalents."
Chief set the scalpel down for a moment. His armored fingers hovered above the cavity, hand slick with coolant.
"You've said their technology on the Penrose was archaic, primitive even. This shouldn't exist with that extent of technology." He muttered. There was something missing in all this.
"But it does." Cortana's tone sharpened slightly, a flicker of something appearing before disappearing. "And that means there's a mind behind it. A logic. A purpose."
He knew that tone. The curiosity. It's exactly like Halsey.
"Cortana."
"I know. I'm just—" her avatar flickered on the on his HUD, arms crossed, brow furrowed in thought. "I'm analyzing. That's all." He regarded her for a single heartbeat before continuing.
"Cortana, what does dissecting the Elster unit have to do with Araine?"
"When the decontamination process cleaned it of radiation, it allowed me to give detailed schematics." The AI crossed her arms, summoning the files onto his HUD. Then it zoomed to the head, revealing a brain that had two flat objects on the outer left and right of the brain, and a rectangular one in the middle, above the Cerebellum and between the two Hemispheres. Those seemed to be CPU's and processors.
"Her brain is shielded and it wasn't from the skull." He stopped, his hands hovering. How hell did that happen when everything else was irradiated and decayed? "And I want to know why so we'll need to cut-"
"No." The AI stopped in her tracks, her avatar in his HUD looking at him questioning.
"And why is that?"
"Because if the brain is preserved, then by all means that the Elster unit can be revived, right?" Cortana's avatar flickered as if the though never crossed her mind. Which is strange because she wasn't one to miss anything critical. Is something up with her?
"That is... a plausible possibility."
"You still haven't answered what all this..." He waved a hand over the laid body. "has to do with Araine."
"We can make her like her." Wha-
"You want to make Araine into an Elster unit? We're just barely dipped into this technology and what you're asking is something that requires both professional and engineers to even attempt this."
"John... what are the chances of us being found after we've been adrift for three and a half years?"
"..." He was silent which was answer enough.
"Or what if some of the systems failed for her pod? Do you think she'll survive long enough in her condition?" The edges of his HUD started fizzing, bouncing between red and blue. Her avatar disappeared.
"Cortana-" He tried to say, but was cut off.
"Or that we're never found? That we've run out of power?" The fizzing intensified.
"Cortana!" The fizzing immediately stopped at his stern call. A beat of silence passed, her avatar reappearing on his HUD. Her expression was full of guilt, the silence between them heavy.
"...How long?"
"I... I've been put into service for 7 years now, now approaching 8." She materializes outside his armor, her head lowered. She 'stood' on the operating table.
"...I, we, won't wait. We'll go and retrofit the Penrose and we'll go to UNSC space." He crouched down, lowering his head to her height.
The Rampancy inflicted program looked up at him before sighing. "John... I... I know my time is ticking and every second I spend aware is a second I put you and any survivors at risk. And now... we have a chance to save not only one, but possibly two lives. They can help you retrofit the Penrose if it all goes according to plan too. Then you all-"
"We." She stopped, then smiled at his correction.
"We can escape."
"Alright. So how exactly are we going to accomplish this?"
...
...He still didn't like any of this. Now what he has done, what has to be done, and what he's going to do. He walked down hallways, heading deeper into the Dawn towards a section to where the Dawn held... unconventional cargo. He opened a door and stepped inside. He pressed the button and the room is bathed in light, revealing another Cryobay. One filled with the dead of UNSC servicemen and staff, having died in combat during the Ark campaign. There was barely enough time to evacuate the living forces off the Ark before it's destruction that the dead were left... forgotten. Abandoned.
And now here he was, about to desecrate it. In terms of... recycling organs to save two lives. Yes, he needed to keep that in mind. It was purely to save lives. Still, when all of this is said and done. He'll have a newfound respect for the very people that make up the medical branch of the UNSC.
He took a deep breath and approached the lined cryopods, studying each form for... use. He had to find one that was intact, of a similar body shape, and preservation.
Male. Male. Female, however she took plasma into her chest that would have burned off most organs. Male. Female, too small.
He stopped.
Female, similar height and chest width. Cause of death... beam rifle shot to the cranium, a clean hole through. Her IFF read 'Corporal Shun'. He pressed the button and the crypod thawed before opening. He caught the corporal, her head lolling onto his shoulder. Revealing glassed over eyes and a burned hole through her temple. He took a moment to close her eyes before carrying her back.
...
He grabbed onto the dead replika's chassis, grabbing where the organs branch out. There we're interchangeable connections where the organs met the frame, hinting at replacement organs as a common task in their society. He twisted and them off with a pop. With scalpel in hand, he carefully carved and peeled the membrane containing the circuitry out. From what Cortana has explained, the technology at hand uses true human organs as a base with the circuity imbedded actually allows the organs to be used for with mechanical attributes.
To be connected and felt in the frame, to allow coolant to run throughout the systems, and to allow electricity to conduct muscle contractions. From the assessment of radiation damage, it seems like the connections where synthetics met flesh was vulnerable and caused failures of the flesh at those points first. So the electrical systems were still operable, only the flesh failed. So by implanting the same synthetic parts into new bases, by theory it should work.
He worked on the same right lung first since it was already cut. He used a scalpel and needle to gently cut and prod on the Corporal's right lung, following Cortana's instruction to the letter. Then he laid the membrane over the replacement lung, using a finger to press the circuitry into the cuts and pin-holes he's made. Then he placed the lung into a vat filled with a nutrimental saline to promote growth and healing. Finally, he placed two electrodes into the water powered by a battery to basically restart said organ's functions.
This is to save-
The lung twitched.
Not violently—just a spasm. A ripple across the membrane, barely noticeable if he hadn't been watching for it. The solution in the vat darkened slightly, fine bubbles forming around the inserted electrodes.
"Good," Cortana said, her voice quieter now. Focused. "The cellular lattice is accepting the membrane. Electrical feedback is nominal. If we maintain the current voltage, it should stabilize."
He didn't answer. Just moved to the next lung.
As he carved away the damaged synth-flesh from the replika's frame, the contrast became more and more surreal. One body synthetic. The other once past-living. Nonetheless, both coolant and true blood is mixed on his hands now. Indistinct from one another.
Real surgery.
Soon both lungs are done. Then the heart. The liver. Finally, the digestive track. The process took a few hours at most, but it felt longer. Now he needed to wait.
...
He sat in the armory, stripping and reassembling the many firearms that lined the walls. He placed his 20th completed MA5D rifle down, now starting the process over again with an M90, the 15th one. Cortana had opted to stay in the Dawn's systems back where the operation took place, ensuring everyone worked well. Him on the other hand... needed time to himself. To reassess things.
His mind wandered back to the start of the long day. That dream, no. A nightmare really. What brough that to form, what triggered it? His hand lingered on the detached barrel. Was the stress and psychological effects of the war... compromising him? It can't be. He hasn't had any signs of it during his career... Is it because he's trapped on the Dawn, adrift in space? With all the free time and isolation, is it affecting him mentally and allowing such thoughts?
Then there's the fact that about what he's been doing... Essentially cutting up a serviceman's corpse just to revive something that's between human to machine just as a proof of concept for Araine. And then he'll have to do it all again to another serviceman, but to turn a human into the same thing.
He fought, he harmed, and he killed to save lives. But he's never harmed the people that he was protecting, and the fact that he had to harm said people in order to save them. That... unnerved him a bit. The fact that one wrong move in a process he never trained for could very well end a life. He blinked, realizing he misplaced the firing pin before correcting it. Then quickly assembled the M90 shotgun, giving it an experimental cock. It opened without issue. He cannot afford to make mistakes.
A sharp ping echoed through the Dawn, Cortana appearing on a nearby monitor. Chief looked up. A moment passed before Cortana's voice crackled over the intercom.
"Everything's set. It's time... to put everything together." The monitor fizzed red for a moment before disappearing. She gave an encouraging smile and disappeared. He didn't need to bring Cortana into this.
He set the M90 down and left the armory without a word, leaving the polished weapons in precision order behind. The walk back was quiet, save for the hum of life support systems and the steady tap of his armored boots against the deck. The kind of quiet that comes before a storm.
When the operating bay doors hissed open, he took a moment to reobserve the surroundings. The LSTR unit, laying on the operating table. Her cavity still open and surrounding the table is trays with vats containing the corporal-, Elster's new organs. The organs in question now looking like healthy copies of the Replika's old internals. As he slowly approached operating table, Cortana materialized beside the Replika. Looking at him expectedly. She nodded at the nearby terminal that housed her chip. He grabbed it and placed her into his neural interface.
Now... for the real test. He started with the digestive tract. He placed the ends to their proper place, then carefully layering it. Then came the liver, the heart, and finally the lungs. He tightened and tested all connections which his AI companion verified a second after.
"John. Open your hand." He held out his right hand, palm open. Then it his shields flared only over his right hand. "Now restart her heart."
He blinked at the unorthodox method of a defibrillator. He held a lung up with his free hand, then grabbed the heart with his electrified hand. He gently squeezed. The heart jumped.
Nothing.
Squeeze.
Nothing.
Squeeze.
Nothing... Come on.
Squeeze.
Ba-Bump...
The heart jumped slightly before giving a weak beat. He let go.
Ba-Bump...
Ba-Bump...
Ba-Bump... Ba-Bump...
The Cybernetic heart started beating stronger, following a set rhythm. He quickly set the lung back to it's place. He grabbed the abdominal plate and sealed her chest cavity back again. Then came the bolts. He peeled the lip and quickly insert all the bolts. That should be it... He stepped back and waited, peering down at the Replika. Cortana materialized on his shoulder and summoned a few displays. Checking vitals.
"Heartbeat's strong. Internals are coming online..." He wasn't sure if coming 'online' is the proper term. "Brain activity... none."
He turned his head to meet her gaze. "Suggestions?"
"None... Anything that can possible help will simply be too risky, damaging. This is either a bust or a waiting game."
He stayed longer than he expected, arms crossed as he stood over her unmoving body. The quiet ticking of the monitors filled the space like background radiation, a constant reminder of something trying—but not quite succeeding—to live.
He hated waiting like this. Waiting gave his mind time to wander when he couldn't do anything else.
"Chief…" Cortana's voice was softer now. "You've done everything you could."
He said nothing. Just watched.
The minutes passed. Then an hour. No updates either. "John..."
"I'm still waiting." A second hour passes. His AI companion can only give him a sad look before disappearing back into his armor.
He finally turned away and walked. He grabbed a cutting torch and it's tank, carrying it as he left. Heading for the ship. He needed to get to that reactor and get rid of that leak. He needed to get some work done, because all that work... was for nothing.
...
{Diagnostics running...}
DU HAST ES VERSPROCHEN
Red eyes appeared in her 'vision'.
歸
She can feel a finger tap her temple.
AUFWACHEN
Her eyes glowed once more, it's blue intensifying and a laser like pupil coming into focus. Black fingers stiffly flexed, trying to move after an unknown time of no use. The only part that moved quickly re her eyes, taking in the her surroundings. What came immediately apparent is one thing. Not Penrose. Not familiar. She knew these walls weren't hers. The air didn't taste like the reactor's tang, didn't carry the thrum of the ship she was assigned to. And if that isn't the Penrose... Araine! Her upper-body shot up, but the sudden shift in weight made her slip off the edge and land on the hard, steel floor. She needed to find her!
Her palms slapped against the steel—loud, clumsy. She staggered to her feet, legs trembling beneath her like an infant learning how to walk again. The fact made even harder with hoofs for feet. A faint hiss escaped her lips, her chest rising too fast, too shallow.
Breathing. She was breathing again Alive.
That shouldn't be right. She died.
She reached up and grabbed the table' edge, using it to support her weight to stand. She glanced around, noticing a variety of tools surrounding her and a bucket full of blackened organs. Wait, were those hers? She tentatively reached up and palmed her red chest. Suddenly feeling unsettled. It wasn't the fact that someone may have rampaged inside her, but the unfamiliar equipment seemed like she was in the hands of someone unfamiliar with Replikas. Was she in the Eusan Empire's hands? But... how? And why revive her?
She slowly walked along the table, getting more familiar and confident in each step. Her hands grasped a scalpel stained red from a nearby tray. She shouldn't stay here. Compartmentalize.
Location is unknown, time is unknown, enemy presence is unknown, Araine's location... unknown. Main objective: Find Araine at all costs. Secondary Objectives: Get armed, determine enemy presence, and gather intelligence.
She approached the door, it's internal mechanisms as it opened. She flinched, shoulder pressing to the wall instinctively. No alarms. No clamoring of footsteps. Just silence. She peeked around the edge, making sure it was clear before stepping into the hall.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Just the hum of stale life support. This wasn't an Eusan facility. It wasn't anything she recognized both architectural-wise.
She passed an inactive terminal. It flickered briefly as she passed.
LOGIN: UNSC SYSTEMS ONLINE
ACCESS RESTRICTED
She cocked her head, her processing unit cataloging the unknown language. Though she can recognize that 'UNSC' was abbreviations for something.
She forced herself forward, following closely to the walls for cover. At least for as much as you can in hallway. It was eerie as she checked room by room, with no one being here in this place. She keeps walking, exploring, and sneaking at time passes and meters are covered. Whatever this place is, it's hug-
She stopped, her eyes widening as she came upon a window. Showing the expanse of space. She had thought that she was in a facility planet-side, but she's on a ship?! She already have traveled farther then the length of the Penrose in the past hour and the ship still hadn't ended. Not only that, this ship should undoubtedly have more floors.
Focus.
This was no Eusan ship. The design language was... boxy, utilitarian. Asymmetrical corridors, dull metal with faded hazard stripes, floor markings in alien fonts. UNSC. That name again. Foreign. But not hostile—at least not yet. It didn't feel like she was being imprisoned. There were no guards. No restraints. No cameras. Or maybe there were, but she wasn't important enough to watch.
Find a map. Find weapons. Find her.
She turned away from the viewport, scanning the walls for any sign of a schematic or access console. Something to tell her where she was—or where Araine might be. Every second that passed made the silence heavier, like it was pressing down on her from every bulkhead.
She passed a bulk storage bay, cracked open. No power inside. She stepped in anyway.
Inside were rows of sealed lockers. Civilian supplies? Military gear? She moved quietly, checking the tags. Most were blank, or locked. But one—near the end—was partially ajar. She pulled it open.
Inside hanged a uniform of an unknown organization, rations past their expiration date, and… a sidearm.
It was large. A weapon from whoever these UNSC were. Not elegant or slime like a Eusan issue. She pressed the mag-release and- They're huge. She looked at the fairly large rounds the filled the magazine, realizing it that it had enough power to blow apart nearly anything short of a gorilla raised on steroids. But it was loaded. The Replika pushed the magazine back in and chambered a round, checked the sights, and slid it into the holster that hanged on a locker hook. She wrapped a belt around her hips and placed it there.
Still no personnel. Still no signs of life. She turned and started heading for the doorway to get out of the dark room.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps. She hugged the wall, her grip tightened on the pistol. Listening intently. She can also make out the sounds of wheels rolling.
Far away. Echoing through metal halls. Slow. Heavy.
Measured.
She moved quickly now, leaving the locker room behind and slipping deeper into the vessel, trailing the direction of the footsteps—but not too close.
Someone was awake on this ghost ship.
And she was going to get answers.