Thudding in her chest like the bass line in an EDM song, Violet thought her heart might explode. Her pulse rang in her ears as the red emergency lights bathed her face in the darkened hallways of Sector Six on Tryptek Station.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the haunting laugh of the homicidal maniac, Zane Anderson; spinning to face him, his skin covered in the blood spatter of his victims; trying to fight him off, but not having the strength; his hands closing around her neck, slowly squeezing as she scratched at his arms and face, trying to free herself by any means; the look of intense glee on his face as he watched the life leave her eyes; and then nothing—peace.

Violet awoke in her bed onboard the Remus, gasping for air and covered in sweat. It was the middle of the night. She was tangled up in her sheets which had somehow managed to wrap themselves around her neck. She quickly undid the damaged and tossed the sheet back, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. The echoes of the nightmare still lingered in her head like a ghost that wouldn’t move on to the next plane of existence. Although, she wondered, was it technically a nightmare if it had actually happened in real life?

Throwing off her bedding, she pulled on some pants, slipped into her boots and fled from the sight of her dream. She didn’t know where she was going in the middle of the night, all she knew was that she couldn’t stay cooped up in that little room all by herself. She felt as though she might suffocate if she stayed. So she wandered the halls of the Remus instead. First down the back end of the crew level and then she descended to the cargo level.

The ship employed a skeleton crew over the midnight hours, and she saw no one else as she made a few laps around the cargo bay. She even dared a foray halfway down the hallway that led to the bump bunks. Hearing nothing, she was satisfied that she walked the lower level of the ship alone.

Eventually, her nerves calmed, whether due to the brisk walk or the chilly temperature of the large open belly of the ship, it was hard to tell. Most likely a combination of the two, she figured. And unless she planned to spend tomorrow exhausted, it was time for her to get back to her room and catch a few more hours of sleep before breakfast service began in the cafeteria. She took the lift back up to the crew level.

As she neared the door to her quarters, something beyond it at the end of the corridor caught her attention. A flash of light from around the corner. She couldn’t see what made it.

The tired part of her brain argued to ignore it and climb back into bed, but her curiosity won out, and she soon found herself gliding down the corridor and turning the corner, caught under the spell of intrigue.

Stolen novel; please report.

Her path led her from a left turn to a right and then past more closed doors, which she assumed were more crew quarters, and finally to the other end of the ship, closest to the nose of the craft. The hallway dumped her into a large viewing lounge. The far wall was a giant window that overlooked the vastness of space beyond. Scattered throughout the room were various chairs and couches where the crew could relax in their down time, but they were empty at this late hour.

The lone occupant of the room stood in front of the window, staring out into space. He wore a shimmering silver wrap that covered most of his naked torso and below that a pair of baggy orange pants. From the parts of his physique that Violet could see, the man was very fit, his arms were taught and sinewy. His head sported a close-cropped spattering of white and grey stubble. In the reflection of the glass, Violet saw a salt and pepper beard.

Whether he heard her arrival or saw her in the glass, the man turned around to inspect her.

Violet nearly gasped when she saw the man’s face. A patch covered his right eye, and she could see the ends of a nasty scar starting above the bridge of his nose and ending below his cheek in a diagonal slash.

“I hope I didn’t startle you,” he said. His voice was deep and coarse but possessed enough warmth that it wasn’t entirely displeasing to the ear.

Violet realized she was still staring at the man’s disfigurement and blushed. “No, sorry. I just saw the reflection of your shirt in the corridor and followed it out of curiosity.” She looked around the bare room. “Not many people up at this hour.”

The man looked around as well, confirming her assessment. “No, it would seem not.”

Violet couldn’t be certain, but she thought she detected a slight movement of the man’s head up and then down as though he was scanning her from head to toe. Was it necessary for every male she ever came across to check her out?

“You are not like the rest of us,” the man announced.

“Uh… thanks?” Violet responded, unsure of what this guy’s deal was.

The man shook his head slowly from side to side and smiled knowingly. “No, you are not like the rest of us,” he spoke slowly giving each word its own weight.

Suddenly, Violet felt exposed under the man’s one-eyed gaze, and she wanted to be anywhere but standing there in front of him. “Okay, I’m just gonna go then…”

Violet backed away slowly and then turned. As she walked back to her room, she fought the urge to check behind her for the eye-patched man following her. You’re just wound up from the nightmare you had. There’s no one following you. You’re on a military ship—hell, you’re part of the military, or soon will be, at least—you’re safe.

She reached her room and palmed opened the door. Unable to resist the urge any longer, she scanned the corridor behind her. It was empty.

She let the door close behind her, stripped her clothes off, and climbed back into the sweet embrace of her bed. She drifted off to sleep, wondering who the strange man with the eyepatch was.