Crew Break & Ops Room, Main Station
07:50 PM - Jan 14, 2534
—
Solan gathers everything he can pry loose from the gutted clinic. An exhausted focus he slips into when fear threatens to shake the tools out of his hands. He rummages through cabinets and supply drawers, pulling out polymer vials, folded nanogel packs, slender pressure-sealed syringes designed for one-hand deployment, and a brass-colored electrolyte conduit he can jury-rig into a stabilizer.
He lays everything out on a scorched metal counter, palms sweating despite the cold, and starts assembling the reaction rig. The hum of the power spool is thin and reedy, and the coils flicker with a ghost-blue shimmer. The air warms around the heating cradle until it smells metallic and sharply vegetal, like hot copper sitting beside crushed leaves. He can almost taste it at the back of his tongue.
It takes a long time. Longer than he wants to admit. Nearly an hour of that cramped, nerve-shredding quiet where every hiss from the condenser sounds exactly like a creature taking a breath behind him. Solan keeps checking over his shoulder, even though he knows the twins are keeping watch near the front of the clinic.
At last the liquid condenses into something usable. A dark, viscous concentrate that swirls with iridescence when he tilts the vial. It's enough. Barely.
He slips it into a padded chamber in his case, closes the magnetic clasp, and glances down at his salvaged chronometer. The analog display ticks past the mark where Kaius should have checked in.
He crosses the room toward Kade and Jessa, who are kneeling on the floor, sorting through limp stacks of trauma modules and fiber bandages. The two of them look half grown and half terrified, hands moving fast but eyes flicking repeatedly toward the dark hallway beyond the surgical wing.
Solan asks, stutter tugging at every word, "H-has he c-come back yet?"
Kade shakes his head immediately, pupils wide. "No, sir. Nothing. We haven't heard him at all."
A cold knot settles in Solan's gut, heavy as lead. The clinic is enormous, a maze of cracked tiles and ruined machinery. Easy to get lost in. Easier to get cornered in. And the third tiger has yet to show itself. That thought curls behind his ribs and stays there.
He seals the case. "I'm g-going to find him. Stay here. D-don't touch anything. Especially that." He nods to the distillation rig, still humming faintly.
Jessa swallows. "Be careful."
He steps into the shadowed hall, boot soles whispering across dust. "Hello? You find anything?" His voice gets swallowed by the emptiness. Only echoes answer him.
He passes the central junction box, its display dead. A faint smell of burned insulation clings to it like a bad memory. He moves through the maternity wing where cracked incubators sit like abandoned husks and the air carries the phantom bite of sterile cleanser. Finally he reaches the recovery rooms on the western edge of the main wing. One door hangs slightly open.
He pushes it with his fingertips.
The room is small, a single bed framed by overturned carts and shattered diagnostic panels. The bed itself looks untouched. A neat thermal blanket covers the figure lying on top of it.
Kaius.
He isn't bleeding. He isn't unconscious. He is sound asleep, breathing steadily like someone who has hit a wall far harder than he intended. His pulse-sling rests on the floor beside him, and his kinetic pistol is in his right hand, held loosely against his chest as though he simply forgot to set it down.
Kaius's eyes snap open. Fully alert in an instant. No fog, no hesitation. His arm comes up fast. The pistol is leveled at Solan's sternum before Solan even finishes breathing.
"Don't move," Kaius says. His voice is rough from sleep but steady. "Tell me the time. Did you finish the serum?"
Relief floods Solan first, warm enough to make his knees feel strange. Then comes the irritation, sharp and strangely comforting in its normalcy.
"Man, what the hell are you doing? I t-told you you needed to—" Solan goes still, hands rising a few inches. "I'm not a tiger. Lower the damned gun. And yes. It's finished. It's been finished for twenty minutes. I came looking for you b-because you d-ditched your post. I thought you were hurt."
Kaius exhales, a sound close to annoyance and bone-deep fatigue twisted together. He holsters the weapon, pushes upright, and drags a hand through his hair until it sticks up worse than before.
"Power's useless. The conduit to the geothermal plant is shredded. Looks like something hit it during the event. I couldn't restore anything even if I had a week. And for the record, I didn't abandon the post. I was setting up a contingency. Haven't slept since the explosion. My brain turns to soup after thirty hours. I needed to reset for ten minutes or I'd miss something stupid."
Solan stares at him a long moment, breath still uneven from the scare. "Ten minutes? You were out cold. I thought you were d-d-dead."
Kaius swings his legs off the bed and stands, wincing at the stiffness in his back. "I'm vertical, aren't I?"
The last of Solan's adrenaline shakes loose in an unsteady laugh. "Next time, t-tell someone."
Kaius studies him for a beat, an expression cracking through that isn't quite a smile. "Awe. You worry too much."
"I w-worry because you're reckless," he says, the stutter jumping out hard now that the adrenaline is wearing thin, "and you literally just p-p-pointed a sidearm at the only p-person who can fix your damn body."
Kaius swings his legs off the bed, elbows braced on his knees as he scrubs a hand over his face. "It wasn't pointed at you. It was pointed at whatever was coming through the door."
"It was me," Solan fires back, pacing across the room with the carrier half-zipped. "You can't p-p-pass out in random beds. We're in tiger territory. Tiger. Territory."
Kaius pushes himself to his feet and reaches for his holster, voice flat with sleep and irritation. "I wasn't passing out. I was resting. You call it collapsing like I'm some old man. And no tiger's getting in here."
Solan huffs, dragging a hand through his hair. "Let's just... let's get back to the lab."
They return to the Prep Area, the lights flickering overhead as if the building is breathing. Kade stands near the emergency counter, turning the serum case gently in his hands, wide-eyed and distracted. Jessa watches him, brow furrowed, ready to scold him but not quite brave enough to speak first.
Solan spots the slip in Kade's grip instantly. The carrier on his own chest shifts as he lunges forward. "Don't!" he snaps.
He catches the serum case just as Kade's fingers relax too much, pulling it safely away before the irreplaceable vial can rattle loose.
Kade jolts like he's been shocked. "S-sorry. I didn't— I wasn't—"
"I know," Solan says, breath sharp, voice still trembling at the edges. "I know you didn't mean to. But that's w-why we stay focused. One distraction, and we're screwed. All of us."
He tucks the case under his coat, securing it tight against his body. The twins exchange a look. Jessa guilty, Kade pale.
Solan pulls out his hand-scanner and sweeps it toward the bridge exit. The device vibrates softly and flashes a warning pulse across its screen. The reading makes his stomach tighten.
"Tiger," he says under his breath. "One point two klicks west, moving egress. Still alive. Still hunting."
Kaius steps closer, scanning the shadows as if he can see through them. "Any friends with it?"
"N-no. No other signatures between here and the station tracks." Solan tucks the scanner away. "Path is clear. For now."
He turns toward the door, pulse hammering in his throat.
"We go," he says, voice low but sure. "Right now. We cross the bridge, we get back to the others, and we finish this plan before that thing circles back."
They cross the bridge in a slow, braced line, each step measured, each breath too loud in the cavernous dark. The fog thins in patches, curling around the rails like pale fingers, and the wind keeps dropping in sharp, unpredictable pockets that make the frozen ballast shift under their boots. Kaius moves second in the formation, behind Solan, his gait steady but tight.
Every few steps he winces, breath clipping off as the pain in his arm spikes. He tries to hide it, but the stiffness in his shoulders gives him away. Kade hangs near his flank, jumpy and wide-eyed, hands gripping his pulse-sling like he's afraid it might vanish if he loosens his fingers even slightly.
Halfway across, they hear something in the fog. A soft scrape. Then a dragging shuffle that echoes under the bridge like a whisper rolling through metal bones.
Kade nearly climbs up Kaius's back. "D-did you hear that?"
Kaius bares his teeth, a breath that might be a laugh or a warning slipping out. "Stay behind me. If it moves again, don't run. Running gets you killed."
Solan lifts the scanner and sweeps the fog. The little device vibrates against his palm, picking up movement, then correcting itself, then stabilizing. "It's n-not a tiger," he whispers, though his voice cracks enough to undermine the reassurance. "It's debris. Or ice dropping from the struts. Keep going."
The noise fades, but the tension doesn't. They push forward until the steel lip of the platform finally appears through the haze, and the railcar materializes like a ghost. Dark, sealed, and still half-blocked by the dead tiger sprawled over the entrance.
Except the railcar is empty.
Solan's breath hitches. "Wh-why the hell... wh-why the hell would they leave? They were supposed to stay put. They were supposed to stay exactly here."
He drops to a knee, yanks out the scanner, and fires up a full-plate thermal sweep. The screen flickers violently, struggling against the cold interference, then resolves into a cluster of warm signatures deep inside the station.
"F-f-five adults, one small juvenile," he says, pulse pounding hard enough that he hears it in his ears. "Tovin's with them. They're three hundred meters in. Maintenance level, probably."
Kaius steps past him, surveying the shadows. "Show the route."
Solan shows it, and they move.
The station beyond the bridge is an echo chamber of old announcements, dripping condensation, and the faint groan of metal trying to remember what it felt like before the ice took over. Their footsteps sound too big, too exposed. At one point, something skitters across the rafters, and Kade jumps again, smacking Jessa in the face with his elbow. She hisses a curse and punches his shoulder, but stays close.
They reach the far-service corridor, and a thread of orange light leaks out from beneath a door marked Crew Break & Ops. Solan presses his hand to the metal and feels warmth. Not much, but enough to sting his palm after the freezing bridge.
They slip inside.
The room hits them like stepping into a memory of civilization. Warm light. Real warmth. Soft shadows dancing across the walls. Mariel stands at a salvaged counter, coaxing thin strips of nutrient paste over a modified chemical burner. One lamp glows above her, steady and warm, filling the cramped space with a dusky orange halo. Evin kneels beside Tovin, who looks less deathly pale under the heat. Rhea sorts through packs in the corner, muttering to herself. Thora sits against the far wall, cleaning her sling with the bored intensity of someone who's been waiting too long.
Solan's voice cracks the moment he steps through. "Wh-what happened? Wh-why'd you leave the railcar? You were supposed to wait for us."
Evin rises fast, relief and frustration crashing together on his face. "We couldn't stay there. Tovin was freezing, Solan. His lips were turning blue. The tiger body blocked the only exit, and the stench was getting into the insulation. We pushed it aside and made for higher ground. Found some residual power in here. Got the lamps running, got the burner going. It's dry. It's safe. It's warm. We did what we had to."
Mariel turns with a tired smile. "You're back. Thank God. Solan, sit. You're shaking. The food's almost done."
Solan shakes his head, words rushing past his exhaustion. "We... we can't stay here. Listen. On the bridge, I picked up something weird. I reran the atmosphere scans." His voice tightens. "The cold front—the one we thought was two weeks out—it's not. It's shifting fast. The pressure drop on the horizon is too steep. It'll be here in days. Three. Maybe four."
Rhea rubs a hand over her face. "That's not possible."
"It is," Solan insists, breath stuttering. "And the clinic—there's trapped energy in the capacitor banks. Enough for weeks of heat if we can redirect it. But we need to secure it, soon. We need walls and doors, not just this one room."
Kaius steps forward, his voice low, steady despite the pain dragging at every syllable. "This is why we don't sit on our asses. We take the serum, we build the trap, and we claim the clinic before the freeze hits." His eyes sweep the room, daring anyone to argue. "We get our shit together. We move."
Calyx's attention shoots straight to Solan's jacket, to the padded inner pocket where the serum sits like a beating heart. "If there's only one left, then the whole serum plan's pointless, isn't it? You said the formula was meant to disorient two at once so we could cross the lines. One tiger left means we don't need to squeeze past anything."
Mariel exhales hard enough that her shoulders slump. "Exactly. The pheromone plan is useless now. We stay put. We're sealed in. We've got warmth and food. We wait until it moves on or until we've got the strength to shift locations."
Kaius pushes off the wall, irritation flashing through his expression like a spark through dry tinder. "The serum isn't useless. It's still the sharpest damn blade we've got. Instead of hiding from it, we drag the bastard straight into a trap and take it off the board. We don't wait for it to sniff its way in here. We hunt it."
Evin throws both hands up, pacing in a quick circle before stopping directly in front of Kaius. "Hunt? With what? We're ten people. One is a sick child. We've got a pulse-sling with half a charge and a stun rod. That's not a hunting party. That's a funeral lineup. You're asking us to walk outside and die."
Jessa, who hardly ever speaks above a murmur, lifts her head, voice steady and edged with disbelief. "Evin's right. This is madness. We've got Tovin warm, we've got food, we've got the serum. We should conserve." Kade nods so quickly his curls bounce, his eyes flicking nervously between each adult.
Kaius's stare cuts across the room. "Conserve for what? Conserving gets you eaten. Conserving gets you cornered. You wanna keep this door shut and pretend the world isn't out there scratching its claws down the walls? We use the serum, we track it, we lure it, we neutralize it, and then we kill it. After that, this whole station is yours. No more predators. No more running."
Calyx steps forward, small but fierce, her fingers trembling just once before she clenches them. The guilt from earlier still sits heavy in her face, but her voice doesn't waver. "He's right. We can't hide forever, not with a storm coming in days. If we kill the last one, the whole station becomes ours. That's survival. I'm with Kaius."
Kaius glances at her, surprised for half a heartbeat before nodding. "Finally. Someone who understands the difference between living and waiting to die. And just so we're clear, once you've got this place locked down—and by you, I mean your family—I'm gone. I'll head out. Find a warm corner of this frozen hell that doesn't complain at me every five minutes. I'm not planning on sticking around."
Solan stiffens at that, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. "Y-y-you don't have to go," he says quietly, the tremor in his voice unmistakable.
Calyx jumps in, trying to bridge the widening crack. "Seriously. You don't have to leave. We were scared. Tired. Wrong. You saved us. Twice. That counts for something."
Kaius slices the air with one hand, shutting her down before she can build momentum. "I survive by avoiding complications. I survive by staying alone. I only got myself torn up because I made the mistake of giving a damn about you and your brother and your family. And the reward for that was being told I lead people into tiger dens so I could watch them die." His voice goes soft but loses none of its bite. "That's a toxic liability I don't need in my life."
Rhea spins toward him so fast her braid snaps against her shoulder. She jabs a finger at his chest, her voice sharp enough to cut through the stale heat. "That's stupid, and you know it. We were panicked. And you're still not telling us your name. You've been with us for hours, and we're still calling you stranger."
"I call him sexy stranger," Kade adds and Jessa glances over at him and shakes her head.
Rhea spins around on him so fast her braid snaps over her shoulder like a rope. "Then what's the new plan? Because we can't just keep vibing with death."
Kaius meets her glare with a flat, icy stare that doesn't even blink. "You don't need to know it. My name isn't the thing keeping you alive. My actions are. And right now, my action is to stop sitting here waiting for death to get curious."
Solan draws in a breath, clearly about to wedge himself between them with something soft and pleading, but a heavy hand drops onto his shoulder. He startles and looks up. Thora stands behind him, her massive frame stiff, her expression carved out of disapproval. She shakes her head once, small, sharp, final. Don't.
Thora steps forward until she's right beside Kaius. She lifts two fingers, taps her own chest, then points at the pulse-sling strapped to her hip. Her meaning hits like a hammer: You go, I go. Two weapons. No lone-hero shit.
Kaius studies her with that predator's calculation of his, but there's respect in it. "Not this time," he says, speaking low so it's almost private. "I scout. I'm faster. I'll find a perfect trap, something tight enough the last tiger can't slip. We use the pheromone serum to lure it in. You stay here. Keep your family breathing."
Thora's jaw flexes, but she doesn't fight him. She just breathes, slow and frustrated.
Kaius turns toward the door, already sinking back into his hunter-skin when Solan blurts out, "W-wait. If you're g-going t-to trap it, you'll n-need power. The, um— the power room. I-I-It's close. Two corridors down, p-past the collapsed bulkhead."
Kaius glances back at him, eyebrow raised like he didn't expect that many words at once.
Rhea crosses her arms, agitation radiating off her in waves. "Fine. Power room, serum, trap. Great. But how do we kill it once it shows up?"
Kaius tightens the straps across his chest. "I'll figure that out."
Evin lets out a loud, rough scoff. "You're suicidal. I'm not sacrificing my family for you and your twisted plan that's barely stitched together."
Kaius snaps his eyes toward him, cold slicing clean through the room. "I wouldn't have to stitch shit if you didn't walk your entire group straight into their ambush line."
Rhea throws a hand up. "That wasn't our fault! None of this is our fault. This whole frozen nightmare isn't our fault."
Kaius steps toward the center of the room, boots scraping on the icy tiles. "Are we doing this or not?"
Silence swells, tense, brittle, until Solan swallows and says, "W-we d-don't have a choice."
Kade throws an arm out like he's accepting applause. "Hey, at least if we die, we die doing something dramatic. I look fantastic in tragedy lighting."
Jessa elbows him hard. "We can't stay in one room forever. That's like... prison. If that was still a thing."
Kade blinks at her, baffled. "What's a prison?"
Mariel groans so deeply it sounds like her soul hurts. "Someone please just kill that fucking thing so we can go to the clinic."
Solan starts dividing tasks with his hands like he's arranging pieces on a mental board. "M-me and Thora will go to the p-power room. You and Kade—"
Kaius cuts him off with a shake of his head. "I can't protect him if we get jumped. But I can run. And I can make sure that thing chases me."
Solan steps closer, face tight with worry and a little anger. "W-why don't we j-just track it? We d-don't have to fight it. W-we can p-pick up its heat signature. Avoid it entirely."
Kaius gives a sharp, humorless laugh. "That's a gamble you don't want. One came for me. The other went after you and the twins when you hit the clinic. They hunt patterns. They hunt weakness."
Solan grips his scanner with both hands now, knuckles pale. "Y-you can't k-keep throwing yourself into danger."
Kaius smirks, a tired, crooked thing that looks carved into him. "It's cute you think it counts as throwing myself. This whole world is danger. Every day in this mess is dangerous. That doesn't change because you're afraid. And your fear's valid. Doesn't mean it changes reality."
Solan inhales shakily, runs the scanner across the corridor. A soft ping answers.
His shoulders sag in relief. "I-It's n-not close. Not even in the sector. W-we've got a window."
—