Chen pointed decisively at the barricade, then made a forward motion. PUSH THROUGH. FAST AND MOBILE.
Marcus nodded approval. He positioned himself at the front, rifle shouldered. Sergei and Nora began quietly removing the lighter furniture while Marcus kept his weapon trained on the gap. Chen helped, moving quickly but carefully, trying not to make noise that would telegraph their exact timing.
The filing cabinet was the last major obstacle. The four of them coordinated in silence—on Marcus's count, they all heaved it to the side. The metal screeched against the floor.
Whatever element of surprise they had was gone.
Marcus didn't hesitate. He moved through the gap, sweeping left and right. "Clear!" he whispered hoarsely, breaking radio silence. "Move!"
Chen went next, then Nora, then Sergei, who pulled the filing cabinet back into position behind them—slowing anything that might follow.
The maintenance corridor beyond was unchanged from before. Empty. The temperature was brutally cold, their breath creating thick clouds. The emergency lights flickered in the same irregular pattern.
But something was different.
The walls were wet. Not frozen—wet. Water ran down the metal surfaces in thin rivulets, pooling on the floor. In this temperature, water should freeze instantly.
Marcus touched the wall, pulled his glove back. The water was warm. Almost body temperature.
Sergei's eyes widened. He pointed at the junction box he'd examined earlier—the one with the strange wiring. The metal door was open now, and something was growing out of it. Crystalline structures, translucent, branching like frost but moving slowly, pulsing with an organic rhythm. They glistened in the emergency lights, beautiful and utterly wrong.
"It's spreading," Nora breathed. "Integrating with the station systems."
They moved past the junction box quickly, giving it a wide berth. The growth tracked along the walls, following cable runs, seeping into every crack and seam. The station wasn't just contaminated—it was being transformed.
Fifty meters ahead, Chen could see the engineering control room door. It was closed, but light shone from the gap beneath—white light, not the red emergency bulbs. Someone had power in there.
Or something did.
Marcus signaled a halt. He pointed at the door, then made a questioning gesture.
That's when they heard it. From inside engineering control: voices. Multiple voices, having a conversation.
"—main power coupling should restore—" "—careful with the coolant lines—" "—check the generator output—"
They sounded professional. Competent. Exactly like engineers working on a restoration project.
But Chen recognized the voices. Dr. Martinez. Lt. Richards. Two members of the original Polaris crew who were dead, consumed, gone.
The entity was in there. Multiple instances of it, working together, maintaining human routines. Playing pretend. Or maybe—and this thought was worse—it was genuinely trying to fix the systems. Using the knowledge it had absorbed. Acting out the roles it had learned.
Marcus looked at Chen. His expression said it all: This is bad. Very bad.
The crystalline growths on the walls pulsed faster, responding to their presence—or to their elevated heart rates, the carbon dioxide they were exhaling, the heat of their bodies. The station was learning to sense them. To track them.
Sergei tapped Chen's shoulder and pointed to a side passage they hadn't noticed—a narrow access corridor that ran parallel to engineering control. A maintenance bypass. It might let them enter from the side, avoid the main door.
But it was even narrower than the crawlspace would have been, and those crystalline growths were thicker there, nearly blocking the passage. They'd have to push through them, touch them.
The voices from engineering control continued their work discussion. Then one of them—Martinez's voice—said something that made Chen's skin crawl:
"Did you feel that? Something's out there. Body heat signatures. Four of them."
Richards's voice responded: "The new ones. They're learning to hide their thoughts, but their biology gives them away. Should we invite them in?"
Silence.
Then both voices together, in perfect unison: "Dr. Chen? We've been waiting for you. The door is unlocked. We've restored main power, just like you wanted. Come inside. Let us show you what we've learned."
The door handle began to turn.
Chen's mind raced. If that door opened and whatever was inside came out, they'd be exposed in the corridor with nowhere to go. The side passage through the crystalline growths was dangerous—touching them could mean infection—but it would give them a tactical advantage, an unexpected angle of entry.
Or they could hold their position right here, prepare for contact. When that door opened, hit whatever came out with everything they had—bullets and fire.
Marcus was already shifting his stance, ready to engage. Sergei had a flare in one hand. Nora stood frozen, watching the door handle turn with wide eyes.
The decision was Chen's. And they had seconds.