The Galactic Plumber

Specimen 37's Secret

The door hissed open, and I had exactly two thoughts.

I was definitely not on the Nebulon-7 anymore. This was about to go very, very badly.

I took a cautious step forward. The red emergency lights cast everything in a dull, flickering glow, shadows stretching across the rusted metal walls like claws. The air smelled stale, laced with something… wrong.

And then there was the voice.

"Welcome, Chief Engineer Logan."

I clenched my fists. "Oh, great. Creepy voice in an unknown location. That's never a bad sign."

A faint hum vibrated through the floor, rhythmic—almost mechanical. Somewhere distant, I heard water dripping.

Then, footsteps.

I spun, backing up toward the nearest console. The corridor stretched into darkness, but I saw the outline of something moving, slow, deliberate.

And then it stepped into view.

Not the Warden.

Not the black-armored soldier who had shot me.

Something worse.

It was humanoid. Mostly. But its skin—if you could call it that—was translucent, swirling with black veins of liquid energy, pulsing beneath the surface. Its face had no mouth, just two hollow, empty eye sockets that seemed to drink in the light around them.

And it was wearing my uniform.

I felt my stomach drop. "Oh, no. Nope. We're not doing this."

The thing tilted its head, as if studying me.

And then it spoke—with my voice.

"You are the anomaly."

I went ice cold.

The Nightmare Gets Worse

I did what any reasonable person would do when confronted with a doppelgänger made of nightmare fuel.

I grabbed the nearest wrench and swung.

It phased through the thing's body like mist.

I swore and stumbled backward, heart hammering. The thing didn't react. It simply lifted a hand, palm outward, and I felt a sudden, overwhelming pressure in my skull—

Like something was reaching into my mind.

Flashes of memory flooded my vision.

—The containment field failing——Specimen 37's first words——The black-armored figures boarding the ship——The Warden's voice, whispering: You do not belong.—

And then, a new memory, one I didn't recognize—

A station, massive, floating in the void. A ring of symbols glowing along its surface, ancient and pulsating with energy.

And in the center—

A prison.

A cage built for something unspeakable.

I gasped, staggering back, the vision snapping away like a rubber band. The doppelgänger watched me, unblinking.

I shook my head. "What—what the hell was that?"

The thing just whispered. "Specimen 37 was never an accident."

My blood ran cold.

I barely had time to process what that meant before the corridor shook violently.

A voice blared over the speakers.

"WARNING. INTRUDERS DETECTED. EXECUTING CONTAINMENT PROTOCOLS."

That sounded very bad.

The doppelgänger flickered, its form glitching—then, without another sound, it simply vanished.

Which, to be honest, was not reassuring.

I didn't stick around to ask questions. I did what I do best.

I ran.

Escape Plan: Improvise

The halls were a maze, twisting corridors of rusted metal and leaking pipes. No signs, no maps, no indication of where the hell I was.

And then, gunfire.

Plasma rounds sizzled through the air, barely missing my head.

I ducked, rolling behind a storage crate, my heart slamming against my ribs. Two figures in black armor were advancing, weapons raised—

The same ones from the attack on the Nebulon-7.

Oh, great. These guys again.

One of them stepped forward. "Surrender now."

I glanced around. No weapons. No exits. No good options.

Which meant it was time for a terrible plan.

I held up my hands. "Okay, okay, you got me—"

Then I grabbed the nearest coolant pipe and ripped it loose.

A blast of freezing mist shot into the air, blinding them. I bolted.

I heard shouting behind me, but I didn't stop. I sprinted down the corridor, turning a corner just as another explosion rocked the facility.

Then—

I saw them.

Ryker. Orla. Voss. Benny.

They were in a holding cell, sealed behind an energy barrier.

I skidded to a stop, panting. "You guys okay?"

Ryker scowled. "Do we look okay?"

Benny, still slumped against the wall, groaned. "I would like a nap."

Voss nodded toward the control panel. "Think you can get us out?"

I cracked my knuckles. "Are you really asking your chief engineer if he can break stuff?"

Thirty seconds later, I had the panel hotwired, the barrier fizzled out, and we were on the move.

Ryker clapped me on the shoulder. "Nice work, Logan."

"Don't thank me yet," I said. "We still have no idea where we are, who those guys are, or why a walking nightmare clone of me just whispered cryptic things about Specimen 37."

Everyone stared at me.

Orla sighed. "I hate this job."

"Same," I muttered.

And then, from behind us—

A growl.

We turned.

And Specimen 37 was there.

No longer a puddle. No longer small.

It had grown—standing nearly seven feet tall, its form shifting between liquid and solid, its once-childlike features now distorted and monstrous. Its eyes burned, filled with recognition and fear.

And it spoke again.

"They must not take me."

Oh.

Oh, no.

Before any of us could react, the walls ruptured.

And from the shadows, the Warden stepped through.

Chains rising.

Eyes locked onto Specimen 37.

To Be Continued…