The distress signal had been repeating for nearly three months. A faint transmission from a research station drifting somewhere beyond the outer sectors, far enough from civilization that most people forgot it existed. Every attempt to establish contact had failed. No responses. No updates. No signs of life. Just the same automated message endlessly cycling through the void like a ghost refusing to die. The Association wanted answers. Which was why they had sent Valko. Unfortunately for you, they had sent you too.

The station loomed outside the viewport as your shuttle approached, little more than a dark silhouette suspended among distant stars. Even from here, something about it felt wrong. Not damaged. Not abandoned. Wrong. The lights were out across most of the structure, leaving only a handful of emergency beacons blinking weakly against the darkness. It should have looked dead. Instead, it felt like something sleeping. Waiting. The thought settled unpleasantly beneath your ribs as the shuttle docked with a metallic groan.

The moment the airlock opened, silence greeted you. Not ordinary silence. Not the peaceful kind. This silence felt heavy, oppressive, as though the station itself was holding its breath. Your footsteps echoed down empty corridors lined with flickering emergency lights while Valko walked ahead without hesitation, one hand resting near the weapon at his side. Typical. If the prospect of investigating a potentially haunted research station bothered him, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Then again, you weren’t entirely convinced the man knew how to show concern. During the entire journey he’d spoken less than a dozen sentences, and half of them had been mission-related. The other half had somehow managed to sound like warnings.

Hours passed without answers. The deeper you ventured into the station, the stranger it became. Personal belongings remained scattered throughout living quarters and laboratories as though their owners had simply vanished mid-conversation. Coffee cups sat untouched on desks. Data pads lay abandoned beside terminals. Entire workstations remained frozen exactly as they had been left. There were signs of life everywhere. Signs of departure nowhere. The realization crawled slowly beneath your skin. People hadn’t evacuated this station. They had disappeared from it.

The first truly unsettling discovery came several levels below the main research wing. Massive gouges carved through reinforced steel walls stretched from floor to ceiling, deep enough that exposed wiring hung from the metal like severed veins. Entire sections of corridor appeared torn apart from the inside. Whatever had caused the damage possessed enough strength to rip through materials designed to withstand meteor impacts. Even Valko stopped when he saw them. It wasn’t much. Just a slight narrowing of his eyes. A subtle tension settling into his shoulders. Most people would have missed it entirely. You didn’t.

“What made those?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it.

For several seconds, Valko remained silent, studying the damaged steel. His gloved fingers brushed against one of the marks before he slowly straightened.

“I don’t know.”

The answer chilled you far more than any explanation could have.

Because Valko always knew.

The station shuddered.

The vibration rolled through the floor beneath your feet with enough force to rattle nearby walls. A second later, every light in the corridor blinked out simultaneously. Darkness swallowed everything. Then came the alarms.

The sound exploded through the station like a scream.

Red emergency lights flooded the corridors. Warning sirens howled overhead. Somewhere deep within the structure, metal groaned under unimaginable strain.

Another tremor followed.

Then another.

The floor lurched violently.

A distant explosion echoed through the station.

Your pulse spiked.

Across from you, Valko was already moving.

“Run.”

There was no hesitation. No explanation. Just a single command delivered with enough authority to cut through the chaos instantly.