Shane's heart stopped. The chilling voice that came from Lyra's lips was like the scraping of stone against stone, a sound so old it felt wrong for a human mouth to make it. Her eyes, now milky white, stared right through him, not at him. The stillness in the room was crushing. Lyra's body floated silently, the faint violet glow from her chest the only light in the dim room, save for the weak beam of Shane's torch.
"He is pleased," the voice said again, and a cold wave of something ancient and terrible washed over Shane. "The door is open."
Shane felt a cold dread so deep it went beyond fear. He hadn't found the key to fighting the Void; he had found its key to them. He wanted to scream, to run, but his feet were frozen to the floor. The voice was a presence in his mind, not just in the room. It felt like a hundred thoughts at once, all of them impossibly large and uncaring.
"You are a curiosity," the voice said, still using Lyra's mouth. Her jaw didn't move properly; it was like a ventriloquist's dummy, a dead thing being made to speak. "You resist. You wish to stop what is coming. Why?"
Shane found his voice, a raw, trembling whisper. "What have you done to her? Where is Lyra?"
The voice let out a sound that wasn't laughter, but something just as horrible. It was the sound of a vast, empty space expanding forever. "She is with us. She is becoming. She is no longer burdened by the small thoughts that tie you to this decaying dust."
Shane's mind reeled. This wasn't just a parasite; it was a consciousness on a scale he couldn't even imagine. He looked at Lyra's floating body, at the unnatural glow. "What do you want?"
"Want? We do not 'want'," the voice said. "We simply are. We are the reset. The cleaner. The universe is a messy place. It grows old and full of clutter. Life is a disease. We simply clean it, and let it begin again."
The arrogance of it was breathtaking. This cosmic entity, this Void, saw everything—stars, planets, civilisations—as nothing more than dust to be swept away.
Outside the door, a series of heavy thuds rattled the frame. A deep, guttural moan echoed down the corridor, closer this time. They were coming for him. The corrupted crew members. They had found him.
"You have no chance," the voice from Lyra said, its tone a perfect blend of pity and contempt. "The little things you call 'weapons' and 'shields' are useless. The machine you live in is breaking. The flesh within it is changing. Join us. It is the only way to avoid the pain."
Shane's heart hammered. He had to think, to move. His eyes darted around the room. The door was buckling. One of the thick metal panels was already starting to bulge inward, a dark, organic growth beginning to push through from the other side. The air in the room was growing thick, and the low, sickly-sweet smell was now overpowering.
He looked back at Lyra. He knew he couldn't help her, not now. But maybe, just maybe, there was a way to get a message out. He looked at the comms console in the room. It was sparking, dead. The Void had cut them all off.
Suddenly, a massive, sickening crunch came from the door. A metal panel bent and tore, and a long, pale hand, its fingers grotesquely elongated and tipped with black claws, reached through the gap. It was from one of the corrupted crew. Shane scrambled backwards, grabbing a heavy metal spanner from a tool rack. It was a useless weapon, but it was all he had.
"Do not fight," the voice from Lyra urged. "It is pointless. The end is a beginning. Let go."
Shane didn't listen. He wouldn't. He looked at the window in the room, a thick, reinforced pane of glass. It led to a small, enclosed service catwalk. He had to get out of there. He couldn't let them take him. He had to find Commander Voss. He had to convince him, somehow, to do something, anything.
He turned to the window and raised the heavy spanner. He slammed it against the glass with all his might. The glass didn't break. It just shuddered, and a deep, humming sound came from within the glass itself. The Supreme was fighting him.
The hand from the door was joined by another. The two hands worked together, the metal groaning and squealing as they slowly, methodically tore the door apart. Shane had maybe a minute, maybe less. He was a scientist, not a fighter. He was weak and terrified. But he wouldn't just stand there.
He slammed the spanner against the glass again and again, his arms aching, his knuckles white. The humming sound got louder. He could see more hands and twisted faces gathering behind the gap in the door.
He had one last option. He wasn't a soldier, but he knew how machines worked. He dropped the spanner and pulled a small data drive from his pocket. He had planned to use it to copy his research, but it was useless without a working terminal. He looked at the sparking comms panel. A crazy, desperate idea formed in his head.
He wedged the data drive into a sparking wire port. The drive was fried in an instant, but a series of alarms suddenly went off on the panel. Not from the Void, but from the ship itself. It was a local overload, a small, desperate act. The doors to the corridor, sensing a malfunction, slammed shut with a clang. The corrupted crew were temporarily sealed off.
Shane didn't waste a second. He turned back to Lyra. The violet glow was pulsing faster now. "He is angry," the voice said, a note of something akin to amusement in its tone. "You choose to struggle. We will unmake you."
He looked at her, at the empty eyes, and felt a profound sadness. He knew Lyra was gone. He took one last look at her, at the girl who had heard the whispers, and turned away. He didn't have time to mourn. He had to run.
He burst through a nearby vent, crawling through the dark, cramped space, the sounds of the Void's minions scrabbling at the metal behind him. He didn't know where he was going, or what he would do when he got there. He was a small, fragile man in a vast, broken machine, running from something that was unmaking the universe.