Something else on the cameras

Devlin sat there for a few long, heavy breaths, staring blankly at the flickering monitors. His skin was hot, his pants uncomfortably tight, and his pulse thundered in his ears. He exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned forward again, forcing his focus back to the ship’s feeds.

Back to work. Back to survival.

He clicked through the cameras, the old chair groaning under him.

Galley: empty now, Wren and Torres likely slipping off somewhere to finish what they’d started.

Cryobay: dark, still.

Bridge: unmanned, the emergency beacons casting long shadows across the empty chairs.

He cycled past the cargo bays, the hydroponics module...nothing but darkness and drifting debris, the ship's battered insides laid bare.

But then—he stopped.

Camera 12-Cargo Hold Bravo.

At first, it looked normal. Crates lashed to the floor, tarps flapping slightly from the intermittent vibration of failing stabilizers.

But something shifted.

Devlin narrowed his eyes, leaning in. The resolution was shit, the angle bad, but something had definitely moved between the stacks of supplies.

He toggled the camera, zooming in as far as the outdated system would allow.

There—a shape. Brief. A slithering shadow darting between the aisles, too large to be a rat, too fluid to be anything mechanical.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He scanned the screen harder, heart thudding.

For a moment, there was nothing—just the broken remnants of their cargo, crates of rations, tools, colonization gear... and then, there—at the very edge of the camera’s view, something pressed against the side of a metal crate.

It was almost human-shaped—long limbs, a flash of pale skin or maybe something reflective—and then it slid out of sight like smoke dissipating into darkness.

Devlin cursed under his breath and punched the comms panel. The signal crackled but connected.

"XO, it's Devlin," he said, keeping his voice low. "You might want to get down to security."

The speaker popped with static, then Ward’s steady voice answered. "On my way. What is it?"

Devlin didn’t take his eyes off the screen. The cargo bay sat quiet again, but the feeling that something was watching through the feed was unbearable.

Predatory. Patient.

"I don’t know," Devlin muttered, his fingers tightening into fists. "But we’re not alone."