Desperate Measures

The silence was a heavy shroud, clinging to the metal bulkheads of the derelict vessel like a second skin. Vincent ran a gloved hand over the cool, pitted surface of a console, the faint hum of his suit's life support the only sound that dared to break the oppressive quiet. Beside him, Josh’s breathing was shallow, a nervous counterpoint to the thrumming in Vincent's own chest. They had expected dust, decay, perhaps the faint scent of old fuel. They had not expected this suffocating stillness, this palpable sense of absence that felt more like a presence than a void.

“Anything, V?” Josh’s voice, usually so easygoing, was tight with a tension that mirrored Vincent’s own.

Vincent shook his head, his gaze sweeping across the cavernous cargo bay. The beams of their helmet lights cut through the gloom, illuminating only shadows and the skeletal remains of forgotten cargo. “Nothing. It’s like… like everything just vanished.” He paused, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. “And the logs… they’re wiped clean. Every single entry.”