The Last Broadcast Home - A found-family space opera about the signals we're too afraid to answer - and what it costs to finally listen.

The last transmission from a dead station should have been silence. Instead, it said her sister's name. Juno Reyes has spent eighteen years living by the one rule every survivor of the Hush trusts with their life: never answer the dead. Old stations go silent out here, and they are supposed to stay that way. Answering back has only ever gone one way, and everyone who has ever tried has the same warning to give - if you hear something, you let it go.
Then a transmission reaches her salvage ship from a station logged as destroyed the same year she lost everything. It arrives on a frequency nothing out here has used in eighteen years. And it says a name only one person in the galaxy should still remember. Juno breaks the only rule that has ever kept her alive. She turns her ship around. She answers. And she asks the two people she trusts most - a stubborn kid who was never supposed to be aboard, and a machine that has been keeping secrets of its own - to help her find out exactly what has been waiting eighteen years to be heard.
The closer they get, the less the silence feels like a warning - and the more it feels like something patient, deliberate, and very much still awake. Every rule Juno has ever trusted starts coming apart the second she steps aboard. Whatever kept that light burning for eighteen years wasn't just waiting to be found. It was waiting for her. And now that she's here, there may be nothing left standing between Juno and the truth she buried the same day she buried her sister - a truth that will not let her go until she answers one question first.
What if the thing you spent your whole life running from was trying to save you all along?