The bridge of the "Odyssey" was quiet. The wild, happy celebration of a few days ago had faded, replaced by a tense, worried calm. With Ryan in a coma, the mood on the ship was like a household where a beloved parent was sick.
Everyone was doing their jobs, but the energy was gone. The bright spark of their victory felt like a distant memory.
Emma sat in the command chair, a position that felt too big and too empty without Ryan. She was trying to manage the fleet, coordinate with their allies, and plan their next move, all while a knot of worry was tied deep in her stomach.
Suddenly, a calm, polite chime echoed across the bridge. It was the signal for a priority-one incoming message. Every head on the bridge snapped up.
"Source?" Emma asked, her voice sharp.
The communications officer, a young man with wide, nervous eyes, stared at his console. "Ma'am… I… I don't know. It's coming from everywhere. And nowhere. It's… it's just here."
