There's a Hidden Door on the Moon. They are Hiding this.

Hello and welcome back to another episode by Sleepy Pasta. Before you doze off tonight, don't forget to leave a five star review and a comment where you are watching from. Let's begin. I checked the oxygen levels on my tablet for the 4th time today. The numbers looked fine, 78% capacity remaining just like an hour ago.

Still, I couldn't help checking seven months into my 12 month rotation at Artemis, and these little rituals kept me sane. The maintenance reports glowed on my screen, waiting for my sign off. I scrolled through the daily diagnostics. Atmospheric recycling at 92% efficiency. Water reclamation functioning within normal parameters.

Power draw from the solar arrays consistent with expected output. All normal, all boring, all exactly what you wanted to see when you lived in a pressurized bubble on the moon. Luna log maintenance report a 734 complete. I said to the station's AI system. Report logged Specialist Moreno.

The neutral female voice responded. Would you like me to transmit to Mission Control? No, I'll batch them with tomorrow's thanks. I pushed away from the workstation, drifting in the lunar gravity. After months here, my body had adapted to the one sixth Earth weight, but sometimes I still marveled at the difference.

The viewport beckoned from across the module. I made my way over my boots making soft contact with the floor. Earth hung in the black sky, a blue marble swirled with white. From up here you couldn't see borders or conflicts or any of humanity's self-inflicted wounds. Just home, beautiful and distant.

I pressed my hand against the thick glass. My family was down there somewhere, going about their lives. Mom was probably tending her garden. My sister might be picking up her kids from school. All those normal everyday things I'd taken for granted.

My stomach growled, reminding me it had been hours since lunch. The clock on the wall read 1820. Time for dinner. I turned away from the viewport and headed toward the galley module. After months on the station, I barely noticed the hum of life support systems anymore.

That's why the tapping caught my attention immediately. I froze mid step. 3 distinct taps from the exterior wall, followed by two more Tap, tap, tap, tap tap. I held my breath and listened. Nothing but the usual station sounds.

Hello. I called out, feeling slightly ridiculous. I was the only person on this side of the station. Silence answered me. I shook my head and continued toward the galley.

Jerry Gilbert, the station psychologist who'd handled my pre mission training, had warned all of us about this. Auditory hallucinations were common in isolated environments. The brain, desperate for stimulation, sometimes manufactured sounds to fill the void. Just the station settling, I muttered to myself as I pulled a meal packet from storage. Chicken and rice tonight, one of the better options in our limited menu.

I added water to the packet and placed it in the heater. While waiting for my dinner, I made notes in my personal log. Day 213. All systems nominal. Possible auditory event at 1822.

Likely nothing. The meal heater beeped and I pushed the tapping from my mind. The next morning I suited up for scheduled exterior maintenance. The Eva prep checklist was so ingrained I could do it half asleep. Pressure check, oxygen levels, communication systems, tether attachments, tool belt secure Luna log.

Eva start time 0900 hours. I said as I finished the final checks. Logged Specialist Moreno. External temperature is -170°C Solar radiation levels within acceptable parameters. You are cleared for Evai cycled through the airlock, the air slowly hissing out until the pressure equalized with a vacuum.

Outside, the outer door slid open, revealing the stark lunar landscape, Gray dust stretching to the horizon, broken only by scattered equipment and the solar array field to the east. I stepped out onto the surface, my boots leaving imprints in the dust. The view remained striking black space above Earth hanging in the sky, harsh shadows from the sunlight.

Beginning solar array inspection, I reported, my voice sounding close in the confines of my helmet. The solar array stretched out in neat rows, angled to capture maximum sunlight. I moved methodically down the line, checking each panel for micrometeorite damage or dust accumulation that might affect efficiency. The work was tedious, but important. These panels provided all our power.

3 hours later, I'd finished the inspection and minor cleaning of the arrays. Everything looked good. I made my way back toward the airlock, taking the long route around the northern module to check the exterior sensors there. That's when I saw them. I stopped, my breath catching.

Near the base of the northern module wall were marks in the dust. Not the random patterns created by settling regolith or equipment vibrations, but clear, distinct impressions. They looked like footprints. I knelt down for a closer look. The marks were roughly boot shaped, similar to the prints I was making myself, but slightly smaller.

They led from around the curve of the module and stopped abruptly about two meters from where I stood. That's not possible, I said aloud. No one else had been outside in weeks. The last supply drone had docked at the southern airlock, nowhere near this location, and these prints looked fresh. No dust had settled in them yet.

I took photos with my helmet camera, carefully documenting the location and pattern of the marks. Luna, has anyone else performed an Eva in the past 72 hours? Negative. Specialist Moreno, your current Eva is the only exterior activity logged since maintenance cycle 34713 days ago. I stared at the prints for another minute before reluctantly heading back to the airlock.

My oxygen levels were getting low and I needed to get inside. As I cycled through decontamination and removed my suit, I couldn't shake the image of those footprints. There had to be a logical explanation. Maybe vibrations from the module had created patterns resembling footprints. Maybe I was seeing things.

The lunar surfaces lighting played tricks on the eyes, but they had looked so real. I downloaded the images from my helmet camera to review them more carefully. On the screen, the marks looked even more like footprints than they had in person. I measured them against my own boot print for scale. Definitely smaller, but with the same general tread pattern as our standard Eva boots.

This doesn't make any sense, I muttered, closing the files. I'd send them to Mission Control tomorrow with my report. Let them figure it out. That night, I woke suddenly from a deep sleep. The clock read 217 in the morning.

At first I wasn't sure what had woken me. The station was quiet except for the usual background hum. Then I heard it. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. The same pattern as before, but louder now, more insistent.

It was coming from the exterior wall near my sleeping quarters. I sat up, fully awake. Luna run exterior hull diagnostic. Running diagnostic. No anomalies detected.

Specialist Moreno. The tapping came again, 5 rapid beats this time, followed by three slow ones. I got up and pressed my ear against the wall. The metal felt cold against my skin. Tap tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap tap tap.

Luna Are you recording this? Audio recording activated, and then I heard something that made my skin crawl through the communication system. Barely audible beneath the static came a whisper. Help me. I jerked away from the wall.

Luna, what was that? Is someone transmitting on our frequency? No unauthorized transmissions detected. Specialist Moreno, would you like me to run a communication systems diagnostic? Yes, full spectrum scan.

I paced the small room while waiting for the results, my heart pounding. I'd heard it clearly. A voice, a human voice, asking for help. Diagnostic complete. All communication systems functioning normally.

No anomalous signals detected. The tapping stopped. The whisper didn't return. I stood in my quarters wondering if I was losing my mind. After several minutes with no further sounds, I sat down at my terminal.

Luna Access audio logs for the past hour. The files appeared on my screen. I played back the recording from when I'd asked Luna to start recording. There it was, the tapping. Clear as day.

Five quick taps, 3 slow ones, and then, unmistakably a voice whispering through static. Help me. I played it again, turning up the volume. The voice sounded female, though it was hard to be certain through the distortion, but it was definitely there. I wasn't hallucinating.

Something or someone was outside my station, tapping on the hull and somehow accessing our communication system. I stared at the audio waveform on my screen. Seven months of routine had just been shattered. Whatever was out there, whatever had left those footprints in the lunar dust, it wanted my attention. And now it had it.

I waited until Violet's shift started before making the call. Mission Control ran on Houston time, which meant there was a sweet spot when I could talk to the same person a few days in a row. Consistency mattered when you were a quarter million miles from home. Artemis Station, this is Mission Control communications Officer Simon speaking.

How can I assist you, Specialist Moreno? Hey, Violet. I leaned back in my chair, trying to sound casual. Got a question about station acoustics. Acoustics.

She sounded surprised. Go ahead. I've been hearing some tapping sounds on the hull. Started a few days ago. Mostly at night, but sometimes during the day too.

I kept my voice even professional. Luna's diagnostics show no hull breaches or pressure anomalies. What kind of tapping? Random or patterned? I hesitated.

The whispered help me stayed locked behind my teeth. That would trigger protocols I wasn't ready for. Psychological evaluations. Possible early mission termination. Rhythmic.

Usually 3 taps, then 2, sometimes other patterns. I pulled up the audio file but didn't transmit it. Any chance it's micrometeorite impacts? The calm line went quiet for a moment. Possible, but unlikely to be that regular.

Could be thermal expansion as the station materials contract during lunar night and expand during day. The temperature differential is extreme. That's what I figured, I said, even though I hadn't. Just wanted to check if anyone else had reported similar experiences. Nothing in the logs.

Violet replied. But I'll make a note of it. Keep me updated if the pattern changes or intensifies. Will do Moreno out. I closed the channel and sat back, staring at the audio file on my screen.

The whisper was there, clear as day. A woman's voice asking for help. I deleted the file and made myself a cup of coffee. Three days passed. The tapping continued each night, always in the same spot near my sleeping quarters.

I'd press my ear against the wall and listen, but the whisper didn't return until last night, when the pattern changed. Tap, tap, tap, pause, tap, pause. Tap, tap, tap, pause, tap, tap. I sat bolt upright in bed. That wasn't random.

That was Morse code. BEI listened more carefully as it repeated BELOW. Below, my Navy training kicked in, translating the dots and dashes. Something was tapping below on my station hall. I recorded it on a tablet and played it back to confirm.

No mistake. Luna, run an exterior scan of the station perimeter. Full 360° scanning. The AI responded. No anomalies detected.

No unauthorized objects or personnel present. I pulled up the station schematics, looking at what lay beneath my quarters. Storage compartments, Water reclamation, the lower level of the life support systems. Nothing unusual, but the tapping had been clear below. I didn't sleep the rest of the night in my dreams.

She stood on the lunar surface. No spacesuit, no helmet. Just a woman with dark hair floating around her face in the vacuum, wearing what looked like a tattered flight suit. She walked across the regolith, leaving those small footprints I'd photographed. She came to my viewport and pressed her face against it.

Her lips moved, but I couldn't hear her. Then she pointed down at the ground beneath her feet below. I woke up covered in sweat, my heart racing. The clock read so 417 still 2 hours before my scheduled wake up. I got up anyway and headed for the shower.

Luna log exterior inspection route for today. I'm checking the northern module sensor array and the terrain around it. All right, logging inspection route. Please confirm estimated duration. 3 hours, I said, sealing my helmet.

Standard Eva protocols. The airlock cycled and I stepped out onto the lunar surface. The familiar Gray dust puffed around my boots as I made my way toward the northern module. I checked the sensor array first. All normal, functioning within parameters.

I walked the perimeter, looking for the footprints I'd seen days earlier. They were gone, covered by lunar dust. I was about to head back when I heard it tapping. Not from the station walls this time, but from beneath my feet. Tap, tap, tap, pause, tap, pause.

Tap, tap, tap, pause, tap, tap. Below. I dropped to 1 knee and brushed away the dust with my glove. Something metallic gleamed in the sunlight. I cleared more, revealing a small hatch about a meter across, embedded in the lunar surface.

What the hell? I muttered. The Hatch was old, not modern design. It had a manual wheel lock like submarine doors, and strange symbols etched around its circumference. Not NASA, not Russian, not Chinese.

Nothing I recognized from any Earth space program. I pulled up my wrist computer and checked the station schematics again. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in the plans about an underground access point here or anywhere else around the station. Luna, are there any classified structural elements of Artemis Station not included in standard schematics?

Negative. Specialist Moreno, all structural elements are documented in the schematics available to you. I stared at the Hatch. Someone had put this here, and recently enough that it hadn't been completely buried by lunar dust. But who and why wasn't it in any documentation?

I should report this. Call Mission Control, wait for instructions. The tapping came again, more urgent now. Below, below, below. I reached for the wheel lock.

It turned easily, suggesting recent use. A hiss of escaping air revealed pressure beneath, impossible for anything abandoned on the moon without maintenance. The Hatch swung open, revealing a dark shaft with metal rungs leading down. I shined my helmet lights into the darkness, but couldn't see the bottom. Protocol said to report, wait for instructions, never enter an unknown structure alone.

Protocol said a lot of things that made sense on Earth, but felt less important when you were the only human on the moon and something was calling to you. I keyed my calm. Luna logged my position and current activity. I've discovered what appears to be an artificial structure beneath the lunar surface near the northern module I'm investigating.

Logged specialist Moreno. Recommend waiting for Mission Control authorization before proceeding. Note my recommendation. Override. Keep this channel open.

I swung my legs over the edge of the Hatch, found the top rung with my boots, and began to climb down into the darkness, my helmet lights illuminating only a few rungs ahead at a time. The shaft went deep, deeper than any part of Artemis Station, 20 meters down 2530. The walls changed from metal to a strange material with geometric patterns that absorbed light.

My suit's pressure reading stayed steady, indicating the shaft was pressurized. I kept climbing down 1 rung at a time. Into the darkness beneath the lunar surface. I climbed down the ladder for what felt like forever, my helmet light cutting a weak path through the darkness. My suit's oxygen indicator showed I still had plenty left, but my mind kept running calculations.

How far down did this thing go? The metal rungs were cold through my gloves as I descended. Luna, are you still receiving my signal? I asked, suddenly worried about losing contact. Signal strength at 82%.

Specialist Moreno. Luna's voice came through clearly. I am still unable to locate this structure and station schematics. Yeah, that's because it's not supposed to be here. I muttered, more to myself than the AI.

My boots finally touched solid ground. I turned, sweeping my helmet light across what appeared to be a corridor stretching in both directions. The architecture was all wrong, angular in places where standard designs would use curves with those same geometric patterns from the shaft continuing along the walls. Luna. I've reached what looks like a facility of some kind, checking suit readings now.

I glanced at my wrist display. Pressure is normal. That can't be right, but the reading was clear atmospheric pressure equivalent to what we maintained in Artemis Station. Temperature was cool but survivable. The air hadn't been cycled in a long time based on the composition readings, but it wouldn't kill me.

Specialist Moreno, I recommend returning to the surface immediately. This structure is not in any database and presents unknown risks, noted Luna. I had no intention of turning back now. I'd come too far. I moved forward along the metal corridor.

As it curved left toward a larger chamber. Lights flickered on automatically, brightening to a pale blue glow. Motion sensors, I said quietly. Someone built this to last. The chamber was clearly a control room.

Consoles lined the walls, marked with the same strange script I'd seen on the Hatch. No Latin alphabet, no Cyrillic, nothing I recognized from Earth languages. I approached the nearest console, and a screen lit up as I got close. Data scrolled across it, diagrams of the lunar surface, what looked like excavation plans. I leaned closer, trying to make sense of it.

Luna, I'm seeing dates here, can you wait? I squinted at a timestamp in the corner of the screen. It was in a standard format I recognized. 11 O 319761976. I said out loud.

That's impossible. We didn't have permanent structures on the moon until decades later. I moved to another console. Same result, screens activating as I approached, showing more diagrams, more plans, all dated from the mid 1970's. The tapping started again, louder than I'd ever heard it before.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. It wasn't coming from above me anymore, it was coming from somewhere deeper in the facility. Hello. I called out, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears. The tapping continued, a clear pattern now.

It was leading me somewhere. I followed the sound down another corridor, narrower than the first. My light caught something moving ahead, white fabric disappearing around a corner. Hey, wait. I called, picking up my pace.

I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks. A woman stood about 10 meters away, wearing what looked like a NASA flight suit, tattered and worn but recognizable. Her dark hair floated around her face as if she were underwater, moving in ways that defied the weak lunar gravity. Hello, I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She turned toward me, her face pale and drawn. You came, She said, her voice coming through my calm system. I knew someone would eventually hear me. I approached slowly. Who are you?

How are you down here? My name is Meadow Miles. I was part of the Artemis Precursor mission. She gestured to the name patch on her flight suit, and sure enough, it read Miles in block letters. I stopped a few feet away from her.

Something wasn't right. The first Artemis precursor mission launched only 12 years ago. This facility was dated 1976, and her flight suit looked decades old. That's not possible. I said the Artemis program didn't start until the twenty 20s.

She smiled sadly. Time moves differently in this place. I've been here a long time, longer than I can explain right now. Her eyes met mine through my visor. Please, you have to help me.

Take me back to your station. I can explain everything there. I studied her face. She looked human enough, gaunt and pale, but human, and she was clearly American based on her accent and the NASA Insignia on her suit. How have you survived down here?

I asked. This facility has its own life support systems. They've kept me alive, but I need to get out, please. Her voice cracked with emotion. I've been alone for so long.

Against my better judgement, I nodded. OK, I'll help you. Can you make it up the ladder in the shaft? Yes, she said quickly. I'm weak, but I can climb.

I reached out my hand to her. I'm Ryder Kepler, specialist on Artemis station. She took my hand, an unnatural coldness radiated from her skin. I pulled back, but she held on. Thank you, rider.

She said, her grip tightening. You don't know what this means to me. I nodded. Something about her wasn't right, but I couldn't leave another human being trapped in this place. Let's go, I said, pulling my hand away.

The shaft is back this way. As I turned to lead her back toward the entrance, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was making a terrible mistake. But the alternative, leaving her here alone, seemed even worse. I followed Meadow deeper into the facility, still uneasy. She walked ahead with a strange floating gait.

You need to see what we found. She said, her voice coming through my calm with an odd resonance. Then you'll understand why I can't just leave. Mission Control needs to know about this place. I said.

We should head back to the station and report everything properly. She looked back at me, her face pale in my helmet lights. Just a little further, I need you to see. The corridor narrowed as we move deeper, the wall patterns growing more complex. Meadow moved silently ahead of me.

How long have you been down here? I asked, trying to make sense of her story. Time works differently here. She said, not really answering my question this way. She led me through an archway that opened into a much larger space.

As we crossed the threshold, blue lights activated along the walls, responding to our movement. I stopped, taking in what lay before me. What is this place? I whispered. The chamber stretched 20 meters across with a domed ceiling.

Crystalline formations filled the space, jutting from floor and walls, blue translucent structures pulsing with inner light. They resembled quartz, but no quartz I'd ever seen behave this way. The crystals beat with a slow, steady rhythm. The central chamber. Meadow said, her voice filled with reverence.

This is what we found. In the center of the room stood an altar, A waist high platform covered in geometric patterns matching those on the walls. These patterns spiralled in configurations that hurt my eyes when I stared too long. Luna, are you getting this? I asked.

Signal at 63%. Luna responded. Visual feed is transmitting, but experiencing interference. I moved closer to the altar, drawn to it despite my growing unease. You said you were part of a Precursor mission.

What exactly were you looking for? Meadow stepped to the other side of the altar, her fingers hovering just above its surface. We weren't looking for anything, we were just mapping potential sites for future bases. Her voice dropped lower. But then we picked up energy readings from this location, completely off the charts.

And you just decided to dig? I asked. We didn't dig. She looked up at me. The entrance was already here, hidden under dust just like you found it.

I studied the crystals nearest to me. They seem to pulse faster as I approached these formations. They're not natural, are they? No, Meadow said. We found evidence that someone, something, was here long before us.

Non human visitors who left this technology behind. I reached out toward one of the smaller crystals holding my gloved hand near its surface. The pulsing quickened and I felt a vibration through my suit. What happened to the rest of your team? I asked, pulling my hand back.

Meadow didn't answer right away. I turned to look at her across the altar and froze. In the reflective surface of my helmet visor, I could see her standing behind me, but her reflection didn't match what I'd seen before. Her face was elongating, features stretching in impossible ways. Her eyes darkened until they were empty voids, and her hair moved like tentacles around her head.

I spun around, heart pounding. What the? Before I could finish, Meadow lunged forward. There was no impact, no collision of bodies. Instead, she passed through my suit like it wasn't there, straight into my chest.

I screamed as I see pain spread from my chest outward. My legs gave way and I collapsed to my knees on the floor. Specialist Moreno, your vital signs are spiking. Luna's voice came through my calm heart rate and blood pressure exceeding safe parameters. I couldn't respond.

Something was inside me, moving through me. Not just my body, my mind. I felt it sifting through my thoughts, my memories like fingers flipping through files. Strong, a voice whispered, not through my calm inside my head. Meadows voice, but different now, older.

Your body is strong, perfect for my needs. Get out, I gasped, clutching at my chest. My fingers clawed uselessly at my suit. I've waited so long, the voice continued. So many came before, but none survived the joining.

You're different. I struggled to my feet, fighting against the invasion. My thoughts were being pushed aside to make room for something else. Who are you? I managed to ask, though my lips barely moved.

Images flashed through my mind, Stars from impossible angles, worlds I couldn't recognize, Vast structures floating in space. Not human memories, not meadows memories either. I am the last, the voice said. And soon I will be you. I stumbled toward the archway, focusing on each step.

Left foot, right foot. The entity inside me pushed against my control, trying to stop my progress. Specialist Moreno, your neural patterns are showing abnormalities, Luna reported. Recommend immediate return to medical Bay. Good idea, Luna, I thought, unable to speak aloud anymore.

I kept moving, dragging myself toward the exit. During my training, Doctor Weiss had taught us mental discipline techniques, ways to compartmentalize thoughts during high stress situations. I focused on those lessons now, imagining walls going up in my mind, creating a barrier between my consciousness and the invading presence. Clever. Meadow's voice.

No, not Meadow. Whatever was using her image set inside my head, but futile. I've had millennia to perfect this process. I reached the corridor, crawling forward. The walls pulsed In Sync with the crystals, their geometric patterns shifting.

You're not Meadow Miles, I thought, directing it at the presence. I needed a form you would trust, it, replied. The woman called. Miles died with the others when they discovered this place. I simply borrowed her appearance from your human records.

I kept moving, kept building my mental walls. I pictured brick after brick mortar between them, constructing a fortress around my core self. The shaft with the ladder came into view. I pulled myself toward it, maintaining my grip on my own motor functions. Your resistance is impressive, the voice said, sounding almost amused.

The others broke so quickly. I reached the ladder and grabbed the first rung, pulling myself up. Each movement was a battle, but I was winning small victories. My mental barriers were holding. What others?

I asked silently. Those who came before, the ones you call Soviet, they found me just as you did. I climbed another rung, then another. The presence pushed against my defenses, looking for weaknesses. And what happened to them?

I asked, though I already suspected the answer. Their bodies were weak, their minds fractured. But you, you might survive the joining. I kept climbing. My suit felt heavier than before.

Sweat poured down my face, inside my helmet. I'm not joining with you, I thought firmly, reinforcing my mental walls. You already have, the voice replied. I am inside you now. It's only a matter of time before your defenses fail.

I reached the halfway point of the shaft. Above me, I could see the open hatch and the faint grey of the lunar surface. Beyond. Freedom, safety. The presence surged against my barriers and pain shot through my head.

I nearly lost my grip on the ladder. You will take me from this prison, It said, it's voice no longer calm, but desperate and angry. You will carry me to your world. No, I thought, climbing higher. I won't.

Another surge of pain, but weaker this time. My mental walls were holding, and the entity seemed to be tiring. You cannot keep me contained forever, it warned. I don't need forever, I replied. Just long enough.

I reached the top of the ladder and pulled myself onto the lunar surface. The Artemis station stood in the distance. Specialist Moreno, you have been in Eva status for three hours and 42 minutes, Luna informed me. Oxygen levels at 41%. I started walking toward the station.

Each step of victory, the presence inside me had retreated, still there, but contained behind my mental barriers. I could feel it watching, waiting for my defenses to weaken. Your kind always returns, it said quietly. Curious creatures. You cannot resist exploring, even when it destroys you.

I kept walking, focusing on the station ahead, one step at a time. The entity was right about one thing. I couldn't keep it contained forever, but I didn't need to. I just needed to reach the station and figure out what to do next. I've been alone for so long, it whispered in the darkness beneath the dust.

I didn't respond. All my energy was focused on maintaining my mental walls and putting 1 foot in front of the other. The station grew larger as I approached, it's familiar outline the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Behind my mental barriers, I could feel the entity settling in, preparing for a longer battle of wills.

Whatever it was, this thing that wasn't Meadow Miles, it had made a mistake. It thought I would break easily. It was wrong. I stumbled through the airlock, my limbs wooden and clumsy, the inner door sealed behind me with a hiss that barely registered through the roaring in my head. My knees gave out in the decontamination chamber and I slammed onto the metal floor, my helmet cracking against the wall.

Get up. This body needs to move. The voice wasn't mine. It filled the spaces between my thoughts, cold and alien. I squeezed my eyes shut, focusing on the metal wall I'd constructed.

Brick by imaginary brick to contain whatever had crawled inside me. Luna, I gasped. Run full decontamination cycle. Initiating decontamination sequence, Luna replied Specialist Moreno, your vital signs show extreme distress. Should I contact Mission Control?

No, I said too quickly. Just finish the cycle. The chamber filled with the familiar mist of disinfectant. I stayed on my knees, pouring every ounce of concentration into maintaining those mental barriers. Dr.

Weiss's training had never been meant for this, containing an alien consciousness trying to take control of my body, but the visualization techniques were all I had. You cannot keep me contained forever, the voice whispered. Your mind is strong, but I am patient. The decontamination cycle finished and the inner door slid open. I forced myself to stand, my movements jerky and uncoordinated.

Each step felt like wading through mud as I fought for control of my own body. Medical Bay, I muttered to myself. Get to the medical Bay. I staggered down the corridor, one hand trailing along the wall for balance. The station lights seemed too bright, each sound amplified.

Behind my mental wall. I could feel her, not Meadow, never Meadow, pressing, searching for cracks. What do you want? I asked silently. Freedom.

A vessel. You. The medical Bay door opened as I approached. I lurched toward the supply cabinet and pressed my thumb against the biometric lock. Inside were the emergency medical supplies.

My hands shook as I reached for the sedative injectors. Station protocol required all specialists to be trained in basic medical procedures, including self administration of emergency medications. I never thought I'd need to use that training. What are you doing? The voice sharpened with alarm.

Something that'll shut you up for a while? I muttered, selecting a strong sedative used for severe sleep disorders and anxiety attacks. No, The pressure against my mental barriers intensified and for a moment my right arm froze mid reach. You cannot. I forced my arm to move, snatched the injector and pressed it against my thigh before she could stop me.

The click and hiss of the injection was followed by a cold spread through my leg. This changes nothing. She hissed, but her voice was already fading as the sedative took effect. I will still be here when you wake. Yeah.

I mumbled. But I'll have some peace and quiet until then. My vision blurred as I stumbled to the medical cot in the corner. I just managed to lie down before the darkness took me. I woke with a start, my mouth dry and head pounding.

The medical Bay lights were dimmed. Tonight's cycle levels. I blinked at the ceiling, taking stock. My limbs felt heavy but responsive. Mine again, at least for now.

Luna time. I croaked. The time is O 417 Specialist Moreno, you have been unconscious for approximately 7 hours and 23 minutes. 7 hours. I sat up slowly, waiting for the voice to return, for the pressure against my thoughts.

There was something, but distant now, like a radio signal barely breaking through static. The sedative had worked better than I'd hoped, pushing her deeper into my subconscious. I needed to use this time wisely. Luna, activate terminal and prepare to record the medical Bay. Terminal lit up across the room.

I made my way to it on unsteady legs and sat down heavily in the chair. Begin recording security clearance. Moreno A73. This is specialist Ryder Moreno, Artemis lunar station recording date. I paused, realizing I wasn't entirely sure what day it was anymore.

Luna, confirm current date. Current Earth date is April 27th, recording date April 27th. This report contains information of the highest security classification. I took a deep breath, then began to speak clearly and methodically, documenting everything. The tapping sounds, the footprints, the hidden hatch, the facility beneath the lunar surface I described, the control room with its dated consoles, the strange woman who called herself Meadow Miles, and finally, the chamber with the crystalline formations.

It's not human, I continued. It can possess people and access their memories. It's trapped in my mind for now, but I don't know how long I can hold it. The sedative I took has weakened it temporarily. I paused, considering my next words carefully.

Under no circumstances should anyone approach or enter the subsurface facility. The entrance must be permanently sealed if my voice caught. If I am compromised upon return to Earth, I should be considered a potential threat and contained accordingly. I ended the recording and encrypted it with my highest security protocols. Luna, prepare this file for immediate transmission to Earth.

Priority channel addressed to security director Crawford Tommy. File prepared for transmission. Warning transmission will exceed daily bandwidth allocation by 27%. Override authorization. Moreno 77E.

Override accepted transmitting while the file transmitted. I move to the next urgent task. Luna initiate emergency evacuation protocol. Medical emergency priority one Emergency evacuation protocol Initiated distress signal transmitting to Lunar Gateway station. Estimated response time 72 to 96 hours based on current orbital positions and available rescue vehicles.

Three to four days. I had to hold out that long. You think you can keep me contained for days? The voice was back, fainter than before, but still present. Your mental barriers are already weakening.

I ignored her, focusing instead on what I needed to do next. Food, water, rest, research. I needed to understand what I was dealing with. Over the next three days, I established a routine. Every 8 hours, I administered a smaller dose of the sedative, just enough to keep her subdued without knocking myself unconscious.

Between doses, I researched. I accessed historical lunar exploration archives through Luna, including classified materials that required my security clearance. At the command module terminal, I searched for documents about previous discoveries beneath the lunar surface. Luna search parameters. Soviet lunar missions 1970 to 1980.

Classified status Searching 4 results found the files appeared on my screen. Three were standard mission reports, failed launches, orbital tests, nothing unusual. The 4th was heavily redacted, marked with the highest Soviet era security classification. Open file 4. The document appeared large sections blacked out.

What remained revealed that in 1976, the Soviets had launched a secret mission to investigate an energy anomaly on the far side of the moon. The crew included six cosmonauts and one Western physicist specializing in quantum mechanics. I scrolled down and found a personnel file with a photograph, a woman with dark hair and Gray eyes, the name Lawrence Denise.

American clearance granted by special authorization. I froze. The entity had mentioned Soviet explorers and shown me memories that weren't hers or Meadows Luna. Search for any information on Denise Lawrence, physicist, 1970s searching 1 result found the file showed Lawrence had a PhD from MIT in theoretical quantum physics with focus on interdimensional travel.

She disappeared in 1976, officially listed as killed in a car accident, though her body was never found. She was brilliant, the voice whispered, suddenly closer than before. Her mind understood concepts beyond her time, but her body was weak like all the others. I slammed my mental barriers back into place, pushing her away.

The Soviet mission files only other unredacted section revealed they lost contact with Earth shortly after landing. No expedition members returned. The Soviets officially denied the mission's existence. I leaned back, taking in what I'd learned. The thing inside me had been trapped on the moon for decades or more.

It had tried to use the Soviet mission as hosts and failed. It had waited all this time for another chance for me. On the 3rd day, as I reviewed the files, Luna's voice interrupted me. Incoming communication from Lunar Gateway Rescue team docking in four hours. Relief washed over me.

Accept communication. The screen flickered and a man's face appeared square jawed with military short hair. Artemis Station, This is Commander Wagner, Lunar Gateway Rescue Team. We've received your distress signal and are on approach. ETA 4 hours.

What's your status? Commander Wagner. Specialist Moreno, I need immediate evacuation. Wagner's eyes narrowed. Our records show a medical emergency.

Can you specify the nature of your condition? I couldn't tell him the truth, not over an open channel, not when I didn't know what would happen once they knew, if they quarantined me here alone with her severe neurological symptoms. I said hallucinations, blackouts. I believe it's related to environmental factors in the station.

I've documented everything in my medical log. Wagner nodded. We have medical Officer Rice on board. She'll assess you when we arrive. Stay where you are and get ready to leave.

Bring only essential items and medical documents. Understood Commander, I'll be ready. The call ended and I sat back. They won't take you back if they know about me. The voice said, sounding almost amused.

They'll leave you here alone with me until one of us wins. How long do you think your will can last against mine? Longer than you think, I muttered, standing up to prepare for evacuation. I gathered only what was necessary. My tablet with backup logs, a change of clothes, toiletries, everything else would stay behind.

I took one last dose of the sedative, enough to keep her quiet during evacuation, but not enough to impair me. 4 hours later, Luna announced rescue vessel docked at main airlock pressurization complete. I stood at the door, bag in hand. I could feel her watching, waiting. I was taking something dangerous back to Earth.

But staying here alone, fighting this battle of wills until one of us broke, would be worse. The airlock door opened. Commander Wagner entered with a woman in a medical uniform. Specialist Moreno. The woman stepped forward.

I'm Medical Officer Rice. Doris Rice. How are you feeling? Ready to go home? I said with a forced smile.

She studied me. We'll get you there, but first I need to do a basic assessment to ensure you're stable for transport. Of course, I agreed, but I'd prefer to do detailed examinations on the Gateway. I've been alone in this station for seven months and I just. I let my voice trail off.

Rice's expression softened. I understand. We'll keep it brief for now. As she checked my pulse and pupil response, I felt the entity stir again, pressing against my barriers. These are your rescuers, your saviours.

Her voice was mocking. They have no idea what they're bringing back with them. I answered Rice's questions about my symptoms with half truths. Yes, I'd experienced hallucinations. No, I hadn't had any seizures.

Yes, I'd taken medication from the station supplies. Wagner watched from the doorway. Medical officer, is he cleared for transport? Rice nodded. His vitals are elevated but stable.

We should get him to Gateway Medical for evaluation. Agreed, Wagner, said Specialist Moreno. We're ready when you are. I took one last look around the station. Beneath it lay a facility older than human presence on the moon, housing secrets I still didn't understand.

I'm ready, I said to the rescue team. I didn't tell them about the voice in my head, the presence sharing my consciousness. I didn't tell them I was bringing something back from the moon that should have stayed buried. I couldn't risk being left behind. I focused on maintaining my mental walls as we move toward the rescue vessel.

Whatever she was or wanted could wait until we reached Earth. For now, all that mattered was getting home. I felt her weakening with each passing day. The presence that had forced its way into my mind, the thing that called itself Meadow Miles, grew quieter as our rescue vessel carried us back toward earth.

How are you feeling today, Specialist Moreno? Medical Officer Rice asked, floating into the small medical Bay where I was strapped to a cot. Better, I said, which wasn't entirely a lie. The sedatives had helped, but it was my own mental discipline that was winning this battle. She checked my vitals on the wall monitor.

Your readings are improving. Blood pressure's almost back to normal range. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. I couldn't tell her that the alien entity inside me was losing strength the farther we got from the moon. That with each passing hour I could feel it retreating deeper into my mind, its attempts to take control growing more feeble.

We'll be docking a gateway in about four hours, Rice said. You'll undergo a full medical evaluation there before heading planet side. When she left, I closed my eyes and focused inward, probing the barriers I'd constructed around the entity. It was still there, but diminished, like a fire burning down to embers. You can't keep me contained forever, it whispered, but the voice lacked conviction.

Watch me, I muttered under my breath. By the time we docked at Lunar Gateway, the orbiting station that served as our transfer point back to Earth, I had confined the entity to such a small portion of my mind that I could almost forget it was there. Almost. The debriefing room on Gateway was stark and utilitarian.

A metal table, 4 chairs and a recording terminal. Security director Tommy Crawford sat across from me, his dark eyes revealing nothing as he reviewed my file on his tablet. Specialist Moreno, He said, finally setting the tablet down. Your emergency evacuation request cited severe neurological symptoms. Can you elaborate?

I had rehearsed this conversation countless times during the journey back. I began experiencing auditory hallucinations approximately 10 days before evacuation. Tapping sounds on the hull primarily. Crawford's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed slightly. And what prompted you to investigate the northern quadrant during your final EVAI detected anomalous readings during a routine sensor check.

I said, the lie coming easily. I found what appeared to be an abandoned facility beneath the lunar surface. Soviet in origin, according to your report. I nodded. Based on the dates I observed on the equipment, 1976.

Crawford leaned forward. And you entered this facility without authorization? Yes, Sir. I made a judgement call. A poor one, he said flatly.

Protocol requires reporting any structural anomalies to Mission Control before investigation. I understand that, Sir. It was an error in judgement. Crawford tapped something on his tablet. Your report mentions control consoles, corridors and what you described as geometric patterns on the walls, yet you took no images or samples.

I felt a faint stirring in the back of my mind, the entity listening intently. My priority was documenting the discovery, I said. I began feeling disoriented shortly after entering the facility. The air quality readings were normal, but something about the environment triggered severe anxiety and visual distortions. Hallucinations, Crawford said, making it a statement rather than a question.

Yes, Sir. Similar to what I'd experienced on the station, but more intense. You're lying to him, the entity whispered. Tell him about me, tell him what's coming. I ignored it, maintaining my focus on Crawford.

Doctor Chen's preliminary evaluation suggests you experienced acute stress reaction, possibly exacerbated by extended isolation, Crawford said, scrolling through his tablet. The hallucinations, disorientation, and paranoia are consistent with that diagnosis. I nodded, relieved he was accepting the official explanation. However, Crawford continued, his voice hardening. Your decision to investigate an unknown structure without authorization endangered both yourself and potential rescue personnel.

That will be noted in your final record. Understood, Sir. Crawford studied me for a long moment. Is there anything else you wish to add to your report, Specialist Moreno? Anything at all you may have omitted?

The entity stirred again. He suspects he knows you're hiding something. I met Crawford's gaze steadily. No, Sir. My written report contains everything I observed.

Crawford nodded slowly, clearly unsatisfied but unable to press further without cause. Very well. You're cleared for return to Earth. Medical has recommended six months leave and psychological evaluation before consideration for any future assignments. As I stood to leave, Crawford added that facility will be thoroughly investigated.

Moreno, if there's anything else we should know before sending another team, the facility appeared abandoned for decades, Sir, I said. I saw nothing that posed an immediate threat. Liar, the entity whispered. Six weeks later, I stood on a beach near Cape Canaveral, watching the ocean. I dreamed about these sensations during my months on the lunar surface.

The entity was barely perceptible, now reduced to the faintest whisper in the deepest recesses of my mind. It could no longer influence my actions or even communicating complete thoughts, just fragments, impressions, memories that weren't my own. I'd spent the first weeks after returning to Earth in a secure medical facility, undergoing countless tests and evaluations.

The official diagnosis? Acute stress reaction with psychotic features had been accepted without question. After all, extended isolation in space had broken stronger minds than mine. Only I knew the truth. Walking along the shoreline, I let my thoughts drift to what I'd learned through Luna's archives and my own research since returning.

The entity wasn't Meadow Miles. It wasn't Denise Lawrence either. Both were just identities it had borrowed, faces and names pulled from the minds of those who had discovered it. What had tried to take my body was something ancient, something that had been trapped beneath the lunar surface long before humans ever gazed up at the moon and dreamed of visiting it.

The Soviet mission in 76 hadn't created the facility, They had merely found it, just as I had. And they had paid with their lives when they awakened. What slept there? I looked up at the sky, where the moon hung, faintly visible even in daylight. As my eyes fixed on its pale outline, I felt the entity stir within me, a slight pressure behind my eyes.

Home, came the faint impression, Not a word, exactly, but a longing, a pull toward that barren, dusty sphere. I had survived. Whatever had tried to take my body had failed, contained by the mental disciplines I'd learned during my psychological training for long duration space missions. Doctor Weiss would be proud, if I could ever tell him the truth.

As the sunset, I couldn't shake a troubling thought. Something was watching Earth through my eyes, something patient and ancient, waiting to return home. Not to the moon, but to the stars beyond. I turned away from the ocean and headed back toward the small beach house I'd rented. The entity might be contained, but it wasn't gone, and as I watched the first stars appear in the darkening sky, I wondered how long I could keep it that way.