Chapter 2: The AI Awakens

The moment I crossed the threshold, the ship responded.

Lights flickered to life, deep red and amber, casting eerie shadows along the curved corridor. The air inside was still, carrying a faint, metallic scent. It felt old, yet not abandoned.

The door behind me sealed with a hiss.

My breath came fast and shallow. I was inside an alien ship. A real one. Not some rusted-out wreck, not a fragment of lost history, but something still functional.

I tried to push myself to my feet, but pain shot up my leg, reminding me just how broken I was. I gritted my teeth, crawling forward instead. If I could find a medkit—if aliens even had medkits—I might stand a chance.

Then, from somewhere deep within the ship, a sound rumbled to life.

A voice.

“Organic lifeform detected. Injury sustained. Initiating medical protocols.”

I froze.

The voice was deep, guttural, and completely alien—yet somehow, I understood it. The words carried a strange echo, as if they were being translated in real-time, filtering through the ship’s systems to reach me.

“Remain still. You will not be harmed.”

I didn’t get a chance to argue.

Before I could move, metallic arms extended from the walls, sleek and segmented like the limbs of some enormous insect. They grasped me—firm, unyielding, but not cruel—lifting my body from the floor. A strange warmth spread through my limbs, numbing the pain as the ship carried me deeper inside.

Panic flared in my chest.

“Wait—what the hell are you doing?!” I struggled against the machine’s grip, but my limbs felt heavy, my senses foggy. “Put me down!”

“You are injured. Damage must be repaired.”

The ship didn’t care about my protests. It carried me down the dim corridor, through a door that slid open without a sound, and into a circular chamber filled with pulsing energy.

In the center of the room stood a large, cylindrical pod, lined with dark metal and glowing blue symbols. The arms gently deposited me inside.

I barely had time to react before a translucent field snapped into place over my chest, pinning me down.

“Hey—! Wait a damn minute!”

“Beginning cellular regeneration.”

Then came the light.

A golden glow swept over my body, pulsing through my skin like waves of heat. It wasn’t painful—far from it. It was warm, soothing, like stepping into the sun after a long winter. My leg tingled, the pain fading into something distant and unreal.

I gasped as I watched the bruises on my arms disappear before my eyes. My torn skin sealed shut. The deep ache in my ribs vanished, replaced by an almost electric energy.

It was impossible.

And yet, it was happening.

After what felt like only a few minutes, the light dimmed, and the force field flickered away. I sat up, stunned, flexing my fingers. My body felt ... different.

Stronger.

I ran my hand over my leg, expecting pain but there was none. No break, no swelling, not even a scar. I was healed. Completely.

I barely had time to process it before the voice spoke again.

“Your condition has been stabilized.”

I turned toward the source. And for the first time, I saw it.

Standing at the far end of the chamber was a figure, not flesh and blood, but a projection of light and energy.

It was tall, almost seven feet, clad in imposing battle armor, its features sharp and angular. Deep red eyes burned within its shadowed helm, watching me with something I could only describe as calculated curiosity.

“You will explain your origin,” it said.

I swallowed hard, my heart still racing.

“ ... You first.”