hustin.art

The alarm blared as the ship’s AI, CAL-7, flickered to life with a tired sigh. “Captain, we’ve got a problem. The gravity drive’s acting up again—third time this week.” I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, no kidding. Feels like the whole damn ship’s held together by duct tape.” Outside the viewport, the void stretched endlessly, pitch-black and humming with something... else. Then the whispers started. Not through comms, not even in my head—more like they vibrated through my bones. CAL-7’s voice turned staticky. “Uh, boss? You hearing this too?” I swallowed hard. “We’re not alone out here.” The lights dimmed, and the shadows moved. Wrong.