Addison collapsed onto the cot in her quarters, the unyielding metal frame digging into her back. She flung an arm across her eyes, blocking out the meager light bleeding from the recessed fixtures above. But no matter how tightly she squeezed her eyelids shut, the visions assaulting her mind refused to relent.
Apex's monstrous visage swam before her - a twisted mass of gleaming chitin and pulsing, bioluminescent tissue that heaved and undulated grotesquely with each rattling breath. The creature's metallic fangs still dripped with the viscera of its most recent victim, the wet carnage oozing down its jaw to splatter on the reinforced glass of its cell. Addison's stomach roiled at the memory of those needle-like teeth shearing through flesh and bone as easily as a plasma torch through a sheet of foil.
Bile crept up her esophagus and she swallowed hard against it, her throat clicking. Behind the nausea, a chasm of fathomless dread yawned wide. Because while Apex and its insatiable butchery chilled her to the marrow, what kept Addison's pulse rabbiting and her nerves scraped raw was Driver.
The man was an enigma, as much a source of disquiet as the alien horror he seemed to command. Like a waif of shadow, the way he’d slipped in behind her without a noise, bringing with him a foreboding that permeated the room like a toxic vapor. His voice, a susurrous rasp that made her flesh crawl, still buzzed in her ears. The more she replayed it, the more sinister the memory became.
"We've been watching you, Captain," he'd murmured, his bloodshot eyes glittering in the low light. "Observing. Learning." His lips, chapped and cracked, stretched into a humorless grin, his teeth metamorphosizing into Apex’s saliva-soaked grin. "And now, we wish to extend an offer. An offer you can’t refuse."
She focused on the sterile vocality of her facility's distant hum, hoping it would lead her away from the traumatizing images that played in an incessant loop in her mind. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Apex's metallic teeth gleaming wetly as it tore into its prey with an eerie precision. Her fingers tightened on the sheets beneath her, knuckles blanching under the strain.
Addison shuddered, a full-body tremor that made the cot rattle. Driver's words had been a thinly-veiled ultimatum, laced with implication and dripping with veiled menace. They'd crawled beneath her skin and taken root, coiling around her like a noose slowly tightening.
She rolled onto her side, knees drawing up to her chest. To her horror, she found no comfort in it. The blank metal wall, to her mind, bore a stark resemblance to Apex's cell. Not glass, but still. Cold. Unfeeling. An unbreakable prison. A shudder rolled through her at the recollection of its sibilant hiss reverberating through the glass partition. The memory of its bioluminescent patterns still danced in front of her eyes, mocking in their hypnotic pulsations. If she did not take Driver’s offer, this facility may well become her tomb. Her friend’s tombs.
Facility. The word felt like a farce now, a mocking label for the labyrinthine monstrosity she found herself in. An unyielding prison of alloy and ceramic composite haunted by atrocities and secrets dark enough to crush the soul. Just this morning, she had strode the corridors with confidence, certain in her role and resolute in her knowledge, eager to leave. Now, she huddled in her quarters like a frightened child, jumping at every groan and rattle of the aging superstructure around her.
Her mind strayed back to Driver’s words: "What we want, Captain Gray, is to extend an offer." Every syllable echoed in her head like a gory lullaby. His proposition hung in every corner of the room like an unwanted specter.
She glanced at the time indicator on her wrist comm device - standard sci-tech issue for any ship captain. It projected a holographic display, glowing faintly against her skin. It read 0300 hours.
Her body felt heavy, and her mind a whirlpool of thoughts and fears. Yet, sleep seemed a distant luxury, eclipsed by the dread that gnawed at her gut.
Suddenly breaking through the quiet, an alert blared from her console. “LOCKDOWN ENGAGED.”
A cry wrenched from her throat as she lunged for the console bolted into the wall beside her cot, fingers flying across the translucent display. The bioluminescent sigils projecting from the screen blurred before her eyes as she frantically scanned the scrolling data for any sign that this was a malfunction, a glitch.
It wasn't. Cold certainty settled like a lead weight in her gut as the containment breach alert continued to flash, the crimson text pulsing like a bloody wound. Addison's hands shook, her breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts. A lockdown meant the bulkhead doors had slammed shut, sealing off the cell block.
A distress signal blinked urgently on her screen—coordinates leading back to Level Eighteen.
OPENING HATCHES PLEASE SEND EMERGENCY PERSONELL TO LEVEL EIGHTEEN.
"No, no..." She muttered under her breath, frantically trying to override it. But a moment later, all of the lights flickered and dimmed ominously. A chill crawled over Addison's skin as she stood there in semi-darkness, a dreadful understanding filling every inch of space inside her. If Apex had broken free…
She didn't allow herself to complete the thought. Instead, she reached beneath her pillow, fingers closing around the grip of her sidearm. The weapon's weight was familiar in her palm as she slid from the cot, bare feet hitting the deckplates with a muffled thud.
Addison moved to the door, keying it open with a trembling hand. The corridor beyond was empty, emergency lighting bathing the alloyed walls in alternating pools of shadow and crimson illumination. She stepped out, the metal grating cold against her skin.
She'd barely gone five paces when the world erupted in fire and thunder, an explosion rocking the facility. The detonation slammed Addison into the bulkhead, the impact driving the breath from her lungs. Pain flared white-hot in her shoulder as metal met bone.
Dazed and gasping, she struggled to right herself, blinking away the stars bursting across her vision. The acrid stench of smoke and charred circuitry filled her nostrils, and in the distance, the wail of klaxons began to sound. A chill ran through her, dread and adrenaline intermingling into a potent cocktail that sent her heart galloping.
Pushing herself off the wall, she stumbled forward just as something large and shadowy crashed through a far-off door. A low hiss filled the hallway, and she caught the glint of light off of black carapace.
Apex.
************
"Captain! Captain Gray!"
Fariah's shouts ripped Addison from the nightmare's clutches. Her heart thundered against her ribs as she thrashed, fingers clawing empty air.
"Addison! It's me, Fariah!" Rough hands seized her shoulders, shaking until her eyes flew open.
The familiar contours of her quarters solidified around her. Addison dragged in a shuddering gasp, chest heaving.
"Fuckin' hell, Cap. Never seen you like this." Fariah's weathered face hovered above, brows knitted. "You alright?"
Addison pushed upright, sidearm cradled in her lap. "A nightmare, that's all." Her voice rasped like rusted metal.
"Some fuckin' nightmare." Fariah snagged the chair, its legs screeching across the deck plates. She dropped into it, arms crossed. "I thought you were gonna fuckin’ shoot me. Spill."
Addison glanced at the pistol, then shoved it under her pillow. Haltingly, she recounted what festered in the facility's bowels. Fariah listened, face impassive.
"We need to go, Fariah. Get off this piece of shit rock."
"No shit, Sherlock." Fariah snorted. "Place is fucked."
A wan smile tugged Addison's lips. "I’ve always wondered about that phrase. Who the hell is Sherlock?"
"Beats me."
Addison eyed the door, thoughts churning. "How'd you get in here?"
"Cap, been watching your six for eight years now. Think I can't crack your codes?"
A chuckle bubbled up Addison's throat. Fariah's bluntness never failed to ground her.
"Addison." Fariah leaned forward, forgoing formality, her gnarled hands dangling between her knees. Her eyes, nested in a web of lines, held equal parts concern and steel. "This place is a mile past TARFU, but we're in the shit together, you hear?"
Addison managed a nod, throat too tight for words.
"Get some rack time," Fariah said, voice gentling. "That's an order."
The chair squealed as she settled back. Addison cringed at the sound, too similar to the shrieks echoing from the creature's cell.
"Sleep's not happening." The admission tasted bitter on Addison's tongue.
The nightmares still clung to her mind's edges, vivid and reeking. Apex's visage flashed behind her eyelids - a chitinous horror of undulating flesh and pulsing bioluminescence. Its metal fangs dripped gore, viscera splattering the reinforced glass.
Fariah's gaze softened slightly as she watched Addison grapple with invisible demons. She understood them well - war had painted such phantoms in her own mind. A hardened warrior with scars buried deep beneath leathery skin, Fariah knew some battles extended beyond physical fronts and into the psyche.
"We all have those nights, Captain," Fariah offered quietly. Her voice held an echo of long-forgotten battles and haunting memories. "Best thing to do is face 'em head-on."
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“How’s the rest of the crew?” Addison asked. “We seem to be a on different sleep schedule.”
“Everyone has been. It’s cuz they woke us all up from the pods at different times.”
“You meet that creepy bitch, Wren?”
“Yeah, she was something else.”
Addison rubbed her face in her hands, debating internally, then said, “I need you to go wake everyone up.”
“Nobody gonna like that, Cap.”
“Just remind them who signs their paychecks.”
Fariah laughed. “Yeah, at’ll do it. Okay. Where we meetin’?”
“Cafeteria.”
“Should I tell them anything else?”
"Driver's 'offer'." Addison spat the word like spoiled rations. "Don't think we can say no."
Fariah quirked a brow. "What's he selling?"
"He ain't saying."
Fariah shook her head, disgust wrinkling her nose. "Fuckin' typical. I'll leave that clusterfuck to you." She pushed to her feet, boots thudding on the decking.
As the door to Addison's quarters hissed shut behind Fariah, Addison found her gaze drawn inexorably back to the holographic chrono hovering over her console. The glowing numerals seared into her retinas: 0300 hours. Just like her dream.
Three in the goddamn morning. Witching hour.
A fragment of an old poem bubbled up from the sludge of her exhausted brain. Something about night terrors and the dark things that lurked in the midnight shadows.
She'd always scoffed at such superstitious nonsense. Ghost stories for gullible planet-siders. But now, trapped in this metal sarcophagus, Addison felt the icy fingers of primitive dread walking up her spine. Because while the things lurking in the station's bowels might not be supernatural, they were all too fucking real.
The memory of Apex's hiss reverberating through the glass of its cage made her molars ache. Its luminous patterns strobed behind her eyelids, indelible afterimages seared into her visual cortex. Why was it in her head this way? Had it hypnotized her somehow?
And if she let her thoughts wander too far down the shadowed corridors of this place, she could almost feel Driver's breath on the back of her neck, his whisper slithering into her ear.
"An offer you can't refuse..."
*******
The room filled with grumbles and yawns as the crew members stumbled in, disheveled and disoriented. The harsh fluorescent lights cast an unforgiving glare on their haggard faces, deepening the shadows under bloodshot eyes.
Pachinski, a bear of a man with a grizzled beard, slumped into a metal chair. His usually alert gaze was clouded with exhaustion as he yawned, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth. "Alright, Cap," he mumbled, his words slurring together, "waaathefurcks shisabou eh?"
Swain's lips quirked into a tired smirk. "Anyone wanna translate that?" A weak ripple of laughter echoed through the room, quickly fading into an uneasy silence.
Addison stood at the head of the table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The crew could read the tension in every line of her body, from the rigid set of her shoulders to the tightness around her eyes. She cleared her throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the hushed room.
"Driver wants to make us an offer," she said, her voice low and controlled. A current of whispers and meaningful glances swept through the group.
Daber, the Rust Raptor's navigator, pushed a lock of fiery hair from her face as she leaned forward, brows furrowed. "What?"
Addison's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking visibly. "I said, Driver wants to make us an offer."
"Yeah, I got that part," Daber shot back, irritation sharpening her words. "It's the 'who the fuck is Driver' bit that's tripping me up."
Addison rolled her eyes. “Was everyone not debriefed by Dr. Wren when they woke up?”
“Nope,” Throm shook his massive head. “I just woke up in a room with a console explaining some of what’s goin’ on. Apparently, we’re not prisoners. But we aren’t allowed to leave. Just sorta feels like a prison, looks like a prison, but no no, not a prison.” He crossed his arms. “In other words, some bullshit.”
Addison tilted her face to the ceiling and let out an exasperated sigh.
Before she could respond, Fariah pushed to her feet, her chair screeching against the floor, bringing her hands together in a thunderous clap.
"Alright, listen up," Fariah said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Here's the sitrep. We're in some black-budget research facility called Tartarus Deep on LV-2032. It's run by a guy named Driver, with some freaky robo-doc named Wren as his head researcher."
She paused, her gaze sweeping the room. "And if the scuttlebutt is to be believed, they've got some real nightmare fuel locked up in the basement. But the brass tacks? We're grounded until we play ball with whatever game these spooks are running."
A wave of unease rippled through the crew, manifesting in muttered curses and exchanged glances. Fariah dropped back into her seat, the metal groaning under her weight.
Addison ran a hand through her hair, her fingers catching on tangled strands. "To be clear, Driver hasn't made his offer yet. But he's made it abundantly apparent that if we don't take it, whatever it is..." She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Then we will be stuck on this rock for the rest of our natural lives."
Swain hissed at the thought. “Stuck on a planet for the rest of our lives? Fuck that noise. I get nauseous just thinking about Realgrav; you know that, Cap.”
“My thoughts exactly, Swain.”
Mueller lifted a greasy burger, oblivious. "Could be worse. Chow's decent enough."
“Depends on if they decide to feed you to the monster in the basement,” Addison quipped back.
He chewed another moment and then swallowed hard. “Must be pretty nasty if it gives you some pause.”
“Looks like a hornet hate fucked a snake. Seven, eight feet of bad attitude.”
The color drained from Mueller's face halfway through another bite, his cheeks still bulging. "That bad, huh?"
Addison's boot slammed against the deck, silencing the room. "Listen up. I despise Weyland as much as anyone. But I've got people waiting for me back home, so here's the deal: You're with me or you're not. Anyone want to play guinea pig, be my guest. But -"
A chorus of voices erupted, drowning her out.
"Screw that."
"I'm with you, Cap."
"No way in hell we're staying."
A ghost of a smile flickered across Addison's weathered features, pride warring with exhaustion. "You're all degenerate bastards, but you're my degenerate bastards. Alright, time to give the good doctor our answer."
*****
"Captain, what a pleasant surprise," Driver said without turning. He stood motionless before the expansive viewpane, his synthetic hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out over the alien jungle enveloping Tartarus Deep. "I was not expecting you."
Addison's jaw clenched, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The sight of Driver's pristine silhouette against the verdant backdrop ignited a familiar spark of rage within her. "Driver, I'd not be surprised in the slightest if you told us that you'd jammed cameras up each and every one of our assholes, so I know that's a lie."
A soft chuckle escaped Driver's lips, the sound devoid of genuine mirth. "Tut tut, Addison. We would never do such a thing. In your eyeballs, however..." He tilted his head, the gesture unnaturally smooth. "We do have that tech, but we haven't used it on you, I promise."
He turned to face her, his artificial eyes scanning her form with clinical precision. "I see you've found the cafeteria. You've put on point eight kilograms since last we spoke."
Bile rose in Addison's throat as she met Driver's gaze. The urge to lash out, to feel her knuckles crack against his flawless synthetic skin, surged through her veins like wildfire. But she knew better. She'd only end up with broken bones for her trouble
"So, what's your offer," she asked, forcing the words past the lump of dread lodged in her throat.
Driver's lips curved into a facsimile of a smile. "Oh, have you made a decision then?"
"It is really hard to accept an offer without knowing what it is, but yeah, you kinda didn't leave us a choice." The bitterness in her voice was palpable, a reminder of the suffocating helplessness that had plagued her since their arrival at this godforsaken facility.
"Such is the necessity of working for an Obsidian Sector project," he mused, his tone infuriatingly casual. "Choice is somewhat of an illusion at this level. Well -"
She held up a hand, cutting him off. The tremor in her fingers betrayed the fear she fought to conceal. "We have conditions."
Driver's eyebrows rose, a perfect imitation of surprise. "Oh? Please, do tell."
Addison took a deep breath, steeling herself. The weight of her crew's lives, their families' futures, pressed down upon her shoulders. "I want three million credits deposited to each of our accounts. Each of my accounts, at that. Each and every one of my crew accounts. Their family accounts, too, done as public record transactions, on the blockchain. Immediately." She paused, her heart pounding in her chest. "And I want another million credits after the job is complete. And if there are more jobs, a million more for each."
Driver studied Addison with the cold intensity of a predator sizing up its prey. His artificial eyes, twin pools of liquid obsidian, seemed to penetrate to her very core. Without a word, he held out a hand, and another Synth materialized at his side, offering a sleek tablet.
"The only device in the facility with access to Stellweb," Driver explained, his voice a low purr. "Feel free to verify your accounts and communications. You have three minutes."
Addison's fingers trembled slightly as she took the tablet, her mind racing. She scanned her wristband, heart pounding as she accessed her secured channels. There it was, in stark digital clarity: three million credits, freshly deposited into each of her accounts. A dizzying sum that made her head spin. She checked the blockchain, searching for the familiar strings she paid her crew with. They, too, were now rich beyond their wildest dreams.
With precious seconds ticking away, she checked her messages. A lump formed in her throat as she read her wife's words, brimming with pride and love. Updates about their daughter followed, snapshots of a life that now felt impossibly far away. Addison's chest tightened as she tapped out a hasty reply, longing to say so much more.
"Time's up," Driver announced, his hand outstretched. Addison surrendered the tablet, a maelstrom of emotions churning beneath her carefully controlled expression.
"Are you satisfied?" Driver asked, his tone mockingly solicitous.
Addison's eyes narrowed. "Not even close. What the fuck exactly do you have us doing?"
"The same thing you've been doing your entire career, Captain Gray. Salvage. Searching old ruins."
"Bullshit," Addison spat. "Nobody has ever paid me more than a quarter-mil for those jobs. You just sharted out twenty-seven million into my accounts alone."
Driver offered a polished smile, and Addison once again fought the urge to see how much force it would need to crack open his hard drive.
"Consider the sum an indication of the importance we place on this task," Driver said, his voice silky smooth. "The sites you will be investigating... they are of significant interest to us."
Addison's jaw clenched. "Need more than that, Driver."
"You are so very pushy, Captain." Driver's tone held a note of amusement, as if her defiance was a quaint curiosity. "I appreciate that in a partner. All the cards on the table, then? Very well."
He paused, letting the tension build. "Remember how I mentioned that Apex has been discovered on several different planets, convergent evolution and all that?"
Addison nodded, a chill slithering down her spine at the mention of the nightmarish creature. Her mind raced, conjuring horrific scenarios. No fucking way they were going to capture those things, she thought. Not enough money in all of Weyland's coffers.
"That wasn't entirely true," Driver continued, his words dripping with false regret. "They themselves are not found anywhere in nature. Their eggs, however... Well, those, we have found several times."
Swallowing hard, she crossed her arms over her chest. "And what happens when we find these eggs?" she asked. "What then?"
Driver tilted his head slightly to one side, his synthetic eyes trained on Addison, dissecting her response. "You bring them back here," he said simply.
Addison's heart slammed against her sternum at the prospect of confronting those abominations again. Yet the inescapable truth remained - they were marooned on this desolate world until Driver willed otherwise. And that staggering sum could secure a life of ease and comfort for her kin for lifetimes to come.
As if plucking the thought from her mind, Driver remarked, "It is merely eggs; no mature specimens inhabit any of the sites we've uncovered. The compensation is more than generous for the task required, I assure you."
With a shuddering exhalation, Addison inclined her head in a slow nod of acquiescence. "Very well," she managed, the words scraping past the tightness in her throat, "we'll do it."
A gleam kindled in the depths of Driver's eyes as he acknowledged her capitulation with a returned, minute dip of his chin. He pivoted away from her then, his focus reclaimed by the riotous tangle of alien foliage sprawling beyond the observation port.
As Addison observed him from behind, a leaden knot of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach. The weight of her decision pressed down upon her, threatening to crush her beneath its enormity. She could almost feel the tendrils of fate wrapping around her throat, choking off any hope of escape.
A singular notion reverberated in her skull, an ominous portent that sent her pulse skittering. She was guiding her crew into the gaping maw of perdition itself, and the price of failure would be measured in blood and screams.