4: Steel Tomb

Days flowed within the rust-stained steel intestines of the tenacious in a viscous, heavy manner.

Han Zhe quickly adapted to the designation 'Lower Deck-77' and all it represented: endless drudgery, minimal supplies, ever-looming oppression, and a near-numb despair for the future. The work of the Cleaning and Maintenance Team was trivial yet arduous. Armed with crude tools and following Old Scarface, they traversed every corner of the ship's lower decks, cleaning grease, wiping pipes, hauling discarded parts, and occasionally helping unclog blocked waste processing units—the most nauseating task of all.

Old Scarface, whose real name was Kahn, was once a Sergeant in an Imperial Guard Grenadier Company. He was wounded and discharged after a brutal planetary assault years ago. After drifting from place to place, he eventually joined the high-mortality Mining Auxiliary Corps just to survive. He wasn't talkative, but he was experienced. He taught Han Zhe many unspoken rules for surviving at the Empire's bottom: how to scrape a little extra synthetic protein paste from the rations, how to tell which officers' whips were for show and which could break bones, how to stay alive during the ship's sudden violent lurches or gravity anomalies, and most importantly—to keep his eyes and mouth shut, to curb his curiosity about things he shouldn't know.

"This ship isn't right," Kahn once said to Han Zhe in a near-inaudible voice while cleaning a narrow maintenance passage near the Engine Room. The passage reeked of a mix of machine oil and ozone, with the ominous, low tremor of the engines echoing in the distance. "Do you feel it? Sometimes, the walls... 'breathe'."

Han Zhe stopped scraping and focused. Beyond the ship's inherent vibrations, there seemed to be an extremely faint, elusive pulsation transmitted through the cold steel, carrying a hint of... a clammy warmth. It wasn't a mechanical rhythm; it felt more like the heartbeat of something alive. He remembered the system's warning—Warp residue contamination.

"Don't look like that," Kahn glanced at him and continued scraping carbon buildup off the wall. "If you feel it, pretend you don't. In a place like this, knowing too much gets you killed fastest. Especially... anything related to the Warp."

Han Zhe nodded, pushing the questions back into his heart. The system remained in deep hibernation, its energy recovery progress agonizingly slow. He could only rely on himself.

Besides Kahn, Han Zhe also got to know the others in the team: Oleg, who always wore a worried expression and muttered about his homeworld being destroyed by Orks; the taciturn but skilled young girl Lina; and two men who always huddled together, whispering with shifty eyes, privately called the "The Rat Brothers" by everyone. Each had a past too painful to recall, each tightly wrapped in their own secrets and fears, like wounded animals licking their wounds.

Sergeant Major Blake would come down to inspect from time to time, using his coarse voice to spur (or berate) everyone, ensuring work progressed. His armband seemed to grant some temporary authority, but Han Zhe noticed that others wearing different colored armbands or uniforms didn't always defer to him. It seemed more than one faction existed on this ship: remnants of the original Mining Auxiliary Corps, the ship's own crew and security personnel, and a small number of soldiers reportedly from some Planetary Defense Force. The composition was complex, the relationships delicate.

During the sixth week of the voyage, the first "accident" occurred.

A man assigned to the External Armor Repair Team had his safety line "accidentally" snap during work. He was flung into the cold void of space before his scream could even be heard. The official report cited aging equipment and operational error. But privately in the lower decks, it was rumored that before the incident, the man had been drunkenly muttering about "hearing singing" and "seeing moving shadows" in some abandoned storage room on the upper decks.

Rumors spread like mold in dark corners. Unease began to permeate. The rationed synthetic water occasionally carried an indescribable, cloyingly sweet taste beyond the usual metallic tang. More and more people had nightmares in their sleep; some woke with vacant stares, muttering incomprehensible gibberish. The ship's engine malfunctions became more frequent, and the gravity generators occasionally glitched, causing brief periods of weightlessness or excessive gravity, leading to chaos and injuries.

Sergeant Major Blake tightened control, punishments becoming harsher, trying to suppress fear with fear. But Han Zhe could feel the intangible pressure building.

It was in this increasingly tense atmosphere that the system finally delivered new information.

[Energy level restored to 3.1%. Basic scanning functions activated. Passive environmental monitoring module online.]

Late at night, Han Zhe lay on his hard bunk in the lower deck, surrounded by the chorus of snores and suppressed sleep-talking. A pale blue light screen silently unfolded across his retina,

far dimmer than before, with sparse, incomplete data streams.

First was a simplified scan of the ship's structure. Most areas were a fuzzy gray, representing undetected or blocked signals. But key areas were color-coded. Near the Engine Room and several specific upper deck areas (including the general vicinity of the incident's abandoned storage room), a faint, ominous dark red hue glowed, annotated: [Detected non-standard energy residue (Warp origin, intensity: low - unstable)], [Structural stress anomaly, suspected non-mechanical damage present].

Next was vital sign monitoring, limited to a ten-meter radius around Han Zhe himself. Most were green dots representing ordinary humans. But two dots flickered with an extremely faint, almost imperceptible purple. [Detected weak psychic potential (latent/suppressed)], targets identified—Lina, and the older of the "The Rat Brothers".

Finally, a brief resource report: [Utilizable ambient energy: extremely low. Detected recyclable scrap metal/electronic components (small quantity, dispersed). Resource point conversion function still offline. Suggestion: Attempt to make contact with recyclable materials to accumulate potential material foundation for subsequent function recovery.]

The functions were limited, but at least he was no longer completely blind. Han Zhe felt slightly reassured. The dark red contamination zones needed to be avoided. Lina and the older Rat Brother required attention; Psykers were a double-edged sword in the Empire, both valuable assets and dangerous sources. As for recycling discarded parts... perhaps he could use the convenience of his cleaning and maintenance duties.

He focused his attention on the dark red areas on the scan. Their distribution seemed to follow a pattern, not entirely random, more like seeping and spreading along certain ancient, possibly forgotten pipelines or structural seams within the ship. The system's detection precision was insufficient for more details, but the feeling of something rooted and spreading like a network of decay made his skin crawl.

"This isn't simple Warp contamination residue..." he pondered privately. "It's more like something... is 'growing' on the ship."

The thought made his scalp prickle. He remembered Kahn saying the "walls breathe."

The next day, their work assignment was to clean a ventilation duct junction area near the upper section of the Engine Room. On the system scan, it was right on the edge of a pale red zone.

Kahn's expression was more serious than usual. "Stay sharp, everyone. We're near the Reactor Auxiliary Pipes here. Radiation levels are higher. Work fast, finish up, and get out quickly."

The duct junction was spacious but unusually stuffy. The air was thick with a stronger ozone smell and an indescribable, cloyingly sweet scent, like a mix of expired spices and rust. The walls were no longer simply rusted but covered in a thin layer of dark red, moss-like or lichen-like growth tissue. It felt warm, slick to the touch, and even pulsed with an extremely faint rhythm.

"What the hell is this shit..." Oleg grumbled, scraping at the growth tissue with disgust. When scraped off, it oozed a viscous dark red fluid, releasing an even stronger cloying odor.

"Don't care what it is, scrape it off, wash it away!" Kahn barked sharply, though his own movements held a barely perceptible tension.

Han Zhe fought back nausea, using a high-pressure water hose to rinse the scraped areas. The water washed away some of the tissue, but he soon noticed that tiny, root-like red filaments had deeply penetrated the metal seams and even the inner walls of the pipes, impossible to clean out completely. The system provided a prompt in the corner of his vision: [Detected active biological contaminant tissue containing trace Warp energy. Physical removal efficiency low.]

At that moment, Lina, who was responsible for cleaning the other side of the pipe, suddenly let out a short, sharp gasp.

Everyone looked over and saw the tool in her hand had fallen to the ground. She was leaning against the wall, her face pale, fingers pressed tightly against her temples, her body trembling slightly.

"What's wrong, kid?" Kahn quickly walked over.

"It's... it's nothing..." Lina's voice trembled. "Just suddenly... a terrible headache... it's like... like hearing many people crying far away... or maybe laughing..." Her gaze was somewhat unfocused, her eyes unconsciously sweeping over the red proliferative tissue on the wall.

Han Zhe noticed that in the system annotation, the pale purple light dot representing Lina flickered slightly in brightness.

The older brother of the "The Rat Brothers" shrank back in a corner, looking at Lina with a suspicious and fearful gaze, then quickly glanced at the wall again. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed his words. The pale purple light dot on him was also flickering faintly.

"Enough, stop scaring yourself!" Kahn interrupted, his tone somewhat rough, but Han Zhe detected a trace of anxiety he couldn't quite hide. "It must be radiation interference, plus this damn smell! Lina, go stand by the ventilation shaft over there. Everyone else, speed up! Clean up this mess of rotten flesh, we need to get out of here fast!"

No one spoke anymore, burying their heads and working faster. The atmosphere was so oppressive you could wring water from it. Only the hiss of the high-pressure water gun and the screeching sound of metal scraping echoed in the sweltering pipe chamber.

While working mechanically, Han Zhe observed from the corner of his eye. The red tissue seemed temporarily "wilted" under the water flow, but the root-like tendrils deep in the cracks remained unchanged. Lina leaned against the ventilation shaft, her breathing gradually steadying, but her face still looked awful. The older "Rat Brother" remained in a state of high tension.

The cleanup work was hastily concluded. When leaving that area, everyone subconsciously quickened their pace, as if something was watching from behind.

Back in the relatively "normal" lower deck area, the oppressive feeling lessened slightly, but that intangible unease had already taken root. Oleg ate very little during dinner, restless and distracted. Lina went to bed early, turning her back to everyone. Kahn, however, took out the gun oil and cloth for his well-maintained, old-style laser pistol (of unknown origin) and wiped away non-existent dust over and over, his sharp eyes scanning the cabin door.

Lying on his bunk, Han Zhe called up the system interface. Energy level had recovered to 3.5%. He recorded and analyzed the scan data from the earlier area. The conclusion remained: 【Warp-origin biological contamination, exhibiting low-level activity and potential for spread. Advise maintaining distance.】 But regarding the specific nature of the contamination, its source, and how to eliminate it, the system provided no further information. Clearly, its database was severely lacking or the current energy level was insufficient for deeper analysis.

He needed more information and also needed to accumulate something for the system's potential "reboot." The thought of salvaging discarded components resurfaced.

The opportunity came a few days later. A brief gravity generator malfunction caused a door lock to fail in an upper-level storage room stacked with old equipment. The maintenance team was needed for repairs and incidental cleanup. That area was relatively "clean" in system scans, with no red markers.

Han Zhe volunteered and went with Kahn and two others. The storage room was filled with replaced broken parts, old instrument casings, tangled cables, and various metal scraps. The air smelled of dust and aging insulation material.

Repairing the door was quickly completed. While Kahn went to sign off on the work and the others were busy loading large pieces of scrap onto a cart for removal, Han Zhe pretended to tidy up clutter in a corner. He swiftly stuffed several relatively intact circuit boards (containing rare metals according to the system's minimal annotation), the remains of a few small servo motors, and a small bundle of high-purity cables into the spacious inner lining of his uniform. His movements were concealed and rapid.

【Log: Acquired potential recyclable resource units (rough estimate). Resource conversion function offline. Items marked.】

His heart pounded, a mix of the nervousness of a thief and a faint thread of anticipation. These things might prove useful at some future moment.

On the way back to the lower deck, while passing through a relatively secluded corridor, they encountered another group head-on. Leading them was a man in a deep blue, sharply pressed uniform with silver cogwheel insignias embroidered on the cuffs. He appeared to be in his thirties, with a stern, cold face and eyes as sharp as a hawk's. Behind him followed two attendants bearing the same insignias and carrying portable scanners.

"Tech-Priest..." Kahn whispered a reminder, immediately stepping back to the wall, lowering his head in a respectful posture. Han Zhe and the others quickly followed suit.

Tech-Priests—members of the Adeptus Mechanicus, maintainers of the ship's machinery and knowledge—held a special position within the Imperial hierarchy. They rarely appeared in the lower decks.

The Tech-Priest's gaze swept over the group, pausing on Han Zhe for half a second. Han Zhe felt a cold, penetrating sense of scrutiny, as if it could see through his clothes, and hurriedly bowed his head even lower. The "scrap" hidden in his chest suddenly felt burning hot.

Fortunately, the Tech-Priest's attention was soon drawn to a rather inconspicuous, slightly darker stain on the corridor wall. He stepped forward, extended a probe from his mechanical bionic hand, gently scraped off a small sample, and placed it on the analyzer his attendant handed over. The instrument emitted a faint hum.

"Organic residue. Anomalous composition," the Tech-Priest's voice, processed through some mechanism, was cold and flat. "Record coordinates. Notify the Purification Squad to expand the scan range in this sector."

"Yes, Magos," the attendant replied respectfully.

Without another glance at Han Zhe and the others, the Tech-Priest hurried off with his retinue, heading in the direction of the Engine Room and those red-contaminated areas.

"Damn bad luck, running into an Oil-Blood..." Oleg, pushing the scrap cart, muttered quietly. "Nothing good ever comes when they show up."

"Less chatter," Kahn cut him off. "Move it."

Han Zhe, however, was lost in thought. The Tech-Priest had also noticed the anomaly and dispatched a "Purification Squad." This meant the upper echelons of the ship were not entirely unaware of the problem; they might even be handling it covertly. But judging by the spread of the red tissue, the results were clearly lacking.

That night, the system's energy recovered to 4.2%. Under Han Zhe's focused mental guidance (the system hinted that the host actively focusing their thoughts could slightly improve energy collection efficiency), the scanning function performed a more detailed passive scan of the lower deck.

Apart from the pale purple dots of Lina and the older "Rat Brother," deep in a corner of the lower deck piled with broken tools and miscellaneous items, the system detected a buried, extremely faint signal source. Its encoding method was ancient and peculiar, different from standard Imperial patterns, and its strength was so low it seemed on the verge of vanishing at any moment.

【Discovered unknown data storage fragment (severely damaged). Attempting to read... Failed. Data structure integrity less than 1%. Analyzing remaining information fragments...】

After a few minutes, several lines of fragmented text surfaced in Han Zhe's mind:

"...'Starlight'... distress call... we are under attack... not pirates... inside the hull... growing... crew... mutating... uncontrollable... navigator... pointing towards... Eye of Terror... edge... abandon ship... code... Delta-7... may the Emperor... save... our..."

The message cut off abruptly.

The 'Starlight'? The Eye of Terror? Mutation?

Han Zhe's heart tightened sharply. This shattered message was like a cold stone dropped into the already troubled waters of his mind.

The problems aboard the tenacious were likely far more serious than what was seen or heard. They might be aboard more than just a damaged ship.

But a ship that was "infected." A ship that might be following in the footsteps of the 'Starlight'.

The voyage continued. Towards an unknown destination, carrying a ship full of silent souls gradually gnawed by unease, and a terror quietly growing in the shadows.

The second stop of their escape was itself becoming a slowly moving, steel tomb.

Han Zhe tightened his grip on the cold, hard edge of the circuit board hidden in his uniform lining. The system's faint blue light flickered silently once more in the depths of his eyes.