Nova looked up from her console, stealing herself. "Yes, ma'am." She pulled a sidearm from the bridge's locked emergency armory and followed Voss out.
As they hurried toward the lifts, the ship around them felt like a haunted house – lights flickering, alarms blaring faintly in distant sections where fires from stray bullets had triggered suppression systems. The air carried a metallic tang of blood and ozone.
Nova's hands trembled on her gun. "Captain, do you think we can even... stop him? He took bullets like they were nothing."
Voss's face was grim, a bruise on her cheek from earlier giving her a fiercely determined look. "Everyone can be stopped. He's still flesh and blood... at least partly."
They reached Deck 2 and stepped into a scene from a nightmare. The corridor was dim; several lights had been shot out. The door to the crew commons was open, and inside the room they could hear sobbing and a low, sing-song voice.
Voss motioned Nova to one side of the door while she took the other. She peeked around the frame and her heart clenched.
Inside, three crew members – ones who must have left their quarters, perhaps trying to reach somewhere safe together – were huddled against a wall. Two were injured, moaning softly. The third, a young man, lay sprawled in the center of the room, not moving.
Caleb was there. He crouched a few meters from the survivors, head cocked as if admiring his handiwork. In his hand glinted a bloodstained knife – probably retrieved or a new one from a kitchen drawer. He was humming to himself – the tune sounded like an old lullaby.
Voss took a deep breath and stepped into the doorway, gun leveled. "Caleb!" she barked, voice echoing. "It's over. Drop the weapon."
He went still, the humming stopping. Slowly he rose to his full height and turned to face her. In the half-light, his appearance was shocking – face smeared with blood, some his, some not; eyes dilated wide, almost all black; and that unsettling half-smile on his lips.
"Captain Voss," he said pleasantly, as if greeting an old friend. "So good of you to join us."
Nova moved in behind Voss, covering Caleb as well. Her stomach lurched seeing the carnage. She recognized the crew on the floor – one was Ensign Pritchard, who she'd had dinner with just last night. He wasn't moving.
Captain Voss stepped forward carefully. "Caleb, you've hurt so many. It needs to stop."
He twirled the knife with casual agility. "Hurt?" He glanced at the whimpering injured crew and gave a theatrical sigh. "I suppose. But only because they resisted. I never wanted to hurt anyone who didn't deserve it."
Nova couldn't hold her tongue. "Karl didn't deserve it. Kowalski, Dr. Zhang – none of them deserved anything!" Her voice cracked with anger and grief.
Caleb's dark eyes flickered to Nova. For a split second, something like recognition – a softness – crossed his face. "Nova," he said quietly. Then his head tilted as if listening to an inner voice, and the soft look evaporated. "Deserve? Maybe not. But they were... in our way."
Voss caught the pronoun. "Our way," she repeated. "Who is 'our', Caleb? Who else is with you?"
He let out a small laugh. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He began to circle slowly, forcing Voss and Nova to adjust and move away from the door, further into the room. The wounded crew whimpered as Caleb's boots nearly stepped on one of them. Nova wanted to help them, but she dared not take her aim off Caleb.
Voss kept pace with his circling. "We saw the logs. We know something from Halcyon infected you. Is it controlling you, Caleb? Fight it! You're stronger than it."
Caleb paused, eyebrows raising in amusement. "Infected? No, Captain. Joined. Upgraded. Enlightened. Pick your term." He spread his arms wide, as if embracing an invisible friend. "I was drowning in rage and fear, and it saved me. Gave me purpose. We're symbiotic now, you could say."
Nova's skin crawled at the eerily calm way he spoke. It was both Caleb's voice and not his voice.
Voss steadied her pistol with both hands. "This isn't you. The real Caleb Royce would never have done these things."
He smirked, a flash of the old cocky Caleb bleeding through. "The 'real' Caleb Royce? That angry, lovesick kid who everybody thought was a ticking time bomb? Maybe this was always me, Captain. Maybe Halcyon's gift just... freed me."
Nova's eyes darted. If she could get a clear shot... But he kept angling so one of the downed crew was near him, potentially in crossfire.
Sirens wailed faintly from somewhere distant – possibly Raines and Reed closing in.
Caleb heard it too. His grin faded. "Time's almost up," he said softly.
He moved with blistering speed – lunging not at Voss or Nova, but toward the injured crew on the floor. In one swift motion he yanked the nearest – a barely conscious woman – upright and pressed his knife to her throat. The woman shrieked weakly, eyes bulging.
"Stand down!" Caleb barked, but it was layered with that other tone, making it a monstrous hiss.
Nova and Voss froze, guns trained but unable to fire without risking the hostage.
Voss's mind raced. She needed to keep him talking until backup arrived. "Caleb, don't do this. You said you didn't want to hurt those who didn't resist. She can't resist at all. Let her go."
He looked at the terrified crew member as if noticing her for the first time. "Hmm. Perhaps you're right." He then flung her aside like a rag doll; she hit the floor and groaned, curling up.
Before Nova or Voss could react, Caleb dashed forward with inhuman speed and closed the gap to Captain Voss, swinging his knife.
Voss fired, but he knocked her aim wide and the bullet thudded into the wall. Nova squeezed her trigger too, but Caleb had already moved into Voss's space, using the Captain's body as cover. He slashed; Voss cried out as the blade scored her side, crimson staining her uniform.
Nova screamed, "Captain!" and in panic fired again. The shot grazed Caleb's arm. He snarled and kicked Voss's legs out from under her, sending the Captain crashing to the ground.
In that instant, Nova had a clear line. She didn't hesitate – she took the shot.
The crack of the pistol was deafening. Caleb jerked back, a dark blossom spreading center mass in his chest. Nova had hit true.
Caleb looked down at the wound, almost confused. Then his eyes lifted to Nova's, and for one heartbeat, she saw Caleb – just Caleb – a flicker of sorrow or gratitude, she wasn't sure.
Then his expression blanked and he charged at her with a ragged roar.
Nova screamed and fired again and again. Two of the bullets hit – one in his shoulder, one in his gut – but he barreled into her with the momentum of a bull. They both went down, Caleb's hands around her throat, squeezing.
Nova's world narrowed to the black void of his eyes above her. She felt her windpipe crush inwards, no air, spots dancing in her vision. She still had her pistol in hand – she pressed it against his side and pulled the trigger. Click. Out of ammo.
Her strength was fading; she clawed at his fingers but they were like iron.
Suddenly, Caleb's grip loosened. He twitched, then arched backward as a burst of gunfire from the doorway stitched across his back. Lieutenant Commander Raines stood there, bloody and furious, emptying the last rounds of her rifle into Caleb.
Caleb collapsed off Nova, rolling onto his back on the floor. He gasped, wet red spittle on his lips. Nova sucked in air, coughing, tears streaming.
Raines rushed in, kicking away Caleb's dropped knife. Captain Voss pulled herself to her feet, clutching her bleeding side.
Caleb was riddled with wounds now, a pooling of blood beneath him. Amazingly, he still moved, fingers twitching as if trying to reach for something. His eyes, once so dark, were flickering faintly, the man and the monster both ebbing.
Voss stood over him, gun trained. Raines did the same.
Caleb's lips moved. Nova knelt beside him, heedless of the danger, compelled by the last vestige of loyalty to her friend. "Caleb?" she whispered.
His eyes found Nova's. In them, for just a moment, she saw fear. His lips trembled, and in a very small, broken voice, he said, "...I'm sorry..."
Nova's heart cracked. She reached to touch his hand.
But then his body spasmed. His face contorted, and a new voice – a dreadful, layered voice that bubbled up from his throat – gurgled out: "Not... finished... yet..."
With a sudden jolt, Caleb's body surged upright, an arm snapping out to grab Nova by the neck once more. Nova shrieked in surprise and terror.
Raines fired point blank into Caleb's head. Captain Voss did the same.
The gunshots rang in Nova's ears as Caleb's head snapped back, a spray of blood misting the air. His grip went slack and he collapsed backwards, finally, mercifully, still.
Silence fell, broken only by Nova's sobs as she crawled away from his corpse and into Voss's arms. The Captain held her, eyes closed tightly as the adrenaline of the battle drained and the pain of her knife wound set in.
Raines kicked Caleb's body once to ensure no reaction. It lay motionless, eyes staring at nothing.
"It's over," Raines painted, as much to convince herself as the others. "He's done."
Captain Voss, breathing hard, nodded slowly. "Call... call for medical teams to tend the wounded," she managed, pressing her hand to her bleeding side.
Nova could not stop crying. In Caleb's final moment, she knew she had seen him return – the apology was him. And then that thing had reasserted itself. But now Caleb was gone, truly gone.
Raines stepped out to radio for assistance, leaving Voss and Nova amid the carnage of the commons. The surviving injured crew members were sobbing or unconscious. The red lights flashed, a dismal strobe on the scene of death.
Captain Voss gently pulled Nova to her feet. Nova wiped her face, smearing tears and blood. She looked down at Caleb's ruined body and choked back a wail.
Voss placed a trembling hand on Nova's cheek. "You stopped him," she said softly. "You saved lives."
Nova shook her head, voice hitching. "He saved me once, on a mission... I never wanted... not like this..."
"I know," Voss whispered, pulling Nova into a brief embrace despite the flare of pain in her side. "None of this should have been like this."
Within minutes, Reed arrived, limping and bruised but alive, with other crew in tow to secure the scene and treat the wounded. He took in Caleb's body, the devastation, and closed his eyes in sorrow. There would be time for reports and blame later. For now, survival was enough.
As medics tended to Captain Voss's slash wound and Nova's bruised throat, a hush fell among the remaining crew on Deck 2. Some stared at Caleb in morbid fascination, others with pity or anger. They had slain the monster in their midst – a comrade turned killer – but the victory felt as bitter as defeat.
Nova allowed herself to be guided away by a medic. She looked back one last time at Caleb's lifeless form. In her mind, he was laughing at a joke in the mess hall two weeks ago, full of life. She wiped away fresh tears. Goodbye, Caleb.
Captain Voss stood despite protests until she was sure all threats were neutralized and orders given. Only then did she relent and sag onto a stretcher to be taken to medbay, her eyes scanning the ceiling.
Somewhere above, the fluorescent lights flickered. In that moment, Voss felt an irrational certainty that something still watched from the shadows – but maybe it was only her imagination, scarred by trauma.
She closed her eyes and whispered a silent promise: No more. No more would she allow her crew to suffer like this. But even as she thought it, a cold doubt took root in her mind – had they truly vanquished the evil, or just its pawn?
She could not yet know the answer.