5: boarding

Days continued to flow viscously within the rust-stained bowels of the tenacious, carrying with them a cloying scent of iron rust and an increasingly heavy sense of oppression. The air in the lower deck seemed to have congealed into murky grease; every breath was laborious and nauseating. Nightmares were no longer the mutterings of a few; more and more people began to scream and twitch in their sleep, waking up drenched in sweat with hollow eyes, refusing to speak of what they had dreamed. In the synthetic protein paste of the food rations, that abnormal, fishy sweetness became increasingly apparent. Some began to refuse food, subsisting on hoarded, expired nutrition bars, which only brought down harsher corporal punishment from Sergeant Blake.

Han Zhe took advantage of cleaning and maintenance opportunities to quietly collect 'scrap' several more times—a few empty portable battery casings (which might still have residual crystals inside), a small ceramic component suspected to be a sensor core, and several lengths of high-tenacity alloy wire. It wasn't much, and hiding it was becoming increasingly difficult, but he persisted with near-obsessive dedication. This was the only thing he could do for that dormant system, a phantom straw for a drowning man to grasp.

The system's energy recovery remained slow, taking nearly two weeks to climb from 4.2% to 5.1%. But late every night, when the lower deck was shrouded in weary snoring and uneasy sleep-talking, Han Zhe would concentrate his mind, 'calling' to that faint blue light in his head over and over again, attempting more detailed internal scans or parsing other possible information fragments from the 'Starlight' data shard.

He discovered that when his concentration was high, especially when driven by a strong will (such as the desire for survival or hatred for the pollutants), the system's energy collection efficiency would see an extremely minute increase. The price was severe headaches and mental exhaustion. He didn't dare use it often, feeling collapsed after every attempt and requiring a long time to recover.

Meanwhile, the ship's anomalies intensified. The frequency of gravity malfunctions increased; once, it lasted for a full half-hour, with everyone pinned against walls or floors like they were being held by giant invisible hands, their bones creaking until gravity returned, leaving vomit and incontinent filth throughout the compartment. The engine's tremors became more violent and irregular, often emitting the ear-piercing shrieks of metal fatigue. The lights flickered, sometimes going out completely for several minutes, leaving only suppressed breathing and the dripping of unknown liquids from distant pipes in the darkness.

The most unsettling thing was the 'sound.' At first, it was extremely subtle, like the groaning of metal expanding and contracting or changes in fluid pressure within the pipes. But gradually, in the dead of night, some would hear whispers—not in any known language, but chaotic fragments of syllables filled with malice and temptation, as if rubbing directly against their nerves. There was also faint, tuneless singing drifting from deep within the ventilation ducts, sometimes distant and sometimes near.

Sergeant Blake and several of his cronies (including the younger of the 'The Rat Brothers,' who seemed to have curried favor with the Sergeant) intensified their suppression. Any talk of 'strange noises' or 'weird dreams' would result in lashings and solitary confinement. They tried to crush everyone's capacity for thought with more grueling labor and harsher discipline.

But fear cannot be suppressed. Like mold, it only grows faster under high pressure.

Lina became increasingly silent, her face pale and her eyes sunken. She often stared blankly, her fingers unconsciously rubbing a crude amulet made of wires and gears hanging around her neck—a relic left to her by her father, a planetary mechanic. Han Zhe's system scans showed that the pale purple psychic light points on her body fluctuated more frequently and increased in brightness, especially when near red contaminated zones or when those 'whispers' were heard. She seemed to be unconsciously 'receiving' something.

The older of the 'The Rat Brothers' went to the other extreme. He became neurotic, his eyes darting about, often looking around suspiciously and occasionally showing a terrified expression toward an empty corner. He began whispering privately with several others who also appeared restless; the content was unknown, but Han Zhe heard snippets like 'way out,' 'can't wait to die,' and 'take charge ourselves' more than once. The psychic light points on him displayed an unstable, dull purplish-red hue, flickering on and off.

Kahn became more vigilant, almost never leaving his old-fashioned Laspistol, even clutching it while he slept. He said privately to Han Zhe, 'Kid, something's wrong. I've been on battlefields; I can smell it. This isn't just ordinary mechanical failure or low morale... it's "corruption." A Warp ulcer is festering on this ship. We have to find a way off this vessel, the sooner the better.'

'How do we leave? Boarding craft? Escape pods?' Han Zhe asked. He had observed long ago that lower-deck personnel had absolutely no access to those facilities; the permissions and locations were all held by senior officers and Tech-Priests.

Kahn was silent for a moment, a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes. 'There's always a way... wait for an opportunity. Or... create one.'

Han Zhe didn't press further, but he knew the veteran's intuition was usually the most accurate. This ship was sliding into the abyss.

The turning point, or rather, the ignition point of the final crisis, occurred at a moment without any warning.

That day, Han Zhe and Kahn's team were sent to clean a backup pipe room near the Secondary Navigator Array (not the main array) on the upper decks. It wasn't part of the core red contamination zone, but in the system scan, it was in a pale red transitional border area. The work was as dull as ever, filled only with the clatter of tools and heavy breathing.

Suddenly, the ship jolted violently! It wasn't the usual engine lurch or gravity malfunction, but a violent, lateral impact, as if struck hard by a massive hammer. Everyone lost their footing and fell to the floor, tools scattering with a clatter.

A piercing, ship-wide alarm shrieked mournfully! Red lights flashed frantically!

'Collision alert! Collision alert! Impact on the port midsection of the hull! Shields failing! Hull breach! Sealed zones isolating! All non-combat personnel proceed immediately to designated shelter areas! Repeat...'

The broadcast was mixed with the terrifying screech of twisting and tearing metal, the hiss of bursting pipes, and the faint, distant sounds of non-human screams and Bolter fire!

'Boarding! It's a boarding action!' Kahn's face changed drastically as he struggled to get up. 'Either pirates or xenos! Quick, grab anything that can be used as a weapon and get out of here! The pipe room is a dead end!'

Before he could finish, the ventilation grille in the ceiling of the pipe room was suddenly torn open with a violent 'clang!' An indescribable stench wafted in—an ultimate profanity of a scent, mixing blood, pus, rotting flesh, and that cloying smell of iron rust.