The air in the command module tasted metallic, like rusted wire and static. Lieutenant Mara Voss gripped the armrests of her seat as the ship lurched, her boots pressing into the floorplate with a dull thud. Outside the reinforced glass, the void pulsed with a cold, violet glow—a phenomenon no one had seen in over a century. The crew of the *Aurora* had spent three years charting the edges of the galaxy, but this… this was something else.
“Status report,” Commander Rell called, his voice steady but edged with tension. His fingers danced over the holographic console, pulling up data streams that flickered like dying fireflies.
“Navigation systems are offline,” Engineer Tessa said, her tone clipped. “The ship’s responding to something… external. Like it’s being pulled.” She slammed a fist against the control panel, and a burst of blue light flared across the room.
Mara’s pulse thrummed in her ears. She’d seen the reports—ships vanishing without a trace, their logs filled with garbled transmissions and screams. But this was different. The *Aurora* wasn’t just drifting. It was being guided.
“We’re not alone,” she said, her voice low. “Whatever’s out there, it’s watching.”
The ship shuddered again, and the lights dimmed. A low hum filled the cabin, vibrating in Mara’s bones. She glanced at Rell, who met her gaze with a grim nod. They’d trained for this—every scenario, every contingency. But nothing had prepared them for this.
“We need to stabilize the hull,” Tessa said, already moving toward the maintenance hatch. “If we don’t, we’ll be scrap in minutes.”
Rell didn’t argue. He trusted her instincts. The *Aurora* had survived worse. But something about the way the ship moved—like a living thing—made his stomach twist.
Mara followed Tessa into the corridor, her boots scraping against the metal floor. The walls pulsed faintly, as if the ship itself was breathing. She could hear the others behind her—Rell’s sharp commands, the clatter of tools, the muffled hum of the engines. It all felt too quiet, too still.
“This isn’t right,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
Tessa paused, her hand on the hatch. “What do you mean?”
Mara hesitated. She didn’t have an answer. But the feeling in her gut was solid, like a stone lodged in her chest. “I don’t know. It’s… off. Like we’re not in control anymore.”
Tessa exhaled sharply. “We’re not. But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
The hatch hissed open, and they stepped into the maintenance bay. The air here was colder, heavier. Mara’s breath fogged in front of her as she moved toward the primary conduit. The panels were glowing faintly, their surfaces rippling like water.
“This isn’t standard protocol,” Tessa said, crouching to inspect the wiring. “The system’s… alive.”
Mara frowned. “Alive?”
“It’s reacting to something. Like it’s trying to communicate.” Tessa’s fingers hovered over the panel, then withdrew. “I can’t touch it. It’s too unstable.”
A sudden jolt sent Mara stumbling. The bay lights flickered, and the hum deepened, resonating in her skull. She grabbed the nearest support beam, her knuckles whitening.
“We need to get back,” she said, her voice tight. “Now.”
Tessa nodded, but before they could move, a low vibration rolled through the ship. The conduit flared, and a burst of light engulfed them. Mara’s vision blurred, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.
When she opened her eyes, the bay was gone.
She stood in a vast chamber, its walls smooth and featureless, glowing with an eerie blue light. The air was thick, almost tangible, and every breath felt like pulling water through a straw.
“Tessa?” Her voice echoed, hollow and distant.
No answer.
Panic surged through her. She turned in a circle, her boots making soft thuds against the floor. The chamber stretched endlessly in all directions, no doors, no windows—just the endless blue.
“This isn’t possible,” she whispered.
A sound behind her. A soft click, like a door opening.
Mara spun, her heart hammering. Nothing there. Just the endless blue.
She took a step forward, then another. The floor was solid beneath her feet, but the air felt different now—thicker, charged. She could feel it in her skin, in her bones.
“Hello?” Her voice wavered.
A whisper, just below hearing.
Mara froze. The sound wasn’t coming from anywhere specific. It was everywhere, inside her head.
“You are not alone,” the voice said, not in words but in thought.
She stumbled back, her breath coming in short gasps. “Who’s there?”
The chamber shifted, the blue light intensifying. Shadows flickered along the walls, forming shapes—figures, maybe. But they dissolved before she could make sense of them.
“You are safe,” the voice said. “But you must leave. Now.”
Mara’s mind raced. What did that mean? Was this some kind of illusion? A trap?
“Where is everyone?” she demanded. “Tessa, Rell—”
The whisper returned, sharper this time. “They are not here. You are alone.”
A cold wave of fear washed over her. She was alone? But that couldn’t be right. She’d seen Tessa, heard her voice…
“No,” she said, more to herself than the voice. “This is a trick. A test.”
The chamber darkened, the blue light fading to black.
Mara’s breath came faster. “I won’t be scared,” she whispered. “I won’t.”
The darkness deepened, and something else emerged—a shape, solid and real, standing at the far end of the chamber. It was tall, human-like but not quite, its form shifting like smoke.
“You are not alone,” it said again, but this time it was a statement, not a warning.
Mara’s knees buckled. She fell to the floor, her hands pressing into the cold surface. “Who are you?”
The figure stepped forward, and the darkness around it began to swirl. “I am what remains,” it said. “What was lost.”
Mara’s mind reeled. What did that mean? Who were they?
“You are not the first,” the figure continued. “But you may be the last.”
A new wave of fear hit her. Last? Last what?
“What happens if I stay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The figure tilted its head, as if considering. “You will become what we are.”
Mara’s stomach twisted. “No. I won’t.”
The figure raised an arm, and the chamber filled with light again. The shadows coalesced into something else—images, memories, fragments of a life she didn’t recognize.
She saw a ship, like the *Aurora*, but older, more worn. A crew of people, their faces familiar yet unknown. A final transmission, garbled and broken.
“They tried,” the figure said. “They failed.”
Mara’s breath caught. “What happened to them?”
The figure didn’t answer. Instead, it stepped closer, its form solidifying. “You must choose,” it said. “Leave, or stay.”
Mara’s hands trembled. She thought of Rell, of Tessa, of the crew who had trusted her. She thought of the ship, the mission, the unknown.
“I choose to leave,” she said, her voice steady now.
The figure nodded. “Then go.”
The chamber dissolved around her, and she was back in the maintenance bay, gasping for breath. The lights were back on, the hum softer now.
“Mara!” Tessa’s voice cut through the silence.
Mara turned, her heart racing. “I’m here.”
Tessa rushed over, her face pale. “What happened? You just… vanished.”
Mara shook her head. “I don’t know. But we need to get back to the command module. Now.”
Tessa didn’t question her. She just nodded and grabbed Mara’s arm, pulling her toward the hatch.
As they stepped into the corridor, the ship shuddered again, but this time it felt different—less violent, more… deliberate. Like it was listening.
Mara glanced back at the maintenance bay, then ahead. The path to the command module stretched before them, uncertain and dangerous. But she knew one thing for certain.
They weren’t alone. And whatever had taken the others, it wasn’t done yet.
