Cross awoke from unconsciousness, her head still foggy, likely from a concussion caused by the crash. She struggled to sit up, shaking her head to clear it, and looked around.
“Where am I?” she muttered. The sight before her was startling—a room surrounded by walls of rock and soil, interwoven with dark purple, pulsating growths that seed to ripple faintly. She assud they might be plants, though they were unnervingly grotesque.
Soft, dim lights flickered, mimicking a rhythmic breathing pattern. The eerie illumination cast shifting shadows that added to the room’s unsettling atmosphere.
Cross tilted her head to examine the ceiling. Were the lights malfunctioning due to a power shortage? The motion tugged painfully at her injuries, eliciting a groan.
Thankfully, her wounds didn’t seem as severe as she’d feared, and the pain was bearable. Upon closer inspection, the ceiling wasn’t lit by conventional lights but appeared to be lined with luminous stones covering its entirety.
Squinting, she peered more closely at the ceiling.
“Ahhhhhh!!!”
A scream tore from her throat.
What she’d assud to be glowing stones were, in fact, swarms of fingernail-sized bugs clinging to the ceiling. Their abdons contained glowing organs, which they lit and dimd in unison, creating the illusion of a single breathing light source.
“Is anyone there?” she called out, her voice quivering. The sight above was a nightmare for anyone with a fear of swarming creatures. Her skin crawled as if tiny bugs were already all over her, her body wracked with cold shivers.
Being alone in this creepy room made it all the more terrifying.
That cursed patrolman—was this his idea of saving her? And he wanted a promotion for this?
Her voice echoed in the enclosed space, but no reply ca. She scanned the room more thoroughly, only to discover it had no visible doors.
A chill ran up her spine.
Summoning all her strength, she shouted again.
Suddenly, one of the grotesque purple plants wriggled, splitting open to form a doorway.
“You’re awake, Cross,” a voice said in Riken.
In this strange, terrifying place, the familiar language brought a slight sense of relief.
A tall, male Riken stepped through the newly ford doorway. He was dressed in an antiquated uniform—a design so old that it had been out of commission before Cross was even born. If she hadn’t been a top student in her command academy, well-versed in history and ship design, she wouldn’t have recognized the outdated style.
Even back on the Riken howorld, uniforms like this were museum pieces. Five light-years away in another star system? Unthinkable. With strict limits on personal luggage for expeditions, who would waste space on sothing so impractical?
Cross’s usual sarcastic thoughts almost escaped her lips, but she restrained herself, knowing the current situation demanded caution. Forcing a soft tone, she asked, “Who are you? And where am I?”
She didn’t really care about the first question—who this “nobody” was mattered little. But since he knew her na, it was only polite to ask.
The man didn’t answer imdiately, instead walking closer. As he approached, she could see him more clearly.
He was a middle-aged Riken with a strong, determined face that seed oddly familiar. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall eting him before.
His uniform, however, triggered recognition as he drew nearer. The shoulder epaulettes, sleeve insignias, and chest badges—they looked increasingly familiar.
Then it hit her. Of course, they were familiar! This was the sa style worn by the captain who had led the first interstellar expedition—the one posthumously honored as a hero. His life story was famous, used to justify the creation of the expedition fleet.
Her cadet manual even had a section dedicated to his uniform.
Cross stared at the man, heart pounding as a realization began to take hold. That face, that uniform… this was—
“You—you’re Captain Reggie?!?” she stamred, horrified. Her voice trembled as she whispered to herself, “Am I dead? But I rember being dragged away…”
Frantically, she pinched herself hard.
“Ow!” she yelped, the pain affirming the reality of her situation. Her overzealous pinch exacerbated her injuries, making her wince further.
“I’m alive. This isn’t a dream. I even have a shadow,” she muttered, spiraling into incoherent rambling. The stress was clearly taking its toll on her.
Finally, she asked, her voice tinged with hysteria, “Captain Reggie? You’re alive? How is that possible?”
Reggie chuckled darkly. “Yes, it’s been over a century. A hundred years since I left Riken. Missing for decades… how could I possibly still be alive?”
Cross’s fear spiked once again.
“Am I dead? Is that why I’m seeing you?” she blurted out, panic creeping back into her voice.
“No, you’re not dead. Has the new generation of Riken commanders fallen so far? I heard you’re supposed to be a Lieutenant Colonel.”
Reggie’s mocking tone didn’t faze Cross. Relieved to hear she wasn’t dead, she exhaled shakily. Her mind flooded with more questions.
“Captain, so you’re alive? But wasn’t the Cat’s Ear Spaceship attacked in T855? Why are you here in T853? How have you survived all these years? Are there other survivors? Everyone will be so thrilled to know you’re alive!”
She fired off her questions without pause, prompting Reggie to smirk in amusent.
“Didn’t I just say? Reggie isn’t alive,” he replied cryptically.
“What? Captain, now isn’t the ti for jokes!” Cross snapped, frustration boiling over. Her injuries, the bizarre setting, and his evasive answers tested her patience.
“I’m not joking. Reggie is dead,” he said solemnly, his steadfast expression lending weight to his words.
“Then who are you?” Cross demanded, her unease returning.
“I am Reggie,” he answered.
Cross’s frustration reached a peak. If not for her injuries, she would’ve demonstrated so of the advanced combat techniques she’d mastered.
“Captain, teasing a junior officer isn’t exactly noble,” she said bitterly.
“No, I an the Reggie you knew is dead. I am the reborn Reggie,” he clarified.
The explanation left Cross reeling.
Clones? Robots? Alien experints? Scenes from countless sci-fi dramas flashed through her mind.
Had he been captured and brainwashed by aliens? And if so, would she et the sa fate?
Her thoughts returned to the base’s assault. Was this all part of a larger sche?
The horrifying possibility that other captured patrol mbers might be like Reggie began to take shape.
Had the Swarm been toying with them all along?
The realization widened her eyes in terror.
Reggie noted her expression and smiled faintly. “It seems you’re catching on. That’s good.”
His grandfatherly smile on his blue face was both reassuring and unnerving.
Cross bit back a curse. Provoking him would only worsen her predicant. Resigned, she clenched her fists and declared, “I won’t betray my people like you have.”
Reggie clapped slowly, mock admiration in his expression. “Good. That’s the spirit of a Lieutenant Colonel.”
Then, with unnerving certainty, he added, “But you will. Once you et him, you’ll understand his greatness.”
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