The journey to Hydroponics Sector Theta felt different. Before, the ship was a tomb, a place of silent, static death. Now, with the thrum of power back in the walls, it felt… watchful. Every shadow seemed to hold potential movement. The anomalous reading was a pebble dropped into the still pond of his isolation, and the ripples were spreading.
Mother guided him through the re-energized transport system. The mag-lev trains were operational, their silent, swift movement a jarring contrast to his earlier arduous climb. He sat alone in a carriage designed for hundreds, watching the deck numbers flash by.
He was armed now. From the security locker next to the reactor control center, he had taken a standard-issue pulse pistol. The weight of it on his hip was unfamiliar, a grim necessity.
Sector Theta was one of the smaller agricultural zones, designed for experimental flora from the target planet. As the doors to the sector hissed open, a wave of humid, thick air washed over him, carrying a smell he hadn't encountered in 35,000 years: the scent of living greenery, but undercut with something else—a cloying, sweet rot.
The sector was a jungle. The emergency lighting had failed long ago, but the artificial sunlamps high above, now flickering back to life, cast a hazy, orange glow. The plants had not just survived; they had run wild. Vines thick as his arm choked the walkways, bursting through grates and climbing the walls. Strange, bioluminescent fungi dotted the shadows, pulsing with a soft, eerie light.
This was not the orderly farm it was meant to be. This was a feral, uncontrolled ecosystem.
"The anomalous readings are originating from the central cultivation area, approximately two hundred meters ahead," Mother informed him.
Kaelen drew his pistol, the hum of its power cell a small comfort. He pushed his way through the dense foliage, the leaves slick with moisture. The air was alive with the drip-drip of water and the rustle of… something. He tried to tell himself it was just the environment settling, the plants moving in artificial breezes from the reactivated air circulators.
He reached a clearing where the main nutrient tanks were located. The tanks were shattered, their contents long since spilled onto the floor, creating a bog of rich, black soil. And in the center of this bog, something grew.
It wasn't a plant from the Elysian's logs. It was a grotesque, pulsating tree-like structure, its bark a slick, obsidian black. Instead of leaves, it had long, tendril-like fronds that swayed gently, though there was no wind. At the base of its trunk, the soil glowed with the same faint, organic energy Mother had detected. Wrapped around the tree's roots were shreds of material—the remains of a standard-issue jumpsuit.
And caught in the tendrils, about ten feet up, was a skeletal figure.
Kaelen approached slowly, his pistol raised. The skeleton was picked clean. Its posture was one of agony, one arm outstretched, fingers bent into claws. This was no peaceful death.
"Biometric scan confirms this is Ensign Liam Chen, a botany technician assigned to this sector," Mother said. "His last log entry indicates he was assigned to stabilize the sample specimens after the anomaly."
"What happened to him? What is this… thing?"
"The plant does not match any species in the Elysian's database. It appears to be a mutated hybrid, possibly a cross between a designated sample, Specimen 734 'Xylophage,' and terrestrial plant life. It is exhibiting characteristics of a carnivorous flora, likely sustained by… organic material."
Kaelen felt a wave of nausea. Ensign Chen hadn't just starved. He had been trapped. Consumed. The tree had been growing here, in the dark, for millennia, fed by the death that surrounded it.
As he watched, one of the glowing tendrils slowly uncurled and reached towards him, moving with a sinister, deliberate grace. It was sensing him.
He backed away quickly. "Mother, is this the only one?"
"Scanning the sector… negative. I am detecting seventeen similar energy signatures of varying sizes throughout Hydroponics Theta. And… there are more."
The holographic map of the ship appeared in his vision. Dozens of small, pulsing red dots appeared, scattered like a rash across the lower decks. In hydroponics bays, in water reclamation plants, even in some of the larger waste processing units.
"It appears the biological contamination is not isolated. The initial samples, without containment, have adapted and spread. They have become a self-sustaining subsystem within the Elysian's ecosystem."
The horror of his situation deepened. The ship wasn't just dead; it was infected. It was being consumed from the inside by a alien cancer that had grown in the darkness.
A sudden crash came from the foliage to his left. Kaelen spun, pistol aimed. The rustling was louder this time, more than just a plant. Something was moving. Something big.
He saw a shadow detach itself from the deeper darkness under the canopy. It was low to the ground, moving with a skittering, insectoid gait. It was covered in what looked like chitinous plates, and it had too many legs. It paused, and he saw a cluster of glowing green eyes regard him for a moment before it vanished back into the jungle.
He didn't fire. His heart was in his throat. He stood frozen, listening to the skittering fade away.
"Mother," he whispered. "What was that?"
"Visual analysis inconclusive. It appears to be a fauna specimen, possibly also mutated from the original planetary samples. The ecosystem has… evolved."
He wasn't just sharing the ship with ghosts and killer plants. There were animals. Predators.
The Elysian was no longer his ship. It was their world. And he was an intruder.