The Odyssey's warning klaxons pulsed red across the control room, painting the crew in stuttering light.
Marquez's voice was tight. "Movement confirmed. Five… no, six figures. Range: two hundred meters."
Okafor leaned closer to the monitor, whispering, "They're not walking. They're… flowing."
The shadows on the screen rippled unnaturally, stretching and folding against the Martian wind. Their limbs bent wrong, their outlines too fluid to be human. Yet they moved with purpose—straight toward the ship.
---
Trapped in the Hull
Hayes paced in front of the viewport, helmet clutched under his arm. "No one leaves this ship. We lock it down, finish the repairs, and wait them out."
"Wait them out?" Okafor snapped. "Those things don't look like they get tired!"
Daniel stood apart, hand pressed against his chest. The crystal burned hotter with every second, sending tremors through his veins. Panels above him flickered on and off in rhythm with the pulse, as if the ship itself were breathing through him.
Marquez slammed a hand on the console. "Whatever that thing is inside you, kid, it's tied to them. The ship keeps glitching every time you flare up."
Daniel's voice was low, almost ashamed. "I can't control it."
---
Signs Inside
Suddenly, the interior lights cut out. For an instant, only the red emergency glow remained. Then, in the darkness, faint sigils appeared across the walls—etched in light, the same markings from the Martian soil outside.
Okafor stumbled back. "Tell me we're not hallucinating."
Hayes barked, "Marquez, kill the feed. Now!"
But Marquez shook his head. "This isn't from the ship's system. It's coming from inside the hull."
Daniel's knees buckled. The crystal was no longer humming—it was chanting, its rhythm echoing the shadows closing in outside.
---
The Encroaching Silence
Then, without warning, the sensors went dead. The screen showed only static.
Marquez whispered, "They've cut our eyes."
Outside, the thrum of the Martian wind fell silent, as though the entire planet had inhaled and was holding its breath.
Hayes snapped his helmet on, voice firm despite the tension. "If they want us, they'll have to drag us out."
Daniel looked to the viewport one last time, catching a glimpse before the dust swallowed it: six shadowed forms, now at the very edge of the landing struts.
The Odyssey was no longer alone.