Morgan Fille — - E242

Now, her pod was screaming.

L’Engrenage. L’Engrenage. L’Engrenage.

The cry came not from a throat, but from a speaker. Morgan Fille - E242

Aris slammed the comms. “Morgan. Can you hear me? You are safe. You are on the Odysseus . The year is 2745. You have been asleep for a long time.”

The monitor flickered. A grainy, green-tinted image resolved. Inside the gel, Morgan Fille’s body was perfectly preserved—dark curls floating, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Peaceful. But the overlay of her neural map was a hurricane. Now, her pod was screaming

“Protocol didn’t predict a screaming pod after two and a half centuries. Open it.”

“You have 242 of us on board,” she said, stepping out. Her bare feet left no wet prints. “But you only ever woke up one.” L’Engrenage

Morgan—or the thing wearing her—sat up. Gel dripped from her skin. She smiled, and it was the most human gesture Aris had ever seen. That’s what terrified him most.

The Gear.

“Vitals are erratic,” said Lin, the junior tech, her voice trembling. “Heart rate 180. Cortisol levels off the chart. But the neural interface… it’s not receiving any coherent images. Just… static. And a name.”

“Emergency purge!” Lin screamed, slamming the manual lockdown. But the pod was opening anyway, the biosteel peeling back like wet paper.