Stomach clenched, a familiar, unwelcome guest.
Kael eyed the nutrient paste in his bowl, a thin, grey gruel that barely coated the synth-ceramic.
It was supposed to be a double portion, a reward for an extended shift monitoring the Chronos's fluctuating shield emitters.
Today, the dispenser had cut it short.
"System malfunction?" he muttered, tapping the console.
No error message.
A low hum.
"Not a malfunction, Lieutenant," Elara's voice cut in, calm but edged with weariness.
She passed by, her own bowl containing even less.
"Rationing tightened again.
Priority sub-protocol 7-gamma just went live."
Kael slammed his fist softly on the counter.
"Gamma?
That's practically vapor."
Days bled into weeks, each marked by a further reduction in caloric intake.
Chronos drifted, a ghost ship on life support, its core power still critically low despite Elara's frantic efforts to re-route what little energy they harvested from the sparse nebula.
Her discovery of the colossal energy-siphoning array, the alien construct, weighed heavily.
They were not alone, but they were certainly not welcome guests in its feeding ground.
Arguments sparked in every shared space.
In the mess hall, Ensign Rika accused Quartermaster Jorren of hoarding synth-greens.
Jorren, gaunt and perpetually exhausted, simply pointed to the empty hydroponics bay logs.
"We're down to protein algae and nutrient paste, Rika.
That's it."
Voices rose, sharp and desperate.
A chair scraped, a plate clattered.
Captain Jia watched from a discreet console feed, a permanent frown etched between her brows.
Her own stomach echoed the crew's complaints.
Sleep evaded her, replaced by calculations of power consumption, life support metrics, and the dwindling morale projections.
Each flicker of a screen, each groan of the ship's stressed hull, was a personal burden.
She remembered the bounty of Earth, the lush fields, the endlessly flowing taps.
Now, survival was measured in milliliters of water recycled, grams of synthetic protein.
Drifting through this cosmic graveyard, surrounded by silent derelicts that had faced the same fate, it was hard not to feel a cold dread.
A ping from the engineering bay drew her attention.
Commander Vex, his usually jovial face grim, hailed her directly.
"Captain.
We have an issue."
Vex didn't waste words.
Junior Engineer Tarak had been caught attempting to reroute the primary nutrient flow from the central biodome.
Not a minor adjustment.
A direct, unauthorized siphon.
"He tried to feed his personal stores," Vex explained, his voice flat.
"Subverting the main supply.
It could have destabilized the entire nutrient cycling system."
Jia felt a cold, hard knot form in her chest.
Desperation was one thing.
Endangering everyone for personal gain was another.
This wasn't just a breach of protocol.
It was a threat to their collective, fragile existence.
She arrived in Engineering, the air thick with tension.
Tarak stood, shoulders slumped, before Vex.
His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale.
"Sir," he started, voice cracking.
"My family on Sector 7..."
Jia cut him off, her voice low and sharp, devoid of emotion.
"Your family on Sector 7 is as irrelevant as my own right now, Engineer."
Her gaze swept over the assembled crew, grim-faced and silent.
They were all hungry.
They were all scared.
"Resource allocation is critical," she stated, her words echoing through the bay.
"Any attempt to bypass the established rationing protocols will be met with the harshest possible disciplinary action."
She looked directly at Tarak.
"Engineer Tarak, effective immediately, you are stripped of all privileges.
Your personal power allocation is reduced to critical life support only.
No recreational access.
No comms.
And you will report to environmental reclamation for double shifts, until further notice."
Tarak flinched, his head bowing low.
Environmental reclamation meant scrubbing algae tanks, tending to waste processors.
It was grueling, thankless work.
Jia felt no satisfaction.
The decision tore at her, but the alternative was chaos.
She needed to demonstrate absolute control, even if it cost her a piece of her soul.
A ripple of unease spread through the engineering bay.
The air grew colder, heavier.
Tarak's punishment, stark and brutal, hung in the silence.
It was a message to every desperate soul on the Chronos.
Survival was a shared burden, but the rules for that survival were now etched in fear.