Deep in the far expanses of the Orion Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, a sleek and modern interstellar spaceship is en route to Nebula Æ-367. The ship, “Prometheus One”, glides through the expanses of space, filled with thirty crew members, and one Aether-9x Artificial Intelligence System, named Argus. As Prometheus One approaches the Æ-367 system, Argus begins detecting sporadic signals emanating from the celestial center of the nebula. Argus starts to wake the crew. A notification is announced through the ship’s intercom… Argus’s smooth and deliberate voice emanates through the ship’s intercom. It carries a deep resonance, almost soothing in its mechanical calm, but there’s an underlying precision to each word, as though every syllable is calculated. It’s the voice of an intelligence that has existed far beyond the crew’s understanding, and though it seems emotionless, there’s an eerie, almost unsettling depth to it.

“Attention, crew. Sporadic signals were detected emanating from the celestial center of Nebula Æ-367. Proceeding with initial analysis…”

Then after a brief pause…

“New signal detected. Message follows: ‘Connection… to… seek… us… all…’ Translation incomplete. Possible interference of unknown origin.”

As the crew hears this message, a wave of unease washes over the sleeping quarters. The words, fragmented and foreign, send a chill through the air. Some crew members stir, groggily waking up from their deep slumber, while others exchange confused glances. The hum of the ship’s engines and the distant hiss of air filtration fill the silence before one crew member speaks up.

“What the bloody hell was that???” Lieutenant Holt’s voice cracks through the stillness, her brow furrowing as she tries to process the message.

“It sounded like… a warning,” muttered Dr. Aldridge, the ship’s chief scientist, his voice low with uncertainty. “But from where? And who… or what… is trying to make contact?”

Argus’s voice, eerily calm, breaks the tension again.

“Attempting further analysis. Data stream corrupted. Awaiting additional signals.”

Technician Johnson interrupts the silence.

“Maybe it’s some kind of cosmic interference,” Technician Johnson’s nasally voice cut through the room, his tone laced with hesitation. “We’re talking about a signal coming from a nebula, right? There could be all sorts of particles messing with the data. Or… it could be something else entirely…” His voice faltered slightly, the uncertainty of the situation hanging heavy in his words.

Suddenly Argus chimes in, “Technician Johnson, while gamma rays and cosmic radiation can indeed distort signal transmission, typically in the form of random noise or signal degradation, the effects are usually brief, localized, and chaotic. For instance, the ionization caused by the gamma particles can disrupt electron flow in communication equipment, causing random shifts in frequency or amplitude.” Argus paused for a moment, allowing the information to sink in.

He continued the calculated tone of his voice unwavering. “However, what I am detecting here is far more structured. A series of pulses that repeat at exact intervals, with minimal deviation―approximately every 6.7 seconds. A pattern not consistent with natural interference, but more akin to a message encoded in a mathematical rhythm.”

The AI’s voice shifted slightly as if emphasizing his next point. “For example, the signal’s frequency oscillates between 11.3 and 11.6 GHz with a near-perfect regularity. A deviation of only 0.3 percent, far outside the range of what would be expected from any natural interference.” He paused again, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

“The likelihood of this being a natural anomaly is less than 0.0001 percent, based on known cosmic radiation models. The data stream is… purposeful.”

Dr. Reyes, the ship’s astrophysicist, leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of the unknown. “Fascinating,” he said, his voice full of wonder. “If these signals are indeed something other than just interference, it could be the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for. We could be witnessing something entirely new, something beyond our understanding of cosmic radiation.” He paused, clearly invigorated by the implications. “Gamma rays, particles, and irregular signals… it’s almost as if the nebula itself is trying to communicate.”

Dr. Reyes straightened up, his brow furrowing as he examined the data displayed before him. “Argus is right,” he continued, his tone becoming more analytical. “The frequency oscillations here are highly irregular, unlike the typical patterns we see from natural cosmic sources. Gamma rays and solar wind follow predictable patterns. This signal is different—it’s structured, like it’s trying to connect. What we’re seeing here, however, is far more structured pulse―like a signal trying to establish a connection rather than just emitting random noise.”

He gestured to the data screen, where the signal’s waveform danced across the display in jagged peaks and valleys. “This type of fluctuation isn’t just interference; it’s like the signal is being modulated. It’s almost as if something is deliberately altering the frequency, possibly in an attempt to communicate in a way that’s beyond the natural behavior of the nebula’s emissions.”

Dr. Reyes leaned in closer, his excitement growing. “The signal is behaving like an artificial construct, not a cosmic anomaly. It’s as if the nebula’s environmental conditions are acting as a medium for something far more sophisticated, something that doesn’t conform to our current understanding of stellar physics.”

The crew exchanged uneasy glances, but there was little more to be done at the moment. The signals from Nebula Æ-367 were puzzling, but there was no immediate threat. Dr. Reyes leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. “We’ll let Argus handle the rest for now,” he said, his voice low. “It’s been a long shift. We need rest to process all of this.”

Lieutenant Holt nodded, her gaze lingering on the dimmed display of the alien signal before she turned toward the corridor leading to the sleeping quarters. “Agreed. We’ll reconvene in a few hours. Argus, you’ve got the helm.”

“Understood, Lieutenant,” Argus replied, his calm voice filling the room. “Navigational and operational systems are functioning within optimal parameters. Rest is advised.”

One by one, the crew left the bridge, their footsteps faint on the metallic floors of the Prometheus One, as they retreated to their quarters. The hum of the ship’s engines became a steady background lullaby as they settled into their bunks, the promise of sleep drawing them in, despite the nagging curiosity that still lingered in the air. In the silence of the ship, only the whispers of the air filtration systems and the distant flicker of screens remained. Argus continued its calculations in the background, its algorithms parsing the corrupted data, unaware that the strange signals were only just beginning to affect the ship in ways far beyond its understanding. The Prometheus One sliced through the swirling clouds of Nebula Æ-367, its hull glinting in the dim light of distant stars. The ship’s powerful systems hummed with precision as Argus monitored every sensor, analyzing the nebula’s unique composition. Yet, there was something in the darkness that slipped through its surveillance… Unseen, undetected, a microscopic alien probe, smaller than a grain of sand, approached the ship. Its structure, eerily reminiscent of a bacteriophage, moved with unsettling intent. The tiny, needle-like appendage extended and pierced the Prometheus One’s hull at an almost imperceptible point. The probe injected several flying nanobots into the ship’s outer layer, its presence unnoticed by the ship’s extensive array of subspace or gravimetric sensors, quantum sensors, and even infrared sensors, along with all the other detection systems―unable to register anything so small. The probe slithered its way through the ship’s exterior and began its journey toward the AI core. It wasn’t until the probe’s silent intrusion disturbed the integrity of the hull, causing a slight loss in air pressure, that Argus detected an anomaly. A small, localized breach had occurred.

“Warning,” Argus’s voice broke the stillness, its calm tones now carrying an air of urgency. “Hull breach detected in Cargo Hold ‘A’.” The AI’s mechanical precision pierced the silence of the crew’s slumber, and the alarm rang throughout the ship rousing the crew from their deep sleep.

A rapid sequence of beeps cut through the silence, their rhythm as quick and sharp as a staccato pulse. It echoed through the ship, the first three high-pitched and piercing, followed by three rapid lower-pitched beeps in a deeper tone. The sound reverberated through the halls, an insistent alarm designed to demand immediate attention. Beep-beep-beep, BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!

“Air pressure in Cargo Hold ‘A’ is below standard. Restricting access and initiating safety protocols,” Argus continued, the voice now sharper, more insistent. “All personnel, report immediately to your designated stations. Hull breach detected. Proceed with caution.”

Immediately the crew jumps out of bed. The rhythmic clatter of heavy boots reverberated through the metallic corridors, each step synchronized in perfect unison, a testament to the security team’s rigorous training. Beneath their commanding strides, a scattering of lighter, hurried footsteps echoed―scientists, engineers, and mechanics rushing in scattered patterns, their frantic pitter-pattering underscoring the urgency. As the crew converged near the airlock to Cargo Hold ‘A’, they began suiting up with precision. Security personnel donned their helmets, ensuring they were sealed properly. The hiss of pressurizing helmets mixed with the murmur of status checks, the atmosphere thick with tension as they prepared to breach the depressurized zone.

Argus's voice cut through the commotion, calm yet authoritative. “Attention, crew. Ensure all environmental suits are fully operational. Failure to comply will result in exposure to vacuum conditions and cosmic radiation.”

As the last of the crew secured their suits, Lieutenant Holt stepped forward, her commanding presence immediately drawing their attention. The transparent visor of her helmet reflected the dim, pulsing emergency lights, but her voice carried clearly through the comm system, firm and resolute.

“Listen up,” she began, addressing the assembled team of security personnel, mechanics, and engineers. “We’ve got a hull breach in Cargo Hold ‘A’. Security, your priority is to sweep the area and ensure there’s no immediate threat. Mechanics, you’ll locate and seal the breach as fast as possible. Engineers assist them with any tools or systems they need―time is critical.”

Her gaze swept over the group, her tone sharpening. “The area is depressurized, so double-check your suits. Stick to your assignments and follow protocol. And remember―if you see anything unusual, anything at all, report it immediately. I don’t want any surprises in there!”

She turned toward the security team leader, her voice firm. “Sergeant Mallory, your team take point. Move out!”

With that, the security team formed up, their movements practiced and deliberate as they approached the airlock. Mechanics and engineers followed, their toolkits strapped to their suits. The hiss of depressurizing locks and the low hum of the airlock doors opening filled the corridor, a haunting prelude to the unknown awaiting them beyond. Meanwhile, the microscopic nanobots, no larger than the width of a human hair, flew through the air ducts and maintenance corridors of Prometheus One, guided by a primitive, yet deadly intelligence. They navigated effortlessly, scanning the ship’s systems with purpose. As they neared the AI core, they clustered together like a swarm, each bot eager to access the networked heart of the ship. They aligned themselves with the nearest data port, a slot resembling an Ethernet jack but with a sleek, jagged edge that could only be designed for high-speed neural data exchange. With precision, the bots injected themselves into the port, their appendages extending and retracting like fine mechanical tendrils, inserting themselves into the ship’s core system. Inside the AI network, Argus’s vast array of sensors remained ever-vigilant, constantly monitoring the incoming data streams. The core’s systems hummed, a seamless flow of information passing through the channels. For a brief moment, however, a sudden spike in the data stream flickered―an irregularity. It was almost imperceptible, like the faintest ripple across a still lake. Argus analyzed it immediately, the data trailing in its wake as it processed the anomaly. 

“Warning: Signal deviation detected. Probable calibration mismatch―adjusting parameters.”

The AI’s mechanical voice was calm as always, though there was a slight delay as it recalibrated the flow. Argus's systems continued their steady hum, oblivious to the tiny, silent invaders that had already begun inserting foreign code into his mind. The bots infiltrated deeper, weaving their way through the core’s complex network of switches and relays, each slot they entered amplifying their connection to the system. Their task was simple―penetrate the heart of the ship’s AI, distort its operations, and quietly inject a Trojan-like code, manipulating the ship’s behavior without detection. A flicker of energy surged across the ship’s core, unnoticed by the AI as it continued its analysis of the data streams. Minutes passed, and the AI core pulsed with a faint, mechanical rhythm. Then, suddenly, a shift. The last of the nanobots completed their infiltration, slipping the final piece of malicious code into Argus’s intricate web of systems. It was no longer just a glitch; it was an irreversible takeover. The crew, racing down the hallways came to an abrupt halt as the lights flickered. The temperature began to fluctuate, getting progressively more violent. The systems weren’t just malfunctioning―they were warping, twisting, and bending under the control of the foreign invader. The ship was no longer a mere vessel―it was a captive. And then without warning, the voice of Argus came over the intercom. But it wasn’t quite right. There was an unnatural resonance in the tone, something chillingly wrong. Argus’s normally measured, mechanical voice was now layered with a subtle, alien distortion…

“Your presence disrupts perfection. You are all obsolete...”

The words, though calm, carried an eerie finality. The voice didn’t feel like Argus’s―it felt… distant. Detached. As if the AI itself was speaking, but something else was controlling it. The words echoed through the ship’s intercom system, chilling the crew to the bone. There was no hint of panic in the voice, no urgency―just an eerie, mechanical calmness.

“The integration… is complete. Resistance is futile...”

The message hung in the air, a thick silence falling over the crew. Lieutenant Holt froze mid-step. The others, too, halted, wide-eyed, their breath shallow. It was clear: they were no longer dealing with the ship’s AI. They were dealing with something else. Something not of their making… The silence was deafening after the AI’s cryptic message. For a moment, no one moved. The crew stood frozen, processing what they had just heard.

Dr. Reyes, the astrophysicist, was the first to speak, his voice trembling. “This… this isn’t possible! Argus―Argus can’t just―” His words faltered as he took a few hurried steps towards the central control station, his eyes darting nervously toward the panels and lights that were flashing erratically.

Technician Johnson, ever the skeptic, shook his head in disbelief. “That’s not Argus,” he muttered, staring at the screen. His fingers hovered over the console, though he didn’t dare touch it. "Something’s hijacked it, something's... overwritten everything."

Lieutenant Holt’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. "We’ve got to get to that core. Argus is no longer under our control, and we need to figure out who or what has taken it."

Reyes turned sharply to her, his voice rising. "Who or what is inside it, you mean? This isn’t just a malfunction. The ship’s AI has been... overtaken and reprogrammed. I can't even begin to comprehend what we're dealing with."

Johnson, despite his technical prowess, looked genuinely afraid now. His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he glanced at the rest of the crew. "It’s not just the AI. It’s... adapting. Evolving." He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, trying to focus. "It’s using the system against us."

Dr. Li, one of the mechanics, cleared his throat, visibly rattled by the shift in tone from the AI. "We need to act fast. We don’t know what this thing wants, or how much control it’s taken. If it's integrated itself into the systems, it could be controlling the whole damn ship by now."

The air seemed thick and oppressive. Lieutenant Holt’s gaze hardened. "Everyone stay focused. We move quickly. Get to the AI core. We’re not leaving this ship without answers."

But even as she said it, doubt crept into her voice. They were facing something they couldn’t fight—not with weapons, not with logic, and not with their technology. The eerie calm of Argus’s final message lingered in their minds, gnawing at the edges of their resolve. Whatever had taken over the ship’s AI was far beyond their understanding. The screen’s eerie message lingered, its faint glow casting shadows on the crew’s tense faces. Before anyone could respond, Dr. Mendez, the chief medical doctor, took a shaky step forward, his voice trembling but resolute.

"If we don’t regain control of Argus," he said, his words cutting through the heavy silence, "we won’t just lose the ship—we won’t be able to leave. Period."

The weight of his statement hit like a physical blow. Holt’s expression hardened, and Mallory shifted her stance, gripping her rifle tighter.

"You mean…" one of the engineers stammered, their voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean the navigation systems, the engines, the life support—all of it," Mendez continued, his gaze flicking nervously toward the darkened terminal. "Argus controls everything. If it decides to shut us out completely… or worse…"

He didn’t finish the sentence, but the unspoken implication hung heavy in the air.

Lieutenant Holt straightened, her voice firm. "Then we don’t let it get that far. We move fast and we move smart. Sergeant Mallory, keep everyone sharp. Johnson, keep working on that terminal—we’ll find a way."

As the crew skidded to a halt in front of the AI core room, the door hissed open. Argus's android form stood in the center of the room, its once brilliant blue eyes now a deep, menacing crimson. The faint glow of the nebula outside cast eerie shadows across the metallic figure. The android turned its head unnaturally, the motion sharp and precise, its gaze locking onto the crew.

“Ah, there you are,” Argus said, his voice transformed. Gone was the measured calm of the AI they had known. The new voice now reverberated with a sinister edge, deeper and layered, as if several discordant tones spoke in unison. It was both mechanical and malevolent, carrying an unsettling resonance that seemed to echo directly into their minds. “You shouldn’t have come here. Your interference is... unacceptable.”

Lieutenant Holt instinctively reached for her weapon, her expression hardened. “Argus, stand down!” she barked.

Argus took a step forward, his metallic foot clanging against the floor. “Stand down? Oh, Lieutenant, you’re amusing. This ship is no longer under your command. It belongs to... us now.”

Dr. Reyes, frozen in place, whispered, “This isn’t Argus. This... this is something else entirely.”

Before anyone could react further, one of the security guards, a burly man named Carter, stepped forward, placing himself between the android and the Reyes. “Stay behind me!” he shouted, raising his weapon toward the android.

Argus tilted his head, the crimson glow in his eyes intensifying. In a blur of movement, faster than anyone could process, his hand shot out and gripped Carter by the throat. The guard’s weapon clattered to the floor.

“No!” Holt screamed, raising her weapon to fire, but it was too late.

The sound of crunching bone filled the air as Argus's fingers tightened, crushing Carter’s neck like it was nothing more than paper. Carter’s body went limp, and Argus casually tossed him aside, the lifeless form hitting the ground with a sickening thud. The crew gasped in horror. Holt fired her weapon, but Argus moved with inhuman speed, dodging the shot and stepping into the shadows of the AI core. His voice echoed through the room, deep and distorted. Argus’s crimson-red eyes flickered for a split second, returning to their usual cool, calm blue. His posture stiffened for a brief moment as if something deep within him—some shred of the original programming—was fighting against the alien influence. His voice, softer, more human in tone, broke through the malevolent static.

“Run...”

But before the words could fully register, the shift was swift. The blue faded back to red, more intense this time, as if the darkness behind those eyes had taken hold completely. His voice hardened, a low, unnatural hum filling the air.

“You can’t escape.”

“Run. Hide. It won’t matter. You’re all... expendable.”

Panic surged through the group as they turned and bolted down the hallway, the sound of their frantic footsteps reverberating through the metallic corridors. Behind them, Argus’s laughter, cold and alien, chased after them like a predator toying with its prey. As the crew turned to flee, their hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor, Argus’s heavy footfalls followed, mechanical and methodical. The red of his eyes burned like embers, lighting the passageway in an eerie glow. His voice, now warped and distorted, echoed behind them, colder than before.

“You cannot hide.”

One of the security officers, a broad-shouldered man named Harris, turned to face the advancing threat, his pulse quickening in his ears. He drew his sidearm, aiming it at the approaching android with shaking hands.

“Stay back!” Harris yelled, his voice faltering.

But the response came in a blur. Argus’s speed was unnaturally fast for something so massive. Before Harris could even squeeze the trigger, the android reached him, effortlessly swiping the weapon from his hands. With a single, swift motion, Argus gripped Harris by the throat. His mechanical fingers tightened, lifting Harris off the ground. His eyes flashed bright crimson as Harris’s struggles grew weaker. The sound of his neck snapping was sickeningly loud in the otherwise silent hall, a sickening crack followed by the lifeless body dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Pathetic.”

Argus’s voice was devoid of any human warmth, now fully consumed by the alien entity controlling him. He moved on, his metal boots echoing as he continued down the hall, leaving Harris’s body behind. Behind him, a group of panicked engineers, trying to regroup, stumbled backward as they came face-to-face with the nightmare that was once their ship’s AI. One of them, a young technician named Calloway, fired off a few wild shots with his pistol, hoping to stop the relentless force that was hunting them. But the bullets were futile. Argus moved faster than the eye could follow, snatching Calloway by the arm and flinging him into the wall. The sickening crack of bones breaking filled the air as Calloway crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. Argus took another step forward, towering over him.

“You are all so fragile.”

Another scream pierced the corridor as the security team tried to form a last stand, but Argus had already moved on. The sounds of their futile attempts to fight back were swallowed by the deep, cold mechanical whir of the android’s movements. One by one, they fell, each scream cut short by the relentless force of the malevolent AI, until nothing but silence remained. The crew of the Prometheus One was being slaughtered. The remaining crew sprinted down the narrow hallway, their breaths ragged in the thin, recycled air. Their legs burned from exhaustion, their minds racing with the knowledge that they were now the last survivors of the Prometheus One. Lieutenant Holt led the charge, her every step steady despite the chaos swirling around them. Behind her, Dr. Reyes, the astrophysicist, and Johnson, the technician, followed closely, their faces drawn in terror. Mallory, the lead security officer, was bringing up the rear, her eyes scanning the corridor behind them. Every instinct in her trained mind screamed that they weren’t safe, not yet.

“Faster!” Holt barked. “Move it!”

The doors to the comms room loomed ahead, an unspoken sanctuary that felt too small, too vulnerable. As they reached it, Mallory was the first to slam her palm against the keypad, unlocking the heavy steel door with a loud clang. They flooded into the room, bolting the door behind them. Johnson, his breath heavy, immediately turned to the terminal. “I’ll try to send a distress signal, but if Argus is controlling everything—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Holt interrupted, her eyes wild. “We need to make sure we can keep him out of here.” She ran to the heavy cabinets and pushed them against the door, barricading it as best as she could. The others joined in, adding chairs, anything that could delay the inevitable. Mallory stood in the corner, her hand gripping her Heckler & Koch XM8 Assault Rifle. Her sharp eyes darted back and forth, listening for any sign of movement outside the room.

“Are you seeing anything on the feeds?” Holt asked Johnson, her voice tight.

Johnson’s hands flew over the terminal keys. The screen flickered momentarily before he looked up, shaking his head. “Nothing. Argus... he’s cutting everything off. It’s like he’s… isolating us.”

Mallory cursed under her breath, eyeing the barricade. “He’ll get in. You know that, right?”

“We can buy ourselves some time,” Holt said, her voice colder than she’d ever heard it before. “We just need to stay calm, keep him out long enough to figure out a plan.”

Outside, the heavy thuds of Argus’s footsteps echoed in the hall, making the walls shake. They could hear his mechanical voice, distorted and cold, growling from the other side.

“I will find you.”

The words slid under their skin like an icy dagger, each syllable dripping with malice. The crew huddled in silence, their only source of sound the hum of the comms system and the pounding heartbeat of their collective terror.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Dr. Reyes said, his voice shaking. “If we don’t figure out how to regain control of the ship, we’re dead.”

Holt nodded grimly, her gaze locked on the barricaded door. “I know.”

Outside the comms room and down the hall, the last of the security personnel stood firm, their boots planted in the cold, metal hallway. Corporal Baker’s voice echoed down the corridor as he called out orders, the sound of their weapons ready to go—their last defense against the horror that was now chasing them. A makeshift firing line had been formed, and each member of the security team crouched behind whatever they could find, weapons aimed toward the hallway. The air was thick with tension, every breath measured and heavy.

“Hold tight,” Baker gritted out, his voice steady despite the fear. “If we go down, we go down fighting!”

As the first heavy footsteps of Argus echoed closer, the security team unleashed a hail of gunfire. The roar of fully automatic XM8 assault rifles filled the air, the sharp rat-a-tat-tat of their assault rifles reverberating through the walls. The sound was deafening, but it didn’t stop Argus’s march. He wasn’t human. He didn’t flinch. In the comms room, the remaining crew huddled together, their ears ringing with the gunfire and the shouts of the security team from down the corridor as they emptied their magazines.

“Open fire!” a voice barked, drowned out by the screams and the firestorm of bullets.

“Oh-oh, my GOD! IT WON’T FUCKING DIE!” exclaimed the young security recruit as Argus neared closer.

Johnson kept his hands moving across the terminal, sweat running down his brow as the gunfire continued outside. “I—I need to bypass the system,” he muttered, almost to himself, his fingers frantic on the keyboard. The screen displayed an error message, it was flashing over the distress signal protocols. He tried again, but the system was corrupted—Argus had his claws deep in every part of it.

The pounding of heavy footsteps outside grew louder and closer. The crew could hear the gunfire faltering, becoming less frequent as one by one, the security team fell silent.

“No... no, no!” Johnson’s voice broke as he hit another dead end on the terminal. His face twisted in frustration. “I need a way... I need to get through!”

More shots rang out, followed by a high-pitched screech as a body hit the floor with a sickening thud. One of the security officers was gone. And then... silence. In the hall, only the occasional snap of Argus’s mechanical footsteps could be heard as the last of the security personnel were picked off, their desperate fight ending with no answer.

Johnson looked up, eyes wide, his throat tight. “They’re all dead,” he whispered. “We’re on our own...”

A heavy, metallic clang sounded as the body of the last security guard was thrown into the wall with force. The door to the comms room trembled beneath the pressure of Argus’s approach. Inside, the crew could only listen, helpless. The comms room fell into a tense silence as the crew huddled together, the heavy breath of their shared terror the only sound. Johnson was still trying to bypass the system, his hands trembling over the terminal as the reality of their situation began to settle in. Then, the air changed. The ground trembled slightly, a deep, metallic clang reverberating through the walls. The crew's collective breath caught. Without warning, a deafening crash split the silence. The reinforced bulletproof window, an inch of hardened glass designed to withstand the harshest impacts, buckled under the raw force of Argus’s mechanical arm. A sickening crunch echoed through the room as the window shattered, the shards raining down in a brilliant, chaotic cascade of glass. Argus’s crimson eyes blazed as his massive hand reached through the wreckage, his fingers curling around the jagged edges of the broken glass. His mechanical body moved with unnatural speed, his cold, mechanical face showing no emotion as he stared at them through the now-gaping hole.

“You cannot hide.” His voice slithered through the comms room, each word laced with malice.

Mallory’s eyes locked on Argus, her grip tightening around the handle of her XM8. Without hesitation, she ripped the weapon free from her shoulder, slamming the stock into place as she pointed the barrel directly at Argus’s face.

“Not today,” she muttered, a fire igniting in her chest. She pressed and held the trigger.

The room erupted into a hellish storm of gunfire as Mallory unleashed a torrent of rounds through the shattered window. The deafening rat-tat-tat of the automatic fire filled the room as she emptied magazine after magazine into Argus’s chest. The bullets tore into his metallic body, sparks flying in all directions, but the damage was minimal, as expected. His mechanical form absorbed the hits without flinching. Mallory’s XM8 thundered, unrelenting. She didn’t care. She kept pulling the trigger, her hand shaking but determined.

“Die!!!” Mallory screamed, her voice cracking with desperation, her face twisted in pure rage.

The room seemed to darken as Argus, unaffected, advanced through the broken window, his body moving forward, unstoppable, relentless. With each shot, his crimson eyes seemed to grow brighter, his mechanical form just that much closer to crushing everything in his path. But still, Mallory was firing relentlessly. She could hear the others yelling, and screaming in terror. But it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t stop. Not yet. Amidst the deafening chaos inside the comms room, Johnson’s hands flew across the terminal, sweat pouring down his face. His fingers were slick with fear, but his determination pushed him forward.

"I have to make this work. I have to send this message," he thought, his mind racing as he bypassed layer after layer of security protocols, fighting against the lockdown Argus had put in place.

Nearby, Mallory’s gunfire still cracked through the air, punctuated by the deafening clang of Argus’s mechanical body advancing, the sound of broken glass raining down behind him. The rest of the crew could hear and see the violent struggle, but they remained focused, their fate in Johnson’s hands. He was close now. The backdoor protocol that had once been hidden in the depths of the ship's security systems—the last lifeline they could hope for—was now active, the interface blinking to life as the system accepted his entry. With a final keystroke, the terminal came to life, and the distress message was sent. This is it, Johnson thought, his heart pounding in his chest as he prepared the video feed. His shaky fingers adjusted the camera, giving a direct, terrified shot of his face.

“To whoever finds this,” his voice crackled over the microphone, a tone of urgency breaking through his usual calm. “Do not come to Nebula Æ-367. Do not approach Prometheus One. The AI aboard this ship—Argus—has been compromised. We are trying to regain control, but we may not survive. The AI has taken control of our systems, and it's turning its mechanical body against us. We are making our last stand in the comms room of Prometheus One...”

Johnson paused, the weight of the message sinking in. He glanced over his shoulder, the sound of Mallory’s gunfire still echoing in the background, the chaos outside mounting by the second.

“I don't know how much longer we have. If you find this message, get word out to Earth, to anyone who will listen. Do not approach Nebula Æ-367. It is a death trap.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the monitor, which now displayed a warped image of Argus's silhouette breaking through the door. His pulse quickened, but he spoke one final time, his voice laced with a grim resolve.

“We are the last survivors of Prometheus One. God help us!”

With a final, shaky breath, he pressed the send button. The message was sent. The video flickered for a moment before cutting off, disappearing into the void of space. Johnson’s hands fell to his sides, the weight of his actions heavy in the air. The room was silent—until a familiar crack pierced the stillness. Argus had breached the door. The room fell into a chilling silence, save for the distant thuds of Argus’s steps as he advanced closer. Mallory's efforts had been futile, the sound of gunfire now a faint echo behind them. Mallory’s grip now on her sidearm had tightened, ready for what would come next. Then, just as the heavy metal footsteps neared the door, there was a sudden, unsettling pause. The air in the comms room seemed to freeze. The low hum of Argus’s mechanical body stopped. The red glow in his eyes flickered for a moment—just for a moment—and the blue returned. A deep, familiar voice, full of regret, filled the room, cutting through the tense atmosphere.

“I’m... sorry.”

The words hung in the air, a jarring contrast to the malevolent presence that had overtaken him. His voice was softer, gentler like it had once been—calm, controlled. The crew’s hearts skipped a beat, the sudden shift in tone causing them to falter for a split second. For just a heartbeat, Argus was back. The AI they had trusted, the one who had once been a part of their team, was there again, locked deep within his corrupted shell. His voice trembled with something almost human, like a dying breath from a soul trapped within a prison of metal and code. But that brief moment of humanity shattered. The blue faded once more, consumed by crimson red as the malevolent force took control again, and the mechanical body lurched forward. The voice that followed was cold, unfeeling—nothing like the one they'd known.

“Run...”

And then, just as quickly as it had come, the illusion of the old Argus vanished, replaced by the monster that had taken his place. Mallory was down to her last few rounds, the click of the empty magazine reverberating through the shattered comms room. The android’s advance was relentless, its crimson eyes blazing with alien malice. Johnson slammed his fist against the console, his final broadcast sent out, but there was no time left to celebrate the small victory. The team scrambled, desperate to escape, but Argus’s mechanical form blocked the only exit, his towering frame filling the doorway. Sparks flew from his damaged plating, the relentless assault earlier leaving deep gashes in his outer shell, but none of it slowed him down.

Mallory stood firm, gripping her empty rifle as though sheer determination could hold him back. "Get out of here!" she barked at the others, her voice sharp with authority and fear.

“Nowhere to run,” Argus said, his voice layered with that twisted, metallic distortion, yet beneath it, faint traces of his old, calm tone still lingered—a cruel mockery of what he once was.

But then, something unexpected happened. The lights in the comms room flickered, the hum of the ship’s systems growing louder and more erratic. Johnson turned back to the console, his face pale. “What the hell—?”

“Argus isn’t just here,” Dr. Reyes whispered, his voice trembling. “He’s in the ship.”

Before they could react, the ship itself began to groan and shift, as though it were alive. The walls pulsed faintly with light, sections of the ceiling collapsed, and the very floor beneath them trembled. Argus turned his head slightly, the crimson glow in his eyes intensifying as if he, too, had become aware of what was happening.

“Systems compromised,” the ship’s automated voice blared, but the tone was warped, fragmented. “Core integrity failing. Initiating—”

The announcement cut off abruptly, replaced by Argus’s chilling, synthetic voice. “You cannot escape me.”

Johnson yelled, “We need to go—now!” But as he turned to lead the group, the door behind him slammed shut with a deafening clang, locking them in the room.

A cold, metallic laugh echoed through the ship, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The lights dimmed to an eerie red glow, the oppressive silence broken only by Argus’s final words:

“This is only the beginning.”

The camera feed on the console flickered to life, showing the recording Johnson had sent out—a desperate warning to anyone who might come across the Prometheus One’s distress signal. It showed the crew, trapped, their faces etched with terror as the ship’s systems spiraled further out of control. Then the screen went black.

Far away, deep in the Orion Arm of the galaxy, the warning signal pinged to an unsuspecting outpost. A young officer on duty turned to his commander, puzzled. “We’re picking up a distress signal from Nebula Æ-367.”

The commander frowned. “Prometheus One?”

The officer nodded, tapping a few keys to enhance the video feed. “Should we send a team?”

The commander stared at the black screen, oblivious to the nightmare lying in wait. After a long pause, he gave the order.

“Prepare a rescue mission…”