The pressure weighed heavy on Luca's shoulders as he stared in silence at the small, dark square set into the deck plating.

  He stood in the hangar bay, the heavy power cable coiled at his feet, staring at the maintenance hatch. The entrance to the service conduits that ran beneath the ship.

  The crawlspace.

  His heart was already hammering. The hangar felt smaller than it had a minute ago, walls bending inward, ceiling dropping. He could hear his own breathing, too loud in the emptiness.

  And beneath that, a phantom sound. The steady beep of medical monitors from the infirmary three decks above. He knew it was impossible to hear them from here, but his brain conjured the sound anyway.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Six people dying while he stood here, frozen.

  Move. Fucking move.

  But he couldn't. His body refused. Every nerve screaming at him to find another way. Any other way.

  Running the cable through the corridors wasn't an option. The distance was too great for the length of cable he had to route through multiple decks to reach the generator room. They'd need at least three separate cable segments, and he had no idea where to find the connectors. The crawlspace was the direct route, maybe a hundred meters of straight-line access to the engineering deck.

  The vial of purple powder sat heavy in his pocket while the cable lay at his feet. The SynthCrafter waited behind him, dark and useless without power.

  To get through to the generator meant the crawlspace, which meant unlit conduits packed with wiring and coolant pipes. Barely enough room to crawl on his belly. No room to turn around. No way out except forward.

  His chest was already tightening, pressure building behind his ribs.

  A soft chirp cut through the spiral.

  Pixel sat beside the hatch, looking at it, then up at him. Her markings pulsed faint purple in the dim lighting. Those intelligent eyes fixed on his face.

  Well? What are you waiting for?

  The look was so direct it felt like an accusation.

  Luca stared back at her. This small, brave creature who would grow up to face Virelings and toxic jungles without hesitation. The one he'd wanted to leave behind on New Dawn because she was "just an animal" and wouldn't serve a purpose. The one Zoe had fought to save.

  If Zoe hadn't insisted, Pixel wouldn't be here now. Wouldn't be looking at him with those big eyes that saw straight through his bullshit.

  The guilt hit hard, mixing with the fear, transforming into something sharper. Fiercer.

  You wanted to leave her to die because she was inconvenient. Now she's here, pushing you to be better. To do what needs to be done.

  His eyes flickered from the hatch to the dark corridor leading back to the infirmary. He pictured Emily, her face pale, her breath shallow. Ryan, drowning in his own blood. Zoe, with those terrifying green lines spreading across her skin. They weren't just crewmates; they were the scaffolding of his entire life. Without them, there was nothing. The fear of the crawlspace was immense, a physical weight in his gut. But the fear of losing them? That was a black hole.

  He bent down, grabbed the cable and a flashlight from the nearby toolbox. The weight of the cable was substantial, easily forty pounds of reinforced industrial wiring.

  "Okay," he said to Pixel. His voice came out rough. "Let's do this."

  She chirped once, as if acknowledging his decision, and padded over to the hatch.

  Luca unsealed it. The locks disengaged with a hiss. The small panel lifted to reveal darkness below.

  He clicked on the flashlight, illuminating a narrow tunnel that stretched ahead. The passage was barely three feet high, lined with wiring harnesses along the ceiling and coolant pipes against the walls. The floor was bare metal grating.

  Cold air wafted up. That chemical smell had penetrated even the crawlspace.

  Pixel looked down, then padded into the tunnel with easy feline grace. Her glowing markings created a small pool of light that moved ahead as she explored.

  Luca forced himself to follow. He dropped to his hands and knees, then flattened to his belly as the ceiling dropped even lower. The cable made everything harder. He had to drag it behind him, the weight constantly snagging on obstacles.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The moment his shoulders fully entered the passage, his brain screamed warnings. But he pushed forward, following Pixel's purple glow.

  Keep moving. Follow Pixel. Just keep moving.

  The physical effort became the real challenge, as he overcame his fear. The grating bit into his elbows and knees with every movement. The cable scraped against pipes, creating sounds that echoed wrong in the confined space. He had to stay completely flat, using his elbows to pull himself forward while dragging the cable behind him.

  His arms could barely move sideways. When he needed to adjust his grip or reposition the cable, he had to work in tiny increments, fingers scraping against the metal grating.

  Ahead, Pixel moved like... a cat, navigating through the maze of machinery without hesitation. She'd pause occasionally, waiting for him to catch up, then continue forward.

  The passage bent to the right. Luca followed, his shoulder scraping against a junction box. Sweat was already breaking out across his forehead from the effort.

  Then ahead, Pixel stopped.

  The passage narrowed to a choke point, a nest of coolant pipes that Pixel slipped through easily, but would be tight for him. Very tight.

  No choice. Only way forward.

  He reached the choke point and assessed the situation. The pipes created a gap maybe eighteen inches high. He'd have to exhale completely, compress himself as much as possible.

  He pushed forward.

  The cable caught immediately on the pipes above. He pulled back, worked it free, tried again. This time he made it halfway through before the cable snagged behind him.

  Come on. Work the problem.

  He couldn't move his arms sideways to reach back, so he had to reverse course slightly, feel blindly for where the cable was caught, work it free. Then push forward again.

  Inch by inch. His ribs scraped against the bottom pipe. The cable fought him every step. But there was no panic now, just determination and the grinding physical effort of forcing his way through.

  Then he was past it.

  The passage opened up slightly. Still low, still cramped, but not as constrictive. Pixel was already ahead again, leading him forward.

  The tunnel became a grinding test of endurance. Pull forward with his elbows, drag the cable, work it free when it snagged on every pipe joint and bracket. His knees were raw from the grating, his elbows bleeding, but he kept moving. Each foot of progress brought him closer to the generator room.

  Emily will die. Zoe will die. Ryan will die. Danny will never wake up. Move.

  The mantra drove him forward, each name unlocking a flood of memories. Emily's laugh echoing in the mess hall. The look on Zoe's face every time she scored a headshot. Ryan's stupid, triumphant grin after some looting another random gadget. Danny explaining the beauty of a complex equation. Chris spotting him in the gym. Joey stitching him up after a stupid mistake. Fragments of a life he refused to let become memories. They were a lifeline, pulling him through the suffocating darkness one agonizing inch at a time.

  His sense of direction was completely gone, but Pixel seemed to know where she was going. The kitten paused at intersections, chose paths with confidence, always moving toward what had to be the engineering deck.

  The effort was everything now. The burn in his muscles. The struggle with the cable. The constant scrape of metal against his body. But the initial terror had faded into the need to keep moving forward.

  Almost there. Has to be almost there.

  Then ahead, he saw it.

  Light. Real light, spilling down through another maintenance hatch.

  The generator room.

  With a surge of adrenaline, he crawled faster, ignoring the increased pain in his knees and elbows. The cable scraped and snagged, but he didn't care anymore. The light was ahead. The way out.

  He reached the opening and fell into the generator room. Dragged himself out onto clean deck plating and gasped for air.

  The engineering deck felt massive. Open. The ceiling easily fifteen feet high. Air that moved freely. Space to stand up and turn around.

  Pixel hopped out after him with easy grace, landed on the deck, and immediately started grooming a paw. Completely unbothered by the ordeal they'd just survived.

  Luca watched her for a second, a sound that might've been a laugh escaping his throat.

  He forced himself to stand. His legs shook. His hands were bleeding from the grating, and his shoulders ached from dragging the cable.

  But he was out. He was through.

  The main generator sat against the far wall, arrays of displays showing power distribution and safety protocols. And right there, at chest height, was exactly what he needed.

  A standardized multiphase outlet.

  Luca stared at it for a long moment. All of that effort—for a plug.

  He grabbed the cable, fitted the connector, and shoved it into the outlet.

  Indicator lights on the generator panel flickered from red to green. The connection was good. Clean power flowing to the hangar bay.

  He gave her a quick, grateful scratch behind the ears. "Thanks, Pixel," he said. "Let's go get some meds for our team."

  She purred once and trotted toward the exit, as if she understood exactly what they needed to do next.

  Luca turned and ran.

  Through the corridors, taking the main passages this time. His boots hammered against deck plates. His lungs burned. But the machine had power, and his crew was still alive.

  The hangar bay doors opened ahead of him.

  He skidded inside, chest heaving, Pixel trotting behind him. The SpectraForge Analyzer was already lit up with small green lights.

  Luca stepped in front of it.

  The touch-screen display flickered on.

  He pulled the vial of purple powder from his pocket. His hand was shaking, but this tremor wasn't from the crawlspace's physical grind. This was fear.

  Fear of the next second.

  Because there was still a massive, horrifying question hovering over all of this: what if he was wrong?

  What if it were a completely different type of infection? What if these petals only worked on skin contamination, not bloodstream infection? What if the concentrated powder was too potent and he'd end up poisoning all of them at once?

  He stared at the label Danny had written.

  "High concentration."

  Right. Because Danny was the guy who assumed a real scientist would be handling this. He wasn't a scientist. He was a twenty-year-old infiltrator with half a skill set and a crippling fear of tight spaces.

  I'm not a scientist.

  He looked at Pixel, sitting beside the machine, small and perfect and unbothered. Her little purple markings glowing steady.

  But I got us this far.

  He raised a hand toward the analyzer's primary console. The power indicator was solid green. It was ready. It would accept the input. It would make whatever instructions he gave it real.

  If this was the wrong cure, they'd all die faster.

  If this was the right cure, he might get them back.

  Emily. Ryan. Zoe. Joey. Chris. Danny.

  Everybody he loved in this whole fucking galaxy.

  All of them.

  Everything.

  Balanced on this moment.

  Luca pressed his palm flat against the analyzer's main interface panel.

  "Alright," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Let's get to work."

  The machine lit up.