The airlock cycled open, and Chen stepped into the alien ship.
Her first sensation was the smell—a thick, organic odor that reminded her of nothing so much as the botanical gardens on Luna, where humid air carried the scent of growing things and decaying vegetation. But there was something else beneath it, something metallic and sharp that caught at the back of her throat.
Her suit lights cut through the darkness, revealing a corridor that curved gently in both directions. The walls were not metal but something else—a substance that seemed almost waxy to the touch, ridged and textured like the inside of a giant's throat. Pipes or conduits ran along the ceiling, pulsing with a faint bioluminescence that waxed and waned in rhythm with the signal.
"Reading atmosphere," Varga said from behind her. He'd insisted on coming, claiming that someone needed to understand the ship's engineering if they were going to tow it. "Thin, but breathable. Nitrogen, oxygen, some trace elements I don't recognize. Nothing immediately toxic."
"Keep your suits sealed anyway," Webb ordered. He was third in the party, his face visible through his helmet visor—pale, tense, but determined. "We don't know what kind of pathogens might be floating around."
The fourth member of the party was Dmitri, who had volunteered with a shrug and a comment about "seeing something interesting for once." His massive frame filled the corridor, his suit lights sweeping across the alien architecture.
They moved forward slowly, following the corridor as it curved deeper into the ship. The signal grew louder—not just in their radios, but in the air itself, a throbbing pulse that seemed to vibrate through the floor and into their bones.
"Anyone else feel that?" Chen asked.
"Feel what?"
"That... I don't know. Like someone's watching."
No one answered, but she saw Webb's hand drift toward the sidearm at his belt.
The corridor opened into a larger space—a chamber that might have been a control room or a gathering place. Seating structures rose from the floor in organic curves, each one shaped to accommodate a body that was not human. The chairs—if that's what they were—had high backs and deep curves, with rests for limbs that jointed in multiple places.
And at the center of the chamber, seated in the largest of the structures, was a body.
It was desiccated, mummified by centuries of vacuum and time. Its skin—if it had ever had skin—was dried to leather, stretched tight over a skeleton that was both familiar and utterly alien. The skull was elongated, with ridges where brows should have been and a jaw that seemed to have no hinge. The chest had been shattered, ribs splayed outward as if something had exploded from within.
"Holy God," Dmitri whispered. He crossed himself—a gesture Chen hadn't seen since her grandmother's funeral.
Webb moved closer, his suit lights illuminating the corpse in harsh white glare. "Look at the chest. Something burst out of it. From the inside."
They stood in silence, contemplating the implications.
The signal pulsed on.
BEEP... pause... BEEP BEEP... pause... BEEP... pause... BEEP BEEP BEEP...