Rescue ship "Skif". Captain Manuel.
The guest cabin feels too narrow.
Too sterile.
As if someone built it not for living, but for dying.
White panels reflect dead light.
The air is humid, carrying the faint chemical scent of plastic.
Tala sits at the table.
There is no fear in her eyes—only focus, the kind a watchmaker wears.
Before her: a black box.
Not just a mechanism.
A ghost.
The ghost of Station Aspida.
A witness to catastrophe.
And maybe... a traitor.
What will you reveal when you're opened?
Who died? And who made the others die?
Tala brushes her hand across the sensors. Her fingers move precisely—almost like a ritual.
The system responds.
The autopsy begins.
And then—
BOOM.
An explosion—like a lightning strike.
Heat bursts through the cabin, devouring everything in its path.
A flash—brighter than the sun.
And then—
Silence.
Where Tala sat a second ago—
now there's only a scorched mark.
A shadow.
Ash.
Nothing.
**
Alarms scream across the bridge.
Red lights strobe like gunshots to the eyes.
"Fire!" Captain Manuel grips the railing, voice slicing through the chaos. "Guest cabins!"
"Tala!" Maria gasps, face pale. She bolts from her seat like a sprinter.
Corridors shudder. Lights flicker.
Smoke thickens the air like the fog of war.
She reaches the cabin—and freezes.
Empty.
No flames. Just scorched metal. And silence.
Death is still here.
Only invisible.
Maria drops to one knee and runs a sensor scan.
"No fire. Thermal signature… thermogrenade," she says, voice flat and final.
"And Tala?!" Manuel demands.
A beat.
Breath held.
Maria shakes her head.
"Nothing left. Not a trace."
For a few seconds, there's only vacuum.
No one dares to exhale.
"How tragic…" Manuel murmurs. "But this wasn't an accident."
"This was murder," Maria says coldly. "Someone planted that grenade. Sabotage."
"Lock the cabin. Black Ambush protocol. Everyone—to the bridge. Now."
**
Minutes later, the crew is assembled.
Tala's absence weighs like lead in the room.
The air is heavy.
Shuffling fabric. Humming consoles.
Eyes—wide, guarded.
"What triggered the alert?" Manuel asks.
He looks at no one. His face—a mask of suspicion.
But beneath it: What the hell happened?
"Where's Tala?!" Daniel erupts, voice slicing the tension.
"Sit down," the captain says grimly.
Julia holds her kitten tight.
The little one trembles, letting out a low, anxious purr.
"There was an explosion," Manuel says. "Tala was opening the black box. A thermogrenade detonated. There was no chance."
"Where's the box?!" Jamal barks.
"Unknown. The cabin is sealed. No one enters."
"That was no accident," Vikaar says, fists clenched. "It was deliberate. Calculated."
"We'll find out," Manuel nods. "I'm initiating the playback."
"You put cameras in the cabins?" Julia rises. Her voice holds sharp disapproval.
"Volunteers agreed. It was a security measure," the captain replies calmly.
The footage begins.
Tala, focused at her workstation.
The kitten—Charm—jumps in. She smiles, picks him up. Leaves.
Returns—alone.
Back to work.
And then—
A flash.
White light.
Silence.
Darkness.
The feed cuts.
"What was that?" Jamal whispers.
"We don't know yet," Pietro says, barely audible. "But it doesn't look like a standard explosion. Something's… off."
Julia hugs the kitten tighter.
"At least he's alive."
"Could she have triggered the grenade herself?" Alex ventures, unsure.
"She had no grenade," Vikaar snaps. "This was staged."
Silence.
The kind that chills.
Deep as a well.
"Enough." Manuel cuts the playback. "Investigation begins now. Maria—you're the lead. Protocol 'Analysis V.'"
Maria stands. Gestures with a firm hand.
"Understood. Everyone, follow me."
They file out.
Their footsteps echo the tragedy—fading into the depths of Skif.
**
Manuel remains alone.
He stares at the black screen.
There was life here—moments ago.
Now—only darkness.
And from that darkness, the question rises.
Who?
Why?
Why Tala?
He feels control slipping through his fingers.
Something has boarded Skif.
Someone.
Or worse—something.
The game has begun.
And he won't stop until the truth is dragged into the light.