The black box was in the central server room. He found it easily, a hardened data cylinder nestled in a cradle of sparking wires. As he reached for it, he saw the terminal screen.

The silence has started talking.

Seventy-two hours later, the transport window opened. The cargo ship Event Horizon received a single, automated ping from the colony’s surface. It was Kael’s emergency beacon.

The hatch hissed shut. The magnetic clamps disengaged. And then there was only the hum.

He ran.

That was the first thing Kael noticed when the cargo doors of the Event Horizon scraped open. The sky above the dead colony was the color of a week-old bruise, and the rain—a fine, greasy mist—clung to his environmental suit like a second, colder skin. It wasn't falling so much as it was hanging in the air, patient and malevolent.

The researcher’s words echoed in his mind. The silence has started listening to us.

And it was the most beautiful, terrible song he had ever heard.

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