The bunker's command center was a pressure cooker of tension and urgency.
Michael stood at the main console, his eyes fixed on the data streaming across the screens. The signal from beyond the Solar System was growing stronger, its patterns becoming more defined. What had started as a faint whisper was now a chorus of ancient voices, speaking in a language that seemed to bypass the ears and speak directly to the mind.
Clarice was beside him, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She'd been working non-stop for three days, trying to decipher the signal's meaning. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a fire in her gaze that refused to be extinguished.
"I've found something," she said, her voice tight with exhaustion and excitement. "A pattern in the signal. It's not ran
