"Scanning cargo manifest," the AI processed the order in milliseconds. "Warehouse 3: Empty. Warehouse 4: Depressurized. Galley: Critical contents. Emergency reserves: 15%."
Leo frowned. 15% was better than zero, but in space, any number below fifty was a countdown.
He headed toward the galley hatch, his magnetic boots echoing in the ship's funereal silence. Every step was a calculation. He didn't run. Moving fast spent ATP, and ATP was his most valuable currency now.
"Proximity alert," the AI's voice cut through his thoughts. There was no change in tone, but the ship's red lighting flickered once. "Radar contact detected in Sector 4. Distance: 50 meters from the outer hull."
Leo stopped dead. His hand instinctively went to the steel sphere in his pocket.
"Debris?" he asked, turning to the nearest panel.
"Negative. Non-inertial movement pattern. The object is correcting its trajectory. It is heading toward us."
Leo felt a prickle on the back of his neck. Something was moving out there, in the Earth's graveyard.
"Identification."
"Unknown. Energy signature does not match any registered human database from the Federation or the United Colonies era. Spectrum analysis suggests zero-resistance alloys."
"It's not human," Leo whispered, more to himself than to the machine.
Leo's eyes moved over the console. If it was an alien raider ship, he was dead. If it was an automated defense system, he was dead. But the AI had said "object," not "ship." Small size.
Tactical curiosity overcame the instinct for self-preservation. He needed to know what had destroyed this world if he wanted to survive in its ruins.
"Does it have active armament?" Leo asked.
"Thermal scan negative. Minimal radiation emission. Operational status: Unstable. It appears to be drifting, conserving only residual propulsion."
"An opportunity," Leo murmured. He thought of the 500 calories the simple sphere cost him. If he could get his hands on advanced technology, the System could break it down. Learn from it. "Bring it in."
"Sir?"
"Use the cargo traction fields. Draw it into the main airlock."
"The traction generator consumes vital ship resources. It will reduce life support autonomy by 4 hours."
Leo didn't hesitate. Four hours of air in exchange for valuable information. It was a profitable exchange.
"Do it."
A deep hum vibrated through the metal floor. Leo ran toward the airlock, ignoring his own rule of energy conservation. He pressed against the reinforced window of the outer hatch.
He saw it approach.
It didn't look like anything a human engineer had designed. There were no rivets, no seams, no rectangular solar panels. The object was a matte black teardrop, with a surface that seemed to absorb the light of distant stars. It had folded limbs underneath its belly, thin and segmented like an arachnid's legs.
It was beautiful in a stomach-turning way.
[OBJECT SECURED IN DECOMPRESSION CHAMBER] the ship system announced.
The airlock hissed, injecting atmosphere into the compartment. The green light came on over the inner door.
Leo opened it.
The "drone" floated in the center of the room, suspended in the airlock's minimal artificial gravity. Up close, the damage was evident. An ugly crack crossed its smooth side, bleeding a viscous, violet fluid that floated in perfect globules around it.
"It's organic technology..." Leo approached cautiously.
[ATOMIC MANIPULATION SYSTEM: ACTIVE]
His vision filled with data again. But this time, the text was not calm blue. It was amber.
[OBJECT: AUTONOMOUS RECONNAISSANCE UNIT - CLASS "WATCHER"]
[ORIGIN: EXOGENOUS // NON-TERRESTRIAL]
[STATUS: CRITICAL // LOGIC CORE DAMAGED]
[MATERIAL ANALYSIS: HIGH-DENSITY BIO-POLYMER, SYNTHETIC NEURAL NETWORK]
Leo reached out, brushing the cold surface of the drone. To the touch, it felt like hardened dead skin.
"Can you repair it?" Leo asked the air.
The answer appeared on his retina.
[OPTION DETECTED: TISSUE RECONSTRUCTION AND CORE REBOOT]
[ESTIMATED COST: 1,000 KCAL]
[WARNING: USER GLUCOSE RESERVES LOW. RISK OF SEVERE HYPOGLYCEMIA]
A thousand calories. Double the sphere. Leo clenched his jaw. If he did it, he would be on the verge of fainting. Vulnerable. But this object had eyes. It had seen things. And it had those arms... arms he could use.
"I have food in the galley," he reasoned. "I can recover. But I can't recover information from a dead planet without help."
Logic dictated action. Survival wasn't just eating and breathing; it was knowing where you stood in the food chain. And right now, Leo was at the bottom. He needed an advantage.
"Execute repair," he ordered.
The System roared.
This time, the pain wasn't a subtle emptiness. It was a physical blow, like a punch to the gut that buckled his knees. Leo gasped, his vision blurring for a second. He felt the heat abandoning his limbs, sucked toward the center of his chest to fuel the process.
A cold sweat instantly soaked his forehead.
In front of him, the drone convulsed. The crack in its side began to close, the black tissue weaving itself together with a repulsive speed. The violet fluid was reabsorbed. The segmented legs stretched, testing their joints.
A single red eye lit up in the center of the black teardrop.
"Second Class 5 anomaly registered," the AI notified, its tone oscillating between protocol and astonishment. "Exogenous tissue reconstruction confirmed. Agent, your energy levels have fallen to the critical zone. How are you doing this?"
Leo ignored the question. He didn't have the breath to explain thermodynamic miracles.
Leo leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. His hands were trembling. Hunger. A ravenous, primal hunger clawed at his insides.
"AI, take command of this unit," Leo ordered, his voice raspy with effort. "Connect."
"Initiating interface protocol," the ship's AI replied.
The drone reacted instantly. Its single eye, glowing an intense red, fixed on the ceiling sensors. Its limbs tensed and it emitted a guttural, digital sound, rejecting the invisible link.
"Access denied," the synthetic voice informed. "The target's biological firewall rejects the connection."
Leo pushed off the wall. He could barely stand, but his gaze didn't waver.
"Let her in," Leo said, directing his will toward the machine he had just resurrected.
The alien watcher turned its lens toward Leo. There was a second of hesitation where the red light flickered. Then, as if recognizing the authority of its creator, the crimson color dissolved, replaced by a soft, steady green.
"Connection established," the AI confirmed. "Control assimilated."
[NEURAL LINK: COMPLETED]
[NEW ASSET ADDED: WATCHER-01]
Leo sat on the floor, the sight of the drone floating in front of him.
"Analyzing video and image records recovered from the unit," the AI reported.
The drone chirped and projected a conical beam of light onto the floor.
It was a video.
Lines of static gave way to a high-resolution image. It was Earth, seen from low orbit. But the sky wasn't blue; it was filled with swarms. Millions of these teardrop-shaped ships descended like locusts on the cities.
He saw rays of violet light sweeping the surface. Instead of exploding, the buildings dissolved upon contact. They were harvesting. Trees, water, people... everything was broken down and absorbed by the immense, silent motherships waiting above.
It was an efficient and brutal harvest, very different from any concept of human warfare.
Leo watched the recording, his face illuminated by the glow of the massacre. He remained stoic, repressing any emotion while his mind, cold and analytical, archived the horror in a folder labeled "Threat."
"So that's what we are to them," Leo said, his voice hardened, ignoring the trembling of his hungry hands. "Crops."
The video cut out. The drone folded its limbs and floated toward Leo, waiting for orders, its metallic pincers softly clicking.
Leo looked at the drone's arms. Strong. Precise. Capable of getting where he couldn't.
"Good," Leo said, pushing himself off the wall to stand upright. "Show's over. Let's go to the galley. You're going to help me find every damned calorie left on this ship."
The drone beeped and followed him.