International Space Station – Low Earth Orbit
3:17 UTC — Zvezda Module, Communications Compartment
The soft hum of recycled air was the only sound accompanying Alex Maltikov as he sat with a heat-sealed meal tray floating gently in front of him. A tablet hovered nearby, its screen filled with diagnostic logs and system updates.
Across the module, Rockie Harper was fiddling with a broken component from the CO₂ scrubber unit, a small wrench clutched between his fingers.
"God, I miss Max," Rockie muttered, squinting at the wiring. "Bet he's sprawled across my bed right now, drooling on my pillow."
Rockie's voice softened as he toyed with the broken circuit in his hands.
"You ever miss Earth smell? Not the food, not even the streets. Just… the smell of your dog." Alex raised an eyebrow. "That specific, huh?"
Rockie smirked, eyes momentarily distant, "He's a big rottweiler. Retired from national immigration patrol. My aunt worked airport security. When Max got too old to sniff out baggage, she passed him on to me."
He leaned back slightly, eyes half-closed with memory.
"He still sits by the door every day at 5 PM, like I'm just late from work."
Alex smiled faintly. "Poor guy thinks you're stuck in traffic when you're literally orbiting the planet."
Alex looked up with a half-smile, "Three more months, man. You'll be home, hugging him and drooling next to him."
Rockie chuckled weakly and set the wrench down. "I wish I could bring him up here, you know?"
Alex snorted a laugh, nearly choking on a spoonful of rehydrated beef stew, "Don't be ridiculous. Max would've chewed through the O₂ line by now."
Before Rockie could respond, the lights in the module flickered once, then went completely dark.
Every panel...
Every screen...
Every circuit shut down!
For a heartbeat, only the void hummed.
Then suddenly....
A jolt.
The system lights sparked back to life, one by one, as the ISS began a full reboot cycle.
"Shit," Rockie barked, immediately springing toward the nearest panel. "That's gotta be from the power relay. Or cable surge? I swear I ran a full check this morning."
Alex wasn't convinced.
"No," he said slowly to himself, "If it was just cabling, we wouldn't be seeing a total system restart. This was triggered."
He floated to the command terminal and began typing.
Nothing responded.
Not even the OS prompt.
Instead, a screen blinked to life filled with a series of codes.
They weren't in any known format!
Not binary. Not hex. Not anything Alex had ever seen.
Just strings of shapes and characters that refused to align, like a language that broke its own rules.
"What the hell is that?" Alex muttered.
He instinctively pulled out the secured tablet, snapped a photo of the screen, and saved it to a local drive.
Exactly three minutes later, all systems restored themselves. The code vanished.
Screens reset.
Everything looked normal. Except for the creeping unease in Alex's gut.
The terminal buzzed.
Incoming Transmission – NASA COMM OPS – Jean Wetherby
Alex accepted the call. Jean's voice came in, static laced but clear.
"Alex, we just experienced a critical system dip on our end. What's going on up there? Are you both okay?"
"Yes, Sir. We're okay," Alex responded. "Me and Rockie are fine."
"Alrigh. What happened?"
"I don't know. When I was talking suddenly everything shut down and the system is glitch and static."
"Alright, now everything is back to normal, right?"
"Yes, Sir. But, before the reboot, I swa something. I think it was-"
"Look," Jean cut in sharply, "I don't have time for your hallucinations, Alex. You're tired. Just monitor your systems and stay focused. Copy?"
"Umm... Alright, copy that, Sir."
Click.
The line went dead.
Alex stared at the screen, stunned.
Rockie floated back over, holding his half-eaten meal.
"That's it. I'm gonna go sleep this off. If this damn station kills me, I wanna die full."
Alex didn't respond. His thoughts were still spinning, locked on the image now stored in his tablet. The code.
Something was off, but NASA ... They refused to listen.