Elara monitored the containment unit, its crystalline glow pulsing with slow, rhythmic energy. The station’s hum was a comforting blanket against the vast silence of space. She logged the readings: stable, predictable, beautiful. For six months, she had studied the object, convinced it was an extraterrestrial life form.

She reached out, her gloved finger hovering near the shimmering crystal. It flared, bathing the console in sudden, warm light. Satisfied, Elara straightened up and glanced at her reflection in the viewport glass.

The crystal pulsed again, and her reflection smiled back—a smile that didn't belong to her.