Moments later, outside his home, Andrew Lonek's boots clanged against the durasteel ramp as he approached The Aegis, his personal stealth-class corvette docked on the cliffside pad just beyond his home. The ocean wind whipped at his coat, but his eyes were locked on the ship.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Usually, C.E.R.A. would have greeted him by now—scanning vitals, prepping weapon systems, throwing sarcastic comments about his lateness.
But this time, nothing.
He reached the boarding ramp. The entry lights were off. The ship looked… asleep.
Or watching.
He stepped inside.
"C.E.R.A., status report."
No answer.
The interior lighting flickered on, soft and golden—but wrong. Off-tone. Artificially warm. Like a lounge on Zeltros, not a warship.
"C.E.R.A., respond."