Elena Pryce drove across the bone-dry flats in a borrowed interceptor, its hover engine whining as she pushed it beyond regulation speed.
She hadn't called for backup. Couldn't. Not without raising flags.
She didn't even fully know what she was walking into.
But the file she'd quietly assembled told her enough: falsified satellite records, unusual power surges from the western quadrant, encrypted shipments to a non-existent mining site... and the last location pinged from Jace Langton's tracker.
"Stupid, reckless man," she muttered, gripping the controls tighter. "If this gets you killed, I swear I'll drag your ghost back for questioning."
Below ground, the chamber's whispering grew louder—not voices exactly, but layered frequencies that twisted at the edge of comprehension.
Brian backed away from the hovering structure.
"I don't like this," he said, eyes wide. "Something's... wrong with it."
"It's not hostile," Elsbeth murmured, entranced. "It's communicating."
She stepped onto the platform and placed a hand against the surface of the egg-like object. Her eyes widened.
Then everything changed.
The walls around them lit up, symbols blooming into patterns. A pulse of light surged through the floor—and suddenly, every console, every recess, every circuit activated in unison.
"Elsbeth, get back!" Jace shouted, running toward her.
But she stood still, mouth slightly open, hand still resting on the surface.
"It knows us," she said, her voice distant. "It's scanning."
Jace reached her and pulled her away, gently but firmly. The moment her hand left the surface, the room dimmed, the pulsing slowed.
The whispering stopped.
Brian slumped against a pillar, gasping. "Okay. Nope. No more weird ancient artifacts for me."
Jace turned to Elsbeth. "What did it show you?"
She looked at him, pale but steady.
"Maps. Starfields. But not from this galaxy. And words I didn't understand. Except one repeated phrase."
"What phrase?" Jace asked.
She hesitated.
"'Containment failed.'"
Jace's blood ran cold.
Before he could speak, they all turned toward the back of the chamber.
From the farthest wall, a circular hatch was slowly opening—dust sliding down in quiet cascades.
Something else had awakened.
On the surface, Elena stood at the edge of the excavation site, her pistol drawn, her eyes scanning the shadows between the tents.
The camp was silent.
Too silent.
She stepped cautiously forward.
That's when she saw the blood trail—small, but fresh—leading from the equipment crates to the mouth of the pit.
She holstered her weapon and keyed her comm.
"This is Pryce. I'm going in."
And without waiting for permission, she descended into the dark.