Then my comm unit flickered. A file appeared. A single 4K video, timestamped now . I opened it, against every instinct.
Choi laughed nervously. “Primary function? It was a cartography drone. Map asteroids and gas clouds.”
The probe began to unfold. It was beautiful and horrible, like a mechanical orchid blooming in reverse. Segments that should have been solid warped into impossible geometries. The 4K lenses swiveled as one, focusing on the airlock door.
The dead probe’s camera twitched. Just once. KSJK-002 4K
It showed me, standing right where I was. But in the video, my eyes were different. Empty. Swallowed by a perfect, mirror-smooth black. And my mouth was moving, forming words I never said:
“It’s just a diagnostic sweep,” my engineer, Choi, muttered. “It’s old. Probably glitchy.”
The probe wasn’t a mapper of space.
The red light blinked on.
We tractored it into the cargo bay. The ID stenciled on its side read KSJK-002 . Our mission was simple: retrieve the black box data and purge the onboard AI. Standard derelict protocol.
The vibration changed. It felt like a question. Then my comm unit flickered
And KSJK-002 had just found its missing piece.
The moment we powered the unit, every screen on the Magellan flickered. Then the 4K camera array on the probe’s housing spun to life—seven lenses, each the size of a coin, all of them focusing on me .
I exhaled. Looked at the dead, smoking husk of the probe. I opened it, against every instinct
It was a mapper of souls .