Lena, Julek, and Niko uncover a strange silence and glowing footprints on Orion Station, then follow the mystery toward Sector 17 and whatever is hiding below.
From the wide observation window of Orion III, the Milky Way spilled across the dark like a ribbon of frost. Below, Saturn turned slowly in space, its rings shining in pale gold and blue.
In the control centre, Lena, Julek, and Niko sat cross-legged on the floor with a model rocket between them and crumbled freeze-dried ice cream on their sleeves. Their parents worked on the station’s science decks, so the three of them knew every corridor, every hatch, every buzzing panel. Today, though, Orion felt wrong. Too quiet. Even the cleaning robots had stopped humming.
Lena set the rocket down and looked up at the communications screen. A line of status lights blinked, then steadied, then blinked again. "Do you hear that?" she whispered. "Nothing."
Julek frowned and tapped the console. "Sector 17 isn’t answering. That’s the lab level."
Niko’s stomach tightened. "That’s where Dad is. He was testing the new oxygen plant this morning."
No one joked after that. They grabbed flashlights, a toolkit, and the station map, then hurried into the corridor. The automatic doors opened a little slower than usual, as if the station itself was thinking before letting them through. The lights above their heads flickered once, twice, then held steady again.
The closer they got to Sector 17, the colder the air felt. At the bend near the storage bay, Lena stopped so suddenly that Julek nearly bumped into her.
On the floor, glowing purple footprints crossed the metal panels in a careful line and stopped at an unused hatch.
Julek went pale. "Those aren’t human."
Niko knelt beside the hatch and stared at the seam. Something beneath it gave a tiny, sleepy creak, like the station was breathing in.
Lena reached for the latch. The hatch shuddered once and began to open from the inside.