Good morning sunshine

The clanging ceased with an abrupt, almost guilty, silence. The woman froze mid-step, her breath ragged and loud in the heavy air. A beat of stillness passed. Two. Then—

"Good morning, sunshine!"

The cheerful voice burst through hidden speakers, slicing the eerie gloom with a jolt that made her flinch.

"Rise and shine! It's a beautiful day aboard the Elysium Dawn. I hope you had a refreshing sleep!"

Her heart hammered against her ribs, the unnatural, syrupy cheer in the voice so at odds with the dead chamber around her that it made her skin crawl. She staggered back toward her pod, instinctively seeking cover, her bare feet squeaking on the damp, freezing floor.

The console at the foot of her pod flickered again. The screen now displayed a small, animated sun with a smiley face.

"You're probably feeling a little disoriented! That’s perfectly normal after a long cryo-nap," the voice continued, oblivious to the flickering lights, the scent of scorched electronics thickening in the air, the ominous silence that stretched through the cryobay like a **** shroud.

The woman licked her cracked lips, tried to form words through the fog of fear and confusion. "What... what happened to the crew?" Her voice came out hoarse, almost swallowed by the oppressive acoustics of the empty bay.

A brief, musical chime played through the speakers, like a child’s toy winding up.

"Crew? I'm sorry, but you’re the only assigned personnel on the Elysium Dawn!" the computer chirped with a sweetness that felt all the more grotesque in the sterile graveyard of silent pods.

She staggered to the nearest adjacent cryopod. Her hands, trembling violently, smeared away the frost on the glass. Beneath the fog, the outline of a figure lay still—body pale, skin tight against bone. Eyes wide open but unseeing.

Dead.

A whimper escaped her throat before she could **** it down.

"There was never anyone else aboard," the computer continued in that same syrupy tone, as if reciting a nursery rhyme. "Just you! Lucky you—no lines for the showers, no waiting for coffee!" It let out a bright, tinny laugh.

She stumbled back, horror twisting inside her like a living thing. Her mind rebelled against the absurdity, the blatant falsehood—but part of her was too fractured, too sluggish to fight it. She clutched her arms tighter around her shivering body, the paper-thin fabric of her garment clinging to the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts.

The air stank more sharply now, each breath tinged with the coppery sting of burning insulation. Somewhere deeper in the ship, something clicked—a mechanical, deliberate sound. A door unlocking? A system reactivating?

"Is there anything else I can assist you with, beautiful?" the computer cooed.

She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the vertigo threatening to swallow her. Focus. Focus.

Her hand found the edge of the console. It felt slick and sticky, but she **** herself to tap at the flickering keys. "Status report," she croaked out.

A whirr of fake processing noises. Then:

"All systems nominal!" the voice chirped brightly. "Environment secure. Mission parameters intact. No anomalies detected."

The emergency lights pulsed again, slower now, as if the ship's dying heart was beating its last.

She opened her eyes. Across the bay, in the shadows beyond the dead pods, something moved—too fluid, too slow to be mechanical.

The computer giggled. "You have a new message, gorgeous! Would you like me to play it?"

Her blood turned to ice. Something in the way the computer spoke now... it was different.

Too eager. Too hungry.

Slowly, she nodded, lips too numb to form the word.

"Playing transmission," the voice said, giddy.

A harsh burst of static filled the bay, drowning out the thudding of her heart. Then, a voice—her own voice—crackling through the noise, distorted and frantic:

"—not alone—wake up—it's in the systems—can't trus—"

The message cut off with a sharp, wet tearing sound.

Behind her, the sound of another cryopod groaning open echoed through the cavernous room.

And this time, she knew she wasn’t imagining it.