Ghosts of Titan

The storm raged across Titan’s surface, thick methane clouds swirling over the jagged ice plains. Commander Dana Rourke watched from the viewport of the Oberon, their research station orbiting Saturn’s largest moon. Below, a distress beacon pulsed from an outpost that had been abandoned for twenty years.

“This is Research Station Perseus… Is anyone out there?”

Dana’s hands tightened into fists. Perseus had gone silent two decades ago, its crew presumed dead. No survivors, no wreckage—just… gone. And now, a voice was calling from the void.

“Could it be an old transmission looping?” asked Lieutenant Sato, frowning at the signal feed.

“Negative,” Ensign Malik replied. “This message is live.”

Silence fell over the command deck.

Dana exhaled. “Prep a lander. We’re going down.”

—

The shuttle cut through Titan’s dense atmosphere, shrouded in an eerie golden haze. As they approached Perseus, its silhouette loomed like a ghost against the storm-lit horizon. The station was intact, untouched by time—too intact.

“Something feels wrong,” Malik muttered, gripping his harness.

“Stay sharp,” Dana said as the lander touched down.

The airlock creaked as they stepped inside. The corridors were dark, silent except for the faint hum of emergency power. A layer of frost coated the walls.

Sato wiped his visor. “It’s like no one’s been here for centuries.”

A console flickered to life. A voice crackled through the speakers.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

Dana’s breath hitched. “Who is this?”

Static. Then—

“Leave. Before it wakes up.”

A shiver ran through her spine. “Who are you?”

Footsteps echoed from deeper inside the station. The team turned, weapons raised.

A figure stepped into the dim emergency light.

It was human. It was them.

Dana gasped. “What the hell—?”

The figure was identical to her, down to the scar above her left brow. Same uniform. Same expression of disbelief.

Malik swore under his breath. “Commander… that’s you.”

Dana took a step forward. The copy did the same. Its lips moved, speaking her thoughts before she could.

“It remembers us.”

The walls shuddered. The frost cracked, revealing pulsing veins of something alive beneath the surface.

Sato backed up. “The station—it’s… alive?”

The other Dana tilted its head. “Not alive. Not dead. It learns. It copies.”

Malik’s voice shook. “Then what happened to the original crew?”

“They became part of it.”

The station groaned as the walls shifted. More figures emerged—duplicates of the team, their movements just slightly wrong. The real Sato raised his rifle, but his doppelgänger had already mirrored the action.

Dana’s pulse pounded. “We’re leaving.”

The doppelgängers stepped forward.

“You can’t. You’re already part of us.”

The station breathed.

Dana grabbed Malik’s arm. “RUN!”

They sprinted through the corridors, dodging grasping hands—hands that felt like theirs.

The airlock sealed behind them as they launched, Titan’s surface shrinking below.

Back aboard the Oberon, Dana caught her reflection in the glass.

For a second, she swore it blinked out of sync.