Tale:The Forgotten Planet

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Distant Worlds:Dragon's Fall

The Forgotten Planet

Distant Worlds:The Fallen Angels

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Distant Worlds: The Forgotten Planet
The book is only 1/4 way done
Created:30/07/2024, Last Edit: 12/03/2025
Written by mMONTAGEe
The Book contains profanity language

“\Large So remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and hold on to that childlike wonder about what makes the universe exist.” – Stephen Hawking

"The beauty of the unknown… so many questions still left unanswered in the sea we call the universe. Humanity, along with countless civilizations among the stars, seeks answers about the nature of God and forbidden knowledge. Who would dare to ask nature such a question, right, Professor Wells? …

…

… Professor Wells?"

A buzzing voice echoed through Wells' mind, filled with thoughts loud enough to stun even the deafest person. But the annoying buzzing and knocking seemed stronger. Lying on the couch of his habitat room at the L2 Earth station, artificial light illuminated the room in warm yellow-white colors. With his hands crossed, he was snoozing before an appointed meeting. The door was closed shut, and an unknown boy was knocking on it. Wells looked around with one eye open, suddenly blinded by the light activating.

"Who is there?" Wells shouted across the habitat room to the boy standing outside the door, swinging himself up to sit on the couch and staring at the door.

"Sir, the Archangels department awaits your presence in the meeting room."

"Right," he muttered to himself, swiping his face with his palm. "Tell them I’ll be there soon."

Sitting in the gentle buzzing of the life support systems and the humming of ventilation, which poured oxygen mist down the green lush vines, he felt a little dizzy. Looking at his bag and tablet, with his white coat and the hat that Victor had given him on the coat rack, Wells humped himself off the couch. The dizziness suddenly overtook him, barely standing and holding himself up, he fell onto the table with his items. The strange headaches had been worsening each week. Holding himself up with the table, he tried to stand again, lying on the table until the dizziness passed.

The room door suddenly shuffled its locks, opening with a gentle hiss. Wells turned his head towards the opening door, holding onto the table.

"Professor Wells?" Victor entered with a sarcastic manner. Seeing Wells holding onto the table, Victor rushed to help him stand. "The headache again?"

"I thought you were on vacation," Wells said, seeing Victor and holding onto his shoulders.

"Can't miss my man’s speech."

"Others are also here?"

"Nope, just me and Emilia. Vitas is enjoying his new residency on Cetus, and Ford is helping Ludwig get used to their new home."

The Scientific Assembly proposed a meeting regarding the Archangels to finalize decisions. The metal they had been studying for months, brought from the Lotus facility on Nova, was to be discussed. Wells, as the science communicator, would present the decision on utilizing the metal with human technologies at Dyson Terra’s University of Vibrating Strings. The five-ship expedition was still being finalized. The construction of four additional Aralez megaships had been completed and was undergoing procedural checks. Graviton, as the fifth ship with the Archangels-modified reactor, would participate in the deep space expedition.

"Vitas took that offer without a second thought," Wells said with a slight laugh, heading towards the room with Victor, holding his tablet and his bag with a memory stick.

"Anything's better than Mars, according to him. I think he's in love," Victor replied with a smile, sharing the little secret. Both smiled, but Wells' sudden happiness turned into invisible sadness.

The conference room had big double doors closed, with two guards of United LunaTerra and the Martian Technate standing by. Despite the Martian Technate being politically crushed by United LunaTerra, the Scientific Assembly was a people’s organization, and governments had no large influence over it. It was, one might say, the only thing uniting people in the stellar neighborhood, with branches spanning across settled exoplanets.

"Hello, Mister Wells," the ULT guard greeted, pushing one of the big doors to reveal the conference room. Wells and Victor, with a gesture of gratitude, headed toward the room past the guards. However, Victor was stopped by the ULT guard, who exchanged a passive-aggressive look.

"I'm sorry, Mister Dastarian," the guard said.

"Let him in," a voice echoed from the conference room. The guard immediately pulled his hand back, allowing Victor to proceed. Victor followed Wells inside, seeing a group of old men and Mikail already engaged in discussions.

"Professor Harrison Wells and the, uh," the old man sitting in the central chair picked up his tablet, his contact lenses noticeably glowing from the built-in display, "and Victor... of the Graviton ship."

Wells proceeded toward his chair, with Victor standing behind him, taking out his tablet from his coat pocket and placing it near Mikail's.

"First of all, I would like to finalize," the central old man raised his eyes toward everyone in the conference room, "the four names of the megaships. Together with the Union of Ancient Nations, we decided on the names: Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking, Edward Witten, Marcus Hector Cüpernik

, and, of course, the Graviton ship. Please proceed with the vote on your tablets to finalize the decision."

Everyone, including Wells, picked up their tablets, which automatically connected to the private chat of the conference room. A big bright green button with a checkmark and a big red button with a cross were displayed, making the voting program seem as if it was made for Imbeciles and not for the Scientific Assembly.

"With an overwhelming vote in favor of the names, I'm glad to say this discussion is over. Now, to proceed to the next topic, Mikail, please proceed with your report on the Lotus facility experiment."

"Right, thank you, Director." Mikail cleared his throat, picking up his tablet and gesturing slide an image of the Lotus facility on Nova, showing the ground crew working on something.

"Our communication technologies are limited to nearly one thousand light-years using higher spatial dimension through anti-de-Sitter warping. The Lotus facility has numerous times proven its methods of communication are clearly superior to ours and is capable of transferring information much farther, beyond the seven thousand light-years."

"What's your speech about?" Victor leaned towards Wells, looking at the tablet on his shoulder.

"The use of angelic metal with human technologies," Wells replied, showing Victor the first experiment using the metal scrubbed on Nova with a magnetic motor typically used within electric exocrafts.

Mikail kept buzzing the wise scientific words that for Victor seem like cursing in Luytenian dialect, Victor went back leaning to the wall of the room, looking at the Director’s fat hanging face like bulldog from Earth. The dual clocks on the wall, displaying Earth and Galactic time, ticked on relentlessly. Victor felt his eyelids grow heavy, fighting off sleep until the Director's voice broke through.

"Thank you for your speech, Mikail. The settlement around Lotus has been completed, and the team is already receiving instructions... Professor Wells." The Director turned his gaze to Wells, who was resting his head on his fist. Wells slowly raised his head, meeting the Director's eyes with a sharp look. "Your work... on the alien metal."

"Angelic metal," Wells corrected, emphasizing the name. "Yes, angelic metal. Our experiments with it, particularly using a magnetic motor for exovehicles, have yielded significant results. It enhances magnetic properties, reduces friction, and increases overall engine efficiency."

Victor, frustrated by the Director's slow speech, walked over to the water purifier to get a drink. He bent down to fill a plastic cup with fresh water from Saturn's ice rings. As he did, he noticed the patch on the arm of the person standing next to him, which read 'Cetus Federal Navy.' The upcoming expedition was becoming an interstellar joint effort of all humanity. Turning his head in the opposite direction, he noticed a scientist with a patch from the 'People’s Liberal Army' of Vishapakar.

A Barnardian scientist caught sight of the shining emblem on Victor’s flightsuit, which depicted the ship Graviton with an illustrated curved spacetime grid. Both exchanged a silent nod in greeting before Victor returned to his place behind Wells, who continued elaborating on the properties of the alien metal.

"Thank you, Professor Wells. Let's take a break. Those who have nothing else to add are free to leave. The crews of the Einstein, Witten, and support vessel James Bagian, please return in one hour," the Director announced. He stood up, waved his hands, and with a loud clap, exited the room through the large doors.

Wells and Victor gathered their belongings and joined the others leaving the meeting room. As they walked out, Victor read through his numerous notifications from various social media and email services. He noticed a missed message from Emilia. Victor pressed on the notification to open the messaging application.

"Sweety, Ford came to the ship, wishes to visit you both," read the message.

"Ford is here? Damn, without even sending a heads-up," Victor muttered.

"What?" Wells asked, turning his head to see Victor staring intently at the screen like a teenager.

Victor raised his head and showed Wells the message indicating that Ford had returned to the Graviton. "Ford is back!"

"Oh, I thought you said he was helping others," Wells replied. Just then, a voice calling his name echoed down the hallway. Wells turned to see Mikail approaching them.

"Wells, hey!" Mikail called out. Both Wells and Victor turned their attention to him. Victor pocketed his tablet, and Wells, with his coat flying like an umbrella, turned to face Mikail.

"Hello, Victor," Mikail said, gently slapping Victor’s shoulder as he approached them. "Sorry I didn’t greet you back there." He then turned his gaze to Wells. "Harry, the secret service approved my request to show you something I think you need to see."

"See what?" Wells asked, curious about this sudden news.

"Well, I can’t disclose that here. After all, it's from the secret service… they're secretive… ooo," Mikail mocked the name of the governmental body branch of the military.

Wells turned to Victor, looking into his eyes.

"Go, I guess. Just hit me up when you get back from this... secretive mission. Ooo," Victor joked about the name as well, slapping Wells on the chest before heading towards the station’s docking ports.

"So?" Wells turned back to Mikail, seeking more details.

"The ride is on me, on the Song of Universe. We’ll be on Earth, in the Egypt province." The Song of Universe, being Mikail’s exclusively built personal shuttle, was a semi-honor for anyone in the Scientific Assembly to ride on.

"Egypt? This must be important then," Wells remarked, intrigued.

"It is," Mikail confirmed with a serious nod. "Let’s not keep them waiting."

Wells and Mikail headed towards the shuttle bay. The Song of Universe was a sleek vessel, its design a testament to Mikail’s meticulous attention to detail and love for the finer things in life. As they boarded, Wells couldn’t help but admire the interior, which was both luxurious and equipped with the latest comfort equipment.

The pale blue dot, visible from Lagrange Point 2, stands as the historic home of all humanity. Despite the damage inflicted upon it by its own children, Earth continues to prosper, and nature heals, forgiving humanity for its transgressions.

Graviton’s airlock shuffled open as Victor stepped inside the ship. Ford, lounging in the captain’s chair and rolling from side to side while monitoring the screens, noticed the motion sensor alert. He immediately stood up, grabbed his new hat, and headed toward the airlock. Emilia was already there, welcoming Victor back with a gentle hug in the hallway.

“Ay, cowboy,” Ford greeted in his classic style, appearing in front of Victor with a new hat resembling an old Stetson.

“Did Jaanus give you this stupid hat?” Victor asked, smirking.

Ford’s expression shifted from a smile to an annoyed frown as he took off the hat. “Oh, don’t be such a shitbag. It’s straight from Luyten.”

“Yeah, their Wild West on that oceanic planet is something else,” Victor replied, chuckling.

Ford shook his head with a wry smile, placing the hat back on his head. “You just don’t appreciate good fashion. But enough about hats. How was the meeting?”

Victor sighed, leaning against the wall. “Typical bureaucratic bullshit. But Wells has some secretive mission with Mikail now. Apparently, the secret service approved it.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “Secret service, huh? Sounds serious.”

Victor nodded. “Yeah, I’m curious what they’re up to. But for now, we’ve got to get Vitas back from his casino’s trip”

“To the Cetus we go Captain?” Ford with gunfinger gestures points towards elevator doors

The shuttle landed smoothly on a hidden airstrip, and a convoy awaited to take them to their destination. As they drove through the desert, Wells couldn’t shake the thought that this deadly desert once flourished with life, where the Nile once flowed, now hosting a long military facility. Wearing solar sunglasses to protect his eyes from the harsh sun, he was acutely aware of how his body had forgotten the Earth’s environment after being away for so long.

The driver parked outside the entrance, a thick metal door guarded by a hidden turret overlooking the entire area.Mikail stood staring into the camera, swinging his hands open in annoyance. Upon recognizing Mikail and their military escort, the door opened, revealing the facility's interior. Inside stood a government representative and, to Wells’s surprise, Edgar—his beloved teacher and honored veteran member of the Scientific Assembly.

Edgar spread his arms in welcome. “You’re finally here!”

“Are you kidnapping me? What is this place?” Wells joked as he approached Edgar for a handshake.

“Better,” Edgar replied, wagging his finger in front of Wells. “We need someone who can understand the texts better.”

The three proceeded into the elevator, with Mikail pressing the button for the lowest floor.

Back on the Graviton, Ford was seated in front of the systems maintenance console, his usual spot, while Victor and Emilia were in the pilot seats. Ford broke the silence. “If my memory serves, Vitas is now a Cetus citizen, right?”

Victor turned his head towards Ford. “I think he’s more of a dual citizen. He has an intergalactic passport given by Sol jurisdiction and Cetus constellation.” As they spoke, the Graviton traveled through higher spatial dimension, surrounded by vibrating energies and the hallucinating geometric darkness of space.

“The fuck is he even doing there alone” Ford turned the seat towards Victor’s

“Yesterday I spoke with him, he went to pristine casino there with some woman”

“hes even gambling now, nah we gotta beat some sense back into him”

“I guess he’s trying to get back teenage years that he missed in the military, I had same feeling before Graviton” Victor pulling towards him flight monitor as he was facing Ford

“By gambling in casino?. Thats not what the assembly pays us for” Ford swinging his hand in passive anger rotating the seat back to the system console

“You know that better than me Ford, the house never loses, let him learn that the hard way… speaking of we are arriving in few seconds”

The elevator doors opened with a slight hiss, revealing several security workers and scientific personnel. Mikail stepped out first, inviting the others to follow. In front of them was a vault-like room, sealed tight. Mikail approached the defense lock panel at the vault, allowing the eye structural pattern recognition system to do its job. The massive magnetic locks rotated like mechanical clock gears, disengaging with a heavy clank. The door slid open, revealing a large room filled with ancient artifacts. Edgar patted Wells on the back, urging him to enter and examine their target.

Walking by the various ancient artifacts from different human civilizations, Wells's eyes took in Egyptian manuscripts, Mayan tablets, Armenian stone tablets, and Greek scrolls—all the history of mankind. His gaze shifted to the Archangels scanner, the exact one used to locate the Lotus facility.

“Here we are,” Mikail's voice interrupted Wells’s examination of his surroundings. At the end of the room stood an artifact held by arm clamps, illuminated from above—a hexagonal metallic cartouche.

“There it is, an assembled ancient manuscript, presumably left by the Archangels, judging by the language,” Mikail said.

“Assembled from pieces found under Stonehenge, Karahunj, the Giza Pyramids, Olympus Mons on Mars, and Rheasilvia on Vesta,” Edgar added, standing beside Wells. “We’ve tried to decipher the text on the cartouche, but no one has been able to translate its meaning properly.”

“Okay, Harry, there's a large table here, a comfortable chair. We need your help,” Mikail said, gently slapping Wells on the shoulder and looking him in the eye. “Please.”

“You did kidnap me,” Wells said with a hint of a smile. “This big screen is where I can write down, right?”

“Yes, this entire cabinet is yours—just... don’t break anything,” Mikail winked as he headed towards the security personnel standing nearby, keeping a calm eye on them. “If you need something, tell Dave.” He pointed towards the security guard before heading out of the vault room in an unknown direction.

Wells stood there, staring at the cartouche. He noticed a folded ladder nearby, which he could use to examine the hexagonal cartouche more closely. Edgar sat at the large table, watching Wells like a child as he climbed the ladder carefully, pressing on the metal, almost kissing it as he looked deeply into the tiniest details, sliding his fingers across the engraved texts. One thing everyone noticed was the large geometric figure drawn at the center of the cartouche, with dots and joints surrounding a central point.

“What were the initial translations?” Wells turned his head towards Edgar, who was sitting at the table.

“Well,” Edgar's voice crackled as he tapped twice on the table with his glove, turning on a large whiteboard monitor displaying a single sentence. Wells climbed down the ladder and approached the screen to read it.

“For you, who will come after us, children of stars.”

“That’s all?” Wells asked, pointing at the screen.

Edgar tapped twice again, making another monitor slide up, revealing a database interface. “Here's the alphabet and dictionary of the Archangels' language that we know of.”

Wells leaned over the table, examining the texts closely.

“Oa oohoa, Hu wa pahera si da,” an example sentence was written at the top of the map to illustrate the Archangels' speech.

“Pahera… this is bullshit” Wells zoomed in on the word. “Who translated this as star?”

“You did,” Edgar said, leaning closer with a note of confusion.

“I did?” Wells replied, genuinely puzzled.

“You proposed the most prominent translations in your PhD work. Did you forget?”

“I don’t remember saying such bullshit.”

Suddenly, Lotus's feminine voice echoed through Wells's head, synchronizing with his speech. “Pahera means destined, being destined for something.”

“The text here says, ‘Who is destined to us,’ not ‘Children of Stars.’”

“You remind me of Mark Cooper,” Edgar said.

“Huh?”

“This cartouche was also shown to him. He banged his head over the texts for weeks with no results, until, by his own words, a flash of thought went through his mind. When he invented his drive, the first thing he did was test it by flying towards whatever he saw in his mind. From that moment, we never heard from him again.”

“And what next?” Wells asked, sitting down in front of Edgar, focusing on his speech.

“We tried approximating the location where he went. It was some F1 V star in the direction of the galactic center.”

“Aha,” Wells said, snapping upright.

“What?”

“In the direction of the galactic center. The signals intercepted from Lotus also point towards the galactic center.”

Edgar raised his eyebrows as the coincidence sank in. Wells stood up, turning towards the screen.

“How do I open the galactic map on this thing?” He looked around the thin square, trying to find the control panel.

Edgar tapped twice with his middle finger and then four times with his index finger. The screen switched from a writing board to a beautiful, interactive visualization of the Milky Way.

“The star is about three thousand light-years away, though. Our thing is around seven thousand,” Edgar noted.

Wells zoomed the galactic map on the Perseus Arm, pressing the pencil icon to chart a new route. “Where was the star?” he asked, turning back to Edgar.

Edgar stood up and approached the drawing board, pointing to a spot on the map. “Somewhere here. The database will have the exact location.”

“So, in short, we can include that star in our ship's route.” Wells began charting lines from Sol towards the circle, joining three star systems together with Cooper’s star.

Edgar watched Wells with a smirk as he drew the last line connecting to the circle where the forgotten planet was marked. Wells turned to Edgar to say something but stopped, noticing Edgar’s strange facial expression.

“What?” Wells asked, seeing Edgar flick his eyes somewhere as if trying to indicate something.

“What? What's wrong?” Wells turned back to the metallic cartouche, then back to Edgar. For a moment, he stood there speechless, then turned back to the cartouche and then back to the drawing board.

“Oh,” Wells said, noticing a similar drawing on the central lines of the cartouche and his route. The right lines connecting three dots resembled the route the Graviton would take to reach the forgotten planet.

“Well, we’ve shown you what we wanted. It's your choice to stay here or leave. If you manage to translate the texts, be sure to scream,” Edgar said, standing up and fixing his flight suit with a gentle flick. He patted Wells on the shoulder, then turned around and walked towards the vault exit.

“Damn, nice,” Ford remarked as he stepped out of the opened airlock of the Graviton, surveying the bustling New Kyoto airport on Capitol. “This city is way fancier than Gohyang.”

“Tourist city, obviously,” Victor replied, his voice slightly muffled behind Ford as he exited the Graviton with Emilia. “Vitas lives in the elite streets.”

The trio proceeded into the airport, navigating through the throngs of busy passengers rushing to their interstellar flights. Inside, a neon sign blazed brightly, visible across the massive terminal: “Jeep Electron, Rent a Car,” advertising a private rental service catering to wealthy tourists.

“We’ll rent a Jeep for now,” Victor said, pointing toward the neon sign ahead. Ford, distracted by the flashy billboards advertising everything imaginable, noticed a cocktail stand selling exotic drinks made from Capitol-grown berries. The milk in the drinks wasn’t quite like Earth’s, but it certainly tasted better than the synthetic alternatives on Vishapakar.

“Okay, let’s see,” Victor muttered as he approached one of the rental terminals. The interface displayed several options, including the Jeep Electron and a more compact two-door model, the Jeep Neutrino. Victor chose the economical variant with a battery charge sufficient to drive around New Kyoto three times, which was impressive given that it was the second-largest city on Capitol. He pressed the ‘Proceed with Checkout’ button, the system processing his request. Victor paid 14,999 ExoCredits by tapping the tablet near the NFC port.

“Where’s Ford? Damn it.”

“Ayy! Darte, I got us some drinks,” Ford called out as he returned, holding three exotic cocktails. The drinks’ vibrant colors hinted at their local origins.

“Garage 195, I got the car,” Victor announced.

“Alrighty then,” Ford replied, handing Emilia her cocktail as she returned from a nearby souvenir shop.

New Kyoto, built on the opposite side of Gohyang on Capitol, was a city with a storied past. During the genesis era of stellar neighborhood colonization, it was a disputed territory controlled by the oppositional political party, the Social Technate Movement. The Federal Republic and Social Technate fought a civil war over Tau Ceti F until Martian Technate and United LunaTerra intervened. United LunaTerra’s decisive support for the Federal Republic ultimately resulted in full Federal control of Tau Ceti and total defeat of Social Technate. This political clownshow greatly shook Sol’s own political scene.

Driving down the highway from the airport directly to New Kyoto, the bright sun shone in the crystal-clear, breathable terraformed atmosphere of Capitol. Victor, holding the steering wheel with two fingers, let the advanced autopilot guide their vehicle. All three wore sunglasses against the blinding sun, sipping on their cold, fresh cocktails.

“Look at all these skyscrapers,” Ford said in amazement, gazing out the window of the Jeep. “In the open air, without a dome. Something we could only dream of building on Vishapakar.”

“The government robbed everyone with empty promises, Ford,” Victor replied. “They promised the most secure city and an undefeatable navy, and look what Mars did to them for fun.”

“Boys, calm down. No need to dwell on the past,” Emilia interjected from the backseat, trying to soothe the tension between the brothers. “Enjoy the beauty of Kyoto.”

Ford turned his head back toward the window, watching the clean rivers flowing under the bridge. “Anything from the alien?”

“Who?” Victor asked, momentarily confused.

“Wells, who else.”

“I haven’t really spoken to him since he went with Mikail. You know, all those secretive bases jam any signal other than theirs.”

“His behavior and his weird headaches, man,” Ford mused.

Victor nodded, glancing briefly in the rearview camera. “Yeah, something’s definitely off with him lately. But knowing Wells, he’ll figure it out.”

As they continued their journey, the towering skyscrapers of New Kyoto loomed closer, a testament to human ingenuity and the promise of a bright future amidst the stars.

“I’ve been here for hours now and nothing significant,” Wells thought to himself, flicking his electric pencil above his tablet. He had been staring at the cartouche for quite some time, trying to decipher its enigmatic language. Extending his hand slowly from tiredness toward another cup of coffee, he heard Lotus’ feminine voice echoing again through his head, whispering a cryptic message:

“One language unifies the many…”

“The dark side is equally promising…”

“Huh? Lotus?” Wells called out into the emptiness, hoping for a response but receiving none. “The dark side is equally promising… what could that mean?”

Wells examined his surroundings again, scrutinizing every detail he had already seen. Looking at the cartouche, he noticed that only the front face was revealed and illuminated by large lamps. Curious, he picked up the foldable ladder and moved to the back side, which was dark and covered with a cloth. “Equally promising, you say,” he murmured.

Wells unfolded the ladder, secured it, and climbed as high as he could. Carefully, he pulled the cloth down, revealing a broken piece and artwork left by the Archangels. He stood there, staring at the depiction of blank-faced humanoids, all handshaking, with letters above each of them. Mumbling to himself, he repeated, “One language unifies the many…”

Almost flipping over the ladder in his excitement, Wells rushed back to the screen. “All these letters, it’s several languages combined into one,” he realized. “The pronunciation was assigned incorrectly. It’s not ‘who will come after us, children of stars.’ It’s ‘The one destined to uncover the path.’”

Wells pressed the eraser on the drawing board, erasing previous translation attempts, and began writing down the text from the cartouche using the small tablet pencil. He constantly enlarged the text using font settings on the large screen. Then, he wrote the Standard (English) language translation:

"The one destined to uncover the path, where knowledge entwines with the fervor of science, shall emerge after our era fades, as your own dawns. Returning to mother nature, children of stars, on the road towards the library, blessed by the song of nature and its wisdom."

Wells had only two letters remaining from the missing chunk on the cartouche revealed after the cloth had fallen off. Connecting the remaining text left him with more questions. “The One Ha…” he muttered, trying to make sense of it all.

Wells stepped back to reread the written text again, clearly seeing a message left for all of humanity. His curiosity towards The Forgotten Planet only increased, with the hint being "Library."

“It’s a Library. Something is a Library,” he muttered to himself.

“I see you’re kind of excited,” a voice suddenly boomed from the audio system, startling Wells and causing him to back away from the drawing board. He turned around to face the source of the sound, somewhere in the ceiling.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Mikail's voice continued. “I just passed by the surveillance cameras and saw you getting excited about something.”

Spreading his arms in annoyance, Wells shouted back at the camera, “Are you holding me as a lab rat or something? Get down here!”

New Kyoto city was most captivating once the sun set. The city illuminated so brightly it screamed megapolis. Despite its rich appearance and tourist attractions, the government desperately tried to hide the visible poverty on the streets, masking the harsh realities. Locals gathered to volunteer and donate to help the poor, as the government clearly didn’t want to. Constant protests near the municipality didn’t worry Vitas at all; he lived on the top floor of the second tallest building, far above the fray.

The beauty of night-time New Kyoto captivated Ford's attention everywhere he looked, from the large billboard with a holographic woman in traditional Japanese makeup winking at him to the massive advertisement for Ceti Cola, a new branch of Coca-Cola.

“Almost there,” Victor said, pointing towards the large glass automatic doors with a brightly illuminated interior that matched the vibrant city life outside. Inside, a busy crowd moved between floors on stairs and elevators, navigating terminals, while staff guided others.

Upon entering, they were greeted by the fresh, air-conditioned atmosphere with a gentle aroma of flowers, which immediately relaxed Emilia and Victor. The calming background of space-electric music added to the serene ambiance.

“Ooh, even more souvenirs!” Emilia exclaimed, rushing to the local stores inside the massive building. Ford, equally enthusiastic, headed towards the food courts. Victor, meanwhile, made his way to the terminal lines under the “Booking and Listing” holographic display sign. He was greeted by three large buttons: “Book room,” “View rooms,” and “List occupied rooms.” He pressed ‘List occupied rooms’ and was bombarded by a massive list of over a thousand room numbers and their occupants. Finding Vitas would take ages.

“Fuck, I forgot which floor he was on,” Victor muttered to himself as he took out his tablet and scrolled through the messenger app to find the chat with Vitas. He finally found the room number: 859, on the uppermost elite floor. Unable to locate Ford and Emilia in the busy crowd, he left Ford a message about where he was heading and proceeded to the elevator.

To Victor's surprise, the elite floor corridors weren’t as unique-looking as he had imagined. Room 859 was at the end of the corridor, with a central door and a red "DO NOT DISTURB" sign. Ignoring the sign, Victor rang the doorbell. Receiving no response, he knocked hard and waited patiently. Just as he was about to ring again, the dual-slit doors slid open, revealing Vitas in a black and gold robe, holding a glass of some drink.

“What’s the matter? You don’t look happy,” Victor said with a grin as he stepped into the luxurious room, glancing around at the abstract art on the walls and the shelves filled with historical cultural anime figures like Saturo Gojo and Naruto Uzumaki. “Lame apartment, not gonna lie.”

“Designer laziness called luxurious style,” Vitas replied, setting down his diamond-shaped wine glass. Victor picked up a bottle off the shelf. “Nice wine.”

“Bought from Earth. The grapes grown here are atrocious,” Vitas commented.

“So,” Victor said, turning to Vitas and holding the wine bottle. “Enjoying the casinos here?” He asked with a sarcastic smile as he approached the glass table and two comfy sofas around it.

“No, not at all. You were right, Victor.”

“Why not? You're enjoying being retired at such a young age already. Isn’t that the dream of many?” Victor asked.

“Whoever thinks that way is stupid, respectfully. I really miss our adventures on the ship,” Vitas confessed.

“That’s why I wanted to meet with you. You probably heard about the expedition—the news spread like wildfire. Oh, and also what happened with Clara.”

“She used me and then left for another richer imbecile,” Vitas said bitterly.

Victor took a sip of the Earth wine, noting Vitas looking out the thin glass panels at the mountain range and rivers of Tau Ceti F.

“This is not my life, Victor,” Vitas said softly.

“Your bed still warm and sad for you,” Victor joked.

“Weird choice of words but count me in for the expedition.”

Victor took out of his pocket Vitas’s digital key to Graviton’s airlocks and threw it to him. Vitas, turning towards Victor, caught it effortlessly with one hand.

"The text from the missing chunk… it's obviously unknown, but the language seems to be a blend of several languages that the Archangels' civilization used throughout their spacefaring era," Wells explained, his voice tinged with excitement as he stood before the drawing board covered in complex symbols.

Mikail, with his hand on his head, stared at the board in disbelief. "How the hell did you figure that out?"

Wells pointed to a seemingly insignificant detail. "Well, uh, on the back side, where you thought it was just artwork, there was actually a clue."

"I see. You all got it?" Edgar joined Mikail and Wells in the vault room, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes, it's incredible how no one caught this before." Wells turned to Edgar as he approached the table. "I mean, with all due respect to Cooper, but the people who worked on this previously are idiots." He gently clapped his hands, reaching for his tablet.

"Seriously, how did they not figure this out earlier?" Wells muttered to himself, scrolling through his contacts, searching for Victor.

"Thats Incredible” Edgar and others hear footsteps coming from vault’s entrance “Oh, there she is," Edgar said, turning back toward the vault doors. "I thought I'd bring you a helping hand, Harry, but it seems unnecessary." Wells glanced up from his tablet as a woman walked into the room, her sleek flightsuit shimmering under the lights. The patch on her shoulder read "Human Thelema."

"Hello, Professor Roussel. I’m very happy to be here," she greeted, extending her hand to Edgar for a handshake.

Edgar turned toward Wells, noticing his colleague leaning on the table with his arms crossed. With a wink, he whispered to Wells, "She’s your age," before gently nudging her closer to him. "We’re leaving for Ross 128 tomorrow for the expedition hearing."

"I’ll be at office 95. Meet me there in a few minutes," Mikail finally broke his silence, patting Wells on the shoulder as he followed Edgar toward the vault's exit.

"I’m very honored to meet you, Professor Wells. I’m Aries," she said, extending her hand toward him. Her bracelet caught the light, gleaming as she moved, her nails meticulously manicured.

"Well then, I guess I don’t need an introduction," Wells replied, shaking her hand gently. He couldn’t help but notice the contrast between her soft, delicate hand and his own, hardened by years of work in space.

"We studied at the same Sol University. I’m from Capitol, but I graduated in the Sol system," she mentioned, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

"I have a meeting with Mikail," Wells said, gesturing behind him toward the cartouche with his thumb. "I need to go report on this language work." He hopped off the table, gathering his items. "You can come with me if you'd like—the vault's going to be shut."

"Sure, I’d love to discuss your work. The theoretical concepts have always fascinated me."

"About what?" Wells asked as they began walking toward the vault's exit, passing by the security guard, Dave, who was flanked by armed personnel. They moved from the restricted area into the civilian-permitted section, where the atmosphere brightened, with walls painted in crisp white and greenery trailing from floor to ceiling.

"Your work on the Archangels. I’m a linguist by hobby and have been intrigued by the scientific publications on their language. I've followed your work closely," she explained as they headed toward the elevator, their footsteps echoing softly in the bright, sterile corridor. “Oh and the conceptual models on the mythical strings in higher dimensions which are still have to be classified”

“Ah yes the Fracton” Wells replied as he pressed on elevator sensor display towards their required floor “It’s still hypothetical, we need something that can give us road towards fifth dimension, thats where the math leads it”

“The AdS drives are limited by fourth dimension only right?”

“Correct… unfortunately”

“What was the motive behind hunting for these particles?” She asked, hearing closer to his words

“To explain Graviton’s interactions that violate preservations by our current models, since Graviton doesn’t care about dimensions it can exist in all eleven, there must be higher particles which interact with Graviton explaining the Behaviour with Axions” Wells puts his hands in his coat’s pockets, holding his tablet, the cigar thin box all the way from Vishapakar still held in his inner pockets, waiting to be lit one day

"Gravy feels unchanged," Vitas muttered as he stepped back onto the ship, walking toward the bridge with Victor, Emilia, and Ford. His usual seat in front of the weaponry and subsystems console was just as he'd left it, untouched throughout the weeks he'd been away.

"So, cowboys, back to the Wild West?" Ford said with a grin, tipping his stetson as he led the way toward the elevator, presumably for a quick snack in the lounge.

"Ford, stop it... please," Victor said, staring at Ford with a deadpan expression, half inside the bridge, his eyes flicking to Ford from the corner as he took his place at the pilot's seat.

*Tsk* "You’re just a hater, Darte," Ford shot back with a playful smirk before the elevator doors closed behind him. Victor, unfazed, returned to his duties on the bridge.

In the lounge, the shelves were stocked with the usual space rations, dried food in cartridges ready for consumption. The boiler was still half full of hot water, a small comfort. Ford grabbed a sealed bowl of dehydrated mashed potatoes with vegetables and meat—a classic from Earth. He peeled back the lid, the chemical smell hitting his nose with a force that made him wince.

"Hoooyah, that's disgusting," Ford muttered, his mood souring as he poured the boiling water into the bowl and sealed it shut, waiting for the meal to prepare. Leaning on the kitchen table, his eyes caught something out of place—Wells' helmet, left magnetized to the lounge's table, offline from the main network and ship comms.

Curious, Ford picked it up, examining it closely. It had a noticeable crack on the display glass, as if it had been struck hard with a heavy object. "Why would Wells leave this here?" Ford wondered aloud, puzzled by how he hadn’t noticed it before. Just then, the bowl of mashed potatoes made a popping sound, the cap changing color from the heat, signaling that the meal was ready.

Ford set the helmet back on the table and turned to the now-prepared food. The smell wasn’t appealing, but it was all they had in stock. He mixed the mashed potatoes with a fork, then turned back to the lounge table—only to find the helmet had vanished.

He froze, the fork halfway to his mouth, chewing on the first bite as confusion clouded his expression. He glanced around the lounge, searching for the missing helmet, but it was nowhere to be found.

"Damn, was I that hungry?" Ford mumbled to himself, shaking his head with raised eyebrows and deciding to focus on his meal, the strange occurrence already slipping from his mind.

Back on the bridge, Victor was methodically following all pre-flight procedures as Graviton’s engines powered up after their long rest. Emilia, seated in the co-pilot chair, opened a communication channel with the Flight Control Tower, notifying them of their impending departure. Once the computer granted them the green light, Emilia began broadcasting the message, "New Kyoto Flight Control, CRS Graviton V9T-34L requests clearance for takeoff."

The response was prompt, "CRS Graviton, takeoff permission granted. ETA—9 minutes through the North-East Corridor."

Emilia relayed the message through the intercom, "Ford, finish eating and find a seat. We’re leaving in 9 minutes."

Ford, hearing her voice echo through the lounge, quickly finished his meal. He sealed the bowl and secured it back inside the shelf, then glanced one last time at the lounge table where Wells' cracked helmet had mysteriously vanished. Reassuring himself that it was just a coincidence, he dimmed the lights in the lounge with a touchscreen near the entrance door and made his way to the ladder chamber that connected all floors of the ship’s interior, choosing it over the small elevator.

Victor heard Ford’s footsteps approaching and swiveled his chair to face him. "How was the new meal?"

Ford, wiping the remaining bits of food from his face, looked up at Victor with a grin. "Smells like an entire chemical factory." He dropped into his seat in front of the systems console and turned his chair toward Victor. "I’m probably gonna mutate into polymeric sludge," he joked, smirking as he spun his seat back around to face his console, readying himself for departure.

“Where to now, Captain?” Ford asked as he calibrated the reactor output settings, ensuring the automated system was in sync.

“Back to Earth,” Victor replied, eyes on the instruments. “We’ve got to pick up Wells before tomorrow.”

“What’s up tomorrow?” Vitas inquired from his station.

“Wells and a few others are giving speeches at the ceremony for the expedition,” Victor explained.

“We’re part of it, right?” Vitas asked, his tone half-anticipatory, half-affirming.

“We’ve always been, technically,” Victor said with a faint smile. “We were first on the list, thanks to Wells.”

Victor glanced at the monitor by Emilia’s side, watching the timer approach the 30-second mark. “Thirty seconds. Engaging the engines.”

With a rusty screech, Graviton’s folded wings deployed into their flight configuration. The vertical and main thrusters roared to life as power surged from the supersymmetric reactor, lifting the ship off the ground with a gentle shake. The blueish-cyan skies of Capitol stretched out ahead, the snow-capped mountain range visible in the distance. The North-East direction was perfect, as it aligned directly with their course towards the Solar System.

Using the Anti-De-Sitter drive within inhabited space was strictly forbidden due to the potential damage caused by dimensional shifts near atmospheric settlements. As Graviton ascended, Victor, scrolling through the ship’s music library on the onboard computer, asked, “Music, anyone?”

He stumbled upon Wells' music collection from Old Earth and decided to set the mood with one of his playlists. The bridge filled with the soft, nostalgic tune of Daryl Hall & John Oates' "Out of Touch," as the crew braced against the acceleration pressure. Graviton’s triangle-shaped engines ignited, shining bright with a yellow-white plume, and the cloudy, cyan-green planet gradually receded from view.

The onboard computer beeped loudly, signaling the completion of mathematical calibration. The system indicated that a safe jump was now possible, taunting them with the imminent prospect of dimensional travel. The stars surrounding them began to stretch and fold, imploding into circular forms before being elongated across the sky, resembling vibrating streaks of darkness.

“You’re out of touch, I’m out of time,” Emilia softly sang along to the lyrics of the playing music, her voice barely audible over the gentle hum of the ship. Outside, the ship’s exterior was enveloped in a haze of gravitinos, sliding along its surface before dissolving into the blinding darkness of the revealed geometry with one additional axis.

Victor, lost in his thoughts, mused, “Indeed, this space feels out of touch and out of time,” as he adjusted his seat into a reclining position. He dimmed the lights in the bridge, creating a tranquil atmosphere as the crew prepared for their sleep cycle. The Graviton, now adrift in a realm one step closer to what is 11^th dimension of Time, moved silently through the void, its crew slipping into the embrace of sleep.

Tehran, in the Persian Province, stands as a beacon of life amidst the slow death of Earth. Flourishing in snow-capped mountains and lush green grass, it is one of the few regions where nature still thrives. Despite the heavy industrial pollution that has scarred the atmosphere and posed challenges for new generations, Western Asia and Transcaucasia remain some of the greenest territories on the new Earth. Here, in this large metropolitan city, home to over 76 million people, lies a memorial to all science—a dendropark garden, a masterpiece crafted by a master architect from the previous century: The Bachehā-ye Setāreh Garden.

The garden is a vibrant sanctuary, where a diverse array of trees, bushes, and flowers bloom. Among its marvels is a field dedicated to exoflora, plants brought from different settled exoplanets. The Novan Ruborensis, with its thick, rugged trunk and a crown of dense, bush-like reddish bioluminescent leaves, stands resilient despite the atmospheric pressure difference from its original home. Nearby, Capitol’s mutated pine trees, adapted to the changing conditions on Earth, rise tall. The walkways of the garden are carpeted in the greenest grass in the local stellar neighborhood, dotted with all kinds of flowers in bloom.

For Harrison Wells, since childhood, a naturalist at heart, the garden was a common place to visit. Deep within the forests of the dendropark, under the shade of an oak tree laden with fresh, red apples, Wells found solace. The Bachehā-ye Setāreh Garden was a sanctuary for him, where the deep, lonely forests offered peace and clarity. Here, he could breathe the fresh air that most humans on the new Earth were no longer privileged to experience, and he could gather his thoughts.

The garden became even more significant to Wells after the tragic death of his father, William Wells, who died during a deep space expedition on Argelander’s Star Gamma. A rogue meteorite from the nearby asteroid belt struck the surface of the airless planet, causing a catastrophic shockwave. The impact hurled William and his crew members several kilometers into the air, only for them to crash back down, lifeless, onto the barren ground. To this day, Harrison refuses to believe that this was the true cause of his father's death.

Wells prefers to avoid the memorial left by his father’s colleagues in the center of the impact crater on Argelander’s Star Gamma. The system, located only 30 light-years away, has become a tourist attraction for those seeking to visit memorials across the local stellar neighborhood. This unwelcome attention angers the Wells family, who have petitioned the United Lunaterran Ministry to reinforce a no-flight zone in the uninhabited space surrounding the site, in an effort to preserve the sanctity of the area.

Wells slowly stood up, the crunch of dead brown leaves beneath his feet echoing in the tranquil surroundings. He flicked the dirt off his flight suit and picked up his folded coat. This time, he decided not to venture too deep within the trees, and from his vantage point, he could see the walkways and the memorial pantheon of science.

Thoughts of Aries had been haunting him ever since their meeting inside the Egyptian facility. Her perfect blue eyes had awakened a deep emotion within him, one he couldn’t extinguish now. He felt a mix of frustration and longing that gnawed at him. As he pondered, his gaze drifted to a bench in the distance. Lotus sat there, watching him from afar, mimicking the act of eating a poorly simulated piece of bread that, by its appearance, reminded Wells of a military fragmentation grenade.

Wells’ hand instinctively reached for the thin box inside his coat's inner pocket. The box, engraved with a dragon despite its solar origin, held one last cigar—a souvenir gifted to him by Soldier as a sign of gratitude, reminding of Jaanus and Ludwig. The cigar was wrapped with an original signature golden ring that read “Luna.” Wells always carried a few tools of exoplanet explorers in his pockets, one of which was a torch lighter. The familiar smell of the cigar brought a sense of comfort, but before he could light it, Lotus broke her silence, finally catching Wells’ attention.

*Tsk* “What?” he snapped, his tone carrying a slight aggression that even he didn’t quite understand. He turned towards the bench where Lotus sat.

“Oh, don’t be so rude. I just want to talk,” Lotus replied, her voice calm as she slightly tilted her head up to look at him.

“About…?” Wells trailed off as he put the cigar back in the box and returned it to his inner pocket.

“You seem nervous,” Lotus observed, shaking her head slightly as she noted Wells’ posture—hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Why do you think that?” he responded, trying to deflect the observation.

“It seems humans are more emotionally nervous meeting an opposite specimen than leaving their planet very far in Sahuri.”

Wells blinked, confused. “I mean, no, yes—I don’t know… wait, what was the last word you said?”

“What word?” Lotus asked, her expression unreadable.

“Sahu… Sahuri?” Wells repeated, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

“What does that mean?” Wells asked as he approached her, his sharp eyes locking onto her, despite her lack of real eyes.

“The thing you call… Milky Way? Weird name for a liquid from an animal… Your mind is so dense I can’t learn about your people that well,” Lotus remarked, her tone slightly teasing.

Wells pulled out his tablet and quickly opened his notes application, which was filled with his extensive writings on the Archangels. Sliding out the electronic pencil, he carefully jotted down a new word he had never encountered before: "Sahuri." Mistakenly, he linked it as the “Milky Way”, his mind instinctively searching for connections in the unknown.

Just then, she noticed a female figure approaching in Wells' direction. “Oop,” she muttered before vanishing in her usual enigmatic manner, leaving Wells alone once more.

Wells stood there, caught between his thoughts of Aries and the cryptic conversation with Lotus, feeling the weight of emotions he couldn’t quite name. He noticed Aries approaching the pantheon memorial where he stood. Her trench coat fluttered in the gentle Earth breeze, revealing a black sweater underneath. Her style mirrored his own, and he couldn’t tell if it was a coincidence or deliberate.

"Hey," she initiated the conversation. "Thanks for responding to my message."

"I didn’t have anything else to do until morning anyway," he replied. Despite saying "until morning," it was midday on Earth; his internal clock, synced to galactic standard time, was heavily desynchronized with Earth’s time.

“There’s a nice café around here," he continued, gesturing in a direction opposite to the pantheon. "Do you like coffee?"

"Not really. I’m more of a tea person."

"Oh, well then, even better. That place has a rich selection of teas."

Wells began walking toward the garden's exit, leading to the transport roads, and Aries followed closely behind. As they passed the beautiful trees of the garden, with walls of meticulously trimmed bushes adorned with blooming Capitol flowers, Wells broke the silence. "So, how do you know Edgar? I don’t remember ever seeing you before," he asked, thinking back to their encounter in the Egyptian facility.

"In the L2 station library. Our class would often attend his seminars, sitting around a large table while he explained topics on the displays. You were always there, nearby when Edgar was busy. You just never noticed me," she explained as they walked along the garden paths.

Wells strained to recall anything resembling what she described, only vaguely remembering Edgar’s interactive lessons, which he usually listened to from a distance, paying little attention to others present.

"I... I guess. I genuinely don’t remember anything like that," he admitted, but his thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise overhead. Both he and Aries looked up to see the familiar shape of a Kepler-Class MK3 interstellar cruiser from Ceres Shipyard. Its distinctive yellowish-white plume of Graviton cracked like a fireplace across the sky as it flew at supersonic speeds, heading toward Imam Khomeini Interplanetary Port.

"They're early," Wells muttered, looking in the direction of the loud sound of the Graviton.

"They?" Aries asked as they passed by various stores.

"My crew," Wells replied, gesturing with his finger in the direction of the noise.

"Oh, the ship named after the particle of gravity?"

"Exactly."

As they continued walking, Wells and Aries noticed a large neon sign ahead, written in Mandarin and Hindi: "Zemlya Aromas." They had finally reached the café that Wells liked to visit whenever he was on Earth. The moment they stepped inside, the rich aromas of freshly brewed coffee and various tea leaves filled the air. Wells quickly took out his tablet and, with a few swift actions, enabled location sharing with a specific MAC address, letting the Graviton know his position so his crew could find him.

Meanwhile, at the interplanetary port, the Graviton's cargo bay ramp lowered, revealing the crew standing in their flightsuits, a gentle breeze of hot air carrying the filtered air of the ship out into the open.

"Mmm, yes, the pleasant smell of trash on Terra," Vitas quipped as he stepped out first, taking a deep breath of Earth’s air.

"Mars isn't any better," Ford said, swinging his arm over Vitas as he joined him.

"At least on half-ass terraformed Mars, it doesn't smell like shit when you take a deep breath through your mouth." Vitas retorted

"Almost three centuries, and Mars still isn't fully breathable," Victor chuckled as he left the cargo bay with a tool bag slung over his shoulder.

"Brother Shut up. You grew up breathing methane on the gas station moon," Vitas shot back.

"You hate Earth with all your heart," Emilia added with a little laugh, stepping off the ship last and making sure the cargo ramp locked after a few seconds.

"Same garbage as Mars. I'd prefer to live somewhere deep within the galaxy, build a house from local trees, away from this political shitshow," Vitas grumbled.

"Have patience, Vit. We're leaving for deep space soon anyway," Victor reassured him.

As they headed towards the airport terminals, Victor naturally gravitated towards the vehicle rental kiosks, while Vitas, with his usual sardonic edge, remarked, "At least here, it ain’t that bad." His attention was briefly caught by the bright white neon symbol of the Scientific Assembly. The sight reminded him of Wells and the upcoming speech on Dyson Terra.

Turning back to Victor, who was busy at the rental terminal, Vitas asked, "Speaking of, who’s going to be at the speech, besides us?"

Victor tilted his head in thought before responding, "If I remember correctly, the higher-ups from the Assembly, presidents from Sol, representatives from the exoplanets, and surprisingly, S.E.A."

Vitas’s face darkened with anger. "Motherfucker... S.E.A.? Why? Wasn’t the incident on Capitol enough for them?" He clenched his fists, his anger building. "We fought for them, only for them to betray us. What the fuck."

"Man, I don’t know," Victor sighed, still focused on the screen as he scrolled through a list of available off-road vehicles. "The cuck in ULT’s office wants Sol to collapse, calling it in the name of 'peace.' If it weren’t for Mars constantly pissing them off, maybe all these pointless wars wouldn’t happen."

"Vishapakar was the least of the worst things," Vitas muttered, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching Victor make his choice.

"Mars definitely showed S.E.A. its weapons. That whole circus was for that," Ford chimed in, arriving with Emilia after their usual trip around the airport shops.

"That still doesn’t answer my question—why are they here?" Vitas pressed, his frustration evident.

"It’s probably in Anders’ classic manner: 'It’s important to all of humanity,'" Emilia replied sarcastically.

Vitas glanced at the checkout screen as Victor was about to finalize the payment. "TMW? Seriously? Couldn’t you pick a better car?"

Victor turned to Vitas with a raised index finger, irritation creeping into his voice. "Can you stop complaining for one day?"

Rolling his eyes Vitas followed through the corridor to vehicle hangars where their rented car was being preparred, everyone else followed him afterwards.

“So yeah, now I’m hoping to get my application approved to become crew member of Albert Einstein, as candidate I have been provided training courses” Aries voice was buzzing infront of Wells as he as usual lost the touch with reality again inside his head, not listening to her speech sitting at coffee table in the cafe holding a cup of Mohito taste tea, staring into the swirling water from steering the sugar in it, the swirl reminds him the infinite unexplainable singularity inside the black holes, despite their best models, the mystery remains the same, something was pressing from inside again, dense pain from within the depth of the mind

“Professor?” She asked the stunned Wells staring into his cup of tea, with hum raising his eyes back to her, snapping back to reality

“What?” He responds, placing down the cup

“Am I bothering you? I just thought you might want hear this”

“No no it’s fine, just slight headache” The headace definetly wasn’t slight, as it felt the head was being crushed between two metallic press “I need to go to the bathroom take the meds”.

Hopping off his seat, looking towards the tiny bathroom near the order line, locks himself inside, looking into the thin mirror hanged on the wall with automated sink dispensing water, from his belt with small bags he opens one of them and takes out prescribed small injection syringe with required medications ready to use, stinging himself into inflated veins across his neck.

Throwing the used syringe into the minimalism style trashbin, Wells closes his eyes to rest for a moment. Deep inside his thoughts he meets the three meter tall three legged faceless creature again, staring back to him in full darkness. Wells tries approaching the creature again to communicate when suddenly the initally thought a friendly creature from Lotus facility crack opens his entire head revealing giant teeths with very loud roar making fells fall on his back in great fear opening his eyes seeing himself almost falling in the bathroom

“Dude what the fuck you doing there” Sudden voice echoed into the bathroom from outside. Wells closed his face with his palms, taking a moment to breath, opens the door and leaves the bathroom back to Aries, seeing near her standing familiar figure, it was Vitas with Emilia near Aries

“Oh” Wells sighted seeing the crew already here, Vitas approached him for a handshake, Wells without doubt shook his hands, revealing both veinous muscle arms. Emilia approached for a soft hug “Glad to see you again, Harry”

“Why didn’t you tell us about your new friend” Vitas with flirty wink pointed towards Aries who just stood up and picked up her trenchcoat, with a smile looks back to them

“Uh, we were just discussing work stuff” Wells said, wearing back his microprocessor aviators out of his coat’s pocket

*in Italian* “Aha Certo” with a wink Vitas headed out towards parked offroad jeep outside, visible through the clear windows of the cafe

“Where you going?” Wells asked, seeing both leaving the cafe

Vitas glanced back at Wells, a sly grin on his face. “Well, we figured we’d swing by, pick you up, and then… you know, do stuff before Dyson.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strolled back toward the waiting vehicle.

Aries pushed her chair back under the table, her movements deliberate. “I’ll head back to my work now,” she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve got a speech to prepare for tomorrow—don’t keep the boys waiting.” She gave Wells a nod before striding out of the café, tablet in hand. Her trench coat flared behind her, caught in the Earth’s unpredictable winds as she exited through the creaking door.

Now alone, Wells stood in the quiet café, the once-bustling space eerily empty. A sigh escaped his lips as he stared at the remnants of the gathering. The silence pressed in, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves outside.

Then came the voice, faint but distinct, echoing as though from the air itself.

“Yep. Nope. That’s not good.”

Wells stiffened and turned, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Lotus. She sat casually at a corner table, her legs crossed, holding a poorly rendered holographic cup of tea. She made a show of sipping it, her expression unreadable but tinged with mischief.

“I can assume this is important…” Wells began, his tone half weary, half annoyed.

“Oh, not that thing,” Lotus interjected, waving a dismissive hand before dramatically tossing the cup over her shoulder. It disintegrated into a cascade of glowing particles. “I’m talking about the creatures you saw earlier.” She crossed one leg over the other, leaning back with a feigned air of nonchalance. “I’m afraid they already know about you.”

Wells pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his frustration simmering. “Who the fuck are they now?”

“Uhhh,” Lotus drew out the word, her tone light and playful, “that’s a long story. But, let’s just say they’re not the friendliest bunch. You’d probably call them…” She paused for effect, her eyes glinting. “Complicated.”

“Fantastic,” Wells muttered, his patience wearing thin.

Lotus smirked, standing from the table. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them… as you humans would say.” And just like that, in her signature style, she vanished, dissolving into the air with a flicker of light.

Wells let out a slow, measured breath, collecting himself before heading toward the exit. Outside, Vitas was leaning casually against the car, the faint clink of glass catching Wells’ attention. He was holding a flask of Haumean bourbon whiskey, its surface glinting in the golden light of the setting sun.

“Took you long enough,” Vitas drawled, his smirk widening. “Care for a drink?”

Wells reached into the inner pocket of his trench coat, retrieving the small casket he’d carefully tucked away earlier. He flipped it open, revealing the neatly arranged Vishap Cigars inside. The four reddish-brown cigars exuded a faint, scent of roses. Each one was wrapped with precision, its surface adorned with an intricate engraving of a dragon, drawn in the flowing, ancient Chinese art style.

Nestled alongside the cigars was a classic cricket lighter, included as part of the bundle—a thoughtful touch from the mercenary who had gifted them during their stop at Barnard’s Star Lagrangian station. The gift had been a token of gratitude to the crew of the CRS Graviton. Wells lifted the lighter, turning it in his hand to admire the matching dragon motif etched into its surface.

“You’re missing the last piece of the experience,” Wells said with a smirk, holding out the open casket for Vitas.

“Oh, you still have these,” Vitas said, his face lighting up as he reached for one of the cigars. Wells handed him one without hesitation, watching as Vitas examined the craftsmanship with an approving nod.

Moments later, the two of them leaned against the car, sharing silent camaraderie as they lit their cigars. The first draw released a plume of rich, aromatic smoke, curling into the golden hues of the setting sun. Wells cradled the flask of Haumean bourbon whiskey in one hand, the cigar in the other, taking a long drag before exhaling into the crisp evening air.

“Still tastes like swamp water, not gonna lie,” Wells quipped, taking another sip of the whiskey and gesturing to the flask. “Where’d you even get this stuff?”

Vitas smiled, puffing on his cigar before answering. “The apartment I had on Capitol. I poured some into a flask before we left with Victor and Ford”

Before Wells could reply, Victor and Emilia appeared from the street corner, heading toward the car. Victor raised an eyebrow at the sight of the two, thick clouds of smoke swirling in dramatic, almost cinematic plumes.

“Hollywood puffing now, huh?” Victor teased as he reached the car, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. He opened the car door, tossing a bag onto the back seat. “The hotel’s not far from here.” He pointed toward a tall building, its glass exterior catching the fiery orange of the sunset. “It’s near the garden. We could walk there, save the trouble of finding parking there.”

“Sounds good to me,” Vitas said, exhaling another puff of smoke.

Wells gave a silent nod of agreement, the cigar balanced comfortably between his fingers as the squad began to prepare for their stroll through the golden-lit streets.

Will there ever be a twin planet to Earth, so close that humans could one day reach it? For centuries, scientists and dreamers alike have pondered this question. Many have looked to Saturn's enigmatic moon, Titan—a world of swirling mists, methane seas, and alien landscapes—as a possible answer. In today’s time, however, Titan is no longer a distant mystery but a burgeoning frontier, a small "village" in the vast Solar System.

Among Titan’s newest residents is Ludwig, seeking political asylum within the territories of United LunaTerra after fleeing the Settled Exoplanets Alliance. For Ludwig, this frozen moon offers a chance at peace, a place to leave his turbulent past behind. Yet as he stands on the grim, frigid surface of Titan, his thoughts betray a lingering unease. The endless fog-draped mountains in the distance, the slow flow of methane lakes beyond the town’s boundaries, and the oppressive weight of Titan’s extreme environment—all of it presses down on him like an invisible burden.

Clad in one of United LunaTerra’s civilian survival suits, Ludwig shifts uncomfortably, the ill-fitting fabric making every movement awkward. He stares into the alien horizon, his expression vacant, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts about what his future might hold. The hollowness in his stomach reminds him of how the crushing conditions of Titan tax his body, leaving him drained and restless.

With a weary sigh, he turns away from the desolate landscape and back toward the settlement—a cluster of metallic habitats huddled together against the unforgiving environment. He begins walking through the dimly lit streets, where the only warmth comes from the faint glow of artificial lights spilling out of small windows. As he passes the place Victor, his newfound friend, used to call home, a wave of melancholy washes over him.

His destination is a local café, one of the few places that brings a touch of Earth to Titan’s alien soil. They serve dishes imported from Earth, flavors that Ludwig hopes might revive a faint sense of normalcy in this strange new life.

The café's entrance operated through a two-airlock system—one for entering, the other for exiting. It was an unusual setup for such a modest establishment, but practical for Titan's harsh conditions. Strangely, the entrance was devoid of any queue, an uncommon sight for this small hub of warmth and comfort in the settlement. Inside, the café was equally empty, the silence amplifying the faint hum of life-support systems in the walls.

As the second airlock swiftly spun, unlocking its magnetic seals with a soft hiss of mechanical pumps, the metallic doors parted. Ludwig stepped inside, his neutral expression unchanged, holding his helmet in one hand. The warmth of the café greeted him, a stark contrast to the frigid wasteland outside, yet the absence of other patrons only heightened his sense of solitude. His gaze landed on the single young barista standing behind the counter, her bright smile cutting through the emptiness like a beacon.

“Welcome!” she said, her cheerful voice echoing faintly through the empty hall. That simple word, paired with her genuine smile, eased Ludwig’s mood just a little, like the first spark of a long-dead fire. He approached the bar table, sliding into a seat directly in front of the drinks display. The variety of options lined up before him was impressive, though Ludwig’s focus remained practical—something warm to fill the growing void inside him.

The barista handed him an electronic tablet displaying the menu. He scanned it briefly, feeling the weight of memories resurface. The emptiness of the café reminded him of Vishapakar, of the three close friends who once shared every meal and laugh. Now, only he remained. Jaanus and Asim, their faces still vivid in his mind, were gone—forever etched into his thoughts like ghosts haunting his solitude.

Shaking himself free of the memory, Ludwig tapped on the menu option for a hot soup, drawn to an enticing recommendation: a thick, hearty dish reminiscent of Slavic borscht, updated with pelmeni—small dumplings that had become a culinary hallmark of the Titan. The barista nodded, her movements quick and efficient as she fetched a steaming bowl from the prepared pot.

The soup was served almost immediately, its fragrant steam curling into the air. Ludwig stared at the bowl for a moment, its vibrant colors and rich aroma already lifting the edge of the chill clinging to his body. Despite the suit’s life-support system regulating his temperature, he craved the genuine warmth of real food. Without hesitation, he picked up the spoon, savoring his first bite—a small but meaningful act of comfort in a life that had so little left to offer.

Ludwig’s moment of quiet was abruptly broken by the sharp hiss of mechanical pumps, echoing from behind. The airlock doors groaned open, and with the swirl of frigid air, a figure stepped into the café. The metallic clank of boots against the floor reverberated through the empty space, drawing Ludwig’s attention. He froze as he recognized the face—or thought he did. Familiar yet unfamiliar, the person strode forward with purposeful steps, their presence both commanding and unsettling.

“Ludwig Azam?” the stranger asked, their voice cutting through the stillness.

A chill ran down Ludwig’s spine at the sound of his full name, something he hadn’t heard in this quiet refuge. Slowly, he set the spoon back into the unfinished bowl, the warmth of the soup forgotten. “I’m no longer part of the S.E.A.,” he replied, his voice laced with tension. “Please, leave me alone.”

The stranger hesitated, a flicker of confusion crossing their face. Then, shaking his head, he continued toward Ludwig and slid into the seat beside him. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea,” he said, his tone measured. “Name’s Edgar Roussel. I’m not who you’re imagining. I was asked to deliver a message by someone you might remember.”

Edgar shifted the weight of the backpack slung across his shoulders and reached into it, producing a sleek tablet. “I’m aware of the bounty the S.E.A. has on your head,” he continued, his voice low. “That’s why this message isn’t something you’ll want broadcasted across Titan’s network—or anywhere else, for that matter.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of panic slipping into his expression. “How did you find me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the fear in his tone unmistakable.

Edgar met his gaze without flinching. “Let’s just say the military has its ways,” he said cryptically, smirking slightly. He extended the tablet toward Ludwig’s suit, initiating a short-range data transfer. The hand terminal on Ludwig’s arm lit up as it registered the incoming file.

“It’s an offer I wouldn’t pass up if I were you,” Edgar added with a wink, standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Without another word, he headed toward the airlock, the sound of his boots fading into the background as he exited the café.

Ludwig sat motionless for a moment, staring at the notification blinking on his tablet. The file had already been downloaded and extracted. Swallowing the knot forming in his throat, he opened the directory. Inside the folder, there was a single text file, its metadata indicating it had been signed by Harrison and Ford. The names stopped Ludwig cold. He hadn’t heard those names in months—names tied to a past he thought he’d buried.

His hand trembled slightly as he tapped the file open, the soup on the table forgotten, its warmth now a distant memory.

The file began with Ford’s voice, casual and direct:

"Alright, look, I’m not going to yap much. I’ll be honest—I miss you, Ludwig. And we want you on board. Consider this your official invite to become a crew member of the CRS Graviton."

The message transitioned to another familiar voice, more measured yet brimming with excitement:

"Ludwig, this is Harrison Wells again. As you’ve probably heard, the news speaks for itself—an expedition awaits us. And we want you to join as our planetologist. Yes, you. The expedition departs in two days. I know it’s sudden, but we’ll be waiting for your answer. Meet us on Dyson Terra, at the University of Vibrating Strings, 12:00 Milky Way Standard Time."

It wasn’t the long, detailed message Ludwig might have expected, but the words carried enough weight to reignite something inside him—a spark, a call to adventure. He stared at the screen, the offer replaying in his mind.

With a deep breath, he stood, scanned the bill with his hand terminal, and left a tip. Picking up his helmet, he secured it to his suit with a practiced motion. Then, with a steady stride, Ludwig exited the café, stepping back into the harsh, methane-laden streets of Titan.

The habitat provided by United LunaTerra wasn’t far—just past the row of buildings across from the café. Rushing through the traffic-laden roads, Ludwig couldn't resist the urge to check his tablet. His fingers darted across the screen as he searched for an interstellar bus ticket to the Ross 128 system.

Luck was on his side. Several routes were available from Enceladus orbit, departing later that day. He quickly reserved a seat.

Typing his response to the message, Ludwig smiled faintly as he hit send:

"I’ll be there tomorrow at 10:40. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the invite."

Remembering Asim once again, his advise to join the crew.

Time: An Arrow or a Dimension? Why do we evolve through time, only for it to vanish the moment we cease to think about it? Flowing silently past our consciousness, does time truly exist outside our perception?

"The pump pipe seems a little off," Ford's voice echoed through the Graviton’s wiring walls. His head was half-buried in the narrow maintenance shaft, a small flashlight clutched in his hand as he squinted at the tangled maze of conduits and pipes.

Swinging back out of the shaft, Ford turned to Wells, who was staring absently at the blinking lights on the engineering console. "Ay, what are the sensors reading?" Ford snapped his fingers in front of Wells, snapping him back to reality.

Wells blinked, startled, before glancing down at the tablet in his hand. "Oh, uh… it’s just a water pipe. The sensors are picking up a slight drop in flow, but nothing serious. It’s repairable."

"Where does this pipe lead?" Ford asked, wiping his hands on a grease-stained towel slung over his shoulder.

Wells shrugged and turned the tablet to show him a schematic of the ship. "If I remember the blueprint correctly, it’s connected to the lounge sink. See?" He tapped the screen, highlighting the troublesome section of the pipe in the virtual diagram.

Before Ford could reply, Victor’s authoritative voice cut through the ship’s intercom. "Alright, gentlemen, we’re almost there. Prepare to drop out of AdS space in twenty minutes."

Ford sighed, slinging the towel over his shoulder and buckling his toolbelt back on. "Guess I’ll patch it later," he muttered, gesturing for Wells to follow him. Together, they headed for the bridge to prepare for their return to normal space.

As they moved through the dimly lit hallways, they came across Emilia emerging from the medical bay. She was lugging an overstuffed case, the bright red cross painted on its side barely visible beneath the bulging contents. The locks looked dangerously close to giving up.

"That looks bad," Wells remarked, reaching out instinctively to help.

Emilia raised her eyebrows, giving him a grateful nod as she handed over the case. "Routine checkups on the gear," she explained, exhaling as the weight was taken off her hands. "Regulations, you know."

She paused, her gaze flicking between them. "Where are you two headed?"

"The bridge," Ford replied, his voice heavy with fatigue.

"Ah," Emilia said, raising both eyebrows in a gesture of acknowledgment before turning toward the far end of the hall. She didn’t ask anything further, her attention already drifting to whatever was ahead

Walking through the dimly lit hallways toward the ship’s bridge, Ford turned to Wells with a questioning look. “So, about the upcoming speech on Dyson Terra—what’s the plan?” he asked, his voice casual yet curious. The destination was a planet in the Ross 128 system, and the event had clearly been weighing on Wells' mind.

Carrying a medical case in one hand, Wells glanced at Ford with tired eyes. His expression betrayed a mix of weariness and mild irritation as he gave a slight nod and replied, “We’re announcing the expedition. That’s pretty much it.”

Ford let out a small chuckle, nodding in return. “Ah, right. Completely forgot about that.”

Ahead of them, the airlock to the bridge opened with a soft hiss, revealing Victor and Vitas seated in the command chairs. Both were busy, their hands darting across control panels—pulling levers, pressing buttons—preparing the CRS Graviton for departure. The ship had already received clearance from Flight Traffic Command, and the engines hummed faintly, warmed up and ready for vertical liftoff.

“Hello again,” Ford called out, his tone dripping with sarcastic humor as he stepped inside.

Victor glanced back at him, looking at Ford dressed in a simple white top with a towel slung over his shoulder. Wells followed closely behind, wearing his usual black turtleneck. Meanwhile, Emilia headed straight for the medical shelf tucked into the corner of the bridge, double-checking its contents with practiced efficiency.

“Did the pipe issue get resolved?” Victor asked, his attention split between Ford and the glowing interface of the board computer. “I didn’t see any updates on the system reports.”

Ford grimaced as he began slipping into his flight suit. “We came to the conclusion it’s nothing serious.” His voice was deliberately nonchalant, though he avoided Victor’s eyes.

Victor spun his chair around to face him fully, fixing Ford with a deadpan stare. An awkward silence settled over the room as he held Ford’s gaze.

“You do know,” Victor said, his voice calm but laced with warning, “if we get stranded somewhere because of that pipe, I’ll personally tie you to it until you fix it.”

Ford smirked, deflecting with a pointed finger. “It’s just a water pipe,Blame this guy,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Wells, who had just settled into the pilot’s chair.

Wells turned to look at Ford, his expression unreadable. Victor followed suit, their collective silence only intensifying the awkwardness of the moment.

“What?” Ford asked, genuinely confused as both men turned back to the ship’s wide windows without a word.

“It’s fine,” Emilia interjected, her voice light but reassuring as she returned to her chair. “Not like it’s the first time something’s gone wrong.”

The faint clicks of seatbelts locking into place filled the air as the crew strapped themselves in. The engines began to roar louder, vibrating through the hull of the Graviton. With the CRS Graviton poised for liftoff, the hum of machinery reached a crescendo, signaling the ship’s departure from Earth. Their destination: Dyson Terra, a planet that promised new challenge.

Ludwig was fast asleep, wireless earbuds snugly tucked into his ears, onboard the interstellar shuttle bound for Dyson Terra. His playlist was cycling through Old Earth’s timeless classics, their melodies echoing softly as the shuttle prepared to exit AdS space. The engines’ hum shifted in pitch, signaling the transition, but Ludwig remained blissfully unaware, caught in the lull of his nap.

“We're leaving together, but still, it's farewell

And maybe we'll come back to Earth, who can tell?

I guess there is no one to blame

We're leaving ground (Leaving ground)

Will things ever be the same again?”

“It’s the final countdo—”

His reverie was suddenly interrupted by the gentle yet insistent nudge of the flight attendant. Ludwig startled awake, momentarily disoriented. The attendant leaned closer, speaking over the soft crackle of the cabin intercom.

“Sir, please fasten your seatbelt. We’re approaching the landing sequence,” they said with a professional smile before moving down the aisle to ensure other passengers were similarly prepared.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes, Ludwig blinked at his surroundings, momentarily lost in the haze of his great nap. The echo of the music still rang faintly in his ears. Then, with a spark of realization, it all came back to him—he was on a shuttle heading to Dyson Terra.

“Oh, thank you,” he muttered to the retreating figure of the flight attendant, fumbling to check his seatbelt, only to find it still securely fastened.

“Damn, that was fast,” Ludwig thought to himself. “Last time, these buses took days to get from Vishap to Proxima. Guess they've really upgraded the AdS drives.”

He glanced upward, checking the baggage shelf above his seat to ensure his bags were still intact. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the small carry-on resting on the seat beside him. Outside the thick illuminator window, the looming shape of Dyson Terra came into view, bathed in a rusty red glow. Thick, swirling clouds obscured much of its surface, while its two moons hung nearby in the planet’s orbit. One was a ringed asteroid with a thin atmosphere, and the other, Pax Atralis, was an egg-shaped moon unlike anything he’d seen elsewhere.

“This planet…” Ludwig thought as he stared out at the alien world, a pang of unease settling in his chest. “It caused seven days of chaos among the stars.”

The captain’s voice crackled through the intercom, cutting through Ludwig’s thoughts.

“Dear passengers, we are now approaching the assigned landing pad at Asgard City. Estimated time of arrival is 10:24 Standard Milky Way Time. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until the ‘Landed’ indicator is lit. On behalf of United Sol Starlines, we thank you for choosing our service for this flight.”

Ludwig glanced at his seatbelt again, reassured that he’d never unfastened it. Through the window, the dusty, barren surface of Dyson Terra came into clearer view as the shuttle descended. The landing pad below was partially obscured by the swirling desert winds, casting plumes of dust into the air. The turbulence rocked the shuttle gently at first, then more insistently as the VTOL engines engaged to clear the debris below.

With a metallic groan and a solid thud, the shuttle’s landing gear made contact with the pad, the force of the touchdown shaking the cabin. Ludwig barely flinched—he’d experienced far rougher landings before.

As the passengers around him began shuffling out of their seats, Ludwig stood, stretching slightly before reaching for the overhead shelf. He retrieved his baggage and carry-on, glancing out the window one last time before stepping into the aisle. The press of bodies around him slowed his progress as they funneled toward the airlock stairs.

Stepping out onto the platform, Ludwig adjusted his civilian flight spacesuit. The helmet barely fit over his head, a minor annoyance he grumbled about under his breath. Around him, the desert winds whipped up swirls of dust, the scene eerily reminiscent of an Old Earth western.

In the distance, beyond the bustling landing pads and cargo haulers, Ludwig spotted a familiar silhouette. A ship with a distinctive white-and-red paint job stood out among the other vessels. He squinted against the haze, his pulse quickening as recognition dawned—it was the CRS Graviton.

Ludwig scanned the area for familiar faces but saw none. Adjusting his grip on his hermetically sealed baggage, he began walking toward the ship. The winds howled around him, and the dust stung his exposed skin where the suit didn’t cover.

Victor and Ford had known about his arrival, he reminded himself. They’d likely be onboard waiting for him. Yet, as he approached the ship, something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, two figures in unfamiliar spacesuits began moving toward him from the side.

At first, Ludwig dismissed them as other passengers or workers passing by, but their deliberate approach and the way they positioned themselves on either side of him sent a wave of unease rippling through his chest. Their paint jobs were unmarked—no affiliation or insignias visible.

Victor, standing inside the Graviton’s cockpit, noticed the figures too. Through the ship’s viewports, he narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively reaching for the intercom.

“Ford,” Victor said, his voice tense. “Look at the landing pad. Do you see what I see?”

Ford leaned over, squinting through the dusty air. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Two of them. Looks like they’re zeroing in on Ludwig.”

Victor didn’t waste another second. “I don’t like this.”

Meanwhile, Ludwig tightened his grip on his bag, pretending not to notice the figures flanking him. His pace quickened, his sights locked on the Graviton.

Whatever this is, he thought grimly, it’s not good.

“Pick up the handgun. I’ll greet Ludwig and try to make these guys fall back,” Victor instructed, his voice calm but resolute.

The airlock door of the Graviton hissed open, releasing a puff of sterilized atmosphere. Victor stepped out, clad in his military-grade spacesuit, the clean lines and insignias making his intentions unmistakable. Ford followed closely behind, keeping the handgun concealed under his coat. The station’s security was on high alert today, and they couldn’t risk drawing unnecessary attention.

“Ah, Zdarostve, Darte!” Victor called out in his native Saturnian dialect, his voice echoing through the desert of Dyson Terra.

“Zdarostve!” Ludwig responded warmly, spreading his arms wide in greeting as he waved toward Victor.

But the men lingering in the shadows didn’t move. They remained a silent, immovable wall, their intentions unclear but their presence unnerving. Ford moved to flank them from the side, his sharp eyes scanning for anything unusual. That’s when he saw it—a classified Martian military stealth gun.

Ford's stomach turned. Those weapons were designed for one purpose: eliminating targets Mars wanted gone, quietly and efficiently. If these men were Martians, this encounter could ignite another interplanetary scandal, one that wouldn’t simmer down in seven days, or even seven years.

One of the strangers noticed Ford’s approach and stiffened. Without a word, they pivoted and made their way toward a nearby ship. It bore no identifying marks save for one: the emblem of the Settled Exoplanets Alliance.

Victor sighed, his breath fogging the inside of his visor. “Glad you made it, Ludwig,” he said, embracing the man as they finally met.

Ford joined them moments later, clasping Ludwig’s hand in a firm handshake.

“Who the hell were those guys?” Ludwig asked, his voice edged with worry. He glanced over his shoulder at the men disappearing toward the S.E.A. vessel.

Ford narrowed his eyes. “Judging by their gear, I’d say S.E.A. troops. But Vitas was right—there’s nothing good to expect from them.”

Victor muttered in agreement, taking Ludwig’s baggage to help carry it. Together, the three headed toward the terminal, where their surface vehicle was waiting.

Back aboard the Graviton, the ship’s AI, enacted heightened security protocols. The dim red lights of a high-alert status bathed the ship’s corridors in an eerie glow. Since the incident at Vishapakar involving the Martians, Wells and Ford had overhauled the Graviton’s Volex Kernel operating system, ensuring it could seal off every compartment until direct crew authorization was granted. The halls now looked like the set of a horror film, every corner steeped in ominous shadows.

“Professor Wells!”

The voice rang out across the lounge, where Harrison and Mikail were walking. Edgar waited for them in a backstage room nearby.

“Professor Wells, do you have a moment?” The voice drew closer, accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps. Wells turned to see a woman approaching, a cameraman trailing behind her, lugging a studio camera on his shoulder.

“Yes?” Wells replied, his curiosity piqued as he stepped toward them.

“I’m a professor from the University of Vibrating Strings. Our students are thrilled to have you here, but we know how busy you are. We thought it’d be easier to ask their questions in a recorded format. Would you mind?”

“Of course. Let’s find a table,” Wells said, gesturing to the nearest seating area. He settled into a chair, leaning slightly forward, his hands resting on the table. Mikail sat a short distance away, careful not to intrude on the scene.

“Is the camera rolling?” the woman asked, glancing back at her cameraman. He gave her a thumbs-up.

“Hi, I’m Professor Harrison Wells—‘that smart guy from the Graviton,’ as some people like to call me,” Wells began with a slight smile.

“Thank you, Professor Wells, for taking the time to answer our students’ questions. Our class consists of aspiring ship engineers, and here’s one burning question: How do ships travel between stars? What exactly is the AdS Drive?”

“Ah, great question!” Wells leaned back, nodding. “Alright, you’ve probably heard the term ‘hyperspace’ from old books or movies. But what does it really mean? In reality, we live in an eleven-dimensional universe. Humans, of course, exist in three spatial dimensions, plus the temporal time dimension. However, the AdS Drive—short for Anti-De-Sitter Drive—operates by exploiting a three-dimensional subspace within a four-dimensional Anti-De-Sitter geometry.”

He pulled out his tablet, tapping a few times until a detailed blueprint of the Graviton’s engine system appeared.

“Here’s a blueprint of the Anti-De-Sitter Drive used on the Graviton. See these two rings?” He pointed to the dual cyclotrons encircling the engine’s central core. “Those are the key components which do the magic. The block they’re wrapped around is the amplification modulator—something you’ll learn about in later engineering courses. Now, let’s talk about AdS space itself.”

Wells tucked the tablet back into his pocket and leaned toward the camera.

“Anti-De-Sitter space is essentially a shortcut between dimensions, achieved by warping the distances within. To put it simply, millions of light-years in our normal space become only a few hundred within the AdS subspace. This allows us to travel distances that seem faster than light, but in truth, we’re just taking a shorter path through warped geometry. It’s all perfectly consistent with relativity and the laws of physics. The actual mathematics behind the drive, though, are Assembly-classified. Honestly, I don’t think even I fully understand it—it’s quite complex.”

“That’s fascinating! But what exactly is subspace? How can we visualize it?”

“Let’s use a simple analogy with a cube,” Wells explained, gesturing as if outlining an imaginary cube in the air. “Imagine a three-dimensional cube with a diagonal vector running from one corner to the opposite corner at coordinates (1,1,1).” He drew the vector through the air with his finger.

“Now, project the entire cube onto a plane perpendicular to that vector. What you get is a two-dimensional hexagonal subspace. If you apply the same concept to a four-dimensional cube, the resulting subspace is three-dimensional. This specific subspace is called a Rhombic Dodecahedron. What’s fascinating is that you can reconstruct the original cube from its subspace, demonstrating how dimensions are interconnected.”

He paused, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “This idea forms the foundation of my theoretical work on Fractons—five-dimensional string particles I believe hold the key to understanding even higher-dimensional interactions. But that’s a topic for another day.”

“That’s an excellent way to visualize subspace. It’ll definitely help our students prepare for their upcoming exams,” she said with a smile. “Speaking of dynamics, one last question before we wrap up. Do ships simply drop out of subspace when they reach their destination?”

“Not exactly,” Wells replied, glancing at his smartwatch to check the time. “Conservation of momentum still applies. The standard acceleration-deceleration protocol is followed: for the first half of the journey, the ship accelerates, and for the second half, it decelerates. This ensures that when you exit subspace, you don’t overshoot your target by barreling through normal space at near-light speeds. It’s a careful balance of precision and safety. Let me show you an generalised equation that explains this.”

W ells retrieved his tablet again, this time using a stylus to sketch the Anti-De-Sitter Dynamics equations. The cameraman adjusted his angle to capture the details as Wells wrote, his strokes deliberate and precise.

“Additionaly, it is important to consider the transition, which is expressed here”

asdaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaXD

“Hope this helps.” With a grim smile, Wells shook hands with the woman before rising to his feet. “Thank you for your time, but I’m afraid we have to leave now.”

Mikail, noticing Wells was already standing, quickly got up as well, following him out of the lounge toward the behind-the-scenes room where Edgar was waiting.

“Didn’t expect you to know all those fancy words,” Mikail teased as they walked side by side.

“I’ll be honest—I was just parroting what Edgar taught me on AdS,” Wells admitted with a smirk.

“Edgar’s father was Mark Cooper’s closest friend and colleague,” Mikail revealed, lowering his voice slightly as if sharing a well-guarded secret. “Cooper entrusted Robert Roussel with every quirk and detail of his AdS drive blueprint. That shared blueprint became a legacy passed down through the Cooper-Dyson and Roussel families.”

As they entered the backstage area behind the grand conference hall, Mikail gestured forward. “Speaking of Edgar, there he is,” he said, pointing toward a figure ahead. Edgar noticed the two approaching and paused, drying his hands with a towel. His sharp, observant eyes lingered on them for a moment before Wells, grinning with familiar warmth, extended his hand in greeting.

“Fancy dress,” Edgar remarked with a smirk, nodding approvingly at Wells’ polished appearance.

“Five more minutes,” Edgar continued, glancing at the schedule. “We follow the plan: Mikail goes first for the introduction, then Wells.” With that, the director gestured toward the entrance leading to the stage, where Mikail prepared to address the gathering crowd of scientists, politicians, military representatives, and civilians. Wells, meanwhile, took a seat near a screen displaying a live broadcast of the stage.

The room, buzzing with anticipation, fell quiet as Mikail began. “Hello, and welcome, everyone, to this prestigious university, the pride of our stellar neighborhood. Today marks the beginning of a new chapter in human exploration. I am honored to stand here and introduce someone who has stood alongside me in making one of the most important discoveries of our time…”

Before Mikail could finish, the entrance doors at the back of the hall swung open. Quietly, Victor, Ludwig, and Ford slipped into the room. Spotting an empty row of seats with an unobstructed view of the stage, Ford pointed it out.

“Over there,” he whispered.

The three moved swiftly. Ford and Ludwig settled into the edge seats, while Victor chose to stand nearby. Ludwig squinted at the stage, studying Mikail. “Who’s this guy speaking?” he whispered.

Ford leaned closer, his eyes fixed on the stage. “Let’s just say he’s a big head in the Assembly.”

“Shh,” Victor interjected, gesturing for silence. Ludwig nodded, falling quiet as their attention returned to the stage.

“And now,” Mikail concluded, “please welcome Harrison Wells to the stage.” Stepping aside, he gestured toward the entrance from which Wells would appear. A ripple of applause filled the room, joined even by Victor, Ludwig, and Ford. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Victor noticed Vitas and Emilia slipping in beside him.

“You scared me,” Victor muttered, patting Vitas on the shoulder.

“Are we late?” Vitas asked with a sheepish grin.

“Just starting,” Victor replied, turning back to the stage.

At the podium, Wells emerged, dressed in his signature sleek turtleneck sweater, a crisp white coat, and futuristic augmented reality aviator glasses. His hair, styled with a last-minute touch of perfection, gleamed under the stage lights. The room fell into a reverent hush as the applause subsided. Standing under the bright illumination of the auditory projectors, Wells surveyed the audience. From the Prime Minister in the front row to his own crew and friends in the back, every pair of eyes seemed to gleam with anticipation.

“Sol… our home,” Wells began, his voice steady, resonant. “A cradle of light and life that has sung its lullaby to us for millennia, providing all we needed to thrive. Through courage and resilience, humanity has risen, generation after generation, pushing the limits of possibility. The greatest minds of our past dared to dream, to create, and to achieve what once seemed impossible, so that we—here and now—could step into the unknown.”

The audience sat spellbound as Wells continued, his words weaving a vision that captivated every listener.

“We have stretched the boundaries of our technology, tested the edges of our science. But in our pursuit of greatness, we have also borne witness to the cost. We have tasted the bitterness of a dying home, we watched as our Mother Earth has grown frail under the weight of our progress.” He paused briefly, allowing the gravity of his words to settle. “Yet, no mother would wish for her children to perish with her. Today, with the courage of all humanity—courage our Mother would have wanted us to carry—we take the first steps toward our future. This is not a retreat but a new beginning. It is with immeasurable honor that I stand here to announce the Distant Worlds Expedition.”

Behind Wells, the giant screen flickered to life, revealing a stunning visual display. Four majestic megaships, accompanied by the legendary CRS Graviton, moved gracefully through the stars, forming a circle around the emblem of the expedition: a radiant Calabi-Yau manifold shimmering in ten dimensions, with a glowing star at its center. The ships spiraled around the manifold in a breathtaking animation before settling into a formation, their magnificence frozen in a static image.

“This is more than a voyage,” Wells declared, his voice brimming with conviction. “It is a statement—a testament to our species’ unyielding resolve. Today, we take one small step into the vast void of the galaxy, but it is a giant leap into the eternal story of humanity. Together, we, the United Scientific Assembly, have achieved what no nation, no ideology, could ever accomplish: unity.

And now, with the dreams of generations upon our shoulders, we look to the stars. Four great megaships and the CRS Graviton will be our vessels—the epilogue of Earth, but the prologue of what we will become.”

Wells’s gaze swept across the room, his words resonating deeply.

“Out there, in the infinite expanse, the greatest discovery of all awaits us. It is our destiny as a species to push beyond, to reach the stars together. Mark Cooper, the father of interstellar travel, gave us the keys to open the doors of the cosmos. It is now up to us to walk through them—together, unified, unstoppable.”

“Well, that was inspiring” Ludwig watches as everyone stand up clapping, Vitas and Victor already preparing to head out to meet up with everyone. Wells already vanished off the scene with the Blinds lowering on the scene

“Okay what now?” Ford looked at the rest of the crew, as he picked up his handheld bag he took off his suit.

“I expect him to be flooded by journalists now, he and Mikail and others, you get it” Victor responds as he points towards the exit of the university, not much was left for them to do on Dyson Terra now “We will return to Sol and dock on orbit of Earth, we will lead from there”

“Wait, we are leaving already?” Ford again with confusion stares to Victor “We just came here?”

At the invitation of United LunaTerran Prime Minister Anders Arashi, the newly elected President of the Martian Technocratic Republic attended the grand meeting hall of the Blue Republic at the headquarters in Armstrong City, Luna. Following Wells’s speech, as the day-night cycle neared its completion, Prime Minister Arashi noticed a figure in a sleek red and black suit approaching him. Rising with a smile, Arashi recognized Blaine Swenson—the new President of the Martian Technocratic Republic from a fresh, more socialist technate political movement, a marked departure from the traditional militarist technate on Mars.

“Welcome, welcome, Mr. Swenson. I am delighted to have you here on our precious moon for the very first time,” Arashi greeted warmly, extending his arm.

Swenson replied, “I appreciate it, Prime Minister. Today is a historic day for all of us.”

Turning to the assembly, Arashi continued, “Friends, we have gathered here because just hours are remaining, our four megaships... collaborated with Mars. Today, we set forth in the direction of the greatest hidden mystery.” His unexpectedly poetic words drew surprised glances from his aides and the audience alike.

A Wide Television screen slides down from the top of the room in direction of the assembly table, showing several screens of cameras live broadcasting the views of docked megaships of United LunaTerra and Martian Technate, named chosenly by the Scintific Assembly in honor of pioneers what known as modern physics, Left corner of the big television screen had a timer ticking down, showing the remaining time until midnight 00:00 clock hits, by the twenty four hour cycle clock system