Midnight — Old Firefly Vault
The room smelled like dust, solder, and memory.
Zane sat cross-legged on the cold floor, back against the rusted metal wall where the Firefly insignia had long since flaked away. In the low light of a dying generator bulb, he unrolled the battered schematic he'd found some days ago—half blueprints, half scrawl.
It wasn't the build plan that held his attention, though.
It was the handwriting.
Sharp. Exact. Cold.
His.
But… not his.
His hand trembled as he traced the equations along the margin—viral bonding coefficients, neurological loop maps, cross-modulation triggers. These weren't survivor's notes. These were scientist's notes.
Madman's notes.
From the body he now lived in.
"Restructure vector 13. Memory feedback too rapid. Subjects burning out by week three."
"Test 9 shows reactive empathy spikes. Possibly controllable. Consider sedation."
"If she finds them… she'll know."
The last line repeated three times. Then scratched out. Then rewritten.
Zane closed his eyes.
[Memory Fragment Unlocked: Experimental Log 45-A]
[Audio Imprint Detected — Play?]
"…No," Zane muttered aloud.
The voice still came.
"Subject Nine is proving stable under light pressure. She's adapting faster than the others. But there's… something wrong. She remembers things I never programmed. Things I can't trace."
"Either someone tampered with the imprint—or I left myself a ghost I don't remember."
"I need to speak with Ellie."
The feed ended.
Zane's hands curled into fists. Nails pressing into his palms.
Ellie.
Why did her name cut so deep? Why did his chest feel like it collapsed inward every time he heard it?
He didn't remember her. Not truly. He knew her from his last life, the games and the show. But this was different, more real.
And it hurt.
1:00 AM — Perimeter Wall
The wind was sharp and dry. Dust kicked off the ridge, scattering into the night.
Zane stood atop the wall, watching nothing.
Below, Sierra slept near the girl—Nine—twitching occasionally. Ava was still patrolling. Benji had dozed off hours ago in the comms shed, radio whispering quietly.
And Zane?
He couldn't sleep.
He hadn't slept good in days.
Not really.
Not since that other voice started murmuring under the System's clean interface. Not since he had that dream—or memory—of a lab burning, and a child screaming, and his hands covered in surgical gloves.
Covered in blood.
He rubbed his temples. Eyes shut.
[Cognitive Drift Detected.]
[Warning: Host Synch Degrading.]
[Select Anchor: MISSION
– BASE – SURVIVAL – ELLIE – ???]
The System pulsed.
He tried to select BASE.
It slid away.
Like it was alive.
Mocking him.
[Anchor Override: Initiated.]
[Selected Anchor: ELLIE.]
"No," he said out loud. "That's not—"
But the flood came anyway.
A vision. Hallways lined with IV bags and reinforced doors. Faces blurred by time. A girl—no, a teenager—holding a switchblade and fury in her eyes. His name on her lips, spat like poison.
A gun.
A choice.
Regret.
He gasped and fell to one knee, breath ripped from him like a lung had collapsed.
When the wave passed, he was shaking.
His voice came out a whisper.
"…What did I do?"
Later — Back Storage Room
Zane lit a single candle. No flashlight. He didn't want to see it all too clearly.
He'd hidden this room from the others. Not intentionally. Just… hadn't felt like they should know yet.
Inside were remnants from before he'd awakened in this body. Like the schematic, how they came to be here he didn't know. Sometimes it feeld like everything was nicely placed here for him.
Documents. Logs. A test tube with dried fluid at the bottom, sealed and marked: "Cordyceps-H Variant. RX Phase."
And a small holotape recorder.
He hadn't dared touch it yet.
Tonight, he did.
The voice was his.
But colder.
"She said I couldn't be saved. Maybe she was right. But I can make sure no one else gets twisted by this virus. Not like this. Not the way we planned."
"If you're hearing this, Zane… then it worked. The fracture held."
"You're what's left of me that still cares."
Silence.
Then:
"Just… don't let them turn you into what I became."
"And if you see her…"
"Tell Ellie I'm sorry."
The tape clicked off.
Zane sat in that silence for a long time. Longer than he realized, starring at the tape.
He didn't know what scared him more.
The fact that he used to be a monster—
—or the fear that the monster was still inside.
Dawn — Training Yard
The sun hadn't yet breached the mountain lip. Cold clung to the air like a second skin.
Zane stood in the training yard, shirt off, breath steaming. He moved through slow routines—knife strikes, grappling pivots, stances old muscle remembered better than he did.
Across from him, Nine watched.
Not speaking. Just observing.
"You look like him, though you seem more alive, if that makes sense" she said.
Zane didn't stop moving. "Who?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know his name. But when I was still… there… they showed us footage. Sometimes. Of a man in a lab coat. Talking about the future."
Zane's hand slowed.
Nine tilted her head. "You look like him, you even have the same voice. But it's impossible, that was almost 20 years ago. You don't look older than 30."
He finished the set. Turned to her. "Do you trust me?"
Nine blinked. "I don't even trust myself, with all those voices and visions in my head. "
"Smart answer."
He handed her a wooden training knife.
"You'll learn."
Nine took it with a soft breath.
And for the first time since they found her—she smiled.
It wasn't a real smile. Not yet.
But it was something.
System Fragment Log –
[Echo/Soul Core Stable at 38%]
[Awakened Memory Fragments: 5%]
[Host Morality Divergence Detected]
[System Override Authority: Unknown]
[Projected Outcome Pathways: 71% Compromised]