Dawn Experiment

#Day 40 — 17:56

The engineers had stripped the bridge bare, methodically dismantling every panel within reach. Nothing was overlooked—not backup systems, not loose wiring. Their six-hour window had been spent in meticulous disassembly, hands working with desperate efficiency. Security stood guard, weapons ready, though their attention kept drifting to the windows, as if anticipating unwelcome visitors from the darkness beyond the glass.

Zhao stared at his tablet, the blue glow reflecting off the cracked windows of the bridge. ”NUWA. Weather for the next twenty-four hours.”

The AI’s voice came through calm and certain. ”Windy conditions will persist. Seas remain rough. Probability of improvement within the next twenty-four hours: twelve percent.”

Kim stood beside him, her arms crossed, her eyes on the mast visible through the windows. ”Looks like we’re working in rough conditions tomorrow too.”

”The main radar is at the highest point,” Zhao said. ”Heavy. Needs to be disassembled, brought down in pieces.”

”I’ll climb.”

Zhao turned to her. ”Your leg isn’t healed. In this weather—”

”If you fall, the Oasis is done.” Kim’s voice was flat, final. ”I’ll take this one.”

Zhao opened his mouth to argue, but Saanvi called from the corner.

”NUWA broke the code. I have access to the files.”

The crew gathered around her laptop. Saanvi scrolled through documents—supply lists, personnel files, maintenance logs. Then she opened a video file.

The recording showed the same bridge, the same captain’s chair, but the man sitting in it was not Sheffield. An older officer, his uniform crisp, his face hard.

”...request denied. Repeat, your request for a new batch of beta suppressant has been denied by Central Command. You will make do with existing supplies.”

The officer’s jaw tightened. ”Central Command, we have two hundred personnel on this ship. Existing supplies will last two weeks. The men are showing early symptoms. I am formally requesting—”

The recording cut.

Saanvi looked at the white vial on the table. She turned it in her gloved hand, read the label.

”Beta symbol. In Greek.” She looked up. ”This is the suppressant. The one that kept them alive.”

”Why were they denied?” Victoria asked.

Saanvi shook her head. ”I don’t know. But if the military was run by the Commission, they controlled the suppressant. Used it to keep people in line.”

She sealed the vial in a plastic bag, placed it in her medical box.

Victoria turned back to the screen. ”Anything about why they were attacked?”

Saanvi scrolled. ”Nothing yet. The last logs are corrupted. I need more time.”

Victoria stood, stretching her neck. The bridge was lit by portable LED lamps, their white light harsh against the dark windows. Outside, the wind howled.

She turned to look at the window.

And froze.

The glass reflected the room—the lamps, the equipment, the crew. But in the reflection, behind her, she saw the window across the bridge. And hanging from the top of that window, a face.

It was almost human. It looked like Captain Sheffield’s face—the same bone structure, the same lines—but twice the size, with grey, mottled skin pulled taut over swollen features. The yellow eyes stared without blinking, devoid of expression save for something primal lurking in their depths. Its jaw worked silently, lips forming words without sound, as if whispering secrets only it could hear.

Victoria’s skin crawled. She spun, raising her rifle.

The face withdrew. Fast. Up and over the roof.

”What is it?” Maggie was already moving, rifle up.

”On the roof!” Victoria shouted. ”Sheffield! His face—twice normal size. Grey skin. Yellow eyes.”

Clanks echoed above them—heavy, deliberate footsteps crossing the bridge roof.

”Everyone away from the windows and doors!” Maggie ordered.

The engineers scrambled back, pressing against the interior walls. Helene and Cecilia took positions flanking the door, rifles aimed at the ceiling.

Silence.

Just the wind. The creak of the wreck. The distant crash of waves.

Victoria checked her watch. Six hours. Almost.

Zhao raised his radio. ”Note. Status on the ammunition?”

Note’s voice crackled through, strained. ”The bullet tips are ready. Stored in a small cooler box. But the boat is having difficulties in the rough weather. We’re doing our best. Be patient.”

Zhao lowered the radio. The bridge fell silent again.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Victoria could feel it—something watching. Waiting.

#Day 40 — 18:45

The radio crackled.

”Victoria, this is Mellisa. Approaching the wreck. Coming in hot.”

Victoria moved to the overlook, peered down. The assault boat was below, battling the waves, its armor dented from previous impacts. Two figures huddled in the cargo area—Mellisa and Choi.

”We need to get them inside,” Victoria said. ”Helene, with me. Maggie, hold the bridge.”

She pushed open the door, Helene behind her. The wind hit them like a wall—cold, salt spray, the groan of stressed metal. The turrets were still active, sensors sweeping.

Victoria scanned the rooftops. Movement. Distant, vague. A shape shifting in the shadows.

”On the roof,” she said quietly. ”Cover me.”

Helene raised her rifle, tracking the movement.

Below, Mellisa fired the grappling hooks. The first caught. The second missed, clattering against the hull. She reeled it in, fired again. Caught.

The rope winched, drawing the boat closer. A wave slammed it against the wreck—metal groaned, the boat’s armor dented but held.

Mellisa climbed first. Her hands were pale with cold, her body shivering beneath a tactical vest and thin sweater. She reached the railing, swung over.

Victoria grabbed her arm, pulled her up. ”Get inside. Choi’s next.”

She shoved a salvaged winter jacket into Mellisa’s arms. ”Put this on.”

Choi climbed next, one arm wrapped around a cooler box, the other pulling on the rope. Her movements were slow, stiff with cold.

Then Victoria saw the wave.

A big one, building behind the boat, its crest white and curling.

”Choi! Hold tight!”

Choi looked back, froze. The wave slammed into the wreck, spray exploding upward. It splashed just below her, but the force swung the ladder outward—then back, toward the hull.

Choi hit the metal. The cooler box struck beside her. Its lid flew open. Several bullet tips dropped into the dark water, swallowed by the waves.

Choi grabbed the box, snapped the lid shut, and climbed. Her face was pale, her teeth chattering, but she moved.

The turret facing the bow fired.

The turret unleashed a staccato burst of gunfire. Victoria snapped her rifle up, saw the shadow on the wall—Sheffield’s transformed body, half-crawling, half-sliding along the hull.

She fired. Helene fired beside her. The turret kept shooting, rounds chewing into the creature’s flank.

It retreated. Fast. Back into the shadows.

The turret’s barrel droops slightly, its ammunition nearly spent, as its targeting system returns to standby.

Choi reached the railing. Victoria grabbed her arm, hauled her over.

”Inside. Go.”

They ran for the bridge door.

#Day 40 — 18:52

Maggie stood on the overlook, rifle up, watching the deck below. Cecilia was beside her, scanning the roof.

Movement above.

Maggie looked up.

The creature was there, on top of the bridge roof, its yellow eyes fixed on Cecilia.

Maggie shoved Cecilia aside, raised her rifle—the creature’s claw swept down. She deflected it with her rifle barrel, but the force threw her to the floor. Her head struck metal. Her vision blurred.

Cecilia fired. Rounds tore into the creature’s shoulder. It shrieked—a sound like tearing metal—and swung its other claw. It caught Cecilia, lifted her off her feet.

Maggie pushed herself up. Her rifle was gone, knocked from her hands. She drew her sidearm.

”Not on my watch.”

She fired. Point-blank, into the creature’s head. It flinched, its grip loosening. Cecilia dropped to the roof, gasping.

Maggie kept firing. The creature tried to retreat, dragging itself toward the edge of the roof. Maggie followed, emptying her magazine into its skull.

It fell back, one claw over its eyes, and disappeared over the side.

Maggie grabbed Cecilia’s arm, pulled her up. ”Can you move?”

Cecilia nodded, her face pale, her body trembling.

They ran for the bridge door on the starboard overlook, slammed it shut, locked it.

Inside, Saanvi was already checking Cecilia. ”Minor scrapes. Your vest took most of it.”

Cecilia’s hands were shaking. She pressed them against her thighs, tried to still them.

Maggie leaned against the wall, catching her breath. She reloaded her rifle with numb fingers.

A knock at the door. Zhao opened it.

Victoria, Helene, Mellisa, and Choi spilled inside. Victoria locked the door behind them.

”What happened?” Victoria asked. ”We heard firing.”

Maggie told her. The creature targeting Cecilia. Ignoring her. The way it had watched, chosen.

Zhao scanned Maggie and Cecilia. His eyes moved to their Dawn Meters.

Maggie’s: 10%. Green. Treated this morning.

Cecilia’s: 48%. Blinking yellow.

”The creature might be selecting prey based on Dawn Meter readings,” Zhao said. ”High viral load means vulnerable. Easier to infect. Easier to kill.”

Saanvi nodded slowly. ”It makes sense. The virus is drawn to itself. Higher readings would attract it.”

Victoria looked at Maggie. ”Then only the two of us can take point. Low readings. Everyone else falls back.”

Choi held out the cooler box, wincing as she extended her arm. Victoria opened it while Saanvi appeared at Choi’s side, fingers gently probing the darkening contusion on her shoulder. ”Just bruising,” Saanvi murmured, her medical assessment quick but thorough. ”You’ll be sore tomorrow, but nothing’s broken.” Choi nodded gratefully, her attention already back on Victoria examining the precious cargo.

She stared at the remaining rounds. Five. The rest were at the bottom of the sea.

”Five rounds,” she said.

A few engineers murmured, fear breaking through their discipline.

Zhao raised his hand. ”It’s enough. Five shots, five chances.”

He looked at Victoria. ”Modify them.”

She knelt, opened the sniper rifle’s magazine, and began working. Carefully, precisely, she replaced the standard rounds with the modified ones—the hollow tips filled with frozen shards of Carmona’s milk, concentrated with Alexis’s aphrodisiac.

Maggie watched her work. ”How do we lure it out?”

Victoria didn’t answer. She kept working, her hands steady.

Cecilia’s voice was quiet. ”I’ll be the bait.”

Maggie looked at her. ”Are you sure?”

Cecilia forced herself to nod. Her hand was still trembling.

Zhao walked to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. He looked her in the eyes.

”Do you have a plan?”

She shook her head.

Zhao looked around the bridge—at the engineers, the security team, the salvaged equipment. The wreck creaked, waves slamming against its hull.

”Sniper rifles aren’t for close range,” Zhao said. ”Not in these conditions. The ship is moving. The creature is fast. We need to bring it somewhere we can control.”

He pointed at the corridor leading from the bridge toward the interior. ”There’s a hallway near here. Narrow. Straight. We set up the ambush there. Cecilia stands at the far end. Maggie and Victoria in cover. When the creature comes, we hit it with everything.”

Victoria finished loading the magazine. She slapped it into the rifle, worked the bolt.

”Tell me where to point,” she said. ”I’ll shoot.”

Zhao turned to Cecilia. ”Extra armor. Extra padding. You’re going to be in front of it.”

Helene stepped forward, unbuckling her tactical vest. She handed it to Cecilia, then her jacket. ”Take them. I’ll stay behind cover.”

Cecilia pulled the vest over her own, then the jacket. She was bulkier now, slower, but safer.

Maggie checked her rifle, her sidearm. ”This will work.”

Victoria looked at the corridor. Dark. Narrow. The creature would have to come straight at them.

She checked her watch. ”We move in five minutes. Everyone to positions.”

The crew scattered—engineers to the far corners of the bridge, security to the choke points. Zhao helped Cecilia into the corridor, positioning her at the far end, where the shadows were deepest.

”Don’t move,” he said. ”Don’t run. Just stand there. Let it come to you.”

Cecilia nodded. Her hand was still trembling.

Zhao stepped back, joined Victoria and Maggie behind a stack of salvaged equipment.

Victoria raised the sniper rifle, sighted down the corridor. The modified round sat in the chamber, waiting.

”Any time,” she murmured.

The wreck creaked. The wind howled.

Somewhere in the dark, something was watching.

Waiting.