NOVEL NEXT Chapter 36
Syn's pulse thrummed in his ears as he lingered at the corridor's end, his back pressed against the cold metal wall, eyes locked on the medic room door. The ship's hum was a faint drone beneath the weight of his suspicion—Vera's unnatural stillness, Pako's muted demeanor—two threads of wrongness weaving a tapestry of dread.
Aster's brisk footsteps echoed closer, her tall figure cutting through the dim light, her blonde hair swaying with each determined stride. She spotted him instantly, her sharp gaze homing in, and Syn raised a finger to his lips, a silent command for quiet as he waved her over with a quick, urgent flick of his wrist. She slowed, her boots scuffing softly as she closed the distance, her breath puffing in the chilled air as she joined him, her presence a steady bulwark against the unease curling in his gut.
"Wait," Syn mouthed, his voice a bare whisper as he edged toward her, his taser humming faintly in his grip, a lifeline against the unknown lurking beyond the door. Aster nodded, her jaw tightening as she mirrored his caution, her hand hovering near her own weapon—a knife sheathed at her hip, its hilt worn from years of use. Together, they slipped through the medic room door, its hiss a hushed betrayal of their entry, the room unfolding before them in a tableau of deceptive calm.
Vera lay atop the bed, her bandaged form still, her breathing a soft, even rhythm that felt too perfect, too staged. Pako sat beside her, gazing out the window, her short black hair framing a face that turned toward them with a flicker of surprise. "Aster! Syn?" she said, her voice a hushed jolt, soft enough not to rouse Vera, yet carrying a note of unease that prickled Syn's spine. "Vera's doing fine—I'll let you know when she wakes."
Syn stepped forward, his boots silent on the sterile floor, his mind racing as he crafted a lie on the fly. "Aster needs to ask Vera about the reactor passcode," he said, his tone smooth, deliberate, his eyes flicking to Pako's reaction. "We've got to get the ship moving."
Aster nodded, picking up the thread seamlessly, her voice firm as she moved toward Vera. "Yeah—the reactor's dead without it. All the shapeshifters are caught; now we need to haul them to the prison." Her hand brushed Vera's forehead, a light stroke as she murmured, "Vera?"—her tone gentle, probing, a mask for the trap they'd set.
Pako gulped, a faint tremor rippling through her as she shifted in her chair, her eyes darting tensely toward Aster. Syn positioned himself behind her, his shadow falling over her shoulder, his hand slipping to the taser at his belt. He waited, his breath held, until the moment crystallized—Pako's focus locked on Aster, her guard down. With a swift lunge, he clapped a cloth over her mouth, muffling her startled gasp as he pressed the taser to her neck. A sharp buzz crackled, her body jerking once before slumping limp in his arms, her muffled cry a fleeting echo swallowed by the room's silence.
The sound slipped free, a faint squeak, and Vera's eyes snapped open, her head whipping toward Pako—but Aster was faster. She surged forward, her hands clamping around Vera's neck, pinning her to the bed with a force that belied her earlier gentleness. A pillow smothered Vera's face, stifling her thrashing as Aster leaned in, her grip unrelenting, her breath steady despite the struggle. Seconds stretched into an eternity, Vera's limbs slowing, then stilling, until she went limp, her body sagging beneath the pillow. Syn released Pako, letting her crumple to the floor, and watched as both forms shimmered—a sickly green sheen spreading across their skin, their features warping into the reptilian visages of shapeshifters, white pupils staring blankly from inhuman faces.
Syn's jaw clenched, his suspicion confirmed in grotesque clarity, and he flicked a glance at Aster. "Check the bathroom," he said, his voice low, urgent, a gut hunch flaring bright—the real Vera and Pako were close, he could feel it. Aster nodded, her eyes sharp with resolve as she hoisted the unconscious shapeshifter with one hand, its limp form dangling like a rag doll. She gripped it as a shield, her knife flashing free in her other hand as she crept toward the bathroom door, her boots silent on the tiled floor.
She signaled Syn to stay back with a quick jerk of her head, her breath a shallow huff as she braced herself, fingers tightening on the handle. Then, with a sharp inhale, she flung the door open and barged inside, her shield raised like a battering ram. A blade gleamed in the gloom, thrusting straight for her chest—but it sank into the shapeshifter instead, the green flesh parting with a wet *schlick*. The attacker—a third shapeshifter, its white eyes wide with horror—staggered back, its own kind skewered by its strike. Aster didn't hesitate; she hurled the dead weight aside, its body crashing into a cabinet, and lunged, her fist a hammer as it smashed into the assailant's face. The impact reverberated, the shapeshifter slamming into the wall with a dull thud, its green form crumpling unconscious in a heartbeat.
Aster spun, her gaze sweeping the cramped space—tiled walls slick with condensation, a sink streaked with rust—and froze. In the far corner, Vera and Pako lay slumped, their bodies bound with belts, wrists and ankles lashed tight. Beside them sprawled the real medic, her throat slit, a dark crimson pool congealing beneath her lifeless form. Aster dropped to her knees, her knife clattering as she checked their pulses—Vera's faint but steady, Pako's a sluggish thud. "Alive," she breathed, relief threading through her voice as she looked up at Syn, who'd followed her in, his taser still gripped tight.
Together, they hauled the unconscious pair back to the beds, Syn's arms straining under Vera's weight, Aster cradling Pako with a gentleness that belied her earlier ferocity. They laid them out, the sterile sheets crinkling beneath their forms, and Aster moved to a console, her fingers deft as she attached diagnostic wires to their wrists, her wristband screen flickering to life. Data scrolled—pulse rates, oxygen levels, a chemical analysis flashing red. "Anesthesia," she confirmed, her voice steady as she scanned the report. "Non-lethal—they'll wake soon." Syn nodded, pulling bandages from a nearby kit to wrap Vera's earlier cuts, his hands moving with a quiet precision, the medic's death a grim shadow at his periphery.
Aster tapped her wristband, pulling up the medic room's CCTV feed, the screen blooming with grainy footage. "Take a look," she said, her tone a mix of grim satisfaction and unease as she angled it toward Syn, hitting play.
The video flickered—Pako ushering Vera into the room, her steps dragging, her face a pout of sulky frustration. "I'd rather be with Syn than stuck here," she grumbled, slumping into a chair as Vera eased onto the bed, her voice a faint rasp. "Stitch me up quick—painkillers, now. I need to get back." The medic—a wiry figure in a white coat—nodded, her movements brisk as she prepared a syringe, its needle glinting as she plunged it into Vera's arm. Vera's eyes fluttered shut, her body going slack within moments, a sleep too sudden, too deep.
Pako didn't notice, her attention split—half on the camera feeds flickering across her screen, half on a corner window of porn, her lips twitching with a distracted smirk. She tapped lazily at the controls, oblivious as the medic crept up behind her, a second syringe gleaming in her hand. The needle sank into Pako's neck, a sharp jab that snapped her head around, her eyes widening in shock. "What the—" she snarled, her hand shooting out to grab the medic's collar, yanking her forward with a furious tug. But the room swayed, her grip faltering as dizziness crashed over her—she staggered, then collapsed, her body hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
A patient in the corner—supposedly asleep—stirred, rising with a sly grin as he slapped the medic a high-five, his form rippling into green as one more shapeshifter slipped through the door, their skin shifting to match the ruse. They cheered, a low, guttural chorus, their white eyes glinting as they surveyed Vera and Pako's prone forms. "Just Aster left," one hissed, his voice a sibilant rasp. "She's smoked out the rest—everyone's in the hall but here. Perfect spot to hide."
"Grab a fighter ship—or an escape pod," another growled, his claws flexing as he dragged Pako's limp body toward the bathroom, belts snapping tight around her wrists and ankles. "We take the captain and her vices back to the Kingdom—big payout." The medic smirked, binding Vera with practiced ease, her green hands deft as they hauled both women into the cramped space, the real medic's body already slumped there, her throat a gaping wound.
Footsteps echoed—Syn's approach—and the shapeshifters froze, their forms rippling back to human guise. "Positions—now," the leader snapped, and two morphed into Vera and Pako, settling into their earlier spots with eerie precision, while the third ducked into the bathroom, blade in hand. The room stilled, a tableau of normalcy—Pako by the window, Vera on the bed—waiting as the door hissed open and Syn entered the room.