Carolyne Marian - Wunf 409 Guide

Protocol demanded she report this. But Carolyne had been alone too long. She had seen the previous Listeners—three of them—transferred to “rehabilitation” after hearing things that weren’t there. WUNF 409 wasn’t just her job code. It was her prison number.

Her hands trembled as she ran the trace. The signal wasn’t coming from a distant galaxy. It was coming from beneath her. From the frozen methane core of the moon itself.

Behind her, the station’s AI repeated her designation in a flat, warning drone: “WUNF 409. Step away from the airlock. WUNF 409. Compliance is mandatory.”

Not because she was gone.

She smiled. She hadn’t smiled in years.