Where Engineering found stability, Security found clarity.

Internal sensors, once flooded with overlapping contacts and ghost readings, resolved instantly. Every lifesign snapped into singular definition—no duplication, no lag.

All crew accounted for. All positions confirmed.

At a security console, an NE blinked hard, then ran the scan again just to be sure.

“Contacts are… clean,” they reported, almost uncertain. “No duplicates. No drift.”

Another ensign at tactical slowly eased their grip on the console, realizing their hands had been clenched tight through the entire event.

The Shiarian boarding signatures—once impossible to track—now registered cleanly across internal sensors. Their positions were fixed, their forms no longer phasing between states.

On the Bridge, in Engineering, in key junctions throughout the ship. They were still there. The invaders.

A security crewman near an internal monitor leaned in, studying one of the Shiarian figures now clearly visible.

“They’re not moving,” they said quietly. “Just… watching.”

Tactical systems updated accordingly:

TARGETING SOLUTIONS: LOCKED
THREAT ASSESSMENT: STABLE / NON-AGGRESSIVE
WEAPONS STATUS: READY

One NE at tactical hesitated, fingers hovering over the firing controls—not acting, but acutely aware that, for the first time, they could.

“…we’ve got a clean shot,” they murmured, more to themselves than anyone else.

And for the first time—it was clear that the Shiarians were making no move to exploit that.

Instead, their posture had shifted. No longer advancing. No longer probing.

Holding position, just observing, waiting and eerily silent .

Internal force fields, security grids, and containment protocols all returned to full functionality. No fluctuations. No bleed-through.

A final update appeared across Security stations:

BOARDING STATUS: CONTROLLED PRESENCE
INTENT: UNDETERMINED / NON-HOSTILE

A younger crewman exhaled slowly, tension easing just slightly.

“So… we’re not fighting?” they asked, glancing toward a superior officer for confirmation they didn’t yet have.

Across both departments, the same truth emerged:

The Merrimack was no longer under attack. It was under guidance. And for now—

Everything held.

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare