The Andromeda Strain
Outer Solar System, Beyond the Kuiper Belt 15 Years Ago
The probe had been alone for a long time.
Out here, in the vast nothingness beyond Pluto, where sunlight was reduced to a faint whisper against the eternal dark, Xenesis 7 drifted silently. Its reinforced titanium shell had withstood the radiation, cosmic dust, and the sheer emptiness that would have eroded any lesser machine over time. It had been built for endurance—to go where no human-made object had gone before.
Fifteen years had passed since it had been launched.
Its mission was straightforward: to venture into the uncharted boundary between the Solar System and interstellar space, collect data, and transmit findings back to Earth. Scientists had been particularly eager to see if microscopic life—perhaps frozen bacteria from the primordial universe—might exist in the icy fragments lingering at the edge of the Sun's reach.
But no one expected contact.
No one anticipated what Xenesis 7 would bring back.
The last transmission from the probe was received on a quiet morning at NASA's Deep Space Communications Complex. It had started as routine—a data package containing radiation levels, temperature logs, and microscopic scans of dust particles.
Then the interference began.
At first, it was dismissed as signal degradation. But then the interference took on a pattern. A frequency pulse.
A signal.
The transmission contained a single image, captured in infrared. It showed something that shouldn't exist—a massive, shifting cloud of unknown composition, glowing faintly in deep space. It appeared almost fluid, moving against the natural trajectory of interstellar currents.
Before any analysis could be done, the probe went silent.
For years, Xenesis 7 was presumed lost. Its mission was marked as INCOMPLETE, and the world moved on.
Until it returned.
Near-Earth OrbitPresent Day
The object re-entered Earth's atmosphere at 3:02 AM, detected only by military-grade satellite arrays. It came in fast—too fast for a natural return.
But what puzzled analysts was its lack of expected behavior. A spacecraft falling from space should burn up, break apart, or at the very least produce a streak of fire as it re-entered the atmosphere.
This object did none of that.
It moved as if controlled.
At 3:14 AM, it breached the upper thermosphere. The expected heat signature never appeared. Instead, an eerie electromagnetic fluctuation rippled through monitoring stations across the globe—power surges, distorted radio signals, and a momentary black-out of certain satellite feeds.
By 3:27 AM, it had disappeared from all tracking systems.
At 3:43 AM, the town of Clearwater, Nevada, went dark.
By sunrise, it was gone.
Dr. Elias Carter's Apartment, Washington D.C.
Dr. Elias Carter awoke to the sound of his phone vibrating aggressively on his nightstand.
His first instinct was to ignore it—he had barely gotten four hours of sleep, and whatever this was, it could wait. But then he saw the caller ID.
CLASSIFIED.
A deep pit formed in his stomach. He sat up instantly, wiping the sleep from his eyes as he answered.
"Dr. Carter," he said, voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline.
A clipped, authoritative voice responded. "You are to report to SENTRY Base 12 immediately. A Level-5 Biohazard event has been detected. Your clearance is being updated as we speak."
Level-5.
There was no Level-6.
Carter swung his legs out of bed and immediately began dressing. "Location?" he asked as he pulled on a pair of cargo pants.
"Nevada." The voice didn't elaborate. "Secure transport is en route. Be ready in ten minutes."
Before Carter could ask more, the line went dead.
His mind was already racing. Level-5 meant an event of potential extinction-level consequence. In the past, this classification had only been used for scenarios involving engineered super viruses, uncontrolled nanotech, or biological threats from unknown origins.
He grabbed his go-bag, a pre-packed emergency kit every scientist in his field was trained to keep on hand. Inside were basic survival necessities, protective gear, and a tablet loaded with classified research protocols.
As he stepped onto his apartment balcony, he saw a black VTOL aircraft hovering silently in the night sky. They weren't wasting time.
This was bad.
Clearwater, Nevada06:42 AM
The helicopter ride had been tense, filled with clipped conversations between military personnel and the occasional coded transmission over secure comms. No one was giving Carter the full picture.
The first thing he noticed as they approached Clearwater was the silence.
Even from the air, the town looked wrong. It wasn't just empty—it was abandoned mid-motion.
Carter saw cars stalled at intersections, some with doors hanging open. A school bus sat in the middle of a street, its engine still idling. But there were no people.
As the helicopter touched down on a stretch of road leading into town, Carter was met by a team in full hazmat suits. One of them approached—a woman with sharp blue eyes visible through the transparent visor of her protective gear.
"Dr. Carter," she said. "I'm Dr. Andrea Kessler. Virology Lead."
Carter nodded, his gaze scanning the surrounding streets. "Status?"
Kessler exhaled. "We have zero confirmed survivors so far."
His stomach clenched. "What do you mean, zero?"
"We found bodies," she admitted. "But the cause of death doesn't match anything we've seen before."
She motioned for him to follow. They walked past a row of homes, their doors open as if people had fled. Some had half-eaten meals still sitting on the table.
"What exactly happened here?" Carter asked, keeping his voice steady.
Kessler hesitated before answering. "We're not sure. At around 3:43 AM, all communications from Clearwater ceased. Power failures, satellite interference, the works. When our team arrived… this is what we found."
They approached a small diner at the center of town. Its neon sign flickered erratically.
Inside, a single child sat in a booth.
A boy, no older than six, wearing pajamas covered in cartoon rockets.
He was completely still.
The most disturbing part?
He was smiling.
Carter stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat as he noticed something even more bizarre.
The boy's veins were glowing.
A soft, bioluminescent light pulsed beneath his skin, spreading outward from his fingertips. His eyes were wide, staring at Carter.
And then, in a small, chilling voice, the child spoke.
"They're awake now."
Clearwater, Nevada07:12 AM
Dr. Elias Carter stood in the doorway of the abandoned diner, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The child, no older than six, sat eerily still in the booth. He stared ahead, his face locked in a vacant smile. Beneath his pale skin, his veins pulsed with a faint bioluminescent glow, a slow rhythm that matched the rise and fall of his chest.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Dr. Andrea Kessler broke the silence.
"We found him like this," she murmured. "He hasn't moved. Barely blinked. He's… not normal, Carter."
Carter forced himself to step forward. His every instinct screamed at him to stay back, but his scientific curiosity pushed him forward. He had spent years working with infectious diseases, biological anomalies, and unknown pathogens. Yet nothing he had ever encountered felt quite like this.
He crouched slightly to meet the boy's gaze.
"Hey there," Carter said gently. "My name's Elias. What's yours?"
The boy didn't answer.
Carter exchanged a glance with Kessler before trying again. "Are you hurt? Do you feel sick?"
Still nothing. The child's smile never wavered.
Then, just as Carter was about to pull back, the boy's lips parted.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"They're awake now."
A chill slithered down Carter's spine. He stiffened, glancing at Kessler, who looked just as disturbed as he felt.
Before he could ask what the boy meant, Kessler snapped her fingers at one of the biohazard team members standing nearby.
"Get a medical transport ready," she ordered. "I want him in full containment. No direct contact."
The team moved swiftly, wheeling in a high-security containment pod—a reinforced glass chamber designed to house infectious patients under strict atmospheric control.
The boy didn't resist as they carefully transferred him inside.
He simply kept smiling.
07:48 AM – Inside Clearwater
As the containment team secured the boy, Carter and Kessler stepped back out onto the street.
The early morning sun cast long shadows over the eerily silent town. A gentle wind swept dust across the pavement, but aside from the occasional flickering streetlight, Clearwater felt dead.
Carter exhaled sharply. "I need to see the bodies."
Kessler nodded grimly and motioned for him to follow.
They walked in tense silence, passing abandoned homes, deserted cars, and houses with doors left wide open. The town wasn't just empty—it was as if something had wiped out its population in an instant, leaving no time to react.
After several blocks, they reached a makeshift biohazard containment zone.
Inside, rows of hermetically sealed body bags lay neatly arranged under a large tent. A few military personnel stood nearby, their faces unreadable behind their protective visors.
Kessler walked over to the first body bag and unzipped it.
Inside was a middle-aged woman, her face frozen in a silent scream.
Carter's breath hitched.
Her skin had turned ashen white, with faint crystalline structures forming across her cheeks and neck. Her veins were dark, almost black, and they appeared hollow, as if the very blood inside her had been drained or replaced.
Kessler gestured toward the body. "This is what we've been finding all over town."
Carter leaned in closer, carefully adjusting his protective gloves. He touched the woman's wrist and frowned.
It was brittle.
As soon as he applied pressure, the skin cracked like glass—not bleeding, but flaking apart into dust-like particles.
"What the hell…" he muttered.
Kessler sighed. "That's not even the worst part."
She led him to another sealed chamber, where a microscope scanner was running an analysis on a biological sample.
"What are we looking at?" Carter asked.
Kessler adjusted the display, zooming in on the microscopic alien pathogen they had extracted from the bodies.
The image on the screen showed something moving.
At first glance, it looked like a virus—an organic structure with sharp, crystalline spines, shifting and pulsating under the microscope. But then Carter saw something that shouldn't be possible.
The organism was reconfiguring itself.
It wasn't just mutating randomly—it was reacting to the microscope's light exposure.
The damn thing was learning.
Carter straightened, his throat dry. "This isn't a virus," he murmured. "It's something else."
Kessler nodded. "And whatever it is, it survived the vacuum of space."
A tense silence fell over them.
Carter turned back to the sealed chamber where the boy was being held.
If this pathogen had wiped out the entire town, how had that child survived?
And more importantly… why was he smiling?
High-Security Containment Facility
08:42 AM
Dr. Elias Carter watched through the thick glass of the Biohazard Level-5 Containment Chamber as the first test sample of the organism was prepared.
Inside the chamber, sealed behind reinforced walls and a triple-layered decontamination system, a thin glass petri dish sat under a microscope.
Inside the dish was something that shouldn't exist.
Under the microscope, the alien microorganism moved.
It didn't twitch or writhe like bacteria. It didn't pulse like a virus under observation. It shifted, almost intentionally, as if responding to the light shining down on it.
Carter clenched his jaw. It had been less than an hour since he and Kessler had evacuated the boy from Clearwater, and already, the implications of what they had found were spiraling out of control.
"This sample was extracted from the lung tissue of one of the deceased," Kessler murmured, adjusting the magnification. "What you're looking at isn't just a pathogen, Carter. This thing is…" She hesitated. "It's self-aware."
Carter frowned. "That's impossible."
Kessler sighed. "I thought so too." She motioned toward the screen. "Watch."
She pressed a button on the console. A thin ultraviolet laser was fired onto the sample—an exposure test designed to analyze the organism's reaction to different energy spectrums.
At first, nothing happened.
Then, the organism reacted.
It shifted—not randomly, but deliberately.
Under the microscope, the spiny crystalline structure morphed with unnatural speed, reconfiguring itself in response to the UV light.
It wasn't just mutating.
It was adapting.
Carter inhaled sharply. "That's not… that's not how microorganisms behave."
Kessler's face was grim. "I know."
She pressed another button, increasing the UV intensity. The sample reformed itself again, its structure bending, reordering, as if it understood the test.
Carter leaned forward. "It's learning."
Kessler nodded. "And it's learning fast."
A deep unease settled in Carter's gut.
This wasn't just an infectious agent. It wasn't just a disease.
It was something alive.
And it wasn't from Earth.
08:57 AM – The Containment Chamber
The laboratory was running at full capacity. Biohazard teams, dressed in white and silver hazmat suits, moved with precision as they prepared for the next test.
Behind another glass wall, the lone survivor—the child from Clearwater—sat inside a secured containment pod.
He hadn't moved.
He just sat there, his legs dangling over the edge of the small cot, his hands resting on his lap. His expression was the same as before—a vacant, unsettling smile.
Carter stepped closer, staring through the reinforced glass.
Something about the boy felt wrong.
"He hasn't spoken since we brought him in?" Carter asked.
A voice answered from behind. "No."
Carter turned to see Dr. Julian Henshaw, the head of Project SENTRY's Neuroscience Division. Henshaw was an older man, thin and sharply dressed despite the protective lab gear. His face carried the weary look of someone who had seen too many classified horrors.
"I ran an initial neurological scan," Henshaw continued. "The results don't make sense."
Carter frowned. "What do you mean?"
Henshaw exhaled and handed him a tablet. "See for yourself."
Carter looked at the screen. It displayed a real-time brain scan of the child's activity. The prefrontal cortex, the area responsible for higher reasoning and complex thought, was completely inactive.
Yet the limbic system, the region tied to emotion and instinct, was overloaded with activity.
"This scan suggests that he shouldn't even be conscious," Henshaw murmured. "It's like he's on autopilot."
Carter's stomach turned.
"What the hell happened in Clearwater?"
No one had an answer.
09:15 AM – The First Contact Attempt
The decision was made to communicate with the child in a controlled environment.
A single scientist—Dr. Elise Rowe, a behavioral specialist—was sent into the containment chamber.
She was fully suited in an airtight hazmat suit with built-in biometric sensors to detect any changes in vitals.
The rest of the team, including Carter, Kessler, and Henshaw, observed from the monitoring room.
Inside the containment pod, the child didn't move. He continued staring forward, unblinking.
Dr. Rowe stepped forward cautiously, keeping her voice calm.
"Hello," she said softly. "My name is Dr. Rowe. Can you tell me your name?"
No response.
The child's smile remained frozen.
Rowe took a slow breath and tried again. "You don't have to be afraid. We just want to help you."
The child's head tilted slightly.
Rowe took another step forward. "Do you remember what happened in your town?"
Silence.
Then, suddenly—
The child blinked.
And for the first time, his smile faded.
Rowe took an involuntary step back. "You—"
The child exhaled sharply.
The moment he did, every biometric alarm in the room started screaming.
The sensors on Rowe's suit spiked violently—her heart rate surged, her oxygen levels plummeted.
Carter leaped forward. "What's happening?!"
"She's crashing!" Kessler shouted.
Inside the chamber, Rowe gasped for air. Her hands clawed at her helmet as if the very air inside her suit had turned toxic.
The child stared at her.
His veins pulsed with a brighter glow now, a golden luminescence coursing through his body. His lips parted slightly—
And then he spoke.
But it wasn't English.
It wasn't any human language.
The sound that came from the boy's mouth was a frequency.
A vibration that resonated through the room, triggering distortions in the air itself.
Rowe collapsed.
"PULL HER OUT!" Kessler screamed.
The automated retrieval system ripped open the containment door, dragging Rowe's convulsing body back into the quarantine zone.
The child simply sat there, unbothered.
His smile returned.
Carter's breath came in short gasps.
Whatever had come back with Xenesis 7… it wasn't just a pathogen.
It was something else.
And it was aware of them.
Emergency Quarantine Ward
09:28 AM
Dr. Elise Rowe was dying.
Carter stood outside the quarantine chamber, his fists clenched as alarms blared through the facility. Inside, Rowe lay strapped to a hospital bed, convulsing violently. Her skin was turning pale, almost translucent, with strange golden veins spreading beneath the surface.
"She's in full respiratory failure!" a voice shouted.
"Pulse is dropping!"
Carter turned to Kessler. "What the hell happened in there?"
Kessler shook her head. "We don't know! One second she was fine, the next—"
She hesitated.
Carter finished for her. "The kid spoke. And then this happened."
They both turned toward the containment pod in the observation room. The child sat inside, completely still, smiling again.
His eerie, knowing gaze was fixed on Rowe.
It was as if he had done this to her on purpose.
09:31 AM – Medical Analysis Begins
Dr. Julian Henshaw rushed into the room, his eyes scanning the biometric monitors.
"We need to run a full neurological scan," he snapped. "Something is attacking her system."
Carter's jaw tightened. Not something. The Andromeda strain.
He turned to the nearest lab technician. "Get me a sample of her blood. Now."
Within minutes, the sample was under the microscope.
What Carter saw made his stomach lurch.
Rowe's blood cells were breaking down, being rewritten into something new. The normal structure of human cells had been replaced by intricate crystalline formations.
Kessler's breath hitched. "That's… that's not a pathogen. That's a reprogramming event."
Carter exhaled sharply.
"It's not killing her. It's changing her."
09:38 AM – Rowe's Final Moments
A violent, shuddering gasp pulled their attention back to Rowe's body.
Her convulsions stopped.
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then—her eyes snapped open.
And they were glowing.
A brilliant golden light pulsed within her pupils, flickering in the same rhythm as the child's veins.
Carter took an instinctive step back. "Jesus Christ..."
Rowe's breathing slowed. Her body stopped struggling.
She turned her head—slowly, deliberately.
Her gaze locked onto Carter.
And then she spoke.
But it wasn't her voice.
It was layered, distorted, inhuman.
"You cannot stop what has already begun."
And then—her heart flatlined.
Rowe was dead.
The alarms blared louder. The medical team rushed in. But Carter knew the truth.
She was already gone.
09:45 AM – The First Fatality Report
The official cause of death was listed as:
"Multi-system failure due to unknown biological interference."
But Carter knew better.
Rowe hadn't just died.
She had been overtaken.
Rewritten.
And if the Andromeda strain could do that to her…
Then no one in this facility was safe.
Emergency Quarantine Lockdown
09:52 AM
Dr. Elias Carter stood frozen, staring at Rowe's lifeless body.
Her eyes—those horrifying, glowing golden eyes—were still wide open. The words she had spoken just before death echoed in his mind.
"You cannot stop what has already begun."
His heart pounded. This wasn't just an outbreak. It was an invasion.
The Andromeda strain wasn't simply killing its hosts.
It was taking them.
And whatever it had turned Rowe into—it wasn't human anymore.
A cold voice crackled through the room's speakers.
"Biohazard Level-5 containment protocols have been activated. All personnel must remain in quarantine until further notice."
Carter turned sharply toward Dr. Kessler and Dr. Henshaw. They both looked shaken.
"This is bad," Kessler whispered. "This is really bad."
Henshaw exhaled sharply. "Containment has already failed. We just don't know it yet."
Carter agreed.
Because inside the observation chamber, the child was still watching them.
And he was still smiling.
10:05 AM – Autopsy Room, Rowe's Body
The sterile autopsy room was silent except for the faint hum of monitoring equipment.
Dr. Julian Henshaw stood over Rowe's corpse, scalpel in hand. Every movement was recorded on high-resolution cameras. The body was strapped to the table beneath a triple-sealed biohazard shield.
Carter and Kessler watched from behind the reinforced glass.
Henshaw took a slow breath. "Beginning incision."
He carefully cut through the skin.
Something was wrong.
Instead of the normal texture of muscle and tissue, Rowe's body didn't bleed.
Instead, thin crystalline filaments stretched beneath her skin, shifting as if alive.
Kessler stiffened. "What the hell…?"
Henshaw grabbed a microprobe and carefully extracted a sample from the exposed tissue.
Under the microscope, the alien structure pulsed rhythmically. The cells no longer resembled human biology. Instead, they looked like a living network of interwoven crystalline strands.
Carter whispered, "She was changing."
Kessler turned to him. "If Rowe had lived another hour—what would she have become?"
Henshaw didn't answer.
Because they all knew the truth.
She would have stopped being human.
10:27 AM – The Child Speaks Again
Inside the containment chamber, the boy sat motionless.
His eerie, knowing smile hadn't faded.
Carter and Kessler stepped closer to the reinforced glass, staring at him.
Then—he spoke again.
"You're all already infected."
Carter felt his breath catch.
The room fell silent.
Kessler's voice was barely above a whisper. "What did you just say?"
The child tilted his head. His glowing veins pulsed brighter for a brief moment.
"It's inside you now."
A slow, terrible realization dawned on Carter.
They had been in Clearwater.
They had been breathing the air.
The Andromeda strain wasn't just spread through blood.
It was airborne.
Kessler's hands clenched into fists. "No. That's not possible."
The child simply smiled.
And then, softly—
"It doesn't need to kill you to change you."
Carter's stomach turned.
No one in the facility was safe.
Emergency Isolation Zone
10:35 AM
Dr. Elias Carter felt cold dread settle in his chest.
"It's inside you now."
The child's words echoed in his mind.
The implications were horrifying.
If the Andromeda strain had already spread through airborne transmission, then everyone inside SENTRY Base 12 was already infected.
Carter forced himself to stay calm. Panic wouldn't help. Science would.
He turned to Kessler. "We need full-body scans. Bloodwork. Everything."
Kessler nodded sharply. "Agreed. If this thing has infected us, we need to know how fast it works."
Henshaw's voice was grim. "Assuming we're not already dead men walking."
No one responded.
Because deep down, they all feared the same thing.
The transformation had already begun.
10:50 AM – The Autopsy Goes Wrong
Inside the sealed autopsy chamber, Dr. Julian Henshaw prepared to make another incision on Dr. Rowe's corpse.
Something felt wrong.
The body looked too intact.
The golden filaments beneath her skin still pulsed faintly, as if waiting for something.
Henshaw swallowed. Just nerves.
He carefully picked up the scalpel and pressed it to her chest.
Then Rowe's hand shot up—gripping his wrist with inhuman strength.
Henshaw let out a strangled gasp. She shouldn't be moving. She was dead.
The body sat up violently.
Her head snapped toward him, golden-lit eyes wide and unblinking.
Then she spoke.
"We are awake."
Henshaw screamed.
10:53 AM – The First Infection Inside SENTRY Base 12
The alarms blared.
Carter and Kessler sprinted toward the autopsy lab, bursting in just as Henshaw slammed against the glass wall, gasping for breath.
Inside the sealed room, Rowe was standing.
Her movements were stiff, unnatural—as if she was still learning how to use her body.
The golden filaments beneath her skin pulsed brighter now, forming intricate, living networks across her arms and chest.
She was no longer human.
And she was staring at them.
Kessler's breath came in sharp gasps. "Oh my God."
Henshaw's voice crackled over the intercom. "She's not dead! She's not dead!"
Rowe took a slow, deliberate step forward.
Then another.
Carter's mind raced. "She's still changing."
Henshaw was trapped inside with her.
And Rowe was watching him.
Then—she moved.
Faster than any human should be able to.
She lunged.
10:54 AM – The Confirmed Death Inside the Facility
Henshaw didn't have time to react.
Rowe grabbed him, her fingers digging into his arms with unnatural strength.
He let out a choking gasp as his body seized.
The golden filaments from Rowe's hands spread onto his skin.
They were merging.
Carter slammed the emergency decontamination override.
A blinding arc of superheated plasma roared through the autopsy chamber—incinerating everything inside.
The flames consumed Rowe and Henshaw in seconds.
Then, silence.e First
Carter's chest heaved.
Henshaw was dead.
But Rowe…
Had she felt that?
Because for a brief moment, just before she burned—
She had smiled.
11:02 AM – The Facility Lockdown Begins
The alarms shifted in tone.
A new alert flashed across every screen.
⚠ BIOLOGICAL THREAT DETECTED – LOCKDOWN IN PROGRESS ⚠
ALL PERSONNEL ARE TO REMAIN IN DESIGNATED SECTORS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
Carter turned to Kessler.
"We need to get to the primary lab. Now."
If the Andromeda strain could do this…
Then no one was getting out of SENTRY Base 12 alive.
Chapter 8: The Facility Falls SENTRY Base 12 – Main Laboratory
11:15 AM
Dr. Elias Carter and Dr. Andrea Kessler ran.
The emergency sirens screamed through the halls, pulsing with the same rapid intensity as Carter's heartbeat.
Behind them, the autopsy lab was a blackened ruin.
Dr. Julian Henshaw was dead.
Dr. Elise Rowe had been consumed.
And something—something not human—had taken their bodies.
Carter and Kessler burst into the primary research lab, where the remaining scientists were already scrambling for answers.
Dr. Patel, the chief virologist, looked up from the electron microscope. "What the hell is happening out there?"
Carter didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
The Andromeda strain was accelerating.
The outbreak had begun.
11:22 AM – The Truth About Andromeda
Carter turned to the nearest terminal and pulled up Henshaw's last brain scan.
His hands trembled as he analyzed the data.
The moment Rowe had touched him, Henshaw's brain activity had changed. It wasn't shutting down.
It was rewiring itself.
Kessler leaned over his shoulder, her voice hushed. "Carter… this isn't just a virus."
Carter swallowed hard. "No."
He turned to Patel.
"This thing doesn't just infect its hosts. It repurposes them. It turns them into something… new."
Patel paled. "New? What do you mean new?"
Carter exhaled.
"This isn't a disease." He looked toward the screen, where the microscopic Andromeda cells were still moving. Shifting. Learning.
"It's an intelligent organism."
Kessler's voice was barely above a whisper. "It's not killing us."
"It's evolving us."
11:30 AM – The First Breach
The containment alarm blared.
⚠ SECURITY BREACH DETECTED – SECTOR 4A ⚠
Carter's stomach twisted.
Sector 4A.
That was where they were keeping the child.
Kessler's eyes widened. "No. No, no, no—"
They turned and ran.
11:33 AM – The Child is Gone
When Carter and Kessler reached Sector 4A, the security team was already there.
Or at least… what was left of them.
The guards lay motionless, their bodies unnaturally still. Their veins glowed faintly, the same golden hue that had spread through Rowe.
Their eyes were open, unblinking.
And the containment pod?
It was empty.
The child was gone.
Kessler's breath hitched. "He… he got out?"
Carter turned slowly, scanning the darkened corridor.
And then he saw it.
Just at the far end of the hall—a small figure standing in the shadows.
Watching them.
The child.
Smiling.
Sector 4A Hallway
11:35 AM
Dr. Elias Carter's breath came in short, uneven gasps.
The child stood at the far end of the hall, smiling.
But something about him had changed.
His veins, once faintly glowing, now pulsed with golden energy. His small frame seemed unnaturally still, as if he no longer needed to breathe.
Carter forced himself to stay calm.
Behind him, Dr. Andrea Kessler gripped his arm. "Carter… we need to leave. Now."
Carter didn't move.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
And then—he spoke.
"It was never meant to be contained."
Carter felt his stomach drop. "What do you mean?"
The boy's smile widened.
"Andromeda was never a disease. It was a message."
Carter's pulse pounded in his ears. "A message? From who?"
The child's eyes glowed brighter.
"From those who came before."
A chilling silence filled the hallway.
Kessler's voice was hoarse. "Carter… what if this thing isn't just an infection?"
Carter swallowed. "You think it's a… signal?"
Kessler nodded slowly. "Or a test."
The child laughed softly.
"You were never alone."
Then—he moved.
Faster than any human should be able to.
One moment, he was at the end of the hall.
The next, he was right in front of Carter.
Carter staggered back, heart hammering.
The boy lifted his small hand and placed it gently against Carter's chest.
"It's already inside you."
Carter's vision blurred. His head spun.
For a brief moment—he saw something.
Flashes of alien landscapes. Towering black monoliths stretching into a sky filled with swirling, golden storms.
And in the distance—something vast, something waiting.
A presence.
Watching.
Carter's knees buckled.
Then everything went dark.
Carter's Mindscape
Unknown Time
Dr. Elias Carter was no longer in the facility.
At least, not in the way he understood.
He stood in an endless golden void, surrounded by shifting, liquid structures that bent and twisted like living glass. The air hummed with an ancient frequency, a sound he felt more than heard.
He turned—and saw them.
Towering monoliths stretched toward an unnatural sky, their surfaces etched with pulsing patterns that moved like veins.
And beyond them, far in the distance—something watched him.
Not a being. Not a creature.
A presence.
Vast. Unknowable.
A whisper slithered into his mind.
"You are the last."
Carter's breath caught in his throat. "Who… what are you?"
The presence responded with images.
Planets consumed. Civilizations rewritten. A thousand voices speaking as one, their bodies transformed into shimmering golden light.
And at the center of it all—Andromeda.
Not a disease.
Not a weapon.
A mechanism of ascension.
A test.
To see if humanity was ready.
Quarantine Zone
11:47 AM
Carter's eyes snapped open.
He was back.
Kessler was shaking him, her voice frantic. "Carter! Wake up!"
His chest heaved as he sucked in air. "What… what happened?"
"You collapsed," she gasped. "You were out for two minutes. Your pulse dropped to nothing."
Carter sat up shakily. His mind still swam with what he had seen.
It wasn't a disease.
It was a threshold.
And they were already past the point of no return.
Main Corridor
11:50 AM
Dr. Elias Carter stumbled forward, his body still trembling from the vision.
Kessler steadied him. "Carter, what the hell did you see?"
He tried to find the words. But how could he explain it?
"It's not a virus," he whispered. "It's… a transition."
Kessler's expression darkened. "A transition to what?"
Carter didn't answer.
Because deep down, he already knew.
Andromeda wasn't here to destroy humanity.
It was here to change it.
And the process was already too far along.
11:53 AM – The Last Transmission
The base shook violently.
Warning sirens blared overhead.
⚠ WARNING: STRUCTURAL INSTABILITY DETECTED. COMPLETE SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT. ⚠
Carter and Kessler ran into the central control room, where the remaining scientists were attempting to send one final transmission to the outside world.
Dr. Patel turned, sweat dripping down his face. "The facility is failing. We have one shot at getting a message out before—"
A deafening explosion rocked the base.
The screens flickered.
Patel's eyes widened.
"No… no, no, no—"
He staggered back, looking down at his arms.
His veins were glowing gold.
His fingers trembled. His breathing hitched.
Then, slowly… he smiled.
"It's time."
Carter stumbled back in horror.
Patel's eyes burned bright. His skin hardened, crystallizing into something no longer human.
And in that moment, Carter understood.
The final stage had begun.
Control Room
11:55 AM
Dr. Elias Carter stared in horror as Dr. Patel's body began to change.
The golden filaments in his veins spread outward, forming delicate, crystalline lattices beneath his skin. His eyes burned with an unnatural light.
Yet—he wasn't screaming.
Patel was smiling.
"I can feel it," he whispered.
Then—his body shuddered violently.
And he stopped breathing.
The room fell silent.
Kessler pressed a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."
Patel's form remained frozen for a moment. Then, with a quiet, almost peaceful sound—
His body dissolved into golden dust.
Andromeda had fully consumed him.
Carter clenched his fists.
They were out of time.
11:58 AM – The Final Choice
The last survivors raced toward the emergency elevator.
Behind them, the base was collapsing.
Andromeda had won.
Kessler turned to Carter. "We have to make it out! We have to warn the world!"
Carter stopped running.
He turned toward the central control console.
Kessler's eyes widened. "What are you doing?!"
Carter took a slow breath.
Then—he began locking down the entire facility.
Every exit. Every escape route.
Kessler lunged for him. "NO! We can still—"
He grabbed her wrists.
His voice was calm.
"No, we can't."
Kessler froze.
Tears filled her eyes. "Carter—"
But she understood.
If even one person escaped, Andromeda would spread.
The world would fall.
Carter closed his eyes.
Then—he pressed the final override command.
12:00 PM – The End
Deep beneath the Nevada desert, SENTRY Base 12 was sealed forever.
Inside, the last uninfected humans took their final breaths.
And in the silence, Andromeda whispered.
"You were never alone."
Then—
Everything turned to light.
Epilogue: A New Dawn
[Redacted] Years Later
A barren landscape stretched beneath a golden sky.
The world had changed.
Cities lay in ruins, their steel and glass overtaken by shimmering crystalline growths.
And among the golden towers, figures moved.
No longer human.
No longer separate.
A new species.
Evolved.
Perfect.
And waiting.