CHAPTER 5 — “Trace Analysis”
1206 Words
Riven had never seen the lab this quiet.
The analysis wing usually hummed with low-level activity—cooling fans, auto-samplers, the shuffle of technicians changing shifts. Tonight, it was still enough that Riven could hear the faint vibration behind the alloy shard sealed inside the containment tray.
It wasn’t supposed to vibrate.
Metal didn’t hum unless something acted on it.
Calyx watched from behind the glass partition, arms crossed, face unreadable. He wasn’t technically allowed inside the scanning chamber, but he’d refused to leave Riven alone. Riven didn’t argue. After last night, silence felt like an invitation, and neither of them intended to answer it alone.
Riven cleared his throat. “Beginning full-spectrum scan.”
“Just… go slow,” Calyx said.
Riven raised an eyebrow. “I always go slow.”
“No,” Calyx replied. “You always go thorough. That’s different.”
He turned away before Riven could react to the softness buried in the comment.
Riven activated the scan.
A swarm of thin white beams swept across the alloy shard, tracing its surface with meticulous precision. The display filled with graphs—thermal distribution curves, density profiles, alloy composition breakdown.
Except—
Riven frowned.
The composition line spasmed.
“What?” Calyx asked, immediately alert.
Riven zoomed in. “There’s a… fluctuation.”
“Explain.”
“This material isn’t stable.”
“Materials don’t just destabilize during a scan.”
“I know. But look.”
He pointed at the data. Elemental signatures flickered—oscillating between known values and blank spaces. Like the shard was trying to decide what it was made of.
Riven’s stomach tightened. “It’s reacting to the scan.”
Calyx leaned closer to the glass. “Is that even possible?”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“But it is.”
Riven didn’t answer.
The shard pulsed faintly—just one throb of light beneath its surface, subtle enough that a casual observer might mistake it for a reflection.
Riven didn’t.
“That wasn’t from the scanner,” he whispered.
Calyx’s jaw locked. “So it’s… alive?”
“No,” Riven said, though his voice lacked conviction. “Not alive. Responsive.”
“To what?”
Riven hesitated. “To being observed.”
Before Calyx could respond, a soft chime sounded from the door.
Riven looked up. Idris stood there.
The junior materials specialist looked pale, dark circles under his eyes. He carried himself with an uneasy stiffness, as though approaching the lab was something he’d rather not do.
“Command said you requested additional support,” Idris said, though he didn’t look at Calyx. Only at Riven. “What… happened?”
Riven gestured him in. “We found this alloy shard near a sealed sector. It’s reacting to the scan.”
Idris swallowed. “Reacting how?”
Riven zoomed in on the thermal map. “Temperature variation is fluctuating in… pulses.”
Idris blinked. “Like a heartbeat?”
“Don’t say heartbeat,” Calyx muttered.
Idris moved closer, hands trembling slightly. “This isn’t a standard station alloy. Not even the older models. Where did you say you found it?”
Riven hesitated. He couldn’t mention the sealed corridor—not officially. “In an unlisted maintenance zone.”
Idris frowned. “There are no unlisted zones.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Idris looked at the readings, then back at Riven. “I’ve seen something like this before.”
Calyx straightened. “When?”
Idris shifted uncomfortably. “Months ago. During a cleanup after the blackout.” He lowered his voice. “There was a panel with a heat signature that didn’t match any recorded system activity. The material around it… warped slightly.”
“Warped?” Riven repeated.
“Like someone had pressed a brand into it. But the indentation didn’t match any tool the station uses.”
Riven and Calyx exchanged a glance.
“What happened to that panel?” Calyx asked.
Idris swallowed again. “Command took it. They said it ‘didn’t meet structural criteria’ and replaced it.” He paused, lowering his voice. “But the replacement wasn’t logged.”
Calyx stiffened. “Of course it wasn’t.”
Riven leaned back over the console. “This confirms it. Whatever’s moving through the station leaves physical traces. Heat. Pressure. Material imprint.”
“And now it’s responding to being examined,” Calyx added.
Riven zoomed in again.
The half-ring pattern from the Chapter 4 fragment began to emerge. Faint. Incomplete. Like a curve burned into the alloy from something coiled or circular.
Riven exhaled. “It’s the same symbol.”
Idris’s face drained of color. “What symbol?”
Riven hesitated. “We don’t know yet.”
“But it’s repeating,” Calyx said quietly. “And patterns don’t repeat without purpose.”
Idris backed away. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Idris—” Riven began.
But Idris shook his head violently. “Whatever this is… it’s above station clearance. I’m not cleared to even look at that data.” He stepped back toward the door. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t want to be involved.”
The door slid open, and Idris slipped through it, nearly shaking.
Calyx cursed under his breath. “That was helpful.”
“He’s frightened,” Riven murmured.
“Good,” Calyx said. “Fear means he saw something real.”
Riven didn’t argue.
He turned back to the scan.
The alloy shard pulsed again—stronger this time.
And then the scanner froze.
“Riven,” Calyx said sharply. “The display.”
Riven stared.
Lines of code were appearing across the screen—unprompted, unsourced. Not from the scanner. Not from the station.
0x2F9A…
0x2F9A…
0x2F9A…
A repeating hash.
Calyx stepped closer. “Is that a signature?”
“No,” Riven whispered. “It’s a… request.”
“For what?”
Riven swallowed.
“For attention.”
The hash changed.
Just one digit shifted.
Then another.
Then another.
Slowly forming a pattern.
Calyx whispered, “Riven… is it responding to you?”
Riven didn’t blink. “No. It’s responding to the scan. To being seen.”
The last line of the hash settled into place, completing the sequence:
0x2F9A-4C-UNRECORDED
Calyx stared. “What the hell does that mean?”
Riven tried to speak.
The lights flickered.
Just once.
The shard pulsed—bright this time, unmistakably warm through the containment glass.
Then the scanner shut itself off.
Silence hit the room like a dropped weight.
Riven stepped back. “It didn’t like the scan.”
Calyx grabbed Riven’s arm. “Or it finished what it needed from you.”
The console rebooted automatically.
Green text scrolled across the screen in perfect calm:
NO DATA SAVED.
NO ANOMALY DETECTED.
ALL SYSTEMS STABLE.
But the hash remained burned faintly into the lower corner of the display—like a fingerprint smudged in static.
Riven whispered, “It left something behind.”
Calyx’s voice was barely audible. “Riven… the system says no data exists.”
Riven’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s the point.”
The last flicker of the hash pulse faded.
But not before rearranging itself into one final sequence:
0x2F9A—
SEEK—
YOU
- Writer
