The sound of claws on glass echoed through the sealed med bay.
Kael stared at the shuttered pod, hands clenched at his sides. Something inside was still moving—tapping, scraping, testing its boundaries. The creature hadn't fully emerged, but the woman it had once been was gone. Her mouth had opened like a trapdoor, and now something else wore her shape.
Voss's voice crackled over the intercom. "Kael, talk to me. What are we dealing with?"
Kael didn't look away from the pod. "It's not out yet. But it's coming."
A low, warbling click filtered through the containment barrier. It didn't sound like speech. But it was trying.
"Juno, I need a coolant line into Pod 6. Now."
"You're going to freeze it?" she asked from the other side of the field.
"We don't have a better option."
Kael hit the emergency override. The pod's diagnostic screens glitched, useless, but thermal controls still responded. He dove into them.
"Patch," he said, "what's the window for lethal freeze?"
"To ensure full parasite necrosis: drop to minus 80 Celsius within 120 seconds. Pod structural failure projected after 150. Risk to occupant: total."
"She's already gone," Kael said. "We're not saving her. We're stopping what comes next."
Juno didn't argue. She arrived at the panel with a coil of coolant lines and an injector rig. Together, they bolted it to the intake valve. Patch rerouted reactor flow. The hiss of supercooled gas filled the med bay.
Inside the pod, the twitching surged—then stopped.
Kael watched frost web across the glass. A claw struck the interior once—twice—then froze mid-motion, outstretched and reaching.
"Temperature stable at minus 84," Patch confirmed. "Parasite neural activity: ceased. Motion: nil."
Kael held his breath a second longer. Then exhaled.
"One down."
⸻
Thirty minutes later, they gathered in the common room.
No one was pretending anymore.
Kael stood at the table, a schematic projected in front of him—Cryo 57, the medlab, and the shuttle outlined in blue and white.
"I said earlier we could merge the modules," he began. "I didn't mean docking. I meant physically fuse them. Permanently."
Voss frowned. "That's not standard procedure. Not even close."
"It wasn't supposed to be," Kael said. "Patch isn't just a nav AI. The shuttle's been upgraded. It can manipulate construction nanites—restructure hulls, integrate systems, rewrite physical boundaries. We already merged one module. We can do it again."
Renna leaned forward. "You're talking about turning the shuttle into a station."
"A mobile platform," Kael corrected. "One we control. One that can move, adapt, defend."
Juno shook her head, half in disbelief. "Since when does a shuttle have tech like this?"
Kael met her eyes. "Because this was never just a rescue mission. It was a contingency."
A long pause. No one spoke.
Kael stepped back from the table, voice low. "Patch ran a census when the local relays flickered back online. Total confirmed human life signs across known network sectors: one hundred ninety-six thousand, nine hundred sixty-three."
"That can't be right," Ivers muttered.
"It is," Kael said. "The last report—before everything went dark—listed 200,963. Four thousand confirmed dead since. No signal from Earth. Nothing from Mars in over eight years. The colonies are silent."
Voss looked like someone had punched the air from his lungs. Juno stared at the floor. Even Renna had gone pale.
"You're saying…" Voss started.
"I'm saying we're all that's left. This system. This crew. This shuttle. That's why Patch exists. Why it's allowed to adapt. Why it's more than it was built to be."
He pointed to the schematic. "We fuse Cryo 57 and the medlab into the shuttle. We make it a habitat—modular, expandable. We scan every pod before opening. Freeze them first if we have to. Quarantine protocols for everyone."
"And the medlab?" Juno asked quietly.
"If we can access the nanite templates, Patch can replicate them. Right now we only have construction types. But if we get the medical ones, we'll be able to detect infection earlier. Maybe even prevent gestation."
Patch's voice echoed from a speaker overhead. "Estimated probability of nanite recovery from medlab integration: seventy-two percent. Compatibility with onboard replication array: acceptable."
Kael looked around the room.
"This is our only shot. The parasites are spreading. The station's dying. The relay network's beyond reach—we're cut off, and we will be for good unless we act. Either we build something new, or we die waiting for help that isn't coming."
Another silence.
Then Ivers, voice rough: "I'm in."
Juno nodded. "We've seen what happens if we wait."
Renna, after a beat: "Screw it. Let's build ourselves a fortress."
Voss looked back at the sealed medbay doors. "Then we better start now. Before another one wakes up."
Kael nodded, jaw tight.
"Then let's begin."