A Glitch in the System

The Voidwalker's corridors stretched endlessly in sterile, steel-gray silence. Dim overhead lights flickered sporadically, casting brief, jittering shadows against the walls. Cain walked down the passage toward the armory, his footsteps echoing louder than they should in the empty hallway. Something about the ship felt... wrong.

It always did after cryo-sleep, but this time, the unease clung to him like a second skin.

"System error detected. Please report to engineering."

The ship's AI voice crackled over the intercom, static trailing behind the words. Cain stopped mid-step, narrowing his eyes.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "Day one, and we're already falling apart."

He tapped his earpiece. "Reyes, tell me you're on this."

Silence.

Cain frowned. "Reyes?"

The earpiece buzzed with static before Reyes's voice finally came through, laced with irritation. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Comms are acting up. The whole system's been glitching since we hit wake-up. Thought you'd be used to it by now."

"Used to it doesn't mean I like it," Cain muttered, resuming his walk. "Where are you?"

"Engineering. Shaw's breathing down my neck, like usual. Something's tripping the core regulators. Could be a power surge, could be a bad omen. You pick."

Cain smirked. "Put my creds on bad omen."

"Smart bet," Reyes replied, then cut the channel.

Cain exhaled sharply and entered the armory, the doors hissing open with a sluggish response. Inside, the fluorescent lights flickered like they were on life support. The locker bay stretched along the far wall, neatly lined with their standard-issue gear. Cain reached for his locker, keying in his access code, but the screen sputtered, flickered, and then...

A face.

Cain's own reflection stared back at him through the distorted screen—except it wasn't quite his. His eyes were darker. Hollow. Watching.

Then it grinned.

Cain stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs. He blinked once, twice. The screen returned to normal, showing his usual brooding scowl.

"What the hell..." he whispered, running a hand down his face.

He looked around, but the armory was empty. Just him and the hum of the flickering lights. Cain shook his head, muttering under his breath. Cryo aftereffects. That's all.

Reaching into his locker, he grabbed his gear, but the uneasy feeling gnawed at the edges of his mind. He was used to ghosts from his past haunting him, but this felt... different.

Another flicker. The lights dimmed, then pulsed, like the ship itself was breathing.

Then, Cain heard it.

A whisper.

Low, distant, and unintelligible—like it came from deep within the ship's metal veins.

He froze, muscles tensed. "Who's there?" he called, voice steady but edged with wariness.

Nothing.

The whispering continued, rising and falling like a static-filled radio transmission. Cain scanned the room, his fingers instinctively tightening around the grip of his sidearm. A cold sweat prickled at his neck.

He tapped his earpiece again. "Reyes, tell me you're getting this."

"Getting what?" Reyes replied, distracted.

"You don't hear that?"

"Hear what, man? You okay?"

Cain stared at his reflection again, half-expecting it to move on its own. "Yeah... I'm fine," he said, though he didn't believe it.

A sudden bang echoed from the corridor outside, making Cain whirl around, weapon raised. The lights above flickered rapidly, and the whispering faded into the walls.

Cain took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "It's nothing," he muttered to himself, but his gut told him otherwise.

He secured his gear, locked his locker, and stepped out into the hallway. The ship's usual sterile hum now felt... off, like something was lurking just beneath the surface, waiting.

As he made his way toward engineering, the whispers returned—this time, closer.

And they were saying his name.