Galactic Graveyard

Captain Elena Morris navigated the Proxima X array’s scout vessel through a field of drifting planetoids—remnants of worlds ejected from their parent stars. The orbs glided in silent procession, each a monument to extinction. Morris had commanded salvage missions, but nothing prepared her for the spectral sadness permeating this graveyard.

Sensors detected micro-atmospheres: slivers of nitrogen, frozen methane, even echoes of water vapor trapped in mineral crevices. Morris rerouted power to the X-ray beam, revealing outlines of ancient cityscapes beneath crusts of ice. Elevator shafts, domed archives, now entombed in cosmic frost.

She deployed spectral probes to measure tectonic vibrations—ghostly pulses that still resonated beneath barren surfaces. One world, designated VG-27, sang a low-frequency hum every 3.4 seconds—residue of seismic activity long ceased. Morris recorded the hum, labeling it the world’s final heartbeat.