Signal on the Horizon

Kerensa frowned as they stared at the small dot on the monitor.

By all means, Awan was deserted. They weren’t a part of the original Awan mission, but their mothers had told them all about the experience of finding the Cirrocanius, helping bring them back to Port Borealis, and rehabilitating them.

As far as Kerensa was aware, the entire planet was in a state of nuclear winter. Nothing should have been able to survive there, aside from the stray Bear Pepper or two.

It had to be a mistake. Maybe the reader was picking up a cosmic storm, and misinterpreted it as a message. There had also been previous instances where the space station had picked up radio waves that came from stars themselves - leading to some awkward missions. There were plenty of instances that could explain this, all that would be perfectly normal.

A slight chill ran down Kerensa’s spine nonetheless.

Something about this message felt… disturbing. They should have already pressed the buttons that let them listen to the recording, or view the text, depending on the type of distress signal. But their paw trembled over the monitor instead of moving down to press it.

What if they listened or read, and instead of static, or garbled text, there was something? It made their veins freeze with a cold dread.

In the best scenario, this would mean one or more Cirrocanius were left behind. The idea of it made Kerensa’s stomach sink. Even just hearing secondhand accounts from her mothers about the Cirrocanius who were too far gone to be saved gave her nightmares - she couldn’t begin to grasp what it would be like to see it in person. Even worse, if someone was left, even by accident, that means it was everyone else’s fault they were left behind.

It wouldn’t be Kerensa’s fault specifically, but how would their mothers feel? Or anyone else on that expedition? Knowing that someone was out there, freezing in the cold, possibly irradiated and suffering, all because you made a mistake? That would be a person with a family, dreams, aspirations, probably too injured to be alive by the time rescue arrives…

They shivered.

On the other hand, it would be a relief if it wasn’t a missing Cirrocanius, but then… if it wasn’t a mistake, either…

The blood drained out of their face. They’d heard ghost stories - everyone on the space station has at some point. Space was vast and mysterious. Every horror writer wanted to try writing something that would make even the most hard-boiled explorer unable to sleep at night, and every kit wanted to scare their younger siblings silly.

Terrifying tales ranged from the ridiculous claims of ghosts of children who didn’t listen to their parents and got sucked up into a black hole, to ones that even Kerensa would need to sleep with the lights on after hearing - like the explorer who went out with their partner to explore a stranded moon, but ended up coming back with something shaped like their partner, but was deeply wrong.

Something about that tale made them hesitate. What if they listened to the message, and through what seemed like innocent static, they heard something wrong? What if, just by opening the file alone, they would let something terrible into the entire space station?

“Hey, what’s that?”

Kerensa jumped in their seat, almost hissing instinctively at their sibling - they quickly flicked their ears back to show that they were not scared, they were not surprised by Zofie sneaking up on them like that. “Nothing. Go back and— bother moms or something. It’s none of your business.”

Zofie frowned, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t treat me like a kit. I’m the same rank as you— it’s my job to look at what’s going on.”

Despite Kerensa trying to fold out their wings to hide the monitor, Zofie was quicker - and they flitted over to see the blinking light. “A signal? Why haven’t you heard it yet?”

“Don’t—!”

But before they could stop them, Zofie had pressed the monitor, making it load the message. Kerensa held back the instinct to cover their eyes with their paws.

“Huh. It’s all garbled.”

“It is?” Kerensa tried not to show their relief.

Zofie nodded, tapping the loaded text with a paw. “Look. I think it’s probably encrypted, and our system doesn’t have the key to decode it. Or it’s just garbo. Kind of hard to tell which, since the two always look the same. That’s sort of the point of encrypting things in the first place.”

Kerensa let out a small sigh.

Maybe it wasn’t one of those nightmarish situations, after all.

Maybe.