Atid-60202-47-44 Min Access

Forty-seven degrees, forty-four minutes. The angle of the distress beacon’s final vector before it was swallowed by the accretion disk of a dead star.

The designation was . It wasn’t a name. It was a log entry, a line in a spreadsheet, a ghost in the machine. ATID-60202-47-44 Min

Min had nodded, her face blank. But she didn’t go to the server room. She went to the airlock. Forty-seven degrees, forty-four minutes