On a remote colony near Titan, Raul, Nadia, and Leo intercept a signal that should not exist. As they trace it, the station itself begins to answer back.
Raul, Nadia, and Leo lived on Aurora Station 7, a silver maze hanging in Titan’s orbit. Earth was so far away it had become more legend than place, a story people told between shifts. Out here, the windows held only darkness and the bruised orange glow of Saturn’s moon, and the station itself seemed to breathe in metal clicks and low mechanical hums.
That evening, in the colony’s version of night, Raul led them to the abandoned Section 19 laboratory. The corridor outside was sealed with warning tape that had faded to the colour of old bone. No one went near the lab anymore, not since the Hydrogel Incident.
He shut the door behind them and lifted a battered recorder from his jacket. “Listen.”
At first there was only static, thin and crackling. Then the noise folded into something else: a voice, broken by distance and interference, but unmistakably human.
“Aurora... you are not alone...”
Nadia stared at the recorder. “That came from outside the station?”
Raul nodded once. “The array picked it up an hour ago. Deep in the ring belt. No known beacon. No registered ship.”
Leo crossed his arms, though the gesture did nothing to stop the chill creeping up his spine. Through the lab window, Titan hung like a rusted coin in the void. “Maybe it’s a prank.”
“From where?” Nadia shot back. “We’re the only crew within range.”
She was already moving toward the door. “Navigation Room. If it’s real, I can trace the source.”
They ran through the station’s narrow corridors, their footsteps swallowed by the humming walls. Aurora 7 always felt too large when it was quiet, as if some of its empty sections were waiting to be noticed.
Nadia dropped into the Navigation console and sent a pulse through the map grid. Lines of light spread across the holographic display. Then a point flickered into existence.
Her expression changed. “That’s not a point source.” She leaned closer. “It’s repeating. Over and over. It’s been broadcasting the same pattern for hours.”
Raul frowned. “From the rings?”
“Not exactly.” Nadia’s fingers hovered above the controls. “It’s coming from somewhere inside the station’s own signal shadow. I can’t get a clean fix.”
The lights overhead dimmed.
For one heartbeat, the entire room went silent. No hum. No ventilation. No distant vibration from the hull.
Then the console beeped.
Three words appeared on the display, bright against the dark:
COME TO ME.
A dull удар echoed from somewhere in the outer module, and the floor gave a slow, uneasy shudder beneath their feet.