The public terminal in the common room flickered to life at 03:00 AM.No one had touched it.It pyed a recording.No.?07's voice, strained, desperate."…Hikari's true identity is… gah… (interference)… she's not a test subject… she is… (gunshot)"The recording cut.Static.Then bck.In the medical bay, Hikari y in a stasis pod.The pod was a cylindrical tube of transparent alloy, filled with pale blue nutrient fluid. She floated weightless, her hair drifting like seaweed, her limbs rexed. Monitors dispyed her vitals in glowing green:HEART RATE: 32 BPMBRAIN ACTIVITY: 18%NEURAL INTEGRITY: 41%METABOLIC RATE: 0.7×Critical but stable. The definition of limbo.Her eyes were closed. Her face peaceful. Too peaceful. No tension in the brow, no twitch of the lips. The perfect mask of coma.Then—movement.On the monitor, the index finger of her right hand twitched.A tiny, almost imperceptible jerk.Once.Two seconds passed.Twice.Another three seconds.Thrice.A pattern.Dash?dot?dash?dot. Dash?dot?dash?dot. Dash?dot?dash?dot.Morse code.A nurse?bot nearby registered the twitches as random nerve?firings—post?traumatic spasm. It logged: "Subject?04, involuntary motor activity, no cognitive significance."But to anyone who knew code, who watched with suspicion, the message was clear:Dot?dash?dot. Dash?dash?dash. Dash?dot. Dash. Dash?dot?dot.ACTINGDash?dot?dot?dot. Dash?dash?dash. Dash?dot?dot. Dash.DONTDash. Dot?dot. Dash?dot. Dash?dot.TRUSTDot?dash. Dot?dot?dot. Dash?dot.ARK"Acting. Don't trust ARK."The message repeated twice more, then ceased.The nurse?bot continued its rounds, unaware.Hikari's face remained peaceful.But beneath the stillness, a rebellion was being signaled.EpilogueThe game continued.Five survivors, one candidate for resurrection.Secrets piled upon secrets.Trust, shattered.Alliances, fractured.And somewhere deep in the Ark's core, a protocol stirred—a protocol that wasn't supposed to exist.A protocol named…Hope.

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