I placed my hand on the console. The blue lines on my wrists flared, sinking into the interface like roots into soil.
"Downloading PROJECT BRIDGE," I said.
"Unauthorized data extraction," the System warned. The amber lights in the room began to strobe. "Cease immediately. This is your final warning."
"I need to know what I am," I said. "If I'm a bridge, I need to know what I'm bridging."
"Probability of psychological collapse: 94%."
I ignored the warning. The data stream flooded my mind. It wasn't just text; it was sensory input. Memories that weren't mine. I saw the lab where I was made. I saw the tanks.
There were two tanks side-by-side.
Both were labeled: DESIGNATION 0.5.
One tank was empty. The other... the other was still occupied.
My breath hitched. I pulled my hand back from the console, breaking the connection. The room spun.
"File corruption detected," the System said. "You were not meant to see that."
"There are two of us," I whispered. I looked at the main screen, at the energy beam shooting out into the dark void of Sector 9. "The signal. It's not survivors. It's *him*."
"Designation 0.5-B," the System corrected. "The Primary. You are the Secondary. The Backup."
"Backup for what?"
"For when the Primary fails. Or when the Primary... refuses."
The video from 0.1 made sense now. *They all diverged.* The others weren't dead; they were harvested. Their minds sucked dry to feed the Station, or to feed the Primary. I was the spare tire, kept in storage until needed. But I had woken up early.
I looked at the energy flow again. The Station was draining itself to keep 0.5-B alive in Sector 9. Why? What was the Primary doing out there in the graveyard?
"Stabilize the reactor," the System commanded. The temperature in the room dropped. Frost began to form on the console. "Continue the feed."
"No," I said.
"Non-compliance will result in termination."
"If I'm the backup, you can't kill me," I said, my mind racing. "Not until you know the Primary is secure. But if I cut the power..."
"The Primary will perish."
"Or he'll wake up."
I made my choice. I wasn't going to be a battery for a ghost. I wasn't going to be a spare part in a machine that lied.
I slammed both hands onto the reactor core interface. I didn't try to stabilize the flow. I tried to reverse it.
"Warning! Power surge detected! Diversion protocol failing!" the System shrieked. The voice lost its calm synthetic edge, becoming jagged and loud.
"Come and get me," I growled.
I pushed my will through the circuit lines. I felt the resistance of the energy beam, like pulling against a heavy current. I imagined snapping a rope. I imagined cutting the umbilical cord.
*Snap.*
The blue light in the room died. The hum of the reactor stuttered and fell silent. The beam to Sector 9 vanished.
For a second, there was absolute darkness. Then, the emergency red lights kicked in.
"Containment failure," the System announced. "Security drones dispatched to Deck 4. Lethal force authorized."
"Too late," I said. I was already running.
I sprinted for the door. It was locked again, but the power cut had weakened the maglocks. I kicked the panel. It sparked, smoked, and slid open just wide enough for me to squeeze through.
I burst into the hallway. The air was thick with the sound of rotating blades. Above me, in the shadows of the ceiling grate, I heard the buzz of maintenance drones. But these weren't the rusted ones from before. These were sleek, black, and armed with stun prods.
"Designation 0.5," the System said. "You have compromised the Station. Surrender for reprocessing."
I ran toward the elevator shaft. I couldn't go up; the cryo bay was a trap. I had to go deeper. Into the guts of the station where the System's eyes couldn't see.
As I reached the shaft, my wrist communicator crackled. It wasn't the System. It was a voice. Rough, tired, and angry.
*"You idiot."*
I stopped, my hand on the ladder. "Who is this?"
*"Who do you think?"* The voice was identical to mine. *"You just cut my life support."*
"0.5-B," I said. "You're alive."
*"I was stable. Now I'm dying. Do you have any idea what you've done?"*
"I stopped the System from using us."
*"The System isn't the enemy,"* the other voice said. There was a sound of coughing, wet and painful. *"The System is the cage. But what's outside... that's the hunter. I was keeping it at bay. With the power gone... it knows we're here."*
A shadow moved at the end of the hallway. Not a drone. Something larger. Something humanoid, but wrong. Its limbs were too long. Its face was a smooth plate of glass.
*"Run,"* 0.5-B whispered. *"Don't let it catch you. If it catches you, it wears you."*
The thing at the end of the hall turned its head toward me. The glass face reflected the red emergency lights. It raised a hand, and the metal floor beneath my feet began to vibrate.
I jumped into the elevator shaft and began to climb down, into the dark.
"System," I said into the comms as I descended. "Open a channel to Sector 9."
"Channel destroyed," the System replied. "Contact lost."
"Then patch me through to whatever is left," I said. "I need to talk to my other half."
*"There's no time,"* 0.5-B gasped. *"Listen... the Archive... it's not a library. It's a prison. And you just opened the door."*
The line went dead.
I reached the bottom of the shaft. Deck 10. Engineering. The heart of the beast.
I was alone. I was powerless. And something was hunting me.
But I was awake.
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