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She knew the ship’s layout well, and the escape vents were their best option for getting out of the immediate danger zone. Her back arched and hips shifted involuntarily, opening up and angling perpendicular to her forearm. Cratt, on the other hand, was a quiet and calculating soldier, a master of stealth and sabotage. “Sofie, what the hell …” – Vendric tried to ask, but his question was interrupted by an obscene sound – a soft and wet slurp echoed in the silence as Vendric in horror observed her forearm disappear in between her buttocks. “We’ve lost containment,” Cratt said, his usually calm voice tinged with a rare note of urgency. Her limbs shook. Sofia was a striking figure—tall and athletic, with the graceful movement of someone who had honed her physique through years of rigorous training. ***

The ship was no longer just a vessel—it was a tomb wrapped in steel, humming faintly with an unnatural resonance. Her body no longer responded like it should. “What do you think it is?” she asked, her voice steady but alert.