005.01 – The Resonance Below
Rotan liked the quiet planets.
Not the lifeless ones. The ones with promise. The ones that hummed not with creatures or cities, but with raw potential. Tyrsus hummed; it wasn’t on any star chart, no settlements, no prior probes. Just a blue and violet shimmer tucked into the folds of Sector 9 on the edge of the charted galaxy beyond. They were flying blind.
For six days, the Savasu had orbited her slowly, and Rotan had paced like a father outside a birth chamber. Today was the day, finally, for boots on soil.
The utrium here pulsed in harmony with his sensors, precise and warm—slightly off, but nothing terraforming couldn’t adjust. The resonance field alone was enough to spark excitement. Stable magnetosphere, rich mineral profile, mild winds. Breathable air with only a trace of particulates.
And…
“Nothing living,” he muttered, sweeping his scanner across the golden ridge.
“Nothing sentient,” G.I.Z.I. corrected in his earpiece.
“Right. Nothing sentient. Just me, talking to myself on a dead world while a disembodied voice critiques my word choice.”
The ridge overlooked a wide basin, stretching for as far as the eye could see, unbroken, filled with sunlight. It reminded him of what Iova’s southern hemisphere used to be, back before the rot started to take over. He allowed the bad memories to rise and fall without gripping it. Today was about science, not sorrow.
He took a few steps. His boot clinked. Metal? No, a rock. Or so he thought. When he bent down, the scanner flickered. A reading. Then it was gone. He tapped the side of his instrument, but it seemed to be operating properly.
“More anomalies?” Zion’s voice.
“Yeah, flicker in the ground composite. Might be a bad reflection or heat bloom.”
“You’re walking through a dead zone. All I’m getting is sensor noise,” she said. “Just logged two more.”
“Dead zone… That’s not comforting. Anything with the word ‘dead’ always makes me feel uneasy.”
“Nothing dangerous, I hope,” she tried to reassure him.
He grunted, brushing a strange flat surface with his glove. It almost looked carved. But again, nothing on visuals. Only the scanner’s ghost.
For six days they had done their due diligence. No signs of intelligence, no heat signatures, no emissions, no orbiting satellites. If something had lived here, it had long since passed. That made it a candidate for terraforming.
A perfect one.
Rotan hiked back toward the Phase One site, a wide plateau where the first atmospheric stabilizers had been staged. The crew was prepping the core emitter—a large, spire-like engine that would begin balancing the upper thermal atmosphere. Terraforming would take years, even decades. But this was the spark, at least to test how the atmosphere would react to the process.
Still, something felt…off.
He paused again at the perimeter. The light seemed to bend, just slightly, where he stood. Not enough to see more; it was like something tickling his peripheral vision.
He turned, but saw nothing.
“Marking anomaly near Site Theta. Log it.”
“Logged,” G.I.Z.I. replied.
Rotan took a breath, eyes scanning the horizon. He reached for the ignition clasp.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s wake her up.”
005.02 – The Step Between Shadows
The readings were all in the green; everything was going as planned.
Rotan stood at the base of the terraforming core, reading back the diagnostic feed from his wristband. Everything was going great according to the scanners, but visually it didn’t look right. There were no vibrations or EM interference; it was instinctual.
He keyed in the final stabilizer code.
“Beginning calibration test,” he said aloud, mostly for G.I.Z.I.’s benefit.
“Acknowledged. Utrium regulators nominal, frequency sync at ninety-two percent,” came her reply.
The spire began to glow, faintly purple bands pulsing with utrium energy. Rotan stepped back and let the sensors drink it in. If the local ecosystem resisted, it would spike atmospheric ionization within seconds.
Instead: nothing.
“A thing of beauty!” Rotan admired his work.
He was about to log the result when something moved across the edge of the ridge, fast. Too fast.
He turned and saw nothing.
Then came the strike, blunt and full force across his shoulder, sending him sprawling. Dirt filled his mouth as he rolled, gasping.
Shapes emerged, flickering into view with a strange shimmer. Three of them, suits bending light like water. Their forms were humanoid but hard to track, always slipping in and out of perception.
Rotan slammed his transmitter. “Under attack! Crew to Phase One site!”
Blasts of blue plasma sizzled past him as the suits advanced. They closed in, continuously firing. Rotan pulled his side arm, nearly shooting his own foot.
“Damn it! I’m no soldier.” Panic set in.
Another blast nearly struck him, but this time it came from behind him—his crew was coming.
“Hey!” Rotan yelled. “I’m stuck in the middle!”
“Eat dirt, Rotan,” Rhea screamed over comms.
Rotan didn’t hesitate and threw his body to the ground, making himself as small as he could.
Stun pulses lit the field. Blasts from both directions were flying over Rotan as he lay flat on the ground.
One of the figures fell, its suit flickering erratically.
The other two vanished in streaks of fractured light.
Rotan stared at the wounded figure on the ground. Its body shimmered behind a barely-there veil of light.
“Is it alive?” Zea asked, kneeling beside the flickering body.
Kolnar stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “Barely,” he said after a beat, checking the readings on his forearm scanner.
“I thought this place was uninhabited,” Rotan said, completely out of breath. “He’s going to need medical attention. Let’s bring him on board.”
005.03 – Through Their Light
The figure shimmered beneath the medical bay lights, its form caught halfway between presence and absence.
“Still no vitals?” Zea asked, arms folded tight.
“None that we can detect,” Zion replied, pacing near the table. “No heartbeat, no respiration, no cellular decay either. It’s like it’s here…and not.”
“Now, whose brilliant idea was it to bring it aboard without checking with me first?” Hagok asked as he entered the medical bay.
“That would be me, sir,” Rotan said. “We injured it, and it was only right to provide medical attention.”
Hagok didn’t hesitate. “Injured only because it was shooting at you.”
“To be fair, sir, I don’t think the light suits were shooting at me; I think they were shooting at the terraformer,” Rotan suggested.
“Let me know if you get anywhere, or the moment we have anything.” Hagok proceeded to walk out of the medical bay. “G.I.Z.I., keep an eye out for any abnormal activity. We don’t want any surprises from our guest…” His voice faded into the hallway.
“That went better than I expected,” Zion said.
“For a minute there I thought he was going to confine me to my quarters or take my daily rations of bangyorn.” Rotan returned his attention to the injured being and leaned in. “That suit’s the only thing holding it in phase.”
“Exactly,” said G.I.Z.I., her voice sharper now. “It projects a refracted quantum field that harmonizes with a very specific light frequency. When we removed the suit—”
“—the body vanished,” Zion finished. “But the sensors still tracked mass displacement in the room for a full six seconds.”
Kolnar frowned. “So…it was still here, just beyond our spectrum?”
Rotan stepped closer to the display. “No, it’s still here. G.I.Z.I., can you replicate the light frequency from the suit?”
G.I.Z.I. didn’t answer at first. Then: “Adjusting lighting grid in Bay One…now.”
The lights shifted, subtle at first, with a hue like burnished copper. Then a violet wash, followed by a deep amber tone that made everything feel heavier.
And there it was.
The figure shimmered back into view, seated upright, eyes open, watching them.
It didn’t flinch; it didn’t speak. But it blinked twice and tilted its head.
“Zion…” Zea said carefully.
“I see it,” she whispered. “Still no vocal patterns.”
The being raised its arms, not in threat, but to gesture. With two fingers emitting traces of colored lights, bright at first, then faded, it painted the air.
“Is that a language?” Kolnar asked.
“If it is, it’s absolutely beautiful,” Zion replied.
“G.I.Z.I., can you use the universal visual translator?” Rotan requested.
Several beams vibrated down from the sensors above the medical bay, analyzing the gestures and the lights.
“I’ve got a viable translation,” G.I.Z.I. answered.
“My name is Rotan. We are Iovian,” Rotan said in an attempt to communicate. “Who are you?”
The being started to gesture. “My name is Frandor of The Lusari. Are you here to conquer us?” With G.I.Z.I. translating, Frandor continued: “We are a peaceful race. Our weapons are no match for your technology.”
“What? No,” replied Rotan. “We come in peace. We are looking for a planet to colonize, and we thought yours was uninhabited.”
“The Lusari have lived in peace for thousands of years. We have vast cities.”
“We’ve been walking through their cities,” Rotan said quietly. “We just couldn’t see them.”
Zion stepped closer, scanner humming. “Now that it’s visible, I’m getting partial vitals. Low-grade synaptic activity. Whatever they are, they’re carbon-based, barely. Their bodies refract energy instead of radiating it.”
“Can we treat it?” Zea asked.
“Maybe. Carefully. We’ll need to modify the med-bay fields to pulse in sync with the ambient light. If we can keep it visible, we might be able to stabilize its core functions.”
“This planet has two suns,” said G.I.Z.I. “I’ve analyzed them and determined that when both suns rise at the same time, they combine to produce a specific light that matches the spectrum which allows them to be seen. However, it only lasts for a few hours, and it appears to be a rare event that only happens once every 60 solar cycles.”
“We’ll treat you and get you home,” Zea said.
Frandor nodded in acceptance.
005.04 – The Hidden Sky
The transport bay hissed open.
Rotan stepped out first, escorting Frandor, who was somewhat stabilized by his still damaged suit. The being’s silhouette wavered in and out of coherence as the light adjusted, but it stayed visible.
The twin suns had begun to rise in tandem.
The Lusari sky shifted from a golden haze to a layered glow of intersecting frequencies. The shift was slow, then sudden. As the light crossed a specific threshold, the world rippled.
Buildings bloomed from nothing.
Spire after spire shimmered into view—tall, arching structures of glass-like stone. Roads unfurled beneath their feet. Gardens, stairways, wide plazas filled with motion. Dozens, then hundreds of native Lusari began to appear, phasing in as though the world itself exhaled them.
Zea let out a stunned breath. “They were here the whole time…”
Frandor stepped forward. The crowd, his people, parted in recognition. Some lowered their heads. Others reached out. Their gestures were precise, deliberate, elegant. Communication made from movement and light.
Rhea scanned the horizon. “Rotan, we should be cautious. They outnumber us several thousand to one.”
“We won’t need weapons,” he said. “Not here.”
But all was not well; the lights started to flicker fast and erratically.
“Is this normal?” Zea asked.
Rotan’s gaze drifted past the crowd.
There, at the base of the ridge, the core emitter still pulsed.
“No…” he muttered. “In our haste to leave after being attacked, we never shut down the terraforming spire.” He bolted, shouting over his shoulder, “We need to shut it off!”
G.I.Z.I.’s voice chimed in urgently. “Confirmed. Atmospheric readings show destabilization in the upper thermals. The process has entered Stage Two.”
“Which means?” Zea asked.
“Wind shear increases. Utrium frequency misalignment. If not reversed right now, the process will become self-sustaining.”
Rotan skidded to the machine, fingers flying across the console.
Access denied.
“What the—?”
G.I.Z.I. cut in. “I can override remotely, but I’ll need a visual confirmation of the interface pattern. You’ll need to remove the access panel underneath the console.”
Rotan dropped to his knees and saw why they’d been locked out: the panel had been damaged by fire.
Then the glow continued. Rotan looked back into the valley and saw the erratic lights begin to fade.
“G.I.Z.I., lock onto these coordinates and fire a single railgun burst, on my mark.”
Rhea removed her transmitter from her shoulder and placed it on the terraformer.
“Everyone, get back!” she shouted.
They all withdrew to the tree line.
“Fire!” A single burst of light rained down, and with a loud explosion the terraformer was gone, torn to pieces.
Rotan rushed out from behind cover and looked into the valley. The lights and city shined with luminous color.
Zea walked up to Rotan. “I hope we didn’t cause them any permanent harm.”
“We almost erased a civilization,” Rotan said.
005.05 – The Bind That Binds
One by one, the Lusari silhouettes dissolved back into the golden light as the twin suns of Tyrsus drifted apart in the sky. The perfect spectral window had passed.
Frandor lingered, his form flickering as he raised one final gesture, two fingers traced upward across his chest. Then he vanished completely.
Silence settled like a breath held too long.
Zea stepped away. “Let’s head back.”
They boarded the Vaila. The bay sealed.
G.I.Z.I.’s voice cut through the hum of the engines. “Unidentified mass detected in low orbit.”
“Visual,” Rhea snapped.
A shape materialized on the monitor—angular, plated with armored lattice. Charred and black, bristling with turrets and exposed railguns.
“Based on material composite, it matches materials found on Krivin,” G.I.Z.I. said.
“Krivin? Are you sure it’s Krivin? Why would they be this deep into space?”
G.I.Z.I. confirmed: “Yes, Krivin. Another vessel just exited the Nairu corridor. It’s larger, carrying some heavy gunnery. Looks like a war-class.”
Kolnar’s voice went cold. “They followed us?”
The Vaila lifted toward the Savasu.
“They’re not firing,” Rhea said. “Yet.”
As the crew docked, the warship held its position; then it pulsed.
“External scan detected,” G.I.Z.I. warned. “Source: Krivin vessel. High-energy probe piercing diagnostic.”
“They’re mapping the Savasu and everyone in it,” explained Rotan.
Rhea’s fingers flew over her interface. “Should I firewall everything?”
“No,” Hagok said flatly. “Let them see we’re a science vessel, not a warship. With what they’re carrying, they can start and finish this before we even scrape their hull.”
Everyone on the bridge stood frozen, watching the bright light scan them. The Krivin ship made no attempt to communicate, no attempt to approach. Just…watched, probing.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the warship rotated, its engines flaring. It turned back toward the Nairu corridor.
“They’re leaving,” G.I.Z.I. confirmed.
Zion slumped slightly. “Why even come?”
Hagok didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the sensor ghost of the ship’s retreating trail.
“Last time we met,” he finally said, “Krivin didn’t have space-capable ships. What just happened?”
