Cyrus walked toward the railing, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. His eyes traced its outline.
"Where did these vines come from?" he demanded.
The crew's backs straightened instinctively at the sound of his commanding voice.
Malik's eyes widened as he stared at the greenery. He had asked himself the same question earlier, blinded then by the relief of his father's survival. As the vines submerged his vision now, a cold thought took root.
Even if he's alive, are we still safe regardless?
Malik felt his pockets and realized something was missing, something that made him feel all the more uneasy.
Suddenly, Cyrus barked, "How long has it been? Have any of you asked that question to yourselves?"
Noticing the crew's silence, Malik stepped forward.
"You're asking the wrong questions," he said. "It's not how long it's been, it's why it's kept us alive for this long."
. . .
Cyrus silently shook his head and let go of the rail. He either ignored Malik or agreed in silence.
"None of you know," he said.
Then, a sound sloshed beneath the cold steel floor.
Gurgle.
Cyrus marched toward the corridor. He couldn't mistake the sound for anything else, and his face told the crew that he wished he could have.
The rest followed. The old captain reached the entrance of the main hall.
Gray water swirled with floating chairs, tables, and debris. The faulty golden light above had finally dimmed. Vines lay comfortably along the stair railings.
When Cyrus saw it, he reacted as if he had expected it—just not to this extent.
He stepped back. "Samir. What led to this?" he uttered.
Samir stepped forward. "The storm must've demolished the ship, and luckily kept us here."
The old captain snickered. "Ha. There's no such thing as luck out here."
He turned around and quietly walked to his office. As everyone else stood staring at the flooded hall, nearly submerged in sea water, Malik noticed something.
Those vines weren't there before.
Looking closer, he saw everyone's arms and hands riddled with small vines and plants—his included. What was odd was how deliberate they looked, arranged almost decoratively.
As Malik peered at the vines wrapped around the stair handles in an anaconda-like choke, a sound erupted.
Bang!
It sounded like a hammer—almost a gunshot.
Cyrus emerged from his office, his knuckles unchanged.
"What happened, Uncle?" Samir asked.
"Samir, do you really think it was the storm that caused this?" Cyrus replied.
"W-What do you mean?" Samir's voice softened.
"Was it the storm that took all our communication devices?" Cyrus demanded. "And was it the storm that broke our navigation control panel and altered our direction entirely?"
Samir fell silent, placing his hands behind his back.
Malik shoved past the others and faced his father.
"Don't you see?" he asked.
Cyrus met his eyes as Malik answered himself.
"Somebody wanted us alive," Malik muttered.
Suddenly, Kaya stepped forward, wiping vines and seaweed from her arms—but they barely budged.
"Malik, what makes you think that?" she asked, breathing heavily.
"He's right," Zayne blurted from behind. "There's no other way this could've happened."
Lias interjected, "There can't be anyone else out here. It's just a massive coincidence."
Tap.
Cyrus tapped his heel. The room went dead.
"Whether a person or not, it is not hopeless yet. I promise you—us still standing is all that we need," he said, forcing his voice.
Amaya broke the silence. "S-so, what should we do, Captain?"
Cyrus smirked. "We carve a new path."
. . .
The room grew warm, and the vines detached from everyone's arms. Malik noticed—but his half-smile pretended not to.
"Now, we always have a backup. Did you really think anything out here could make us give up this easily?" Cyrus added.
He cleared his throat. "Lias. Get a soldering tool. We need to ensure the ship still functions. The control panel near the hull should allow communication to the nearest station."
Lias reached into a cargo pocket and pulled out a welding device.
Zayne bumped his shoulder, whispering, "Do you always carry that thing?"
Lias smiled. "It's my life."
Cyrus motioned for Lias to follow. Turning his back to the crew, he said, "Everyone else—deal with the flood in the main hall."
As the crew groaned and descended the stairs, Malik sensed bitterness in his father's voice.
I need to stop thinking like this. These thoughts lead nowhere. But are they wrong to consider?
It's like everyone's changed, yet they act like I'm the only one who has. Something's off—with these people, this ship, and most of all, him.
Malik shook his head and followed, barely catching Cyrus's voice.
Only fragments—
"Missing."
Then—
Splash!
Zayne burst from the water, having clearly dived in immediately. Buckets clattered from his hands.
"Grab one. This should do it," he said, panting.
From above, Amaya crossed her arms. "Idiot. We have a pump. Lias worked months on it."
Zayne rolled his eyes, mocking her tone as he dove back in.
Everyone laughed.
Malik grabbed a bucket. He didn't laugh.
. . .
Hiss!
The rear latch opened like a bunker. Two figures descended a red ladder into darkness.
In the hull, Cyrus knelt beside Lias. The engine glowed blue, pulsating.
"At least the engine's okay," Cyrus said, trying to lighten the mood.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Lias held a lantern.
"This room isn't supposed to be warm. It's like someone ran a sauna down here."
Cyrus tapped his foot. "No one can enter here without triggering alarms. Plus, you'd need Mala's database access to open the latch."
He continued, "I overreacted when the communications were gone. There should be an emergency line down here."
"Tell them that, not me," Lias muttered.
As they walked, the hull narrowed.
Blue lights blinked in sequence until—
A gap.
Darkness.
". . . No," Lias whispered. The lantern flickered out.
Cyrus rushed forward. "What happened?"
"It's . . . gone."
"What's gone?" Cyrus barked. "Speak!"
The captain stepped beside him and saw it.
The lights were gone. The mechanism itself—gone.
Lias trembled. "The reverse thrust . . . the propulsion . . ."
"They're missing," Cyrus muttered.
"What does that mean?" Lias asked.
"It means this ship no longer belongs to us. It moves in one direction."
Lias swallowed. "There has to be something we can do. I mean, whatever did this can't have gotten far, right?"
"It chose not to do more," Cyrus said. "We are at its mercy."
He added quietly, "And there's no telling it ever left. The path we carved, is not our path anymore."
. . .
Whirr.
The blue lights dimmed. The ship surged forward.
Lias scrambled to the controls—dead.
Slam!
"Are you sure it didn't want more from us?" he whispered.
". . . Just like the storm," Cyrus muttered, "we're in its hands."
. . .
"I will not allow that!" Cyrus barked. "Only my hands decide our fate!"
Then—
Crash!Spark.Sizzle.
The engine died.
"Why would you do that?!" Lias shouted. "You've doomed us!"
"If it gives us one choice," Cyrus said calmly, "then it makes the choice too."
His knuckles were unmarked.
So was his grin.
The ship fell silent—
And kept moving forward.