1661381569nyus002:42:38 Min -

A single line of high-priority encryption flashed across the console: 1661381569nyus002:42:38 Min

In the jargon of the New York University Space (NYUS) program, "Min" didn't mean minutes. It meant Minimum Biological Signature . The probe hadn't found a mineral deposit or a gas pocket. It had found something breathing.

"Minimum threshold reached," Elias whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. 1661381569nyus002:42:38 Min

The lights on the station flickered. Outside, the stars didn't look like points of light anymore. They looked like eyes.

The hum of the Habitation Deck was the only thing keeping Elias sane. He stared at the flickering amber terminal, watching the endless stream of telemetry data from the NYUS-02 probe. It had been drifting in the "Blind Spot" behind Jupiter for three months, silent and cold. Then, at precisely 02:42:38, the screen bled white. A single line of high-priority encryption flashed across

He looked out the observation port. Jupiter loomed like a bruised giant, indifferent and vast. Somewhere in that swirling chaos, NYUS-02 had just woken up something that had been waiting for a billion years.

The terminal chimed again. The code changed. 1661381569nyus002:43:01 Max It had found something breathing

"Max," Elias breathed, his hand hovering over the emergency broadcast button. "Maximum proximity."