This wasn't supposed to happen.
According to the old timers, the station had been abandoned years ago. So what was the rhythmic signature I was seeing on the scan — the one echoing on the overheads?
There shouldn't have been enough fuel for the pod to separate from the station. Much less propel it on a course straight at our port side.
I hailed all frequencies. Ran the biometric sweep. Nothing. It had been so long since we'd slept I'd be inclined to think I was imagining things. If it wasn't for that constant, unrelenting heartbeat.
The pod grew closer, accelerating. There was no stopping it now.