I Was Sent to an Unmakred Space Station. Something Horrifying Happened Here.

I sat in the back of the conference room watching as various NASA officials filed in. The room itself was nothing special, standard government issue with uncomfortable chairs and fluorescent lighting that made everyone look slightly I'll. What wasn't standard was the security. 2 guards stood at the door, checking IDs against a list, and I'd already surrendered my phone and signed three different non disclosure agreements before being allowed inside.

Commander Harrison. I looked up to see Director Walsh approaching. He was a tall man with thinning Gray hair who'd been running NASA's Special Projects division for the past 15 years. Director. I nodded, standing to shake his hand.

Glad you could make it on such short notice. His voice was low, almost conspiratorial. We have something unusual to discuss today. Before I could ask what he meant, the lights dimmed and the room quieted. A projector hummed to life, displaying what looked like a grainy satellite image on the screen at the front of the room.

Ladies and gentlemen, Walsh began. What you're about to see is classified at the highest levels. Nothing discussed here leaves this room. The image on screen changed to show what appeared to be a space station in orbit around the moon. It was oddly shaped, a central hub with three extending modules, almost like a lopsided snowflake.

3 weeks ago, one of our lunar observation satellites picked up an anomaly in orbit around the far side of the moon, Walsh continued. After redirecting additional resources, we confirmed the presence of an artificial structure, what appears to be a space station of unknown origin. Murmurs spread through the room. I leaned forward, studying the image.

The station didn't match any known design. Not American, not Russian, not Chinese or European. How did we miss this before? Someone asked from the front row. That's part of the mystery, Walsh replied.

Its orbit keeps it primarily on the far side of the Moon, making it difficult to detect from Earth. But more concerning is that our records show no previous detection. Despite multiple lunar surveys over the decades, the implications hung in the air. Either our observation capabilities had been severely lacking, or the station hadn't been there during previous surveys.

What about its construction? I asked. Any identifying markers? Walsh clicked to the next slide, showing a closer image. That's where things get interesting, Commander.

The external design shows elements consistent with Soviet era construction from the 1970s, but other aspects suggest technology far beyond current capabilities. More images appeared close-ups of various sections of the station. I could see what Walsh meant. Parts of it looked like they could have been built during the Cold War, while others seemed impossibly advanced.

There's been no response to any communication attempts, Walsh continued. No signs of active life support or power signatures. For all intents and purposes, it appears abandoned. So what's the plan? I asked, already suspecting the answer.

Walsh looked directly at me. We're sending a team to investigate and you're going to lead it, Commander Harrison. After the briefing, I was escorted to a smaller room where I found two people waiting a woman with Auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail and a stocky man with reddish brown hair who was flipping through a technical manual.

Commander Harrison, The woman said, standing to greet me. I'm Doctor Sarah Mitchell, Xenobiology and Advanced Systems. Robert Kane, the man said without looking up from his manual engineering. They'll be your crew for this mission, Walsh explained as he entered behind me. Doctor Mitchell is our leading expert on theoretical alien technology, and Cain is the best systems engineer.

We have alien technology? I raised an eyebrow. Is that what we're expecting to find? We're not expecting anything specific, Walsh replied carefully. That's why we're sending you 3 to find out.

Over the next hour, we received our mission parameters. We would launch in three days aboard A modified Orion spacecraft, approach the station, dock if possible, and investigate. Our primary objectives were to determine the station's origin, purpose, and current status. What bothered me was how little information they were giving us. Every time I asked a specific question about the station, Walsh deflected or claimed that information was unavailable.

It felt like they were holding something back. Why the extreme secrecy? I asked. Finally. Even for a classified mission, this seems excessive.

Walsh's expression tightened. The potential implications of this discovery are significant, Commander. If word got out before we understand what we're dealing with, it could cause panic or worse. I didn't buy it, but I also knew I wouldn't get a straight answer. At least not yet.

The next three days passed in a blur of preparations. We trained together in simulators, reviewed emergency protocols, and packed specialized equipment. The whole time, I couldn't shake the feeling that we weren't being told everything. Launch day arrived with clear skies and perfect conditions. As we suited up, Kane approached me.

You feel it too, don't you? He asked quietly. Feel what? That they're not telling us the whole story. His green eyes narrowed.

I've worked enough classified projects to know when information is being compartmentalized. I nodded slightly. Keep your eyes open. Once we're up there, document everything. The launch itself was textbook.

We wrote a column of fire into orbit, then began our three day journey to lunar orbit. Once we were safely on our way, I pulled out the intelligence packet we've been given to study. Not much here. Sarah commented, looking over my shoulder. She adjusted her glasses as she scanned the pages, mostly speculation and technical data about the station's orbit.

Better than nothing, I replied, flipping through the sparse reports. According to the limited information, the station was approximately 120 feet in length, with an estimated mass suggesting it was built primarily of titanium alloys and composite materials. There were no visible markings or Insignia, and its design didn't match any known space agency's architectural style.

Look at this. Sarah pointed to a spectrographic analysis. These readings suggest some of the external plating is made of an alloy we can't identify. The molecular structure doesn't match anything in our database. Cain leaned in from across the cabin.

And these power readings make no sense. There's no visible solar array, no radiators for nuclear power, Yet the station maintains a stable internal temperature, so it has power. I said Something's generating heat in there, Cain confirmed. But damned if I know what. As our journey continued, I spent hours studying the photographs, trying to make sense of what we were heading toward.

The station was a contradiction. Parts of it looked like they could have been built in the 1970s, with bulky modules and exposed structural elements reminiscent of early space stations like Solute or Skylab. But other sections showed seamless construction and materials that seemed impossibly thin yet structurally sound. On our third day, we finally approached lunar orbit.

I took manual control of the spacecraft as we maneuvered toward our target. There it is, Sarah said quietly as the station came into view. It hung against the blackness of space, silhouetted against the lunar surface below. No external lights, no movement, nothing to suggest it was anything but abandoned. Yet there was something unsettling about it, like finding an empty house in the middle of nowhere with the door left open.

Beginning approach, I announced, firing our thrusters gently to bring us closer. As we neared, more details became visible. The station had a central hub with three extending modules, just as the photos had shown. One module appeared to be a laboratory of some kind, with large viewport windows. Another looked like living quarters.

The third was more mysterious, A cylindrical section with no visible windows or external features. I'm not picking up any radio transmissions, Sarah reported. Monitoring our communications array. No response to our hails. Radiation levels normal, Kane added.

No signs of damage or hull breaches that I can see. I guided our spacecraft toward what appeared to be a docking port on the central hub. As we got closer, I noticed something odd. That docking mechanism? I said.

It looks compatible with our systems. Kane frowned, checking his displays. That's impossible. Our docking systems were designed decades after this station was supposedly built. Unless it's not as old as we think.

Sarah suggested, or someone updated it, I added. I slowed our approach, aligning carefully with the docking port. Despite Cain's concerns, the systems appeared perfectly compatible. Our spacecraft's automated systems recognize the port configuration immediately. Docking sequence initiated, I reported as our computer took over the final approach.

There was a gentle shudder as the two vessels made contact, followed by the mechanical sounds of docking clamps engaging. Pressure Seal confirmed. Cain said, checking the readouts. We have hard dock. We looked at each other, the reality of our situation sinking in.

We had successfully docked with a mysterious space station of unknown origin floating in lunar orbit, with no idea what waited for us inside. Suit up. I ordered, reaching for my helmet. We're going in. I took a deep breath and nodded to my team.

We were all suited up in our Eva gear, helmet secured and ready to enter the unknown station. The airlock indicators showed green across the board, we had a solid seal and matching pressure. Comms check. I said, tapping my helmet. Mitchell here, reading you clear.

Sarah. Responded. Kane, loud and clear. Robert added. I placed my gloved hand on the inner airlock release.

Remember the protocol. We stay together for the initial sweep. Document everything. If anything seems off, we retreat immediately. The airlock door slid open with surprising smoothness, revealing a dark corridor beyond.

I switched on my helmet light and stepped through first, pressure holding steady. Cain reported from behind me. Atmosphere reads as breathable, but let's keep helmets on until we're sure. I took three steps into the corridor when something unexpected happened. Lights began to flicker on ahead of us, illuminating our path as if welcoming us aboard.

They weren't bright, more like emergency lighting, but definitely functional. Did you do that? I asked Kane. He shook his head. Negative.

The system activated on its own motion sensors? Sarah suggested. Maybe, I replied, though something felt off about it. The lights weren't just coming on around us, they were activating sequentially down the corridor, as if guiding us forward. We move deeper into the station, the lights continuing to activate ahead of us.

The main corridor branched in three directions, matching the external structure we'd observed. The central path led to what appeared to be the command center, while the other two corridors extended toward the laboratory and living quarters we'd identified from outside. Gravity feels normal, Sarah noted, bouncing slightly on her toes. That shouldn't be possible without a power source.

She was right. The station maintained perfect Earth, normal gravity, despite showing no external power systems, no solar arrays, no nuclear radiators, nothing that could generate the energy needed for artificial gravity. Let's check the command center first. I said, pointing down the central corridor. As we walked, I couldn't shake a strange feeling of familiarity.

The layout, the curve of the corridor, even the placement of the support struts, it all felt like I'd been here before. I knew that was impossible. This station had been hidden on the far side of the moon until three weeks ago. Yet my body seemed to know which way to turn before we reached each junction.

Commander Sarah's voice snapped me back to the present. You OK? You stopped walking. I realized I'd frozen in place, staring at a side passage. I'm fine just taking it all in.

We reached the command center, a circular room with workstations arranged around a central holographic projector. The technology was a bizarre mix of old and new. Some consoles had physical switches and dials that looked straight out of the 70s, while others featured seamless touch interfaces I couldn't even identify. This doesn't make any sense, Kane muttered, examining one of the workstations.

These components shouldn't exist together. It's like someone built this place with technology from different eras or different worlds, Sarah added quietly. I moved to what appeared to be the main console. Kane, see if you can get any of these systems online. Mitchell, start cataloging what we're looking at.

I'm going to check that side passage we passed. We should stick together, Sarah protested. It's just down the hall. I'll keep comms open the whole time. I needed a moment alone to process the unsettling familiarity I felt.

I backtracked to the side passage that had caught my attention earlier. It led to a smaller airlock, Not an external one, but an internal pressure door separating different sections of the station. Something pulled me toward it, like 1/2 remembered Dream. The airlock had a manual override. I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my helmet light cutting through the darkness beyond.

The room was small and circular, with equipment storage along the walls, but what caught my attention was in the center, a spacesuit floating slightly off the floor in the reduced gravity of this section. No, not floating. There was someone inside it. I approached slowly, my light revealing more details. The suit was ancient, an Apollo era design, white with NASA Insignia, but weathered and damaged.

Frost covered parts of the visor, suggesting this section had been exposed to vacuum at some point. I moved closer and directed my light through the visor. The face inside was frozen, preserved by the cold vacuum. A man, maybe in his 40s, his expression peaceful, as if he'd simply fallen asleep. His skin had the waxy, preserved look of flash freezing.

Harrison to team. I said into my comms. I found something. A body in an old NASA suit. A body?

Sarah's voice crackled back. Human, Affirmative. Looks like he's been here for decades. I examined the suit more carefully. There was a name patch, but it was worn beyond recognition.

The right hand clutched something, a small rectangular object. Carefully, I pried open the gloved fingers. It was a photograph, somehow preserved despite the extreme conditions. I held it up to my light and felt my stomach drop. The photo showed three people, a man, a woman, and a young girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old.

They were standing in front of a house I didn't recognize, smiling at the camera. The man was me. I stared at my own face, unmistakable despite the casual smile I rarely wore. My arm was around a woman with long dark hair I'd never seen before. The child held both our hands, her face a perfect blend of our features.

But that was impossible. I had no wife, no daughter. I'd never taken this photo. Yet there I was, looking happier than I could ever remember being. I quickly tucked the photograph into my suit pocket, feeling strangely protective of it.

I couldn't explain why, but I didn't want Kane or Mitchell to see it. Not yet, not until I understood what it meant. Commander Kane's voice came through my helmet. You should come see this. We've got systems coming online.

On my way. I replied, taking one last look at the frozen astronaut before sealing the airlock behind me. When I returned to the command center, several screens were glowing with Dada. Kane had managed to activate some of the systems. Most of it's encrypted, he explained.

But I've got basic environmental controls and station schematics. Good work, I said, studying the layout displayed on the main screen. Again, that strange sense of recognition washed over me. I could almost predict which corridors LED where before looking at the map. Let's check the laboratory section, Sarah suggested.

If we want to understand this place, that's our best bet. We followed the left corridor according to the schematics. Just as before, lights activated ahead of us as we walked, guiding our way. The laboratory was a large open space, filled with equipment I couldn't identify. Workstations lined the walls, and in the center were several containment units, transparent cylinders extending from floor to ceiling.

Sarah moved immediately to the nearest one, her scientific curiosity taking over. These are specimen containers, she said, examining the control panel. Some kind of preservation system. I looked around the room, noting more of the technological contradictions. Some equipment looked like it belonged in the 70s, while other pieces seemed decades ahead of our current capabilities.

Look at this. Cain called from across the room. He stood in front of what appeared to be a terrarium, A sealed glass enclosure about 3 feet square. Inside was what looked like a plant, but unlike any I'd seen before. Its stems were translucent, almost crystalline, with leaf like structures that emitted a soft blue glow.

It's alive, Sarah said, joining him. But how? This station has been abandoned for who knows how long and what's powering it, I added, noting there were no visible lights or energy sources feeding the enclosure. Sarah carefully examined the container. The plant itself appears to be generating the light.

Some kind of bioluminescence, but far more efficient than anything we have on Earth. Could it be? Cain hesitated. Not from Earth. Let's not jump to conclusions, I said, though the thought had crossed my mind too.

Document everything. Take samples if you can. Do it safely. While they worked, I continued exploring the laboratory. At the far end was a sealed door with a keypad lock.

Without thinking, my fingers moved to the keypad and entered A6 digit code. The door slid open. I froze, staring at my hand. How did I know that code? I'd never been here before.

Commander Sarah called from behind me. Did you find something? I quickly composed myself another section. Let's check it out. The room beyond was smaller, filled with more specialized equipment.

One wall was lined with what looked like medical scanning devices. Another held containment units similar to those in the main lab, but smaller. This looks like a medical research area, Sarah said, examining one of the scanners. Advanced imaging technology, cellular analysis. This equipment is decades ahead of anything we have.

Kane moved to a computer terminal. I might be able to access more data from here. While they worked, I found myself drawn to a cabinet in the corner. Like before, I knew exactly how to open it. A slight pull on the left side first, then the right.

Inside were dozens of file folders, each labeled with alphanumeric codes. I pulled one out at random and opened it. Inside were detailed biological analysis, cellular structures I didn't recognize, and what appeared to be genetic sequencing data. The next folder contains similar information, but with subtle differences. They were studying something?

I murmured. Running experiments on what? Sarah asked, looking over my shoulder. I shook my head. I don't know.

We spent the next hour documenting the laboratory and its contents. Sarah was fascinated by the glowing plant, taking numerous samples and readings. Kane continued attempting to access the computer systems with limited success. All the while, I couldn't shake the feeling that I've been here before. The photograph burned in my pocket, a mystery I couldn't begin to explain.

Who was the woman? The child? How could I be in a photo I had no memory of taking? And why did this abandoned station hidden on the far side of the moon feel so eerily familiar? As we prepared to continue our exploration to the living quarters, I found myself looking back at the corridor leading to the airlock where I'd found the body.

Something told me we were just scratching the surface of the mysteries this station held. I decided to split up from Sarah and Kane to cover more ground. We'd already spent a couple hours going through the lab section and time wasn't exactly on our side. I'm going to check out what looks like an administrative area.

I said, pointing down a corridor that branched off from the main lab. You 2 keep working here. Sarah looked up from the glowing plant specimen she was examining. Are you sure we should separate? We don't know what else might be in this place.

We'll maintain radio contact. I assured her, tapping my headset. Kane, any luck with those computer systems? Kane shook his head, frustration evident on his face. These interfaces are bizarre.

Parts look ancient, but the security protocols are unlike anything I've seen. I'll keep at it. I nodded and headed down the corridor. Like before, lights activated automatically as I approached, illuminating my path as if the station knew exactly where I was going. That feeling of familiarity crept over me again, the same unsettling sensation I'd experienced since we first entered.

I somehow knew this corridor would lead to an administrative section before I even saw the sign on the wall. The corridor opened into a room filled with what looked like office equipment, desks with computer terminals, wall displays, and several metal filing cabinets. Everything was meticulously organized, not what you'd expect from an abandoned station.

No dust, no signs of hasty evacuation, just perfect, pristine order. I approached one of the terminals and pressed what I assumed was a power button. The screen flickered to life, displaying a login prompt in English, not Russian as we might have expected from the station's supposed Soviet origins. I made a mental note to bring Kane here later.

My attention turned to the filing cabinets along the far wall. They were standard metal cabinets, the kind you'd find in any government office on Earth. I pulled open the top drawer of the first cabinet and found it filled with folders, each labeled with what appeared to be mission designations. Find anything interesting? Sarah's voice came through my headset.

Just some filing cabinets with mission logs. I replied, flipping through the folders. I'll let you know if anything stands out. The second cabinet contained more technical documents, maintenance logs, system schematics, and inventory lists. Nothing immediately alarming, though the dates on some documents stretched back to the 1970s, while others were dated just last year.

That didn't make any sense. When I reached the third cabinet, my blood ran cold. The drawer was filled with personnel files and right at the front was a thick folder with my name on it. Harrison. David Jay.

My hands trembled slightly as I pulled it out. This couldn't be right. How could my personnel file be on an abandoned space station we just discovered? I opened the folder and felt my stomach drop. Inside were photos of me, childhood photos from my parents house in Colorado, pictures from my high school graduation, my Air Force Academy days, and my NASA training.

There were detailed medical records documenting everything from my childhood appendectomy to my last physical three months ago, performance evaluations for my military service, psychological assessments from NASA, even my divorce papers. What the hell? I muttered, flipping through page after page of my life, documented in meticulous detail. There were things nobody should have.

Private conversations transcribed word for word, personal journal entries I'd written years ago, even surveillance photos of me in my own apt. I keyed my radio. Kane, Sarah. I found something disturbing. What is it?

Sarah asked. Before I could answer, I spotted another folder labeled Mitchell, Sarah E, and next to it, Kane, Robert A. There are personnel files here, detailed ones on all of us. I hesitated, not wanting to alarm them too much. They contain information nobody should have access to.

What kind of information? Cain's voice had an edge to it. Everything from childhood to present day. Medical records, Personal history, classified mission data. I closed my folder and put it back in the drawer.

I'm going to keep looking around. I moved to another door at the back of the room. It slid open automatically as I approached, revealing a narrow hallway with several doors on each side. Again, that strange sense of familiarity washed over me. I knew the third door on the right led to some kind of security office before I even touched it.

The door open to exactly what I'd expected, a small room with monitor displays showing different sections of the station. But what caught my attention was the slumped figure in the chair, facing away from me. I approached cautiously, my heart pounding. The figure wasn't moving. As I reached the chair, I slowly turned it around and staggered back in shock.

It was me, my face, my build, wearing a mission suit identical to mine. The only difference was the bullet hole in the right temple, in the dried blood that had run down the side of his my face. Jesus Christ, I whispered, my voice barely audible even to myself. The corpse was me, down to the small scar on my chin from a training accident years ago.

Same haircut, same everything. The mission patch on his suit matched mine exactly, except for a small Roman numeral IV beneath the mission designation. I keyed my radio with shaking hands. Sarah Kane. I found another body.

Where? Sarah asked. Security office in the administrative section. I couldn't take my eyes off the corpse. It's, it's me.

The body looks exactly like me. Silence filled the channel for several seconds. What do you mean it looks like you? Cain finally asked. I mean, it's my face, my body, wearing my suit, but it can't be me because I'm standing here looking at it.

My voice sounded distant, detached, as if someone else was speaking. Commander, stay where you are. We're coming to you, Sarah said, her voice steady despite the circumstances. No, I replied quickly. Keep working, I need to understand what's happening here.

I forced myself to examine the body more closely. Rigor mortis had set in, but the body wasn't decayed. The blood had dried completely. I estimated he'd been dead for at least 24 hours, but not more than a few days. The gun was still in his right hand, my right hand a standard NASA issued sidearm, the same model secured in my own holster.

I backed away from the body and noticed a data pad on the desk. I picked it up and found it unlocked. The screen displayed what appeared to be a personal log entry. Day 7. Kane is dead.

Sarah is dead. I'm the only one left. The station won't let us leave. It keeps repeating I can't do this again. I won't become another specimen in this God damn experiment.

The entry was signed with my name. My radio crackled. Commander Kane's voice came through, sounding urgent. I've managed to access some of the computer logs. You need to see this.

What did you find? I asked, still staring at the data pad. Mission logs. Multiple identical missions to this station, all led by you. Cain paused.

According to these records, this is the fifth time A-Team consisting of you, me, and Doctor Mitchell has docked with this station. My eyes darted back to the Roman numeral on the dead man's mission patch. Hoffer, the 4th mission. That's not possible. I said, though the evidence was literally staring me in the face.

Commander Sarah cut in. I found something in the lab storage. Personal belongings, backpacks with our names on them. Five sets, all with the same contents but in different states of use. I felt like the air was being sucked out of the room.

I'm heading back to you now. As I turned to leave, I caught my reflection in one of the monitor screens. For a split second, I thought I saw the corpse in the chair looking back at me instead of my own reflection. I blinked, and it was gone. I made my way back through the administrative section, passing rooms I somehow knew contained communications equipment, crew quarters, and a small mess hall.

Despite never having seen them before, my body remembered this place, even if my mind didn't. The photograph I'd found earlier burned in my pocket, the one showing me with a woman and child, I couldn't remember. It was all connected somehow. The station, the bodies, the files, the familiar layout, it all pointed to something impossible.

As I walked back toward the lab section, a terrible thought formed in my mind. We weren't the first team to discover the station, we were just the latest iteration in some kind of horrific loop. I rushed back to the lab, my mind racing with everything I just discovered. The station, the bodies, the logs.

It was all too much to process, but one thing was clear. We needed to get the hell out of here. Kane, Sarah. I called out as I entered the lab. We need to leave now.

Sarah looked up from her specimen containers, her face pale in the harsh light. What's going on? What did you find? I'll explain on the way. I said, already heading toward the corridor that would lead us back to our spacecraft.

But we need to move. Kane closed the terminal he'd been working on and grabbed his equipment bag. I've downloaded what I could from their systems. Not much, but maybe enough to make sense of this place. We moved quickly through the corridors, the lights activating ahead of us just as they had when we arrived.

That familiarity I've been feeling since we docked now made a terrible kind of sense. I've been here before, many times before the logs Cane found. I explained as we walked. Show that we're not the first team to come here, we're the 5th and each time it's been the same three people, you, me and Kane.

That's impossible. Sarah said, but her voice lacked conviction. The body I found was me. I continued. Same face, same suit, but with a Roman numeral 4 on the chest.

And he, I had a bullet in my head. Cain kept pace beside me, his breathing heavy in my ear through the comms. The logs show the same mission parameters each time. Same crew, same objectives, same discoveries. It's like we're caught in some kind of loop.

I said. We reached the junction where the three corridors met, and I LED us down the path back to the airlock and our docked spacecraft. My pace quickened as we approached. All I wanted was to get my crew back to the ship and away from this nightmare. The airlock door slid open as we approached, but something was wrong.

The inner seal to our spacecraft was discolored around the edges, with black scorch marks visible on the metal. That doesn't look right. Kane muttered, pushing past me to examine the docking mechanism. I watched as he ran his hands over the controls, his expression growing more concerned with each passing second. He pulled a panel off the wall and swore under his breath.

What is it? I asked, though I already knew the answer. The docking mechanism is fried. Cain said, pointing to the melted circuitry inside the panel. Someone or something, overloaded it.

We're not going anywhere. Sarah moved closer to the viewport, peering through at our spacecraft. The ship looks intact. If we can fix the docking system, I can try. Cain said, already pulling tools from his belt.

But this isn't a simple repair. The whole Control Board is melted. I stepped back, trying to process this new development. We were trapped here just like the previous teams had been. Just like I had been four times before.

I need to check something. I said, turning away from the airlock. Kane, work on the docking system. Sarah, help him. I'll be back.

Where are you going? Sarah called after me to find answers. I replied, already heading down the corridor. I made my way through the station with unsettling ease, my feet taking me to places I'd never consciously been before. I found myself in a section we hadn't explored yet, a narrow passageway with several small chambers branching off.

The first room I entered contained another body. This one was face down on the floor, wearing the same mission suit as mine, but with a Roman numeral eye on the chest. The cause of death was obvious. A large piece of ceiling panel had collapsed, crushing his skull. My skull.

I moved to the next room. Another body, this one with U on the chest, floating in what appeared to be a flooded compartment, now drained, drowned. The third room held yet another version of me, Fath for high on the chest, his body contorted in what must have been an agonizing death from decompression, and I'd already found IV with a self-inflicted gunshot wound.

5 missions, 5 deaths, all me. I returned to the command center, drawn to the terminal Cain had accessed earlier. The screen flickered to life at my touch, and I navigated through the logs with disturbing familiarity. There it was a detailed account of each mission, each discovery, each death, and the current log updating in real time, documenting our movements throughout the station.

According to the logs, we were following the exact same pattern as the previous teams. The discovery of the bodies, the attempt to repair the docking mechanism, my exploration of the station, it was all there, predicted down to the minute. I read further ahead in the log and felt my blood run cold. If the pattern held true, what came next was a scream echoed through the station, followed by Cain's voice over the comms.

Commander, get back here now. I ran, following the corridors back to the airlock where I'd left them when I arrived. Cain was kneeling beside Sarah's motionless body. A heavy equipment panel had broken free from above the airlock door and struck her directly on the head. Blood pooled beneath her Auburn hair, her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

She was just standing there, Cain said, his voice shaking. The panel just came loose. There was no warning. I checked for a pulse, knowing I wouldn't find one. Sarah was gone.

It's the station, Kane said, standing up and backing away from the airlock. It's like it's alive or something. Like it's working against us. I looked at the docking controls Kane had been trying to repair. Any progress?

He shook his head. It's worse than I thought. The whole system is fried, but that's not the strangest part. He pointed to the damaged circuitry. These burns are fresh, but the damage pattern matches exactly what was in the maintenance logs from the previous missions.

It's like the station is repeating itself. Or we are. I said quietly. Kane paced the small area in front of the airlock. We need to try something different.

If we're in some kind of loop, we need to break it. He moved back to the control panel. I think I can bypass the main system and force an emergency release. It's risky, we might damage our ship in the process, but it's better than staying here. I watched as Cane worked, rewiring the damaged panel and connecting his tablet to the system.

His fingers moved with practice precision, but there was a desperate edge to his movements. Almost there, he muttered. If I can just override the safety protocols. The panel suddenly sparked and a surge of electricity arced through the wires. Cain was thrown backward, his body convulsing as the current passed through him.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air as smoke poured from the control panel and from Cain's charred hands. When the sparking stopped, Cain lay still on the floor, his eyes open but unseeing, just like Sarah's. I was alone. I checked the terminal again, scrolling through the logs with trembling hands. There it was, exactly as it had happened.

Sarah's death by falling panel. Kane's death by electrocution while attempting to override the docking controls. All predicted, All documented as if it had happened before. Because it had. I returned to the airlock and sat with my back against the wall, staring at the bodies of my crew.

The station hummed quietly around me, light still activating wherever I went, systems still running perfectly despite being abandoned for who knew how long. I pulled the photograph from my pocket, the one showing me with the woman and child I didn't recognize. I stared at their faces, wondering if they were real or just another part of this sick experiment.

The silence was deafening. With Sarah and Kane gone, there was nothing but the soft hum of the station systems and the sound of my own breathing. I'd never felt so alone. I got to my feet and made my way back to the security office, where I'd found my previous self. The corpse was still there, slumped in the chair, the gun still in its hand.

I looked at the weapon, then at the bullet hole in the temple. Was this my fate too, To end it myself when I realized there was no escape? No, I refused to accept that. I returned to the command center and pulled up the station logs again. If I was going to break this cycle, I needed to understand it.

The logs show detailed accounts of each mission. 5 identical teams, 5 identical discoveries, 5 different deaths for me, but always the same deaths for Sarah and Kane. The equipment panel, the electrical surge. Like clockwork, the station existed outside normal time. Somehow that explained the technology from different eras, the pristine condition despite decades of supposed abandonment.

It was a bubble, a loop, forcing the same events to play out over and over. But why? What was the purpose? I dug deeper into the files, searching for anything that might explain what this place was. Most of the data was corrupted or encrypted, but I found fragments, references to temporal stability testing and closed causal loops.

1 partial document mentioned subjects experiencing temporal Deja vu as consciousness fragments across iterations. That explained the familiarity I'd felt since arriving. Part of me remembered being here before, even if my conscious mind didn't. I checked the time. According to the logs, I had about 12 hours before I would die, crushed by a collapsing section of the living quarters while trying to sleep.

That's what happened to the fifth me. At least I wasn't going to wait around for it. I gathered supplies from around the station, tools from Kane's kit, a data pad with as many downloaded files as I could access, emergency rations from a storage locker I somehow knew existed without having to search for it.

As I worked, I kept thinking about the photograph. Who were they? My family in another timeline? People I was supposed to meet but never would, or just props. In this elaborate scenario, I made my way through sections of the station we hadn't explored yet, finding more evidence of the previous missions.

Notes written in my handwriting that I didn't remember writing. Personal items left behind that matched mine exactly. In what appeared to be a maintenance Bay, I found something unexpected. A small craft similar to an escape pod. It wasn't large enough for three people, which explained why none of my previous selves had used it.

I wouldn't have left Sarah and Kane behind, but now they were gone. The pod looked functional, but when I tried to access the launch controls, I found them locked behind a security system. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. I spent hours trying to bypass the security using everything I'd learned from watching Kane work on similar systems.

The whole time, I felt like I was being watched, like the station itself was observing my attempts to escape. When I finally managed to crack the security code, the pod systems came online. A navigation screen showed Earth tantalizingly close. I could make it back in the pod. I could break the cycle.

As I prepared the launch sequence, the station's lights flickered. Warning alarms blared from the command center. I rushed back to check the barn, yeah, check the monitors, and saw that the station's orbit was decaying rapidly. According to the readouts, we would enter the moon's atmosphere in less than an hour. This wasn't in the logs.

This hadn't happened before. I ran back to the pod, determined to launch before it was too late. But when I reached the maintenance Bay, I found the door sealed shut. No amount of manual override would open it. The station was fighting back.

It wasn't going to let me break the pattern. I returned to the command center, frantically searching for a way to stabilize the orbit or override the door controls. As I worked, the station shuttered. Around me. Systems began failing 1 by 1.

Lights went out in sections, leaving only emergency lighting. I pulled up the external cameras and saw pieces of the station's outer hull breaking away, burning up as they entered the lunar atmosphere. We were coming apart. With no other options, I made my way back to our spacecraft. The docking mechanism was still fried, but maybe there was another way.

If I could get into a spacesuit, I might be able to manually release the clamps from the outside. I reached the airlock and found the Eva suits where we'd left them. As I started to put one on, I noticed something odd about the airlock controls. They weren't damaged like the docking mechanism, they were pristine.

I checked the logs one more time from a nearby terminal. There was no mention of the station's orbit decaying in any of the previous missions. This was new. I was already breaking the pattern. With renewed determination, I finished suiting up and prepared to cycle the airlock.

If I could reach the exterior of the station, I might be able to make it to our spacecraft. The airlock cycled normally, and I stepped out onto the station's exterior. The view was breathtaking and terrifying. The moon filled half my field of vision, its surface rushing up to meet us as the station continued its descent.

Our spacecraft was still attached, seemingly undamaged despite the station's deteriorating condition. I made my way carefully along the hull, using hand holds to pull myself toward the docking port. Pieces of the station broke off around me, some narrowly missing me as they tore away. When I reached the docking port, I found the external manual release.

It would separate our spacecraft from the station, but I would be left outside. I'd have to find a way to get a board after releasing it. As I worked on the release mechanism, I saw something that made my blood run cold. There was another space suit clad figure already at the airlock of our spacecraft.

A figure with my build in an identical suit. Another me. He turned and through his visor I could see my own face staring back at me. He raised a hand in what might have been a greeting or a warning, then disappeared inside the airlock. I didn't understand.

How could there be another me when I was right here? The station shuddered violently, nearly tearing me from my hand hold. I didn't have time to figure it out. I activated the manual release and with a series of mechanical clanks, our spacecraft separated from the doomed station. I watched as it drifted away, thrusters firing to stabilize its position.

Through the viewport, I could see the other me inside at the controls. The station entered the lunar atmosphere fully now, the heat of entry beginning to build around me. I was out of options, out of time. As the station broke apart around me, I finally understood The loop wasn't just the mission repeating.

It was me, fragmented across time, experiencing different versions of the same event simultaneously. The me inside the spacecraft was just as real as I was. We were both David Harrison, both part of this twisted experiment. At least one of us was escaping. One version of me would make it back to Earth with the evidence, with the truth about this place.

The heat intensified as the station plummeted toward the lunar surface. In my final moments, I clutched the photograph of the family I never knew, wondering if the other me would remember them, if he would find them. The station hit the lunar surface with catastrophic force, and everything went white. I walked back through the station's corridors, my footsteps echoing in the empty silence.

The lights continued their eerie pattern of illuminating my path as I moved, like the station itself was watching me, guiding me. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being herded along a predetermined route. The secondary airlock called to me. I needed to see it again. The place where this nightmare had started for me, where I'd found the first body.

My body version, one of however many there would be. I turned down the corridor leading to the airlock, my hand instinctively reaching into my pocket to touch the photograph I'd found earlier. The family I didn't recognize, but somehow new was mine in some version of reality. My fingers trace the edges of the paper, worn smooth, as if it had been handled countless times before.

The airlock door stood before me, just as I remembered it. I punched in the code without hesitation, the numbers coming to me as if I'd used them 1000 times. The door hissed open, revealing the small chamber beyond. I stepped inside, the space feeling smaller than before. The body was gone.

No, that wasn't right. I'd found that body elsewhere. This was where it all began, where each version of me started the same horrific journey of discovery. I looked around the chamber, seeing it with new understanding. This wasn't just an airlock, it was a Nexus point in whatever twisted experiment was happening here.

My reflection caught my eye in the airlock window. I moved closer, studying my own face, tired eyes, stubble on my chin, the small scar I'd gotten during training years ago. I placed my hand against the cold glass, watching as my reflection did the same. I'm going to be the next corpse. I whispered the words hanging in the recycled air.

The next version of me will find my body, just like I found the others. I pulled out the photograph again, staring at the faces. The woman had kind eyes and a smile that suggested she knew something I didn't. The child, a boy about 5 or 6, had my eyes. My son in some timeline or reality I couldn't remember.

I'm not going to do this, I said, louder this time. I'm not going to play my part. The station logs had predicted everything, every movement, every discovery, every death. But they couldn't predict what I hadn't done before. If I was trapped in a loop, there had to be a way to break it.

I left the airlock and headed toward where Cain had died. His body lay where it had fallen, tools scattered around him. I knelt beside him, muttering an apology as I gathered his equipment. The toolkit was comprehensive. Wire cutters, electrical tape, a multi tool diagnostic scanner, and various other implements I might need.

Thanks Kane. I said quietly. Maybe this time it'll be different. I returned to the airlock with Kane's tools and set to work. The control panel came off easily, revealing a mess of wiring and circuitry beneath.

Some of it looked like technology from the 70s, while other components were so advanced I barely recognize them. But the basic principles remain the same. I worked methodically, rewiring connections and bypassing safety protocols. If the station was recording everything, predicting everything, then I needed to do something unpredictable, something that hadn't been done in previous iterations.

Hours passed as I worked. My hands cramped and my back ached, but I kept going. Finally, I sat back on my heels, surveying my handiwork. The airlock controls had been completely reconfigured. Instead of the standard operation, I'd created a manual override that would allow me to control both the inner and outer doors simultaneously.

Something that should be impossible under normal safety protocols. Next, I turned my attention to creating an emergency beacon. I cannibalized parts from my suit's communication system and some components from the airlock itself. The resulting device was crude but functional, a small transmitter that could broadcast a simple message on all emergency frequencies. I recorded my warning.

This is Commander David Harrison. Do not approach the station in lunar orbit. It exists outside normal time. Each mission repeats in an endless loop. Sarah Mitchell and Robert Kane die every time I die.

Every time. The station is studying us, predicting us. Break the cycle. Do not send another team. With the beacon complete, I moved to the command center.

The terminal was still active, still recording everything I did. I accessed our spacecraft's systems remotely and began uploading all the data I'd gathered, the logs showing previous missions, the photographs of the bodies, the personnel files, everything that might convince NASA this place was a death trap. Once the upload was complete, I programmed the spacecraft to automatically undock and return to Earth on a preset course.

The computer asked for confirmation, and I hesitated for just a moment before pressing yes. An alarm sounded, the station registering my interference. Red lights flashed in the corridor, and I heard mechanical systems activating throughout the structure. The station was fighting back. I ran back to the airlock, beacon in hand.

The outer door of our spacecraft was visible through the small window. I attached the beacon to the inside of the airlock, positioning it so it would be found by anyone who entered. Through the window, I could see the docking clamps beginning to disengage. The spacecraft was pulling away as programmed. I felt a surge of hope.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe the evidence would reach Earth and they'd understand. Maybe no one else would have to die here. I sealed the airlock from the inside, watching through the window as our spacecraft drifted away from the station. The small engines fired, orienting it toward Earth before the main thrusters engaged, sending it speeding away from this nightmare.

I pressed my hand against the cold glass, watching until the spacecraft was just a distant speck against the blackness of space. The station hummed around me, system still running, lights still illuminating my path. Wherever I went, it would continue its endless orbit, waiting for the next crew, the next experiment. But maybe there wouldn't be a next crew.

Maybe my warning would be enough. I pulled out the photograph one last time, studying the faces of the family I couldn't remember, but somehow new was mine. I tucked it back into my pocket and turned away from the window. The station stretched before me, empty corridors leading to rooms. I now knew by heart I was alone here.

But for the first time since discovering the truth, I felt something other than despair. Hope, small and fragile, but there nonetheless. Hope that this time I done enough to break the cycle.