The air inside the habitat dome tasted metallic, like rusted iron and burnt ozone. Captain Mara Voss adjusted her visor, squinting at the data stream flickering across her wrist display. Outside, the twin suns of Kethra hung low on the horizon, casting jagged shadows across the ashen plains. The dust storms had died for now, but the silence felt wrong—too still, too heavy.
“We’re running out of time,” muttered Engineer Jax Renn, his voice muffled by the thick gloves he used to fiddle with the damaged air filter. His fingers moved with practiced precision, but his jaw was tight, muscles coiled like a predator waiting to strike.
“We’ve got twelve hours before the next storm,” Mara said, her tone clipped. She didn’t need to look at the numbers; she’d memorized them. The colony’s survival hinged on this one repair.
The door hissed open, and Medic Tala Vey entered, her boots crunching against the dust-covered floor. She carried a vial of amber liquid, its glow pulsing faintly. “The bioreactors are still failing,” she said, placing the vial on the workbench. “If we don’t isolate the contamination source, we’ll lose the entire oxygen cycle.”
Jax didn’t glance up. “We’re not dealing with a simple leak. The readings don’t add up. Something’s eating the system from the inside.”
Mara stepped closer, her boots making soft thuds against the floor. She studied the filter’s exposed wiring, the blackened nodes where the circuitry had melted. The damage wasn’t natural. It looked… deliberate. “What if it’s not a malfunction?”
Tala’s head tilted. “You’re suggesting sabotage?”
“I’m suggesting we’re not alone,” Mara said.
The silence that followed was thicker than the dust outside. Jax finally looked up, his eyes narrowed. “You think someone’s on this planet with us?”
“Or something,” Tala murmured.
The dome shuddered as a low rumble vibrated through the floor. Mara gripped the edge of the workbench, her pulse hammering. The sound wasn’t mechanical. It was deeper, like the ground itself was breathing.
“We need to move,” she said, her voice steady despite the rising dread in her chest. “Now.”
They didn’t question her. The colony’s survival had always been a gamble, but this felt different. The air felt heavier, the shadows longer. As they scrambled toward the exit, Mara glanced back at the filter, its damaged wiring still pulsing faintly, as if it were alive.
—
The storm hit while they were halfway to the secondary habitat. Winds howled like wounded beasts, whipping dust into a blinding haze. Mara shielded her face, her suit’s visor fogging with each breath. Jax and Tala were ahead, their figures barely visible through the chaos.
“This way!” Tala shouted over the wind, pointing toward a cluster of metal structures half-buried in the sand. The secondary habitat was a relic from the first expedition—abandoned years ago after a mysterious failure. Mara didn’t remember the details, but she knew one thing: it was their only option.
They reached the structure just as the wind tore at the entrance, threatening to rip it from its foundation. Mara yanked the door open, and they tumbled inside, slamming it behind them. The air was stale, thick with the scent of rust and decay.
“We’re not alone,” Jax said, his voice tight.
Mara turned, her hand hovering over the sidearm at her hip. The room was empty, but the walls—something was wrong with the walls. They shimmered faintly, as if reflecting a light that wasn’t there.
“What is that?” Tala whispered, stepping closer.
Mara didn’t answer. She could feel it now—the hum in her bones, the weight of something watching. The walls weren’t just reflecting light; they were… responding.
A sound echoed from the far end of the room, a low, resonant tone that vibrated in her teeth. Jax’s hand went to his tool belt, but Mara shook her head. “Don’t. Whatever this is, it’s not hostile yet.”
The tone grew louder, and the walls pulsed in time with it. Tala’s face was pale, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “Mara… what if this isn’t just a storm? What if we’re inside something bigger?”
Mara didn’t have an answer. The air felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. She stepped forward, her boots crunching on the debris-covered floor. The walls seemed to lean toward her, their surfaces rippling like liquid.
Then the lights flickered.
And everything went black.
—
When Mara opened her eyes, the room was different. The walls no longer shimmered; they were smooth, featureless, as if they’d never been anything else. The air was colder, the silence more absolute.
“Tala? Jax?” Her voice echoed, hollow and distant.
No answer.
She stood, her muscles stiff, and moved toward the door. It was still closed, but the handle felt warmer than it should. She gripped it and pulled. The door creaked open, revealing a corridor that stretched into darkness.
The lights flickered again, and for a moment, she saw something—shadows moving at the edge of her vision, too fast to catch. Her pulse quickened. “Hello?”
Still nothing.
She stepped into the corridor, her boots making soft thuds against the floor. The walls were smooth now, but she could feel them pressing in, a silent pressure that made her skin prickle.
A sound echoed ahead—footsteps. Not hers.
Mara froze. The footsteps stopped. Then, a voice.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
She spun, her hand flying to her sidearm. The corridor was empty, but the voice had been clear, too clear. “Who’s there?”
“You know who,” the voice replied. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.
“This isn’t real,” she said, though the words felt hollow.
“It is,” the voice said. “And you’re running out of time.”
The corridor stretched longer now, the darkness deeper. Mara took a step forward, her breath steady despite the rising panic. She didn’t know what she was facing, but she knew one thing: she wasn’t leaving this place until she found the truth.
—
The next time she woke, the air was different. Lighter. Cleaner. She was back in the habitat, lying on the cold metal floor. The others were there too, sitting up, dazed but alive.
“What happened?” Jax asked, his voice rough.
Mara sat up, her head throbbing. “I don’t know,” she said. “But we’re not alone here. Not anymore.”
Tala looked at her, eyes wide. “You saw it, didn’t you?”
Mara nodded. “It’s not just a storm. It’s something else. Something… waiting.”
Jax stood, his jaw tight. “Then we need answers. Now.”
They left the habitat, the air crisp and unfamiliar. The sky was darker now, the twin suns barely visible through a veil of swirling clouds. The planet itself felt changed, as if it had been holding its breath.
As they walked, Mara kept looking over her shoulder, half-expecting to see something lurking in the shadows. But the only thing watching was the planet, silent and waiting.
And somewhere in the distance, the hum began again.
