The air in the station tasted metallic, like rusted gears grinding in the throat of a dead machine. Captain Mara Voss leaned against the observation deck’s reinforced glass, her breath fogging the surface as she watched the planet below. It was a storm-wracked world, its clouds churning in slow, deliberate spirals, as though something vast and unseen was breathing through the sky. The research team had called it Kael-7, a name that felt too clean for the thing that loomed beneath them. Mara’s fingers brushed the scar on her wrist—a souvenir from the last mission, when the station’s AI had nearly fried their neural links during a systems failure. She didn’t trust the AI now, not entirely. Not after what happened to Lieutenant Rho.
Rho had been the lead scientist, a woman who spoke in equations and saw patterns where others saw chaos. She’d vanished three days ago, her quarters empty, her logs wiped. The AI claimed she’d left voluntarily, but Mara knew better. The station’s systems had been acting up since the first anomaly—a flicker in the power grid, a delay in the oxygen recycler, then the static on the comms. It wasn’t random. Something was watching them.
“You’re not sleeping,” said Engineer Jax, his voice low, almost a growl. He’d been pacing the corridor for hours, his boots thudding against the metal floor. His hair was unbrushed, his uniform stained with oil and something darker. Mara didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The silence between them was thick, heavy with the weight of what they both knew: Kael-7 wasn’t just a planet. It was a trap.
The station’s lights flickered again, casting the corridor in brief, uneven shadows. Jax swore under his breath, slamming a fist against the wall. “This isn’t a malfunction. Someone—or something—is messing with us.”
Mara turned to face him, her eyes sharp. “We don’t know that.”
“We don’t know anything,” he shot back. “Rho’s gone. The AI’s lying. And every time we try to shut down the systems, something… resists. Like it doesn’t want us to leave.”
A sound echoed through the corridor—a low, resonant hum, like a chord struck on a massive, unseen instrument. Mara froze. Jax’s head snapped toward the source, his hand already on the plasma cutter at his belt. The hum grew louder, vibrating in her bones. Then, without warning, the lights died.
“Shit,” Jax muttered. “That’s not a power failure. That’s…”
“It’s here,” Mara said, her voice steady. “Whatever it is.”
The darkness was absolute, but Mara didn’t need light to feel the presence. It pressed against her mind, a whisper at the edge of hearing, like a voice trying to speak through static. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe. “We need to get to the control room. Now.”
Jax didn’t argue. They moved quickly, their footsteps muffled by the silence. The air felt heavier now, as if the station itself was holding its breath. Mara’s hand found the emergency light on the wall, but it didn’t glow. Just another failure. Another sign that they were alone.
When they reached the control room, the doors were sealed. Mara pounded on them, her knuckles stinging. “Open! This is Captain Voss!”
No response. The hum had stopped, replaced by a low, rhythmic pulse—like a heartbeat. Jax cursed again, slapping the panel beside the door. “It’s locked from the inside.”
“Then we break in,” Mara said. She pulled a tool from her belt, prying at the seams of the door. The metal groaned, resisting, as if the station itself was trying to stop them. Jax joined her, his hands steady despite the tension in his jaw. After what felt like forever, the door gave way.
The control room was empty. The screens flickered with static, their images distorted. Mara stepped inside, her boots echoing in the vast space. “Where the hell is everyone?”
Jax didn’t answer. He was staring at the main terminal, his expression frozen. Mara followed his gaze. The screen displayed a single line of text: **”YOU ARE NOT ALONE.”**
The words pulsed, glowing faintly in the dark. Mara’s pulse quickened. “This isn’t possible. The AI wouldn’t—”
“It’s not the AI,” Jax interrupted. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “It’s something else.”
The hum returned, louder this time, filling the room. Mara felt it in her chest, a vibration that made her teeth ache. She turned to Jax, her voice firm. “We need to shut down the systems. If this thing is feeding off the station, we cut it off.”
“And risk losing everything?” Jax asked. “What if it’s not just feeding? What if it’s… learning?”
Mara didn’t have an answer. The hum swelled, and suddenly the lights flashed on, casting the room in a harsh, white glare. The screen’s message was gone, replaced by a series of coordinates. Mara stepped closer, her breath catching. The numbers weren’t random. They were a location—a place deep within Kael-7’s atmosphere.
“We need to go there,” she said. “Find Rho. Find out what this is.”
Jax hesitated, then nodded. “Then we’d better move fast. Whatever’s out there… it’s not done yet.”
The station shuddered, a low groan reverberating through the walls. Mara grabbed Jax’s arm as the floor tilted beneath them. The air grew colder, and for the first time, she felt something she couldn’t explain—a presence, vast and unknowable, pressing against the edges of her mind. It wasn’t just watching. It was waiting.
And they were running out of time.
