“Follow my voice.” The distant, cold echo reverberated through the room, cutting through the silence like a whisper from the void. Andrew opened his eyes, expecting company, but found only emptiness. That mysterious voice had been calling since their ship veered off course after travelling through a black hole in an unexplored cluster of stars.

  He closed his eyes again, trying to find the moment of peace he had craved. He, his crew, and thousands of colonists had drifted through the endless void of space for months, chasing the promise of a new home—one with rich resources that were perfect for human life. Despite their careful planning, the journey was altered by the unpredictable nature of space, and now, instead of hope, there was only the unsettling reality: they were lost, far from where they intended to be.

  “Under an Orange Star, you will find my home. Seek me, and I will guide you to yours.” Those haunting words echoed in his mind, as unreachable as the stars themselves. Sleep had become a distant memory, stolen by the persistent whispers that refused to fade. Andrew tried to brush it off as nothing more than stress—the toll of commanding a vessel carrying over a hundred thousand souls. Confiding in the crew about this creeping madness also brought no comfort. The voice lingered, digging deeper into his mind and soul, and slowly caused him to lose his grasp on reality.

  Wearily, Andrew rose from his bed. Exhausted from the mental torment. His gaze shifted to a console in the corner of the room; from there, he could access any data he pleased. The only data he really cared to analyse was that of the advanced navigation system. With a subtle wave of his hand, a detailed holographic map flickered to life before him. Almost in the centre of the charts, though small and insignificant to the wrong observer, stood an Orange Star, practically hidden in the local star systems.

  Curiosity stirred within him. “Computer, zoom in and generate a detailed analysis of the system surrounding the orange star in sector U49-L90-T91.”

  The ship’s AI responded swiftly with a cold and lifeless voice, devoid of emotion or humanity, “System ULT98-8901: k dwarf, five planets.”

  Andrew leaned closer to the console as the AI continued. “Four planets are gas giants, large and distant, composed primarily of hydrogen and helium.”

  The AI paused briefly to generate a detailed analysis of the last planet before providing the most significant details. “The first planet is a Class F planet, 0.8 Earth mass, within the habitable zone, with an atmosphere primarily composed of nitrogen and oxygen, and surface temperatures ranging from -10 to 25 degrees Celsius.”

  The information flickered across the room in a brilliant holographic projection, showing the real-time planetary orbits and surface conditions. Andrew’s gaze locked on the terrestrial planet, realising it could be their best chance for survival—if it was as habitable as the data suggested.

  A chilling unease crept up his spine as he stared at the charts. Was the voice in his head leading him there? Or was this all just the result of fatigue?

  The wary captain moved through the ship’s dim corridors, the murmur of passengers echoing around him. The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of worry and frustration. Their whispered fears clung to the shadows, revealing a growing unease. His doubts simmered beneath the surface, forcing him to look down on the floor as he moved through the corridors. He was their anchor and had to be steady—even if the cracks were beginning to show.

  He passed groups of families huddled together, their eyes following him with silent questions they were too afraid to ask aloud. Mothers whispered reassurances to their children, but the cracks in their voices betrayed their fear. The elderly sat in quiet contemplation, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and concern. Even the ship’s crew tasked to tend to these souls, seasoned as they were, exchanged uneasy glances.

  Then, a man stepped into Andrew’s path, holding a tiny infant bundled tightly against his chest. The man’s face was gaunt, his eyes rimmed with sleeplessness. He shifted the baby’s weight in his arms as he met Andrew’s gaze with a desperate intensity.

  “Captain,” the man began, his voice trembling with exhaustion, “When will we land?”

  Andrew hesitated, looking down at the infant, her innocent eyes oblivious to the fear surrounding her. The weight of his doubts began to press down on him, the fear that he might be unable to save them all. This child represented everything he was struggling to protect. The father’s hollow gaze, filled with unspoken fear, cut through him with deliberate ease.

  Andrew’s chest tightened. The man cradled his child as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality, and it stirred something deep within him. He thought of the other families scattered across the ship, each clinging to their fragile hopes. They all shared the same desperation, the same silent prayers for survival. He had promised to bring them to safety. This wasn’t just a question—a plea, a quiet cry of hope in the face of the unknown.

  The man took a step closer, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “My wife… she’s sick. She… We need natural fresh air… something more than recycled ship rations to eat.” His eyes glistened with helplessness. “We all need to land, Captain. Please.”

  Andrew swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. The strain of leadership weighed heavily on his shoulders, but this… this was different. He could handle the burden of decisions, strategy and navigation, but looking into the eyes of a father desperate to protect his family—knowing he had no answers to offer—made the weight unbearable.

  He glanced again at the child, her soft breathing steady, oblivious to the looming dread that filled the hearts of those around her. Andrew allowed himself to feel the full gravity of his responsibility, not just as a captain, but as the one standing between hope and despair for thousands of families like this one. They all looked to him to lead them through uncertainty, to bring them to a place where they could breathe freely once more. However, they were lost, and he was as uncertain as they were.

  He clenched his jaw, his right-hand tightening slightly in his pocket as he suppressed the emotion. His left hand rested briefly on the man’s shoulder, a gesture of reassurance that felt hollow, even to him.

  “Soon,” Andrew replied, his voice distant, almost mechanical. It was the same answer he’d been giving for days, but even he wasn’t sure how much longer “soon” would hold any meaning.

  The man opened his mouth to say more, plead for details and hope, but Andrew didn’t wait for the words. He hastened down the corridor, his pace faster now, hoping he could outrun the desperation in the man’s eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts racing as he made his way to the bridge.

  They were hopelessly off course. The vast, uncharted void stretched before them, a silent, indifferent expanse where no familiar star could offer comfort or direction. Their whereabouts were unknown—lost in an abyss that grew darker and colder with every passing hour. The universe had swallowed them whole, indifferent to their struggle for survival. The emptiness outside was not just a void; it was a looming predator, pressing in on the ship, waiting patiently for the moment they would falter. It wasn’t just the darkness they feared; it was the silence—the vast, indifferent silence that reminded them how fragile they were.

  The bridge door slid shut behind him; Andrew exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging momentarily before he straightened his decorated jacket, pushing the encounter from his mind. There was no room for weakness, no space for hesitation. His crew looked up at him, waiting, trusting him with the same hope he had seen in the man’s eyes.

  “Captain,” Terrance Vance’s voice was the first thing Andrew registered as his attention shifted to the bridge. His first officer was already there, waiting, breathless, his hands fidgeting with a control pad. Terrance’s eyes had an odd gleam, a flicker of something that unsettled Andrew. He was keeping it together—but barely.

  “We’ve picked up a signal,” Terrance said, his words tumbling out faster than usual. “From a planet orbiting a nearby star system. None of the charts show any record of colonisation. It’s… off the map, Captain.”

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  “Star ULT98-8901?” Andrew asked, the words slipping out before he could think.

  Terrance raised an eyebrow. “Yes… how did you know?”

  Andrew stepped closer to the star chart. “Were you able to intercept the signal?”

  “There was no message, just a ping from the source. Could be pirates.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Unlikely. There are no trade routes this far out.” His thoughts drifted again to the voice, pulling him toward the orange star. “Prepare the ship. We’re heading there. We can’t afford to waste time. If there’s even a chance this planet can sustain us, we must take it. I know it’s risky, but we have no other options.”

  “I’d suggest sending a probe first,” Terrance said cautiously, sensing something off in his captain’s demeanour.

  “No,” Andrew replied sharply. “Take the whole ship. There’s a habitable planet in that system, a Class F world. We don’t have the luxury of choice now; this planet has what we need. We can give the passengers a respite from our journey there, regroup, and plan our next steps.”

  Terrance studied him, concerned. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright, sir? You seem… off.”

  “Just sleep deprivation,” Andrew snapped. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

  The engines of the colony ship hummed as it crossed into the ULT98-8901 system. Vast and silent, broken only by the distant gleam of the approaching planet, the darkness of space pressed around them, pushing them towards the unknown world. The crew had grown accustomed to deep space exploration’s quiet stillness. But as they approached the planet, something stirred within the ship’s systems—a faint, crackling signal emanating from somewhere on its surface.

  “Captain,” came the voice of the ship’s comms officer, loud enough for the entire bridge to stir. “We’re picking up a signal.”

  Captain Andrew, standing at the helm, glanced over his shoulder. His brow furrowed as he stepped forward. “What kind of signal?”

  “It’s… a colony beacon, sir,” the officer replied, uncertainty lacing her tone. “It’s coming from the habitable planet. The signal is weak but steady, and based on the data we’ve analysed, it appears to have been dormant for an extended period… possibly centuries.”

  The officer’s fingers moved swiftly across the console, pulling up the signal’s specifics. “From what we can tell, the beacon is old—really old. Its coding matches protocols used in early interstellar colonisation efforts, but it’s not aligned with any known colony records in our database. It was probably inactive for a long time, but something triggered it to reactivate.”

  She paused, eyes scanning the readout. “Power readings are faint, like the energy source is running on emergency reserves. The transmission is repeating in a tight loop, as though it’s barely holding on. The signal operates automatically, and there’s no sign of manual control or recent activity. But the timing is strange, sir. It’s almost as if the beacon…” the comms officer paused. She looked over at Andrew with a worried look. “…knew we were coming.”

  A hush fell over the bridge as the words settled into the minds of the crew. The ship’s navigation systems displayed the planet on their holographic map—a distant, pale dot orbiting the k dwarf star, ULT98-8901. For months, they had travelled through unknown space, searching for signs of a new home and found nothing, though this day had changed all that. There was no record of this system being colonised, and there was no indication of any human presence. Yet here they were, greeted by the pulsing signal of a forgotten beacon, as if calling them across the centuries.

  Captain Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “Get me a reading on the planet. Any signs of life?”

  The navigation officer immediately ran a scan, the soft whirring of the ship’s sensors breaking the tense silence. Andrew watched the screen intently, waiting for anything to explain the signal. After a few moments, the officer hesitated.

  “Sir, there are no confirmed settlements on the surface, but life signs are off the chart,” he drawled, his brow furrowing as more data came in, “but… there’s something.”

  Andrew leaned closer. “What do you mean?”

  The officer continued; his voice was uncertain. “We’re picking up faint energy signatures scattered across the planet. Small, irregular spikes—not enough to indicate active technology, but… something’s interacting with the environment. It’s subtle, like low-level movement or fluctuations in atmospheric pressure. Almost like… like it’s hiding beneath the surface or masked by the planet’s natural radiation.”

  He tapped a few more keys, deepening the scan. “There’s some kind of localised heat signatures—nothing large, just enough to suggest that there might be a large settlement. It could be herding animals … or something else affecting the surface in small ways. It’s hard to tell, but the energy seems to pulse like it’s alive somehow.”

  Andrew’s gut tightened. Whatever they were detecting, it wasn’t enough to declare the planet uninhabited—but to say there was no human presence on the planet would be lying.

  The crew exchanged uneasy glances, the tension building in the air. They had encountered many strange things on their journey, but this felt different. The quiet hum of the colony beacon echoed through the ship’s communication systems, like a voice from another time whispering in the dark.

  And then, without warning, the signal intensified.

  “Sir!” the comms officer’s voice cracked with alarm. “We’re being hailed.”

  Andrew’s pulse quickened. “From where?”

  “From the planet, sir. It’s… it’s the colony beacon. Someone, or something, down there is transmitting a message to us.”

  A cold weight settled on Andrew’s chest. He turned to his first officer, who had moved to stand beside him, his face tense. “What do you think?” Andrew asked, his voice low.

  Terrance glanced at the map, then back to his captain. “There’s no record of any colony here. And if this planet is uninhabited, who’s sending the transmission? We should be cautious.”

  Andrew nodded slowly, his mind racing. “Play the transmission.”

  Hesitation was emanating from the comms officer, then flicked a switch. The bridge filled with the sound of static crackling through the speakers. Silence fell over the crew as they were waiting for whatever would come next. For several long moments, there was only the hum of the beacon and the hiss of interference. And then, cutting through the noise like a whisper from the depths of space, a voice emerged.

  “…This is Dessix…” The voice was hollow, mechanical, and unnervingly calm. The crew exchanged uneasy looks, their discomfort deepening. Andrew’s fingers gripped the sides of the console tightly.

  “…Welcome to Dessix. We would be… delighted to host you… and your crew.”

  The words hung in the air like a challenge; the voice lacking warmth or emotion. It sounded automated, like an old AI program still operating long after its creators had abandoned it. But there was something else—a coldness beneath the words, something unsettling that Andrew couldn’t quite place.

  He leaned forward. “Can we respond?”

  The comms officer tapped a few buttons. “The transmission is on a continuous loop, sir. There’s no reply function. It’s just repeating the same message.”

  Andrew’s stomach turned. A dormant colony beacon, a planet that showed no signs of human life, and now this—the promise of a welcome from a place that should not exist.

  Terrance stepped closer. “What do you make of it, Captain?”

  Andrew didn’t answer immediately. His eyes remained locked on the planet projected on the holographic map, its surface swirling with thick clouds. According to the ship’s scans, it was a Class F habitable world. But that didn’t explain the beacon, the transmission, or the eerie sense that something was drawing them into a trap.

  He felt a pull, a strange compulsion to go down to the planet, to see what waited beneath the clouds. But logic and instinct warred within him.

  “It could be a trap,” Terrance said quietly, echoing Andrew’s own thoughts. “Pirates, a rogue AI… hell, anything could be down there.”

  “Or nothing at all,” Andrew murmured, his voice distant. His mind wandered back to the whispers he had heard in his sleep—the strange voice that had plagued him ever since they’d veered off course. Under an Orange Star, you will find my home.

  The coincidence was too much to ignore.

  Terrance broke the silence. “We need to send a probe first to gather more data. We can’t risk landing without knowing what’s down there.”

  But Andrew shook his head, his voice steady despite the uncertainty clawing at his chest. “No. We take the entire ship. If this is a functioning colony, even a dormant one, we’ll need supplies—and there’s no sense delaying.”

  Terrance’s eyes widened. “Are you sure about this? We’ve got over a hundred thousand people on board, Andrew. If something goes wrong down there—”

  “I’m sure,” Andrew interrupted, though the weight of the decision pressed heavily on his shoulders. His gaze lingered on the planet, on the beacon’s distant, hollow welcome.

  “Prepare the ship to enter orbit with… Dessix,” he ordered, his voice firm but with a hint of concern.

  The crew hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances. Then, slowly, they moved to carry out his command. Still standing at Andrew’s side, Terrance exhaled sharply, his unease filling the bridge.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” Terrance muttered, his voice barely audible. “Something about this place… it’s wrong.”

  Andrew nodded, but he kept his eyes on the planet ahead, feeling the pull of something deep and ancient. Fear twisted in his gut, but he pushed it aside, knowing he had to remain resolute for his crew. They couldn’t afford to let hesitation stop them now. “I know,” he whispered. “But we have no choice.”

  As the ship banked toward the planet, the colony beacon’s signal grew stronger, reverberating through the ship like a haunting call. And in the silence of the bridge, as the crew prepared for the descent, Andrew could swear he heard the faintest echo of that whisper in his mind.

  Under an orange star, you will find my home.

  Something deep inside told him to try the comms again.

  “This is Captain Andrew of the RRST Covun,” Andrew said, leaning forward at the console. “Identify yourselves.” He tried again.

  For a long moment, there was only static. Then, finally, a voice replied. “Welcome… Dessix… Captain Andrew… We… honoured to host… and your crew,” a voice finally replied, broken by thick static. The voice was flat, artificial. Something about it sent a chill down Andrew’s spine, but he kept his composure.

  “Do you have resources for trade? Our supplies are running low,” Andrew asked, trying to suppress his unease.

  Another long pause followed. The delay made the crew shift nervously in their seats. Andrew realised this might be an ancient colony with outdated communication technology, causing the delays.

  “We… everything you need—food… and more… journey,” the voice returned, still eerily emotionless. “Please… join us.”

  Andrew’s heart raced. This was too convenient. His instincts screamed caution, but the voice in his mind—the one guiding him all this time—whispered otherwise.

  “We will go down with the shuttle,” he finally ordered against the pit in his stomach that told him something was terribly wrong.