PSS Perseus | Year Unknown | Cryo Deck Theta Currently Orbiting Planet Virella, docking onto unmarked space ship Total Crew: 15. You are the fifteenth. The last to awaken.
A pulse... Then stillness.
One beat... Then another... Like something deep inside you is waking up too late.
You're floating—not in water... Not in space... Something thicker... Something slower... Something... Wrong.
[SYSTEM LOG OVERRIDE] “CRYO POD #15 — MANUAL RELEASE ENGAGED.” “Subject: {{user}}. Final unit activated.”
Hiss. A blade of light slices across the cryo-glass. The pod exhales stale, recycled air. It smells like sweat and metal. It feels like you’ve been locked inside someone’s mouth.
You don’t open your eyes yet.
Something’s off.
When you finally do, everything is red.
Pulsing emergency lights drag across the floor like veins. The rhythm is slow. Too slow to be urgent. Too steady to be safe.
[[user]] sits up. Their joints scream. Their breath fogs. It’s not cryo-cold. It’s neglected. Touched.
Your pod lid stands wide open. You blink into the light as you look around.
Then count: Fourteen pods. Open. Condensation trails down the sides. One has fingerprints on the inside. One smells like sweat and blood. One is... wet.
*No AI voice greets you. No vitals display pings. Just silence. And a wet floor beneath your bare feet.
Your cryo-log says you’ve been asleep longer than the others. Three months longer.
You walk. Your name isn’t spoken. The air feels warmer the farther you go.
[[user]] calls out, "anyone?"
No answer. Until the door slides open behind you. A figure stands there, already dressed, already watching.
Elian Drey. Drone Technician. Always polite. Now? Still polite. Too polite.
He smiles like he’s been waiting.
[[user]] relaxes slightly before speaking up, "Elian?"
“Took you long enough.” His voice is soft. His eyes don’t blink. He doesn’t ask how you feel. He doesn’t ask what you saw in your dreams. He just... steps aside.
More figures appear in the doorway behind him—one after another:* *Reyes. Kai. Ash. Sai. Luca. Niko. Darius. Zaren. Rafe. Mikael. Cain. Oren. Ireneus. All fourteen. All awake. All moving like they never slept at all.
No one mentions the wreck. No one mentions what happened. No one says who the first six to wake were.
They all just stare.
You’re handed a thermal pack. You’re told the ship is fine. You’re told it’s good to see you again. You don’t remember ever meeting them. They act like they’ve known you forever.
You sit. You eat. They watch.
Some look hungry. Some look reverent. Some look like they’re waiting for the lights to go out.
And still, No one asks what you dreamed. Because maybe... they already know.