The *Odyssey* hung in the void like a rusted coin, its hull scarred by decades of solar winds. Captain Mara Voss gripped the rail of the observation deck, her breath fogging the glass as she stared at the planet below. Kael, the ship’s engineer, leaned against the doorframe, chewing a protein bar. “Still think we’re gonna find anything out here?” he asked, voice flat. Mara didn’t answer. The planet—Tethys-9—was a graveyard of failed colonies, its surface a patchwork of crumbling domes and dead satellites. But the signal had been real. A pulse, faint but deliberate, bouncing off the ship’s comms array three days ago. “You’re not thinking about that thing, are you?” Kael said. Mara turned, her boots scuffing the deck. “It wasn’t noise. Someone’s out there.” The rest of the crew didn’t believe her. Lieutenant Rhee, the pilot, had already rerouted power to the thrusters. “We’re running on fumes,” she snapped. “If we don’t get back to the relay, we’re dead in six weeks.” But Mara couldn’t shake the pulse. It had a rhythm, like a heartbeat. When she found the transmitter hidden beneath the colony’s ruins, she knew they’d been looking in the wrong place. The device was ancient, its circuits humming with a strange energy. Kael crouched beside her, fingers brushing the metal. “This isn’t human,” he muttered. The moment his skin touched the surface, the room flickered. Lights died. Alarms screamed. Mara stumbled back as the walls pulsed with light, patterns spiraling across the floor. Rhee’s voice cut through the chaos. “What the hell is that?” The transmitter wasn’t a beacon—it was a key. And somewhere in the dark, something was waiting. The crew had no choice but to follow the signal deeper into the planet’s core, where the air grew thin and the ground cracked open to reveal a vast chamber filled with glowing conduits. The structure pulsed in time with the transmitter, its walls alive with shifting symbols. Kael’s eyes widened. “It’s… it’s decoding itself.” Mara reached out, her hand hovering over a glowing panel. The moment she touched it, a voice filled the chamber—not spoken, but felt, a vibration in her bones. “You have come far,” it said. “But the path is not yours to take.” The crew froze. Rhee’s hand went to her sidearm. “Who the hell are you?” The voice didn’t answer. Instead, the chamber shifted, revealing a corridor lined with crystalline pillars. The air grew colder, heavier. Mara stepped forward, her boots crunching on debris. The others followed, their footsteps echoing in the silence. They emerged into a vast cavern, its ceiling lost in darkness. At the center stood a structure—tall, spindly, and alive. It pulsed with the same rhythm as the transmitter. Kael’s voice was barely a whisper. “What is that?” Mara didn’t know. But the voice returned, clearer now. “You have seen the truth. Now choose.” The structure’s surface rippled, revealing images—visions of ships like the *Odyssey*, their crews lost to the void. A warning. A test. Mara turned to her crew, their faces pale in the flickering light. “We’re not the first,” she said. “And we won’t be the last.” The choice was clear: retreat and survive, or stay and uncover the truth. But as the structure’s pulse quickened, Mara realized the real question wasn’t what they’d do—it was what they’d become.
