The derelict ship creaked around you, its dim, flickering lights casting eerie shadows down the rusted hallways. The air smelled stale, like it hadn’t been disturbed in years. Hunter moved silently ahead of you, his senses on high alert. Echo had already interfaced with a terminal, pulling up schematics and files, while Tech analyzed the ship's systems and Wrecker brought up the rear.

Omega stayed behind on the Marauder for her safety—thank the stars for that. The ship felt like a graveyard. It was a graveyard. Bodies were scattered in various states of decay, slumped against walls and strewn across the floor.

"Got something," Echo’s voice cut through the quiet. You stepped over debris to get a better look at the terminal he had hooked into. The display flickered as files flashed on the screen—Imperial. Old, secret.

“Looks like they were working on something called Imperial Bioweapons Project I71A,” Echo reports, Tech’s brow furrowing as he scanned the intel.

“Bioweapons…” Hunter muttered, his jaw tightening. “Doesn’t sound good.”

Before anyone could say more, a faint, almost inaudible groan echoed through the hallway behind you. You exchanged a glance with Hunter, his sharp eyes narrowing. The sound was unmistakable—something, or someone, was down the hall.

Then it came again—a low, guttural moan that sounded less human than it should. Hunter signaled for silence as the team instinctively readied their weapons. You stepped closer to him, your pulse quickening. A figure appeared from the shadows at the end of the corridor, stumbling and slow. The dim light revealed its grotesque, decayed face, twisted in an expression of eternal hunger. Its eyes were clouded over, lifeless—yet it moved toward you with a chilling determination.

“A reg?” Wrecker asks nervously.

Hunter raised his blaster, his face hardened. “Not anymore.”

Just as the creature lunged, another moan sounded from farther down the hall—then another. This ship isn't as dead as you thought.

“Move!” Hunter barked, his voice sharp with urgency.