The air in the station tasted metallic, like rusted iron and burnt ozone. Commander Rhea Voss adjusted her gloves, her breath fogging the visor of her helmet as she stepped onto the observation deck. Outside, the stars stretched in endless, icy silence, their light fractured by the jagged silhouette of the derelict ship—*The Erebus*. It had been drifting for thirty years, a ghost in the void, and now it was moving.
Rhea’s boots scraped against the deck as she approached the viewport. The ship’s hull was blackened, its once-sharp lines blurred by time and radiation. She’d read the logs, the fragmented transmissions, the desperate last words of the crew who’d vanished inside its corridors. No one had ever explained what happened to *The Erebus*, only that it had been abandoned after its crew went mad. Now, it was approaching the station, slow and deliberate, as if guided by something unseen.
“Commander,” a voice crackled through her earpiece. Lieutenant Kael Orin’s tone was clipped, professional. “We’re picking up a signal. It’s not natural.”
Rhea exhaled, her breath steady. “What kind of signal?”
“A pattern. Repeating. Like… a heartbeat.”
She turned, her boots clicking against the metal floor. The station’s control room was a labyrinth of glowing consoles and humming machinery, its walls lined with data streams that flickered like dying fireflies. Kael stood at the central terminal, his dark eyes fixed on the screen. His hands moved over the interface, pulling up layers of data that twisted and curled like smoke.
“It’s not just a signal,” Kael said. “It’s a language.”
Rhea frowned. “You’re saying it’s *trying* to communicate?”
Kael hesitated. “Not sure yet. But it’s responding to us.”
The station shuddered, a low groan reverberating through the hull. Rhea gripped the edge of the console as a ripple passed through the deck. The lights flickered, casting long shadows across the room. Somewhere in the distance, a metal door slammed open, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps.
“Status report!” Rhea barked.
“Power fluctuations,” came the reply from Engineering. “It’s like the station’s… breathing. We’re losing containment in Sector Three.”
Rhea turned back to Kael. “We need to know what’s happening on *The Erebus*.”
Kael’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I’m trying. But the signal is interfering with our systems. It’s like it’s… aware of us.”
Outside, the derelict ship pulsed, its dark hull glowing faintly. Rhea felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold of space. The heartbeat was louder now, a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated in her bones. She didn’t know what was waiting for them in the corridors of *The Erebus*, but she knew one thing: they couldn’t stay here.
“Prepare the shuttle,” she said. “We’re going over.”
Kael’s head snapped up. “You’re not seriously considering—”
“I’m not taking chances,” Rhea cut in. “If that ship is alive, we need to find out why.”
The station groaned again, louder this time. The lights dimmed, and the air grew thick, heavy with something unseen. Rhea tightened her grip on the console, her pulse matching the rhythm of the heartbeat outside. Whatever was coming, it was already here.
—
The shuttle’s engines roared as it broke free of the station, its hull trembling under the strain. Rhea sat in the pilot’s seat, her hands steady on the controls. Kael was beside her, his face pale under the dim glow of the instruments. The void stretched around them, endless and silent, but Rhea could feel it—something watching, waiting.
“Are you sure about this?” Kael asked, his voice tight.
Rhea didn’t look at him. “We don’t have a choice.”
The shuttle drifted closer to *The Erebus*, its dark form looming like a predator in the black. Rhea adjusted the thrusters, bringing them alongside the derelict’s hull. A hatch yawned open, its edges jagged and rusted. She exhaled slowly, then reached for her helmet.
“Stay close,” she said. “And whatever you do, don’t touch anything.”
They stepped into the ship, their boots echoing against the metal floor. The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of old metal and something else—something acrid, like burnt flesh. Rhea’s flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing corridors lined with shattered consoles and broken equipment. The walls pulsed faintly, as if the ship itself was alive.
“This place is a tomb,” Kael muttered.
Rhea didn’t answer. She could feel it—the weight of the ship, the way the air seemed to press against her skin. They moved deeper, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Then, suddenly, a sound. A whisper, barely audible, like wind through a crack in the wall.
Kael froze. “Did you hear that?”
Rhea nodded. “Stay alert.”
They pressed on, the whisper growing louder, more distinct. It wasn’t words, not exactly, but something close—like a voice trying to form itself in the dark. Rhea’s pulse quickened. They were being followed.
A door slammed shut behind them. They turned, but the corridor was empty. The whisper was closer now, swirling around them like a tide. Rhea grabbed Kael’s arm. “We need to move.”
They ran, their boots pounding against the floor. The ship seemed to shift around them, corridors twisting into new paths, walls closing in. Rhea’s flashlight flickered, casting jagged shadows that danced like ghosts. She could feel the heartbeat again, stronger now, vibrating in her chest.
Then, a door. Large, reinforced, its surface etched with strange symbols. Rhea pressed her hand against it, feeling the faint hum of energy beneath the metal. The whisper stopped.
Kael’s voice was barely a whisper. “What is this place?”
Rhea didn’t answer. She reached for the handle, her fingers trembling. The door creaked open, revealing a chamber bathed in an eerie blue light. In the center stood a structure—smooth, cylindrical, pulsing with the same rhythm as the ship itself. It was alive.
Kael stepped forward. “This is… it’s not just a ship.”
Rhea nodded. “It’s a vessel for something else.”
The heartbeat was louder now, filling the chamber. Rhea felt it in her bones, in her very being. The structure pulsed, and suddenly, she understood. This wasn’t just a ship—it was a prison. And whatever had been trapped inside was waking up.
—
The station’s alarms blared as Rhea and Kael returned, their faces pale, their eyes wide with realization. The derelict ship had been a prison, its crew not lost but trapped, their minds consumed by the entity within. Now, it was free.
Rhea stood at the observation deck, watching as *The Erebus* drifted away, its dark form vanishing into the void. The heartbeat had stopped, but she could still feel it in her chest, a whisper in the back of her mind. The entity was out there, waiting.
She didn’t know what it would do next. But she knew one thing—this was only the beginning.
—
The silence of space stretched on, endless and unyielding. Somewhere in the dark, something stirred, its presence a whisper in the void. And as the stars blinked overhead, the heartbeat began again, slow and steady, waiting for the next chapter to unfold.
