It was 10:16 PM when the message appeared on the technician’s screen: 100. 244.
"Why? What is it?"
"Leo," she said quietly, "start the evacuation protocol." 10.16. 100. 244
Mira pulled up the sequence on her own terminal: 10.16. 100. 244. It was 10:16 PM when the message appeared
"100," she whispered. "244."
Dr. Mira Vasquez had seen plenty of strange data in her fifteen years at the Array—a sprawling deep-space listening post buried in the Atacama Desert. But this was different. The numbers weren't random noise. They were precise. Encoded. " she said quietly