《THE R.A.C.E ALTERNATIVE》


 Prologue

    By 2250 AD, humanity believed itself to have triumphed. Earth had known no wars since 2143, when the last attempted terrorist regime was incinerated in a brief but decisive conflict. Under the United World Government, peace and order reigned. The planet''s 30 billion inhabitants thrived across vast floating cities, lunar colonies, and orbital stations. War and crime became relics of the past, eradicated by necessity and sweeping reforms. The 22nd century had been humanity¡¯s darkest era. Pollution choked the skies, resources dwindled, and entire cities became uninhabitable husks. Civilization teetered on the brink until an unprecedented meteor storm in 2197 altered the planet¡¯s atmosphere, triggering torrential rains that cleansed the Earth. This rebirth led to the formation of the World Protective League, which evolved into the United World Government. Its guiding principle: "Man belongs to the Earth, but Earth belongs to no one. "With Earth¡¯s limits reached, the push into space became inevitable. Colonization spread across the solar system¡ªMars, Venus, and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn¡ªwhile asteroid mining provided the resources to sustain expansion. A universal economic system, electronic and fully traceable, eliminated financial crime. Genetic engineering and medical advancements eradicated hereditary diseases, extending human lifespans well beyond a century. Cloning restored endangered species, transforming mankind from destroyer to steward of nature. Yet, something was lost. Drive and ambition faded as prosperity dulled the human edge. The corporate rebellion of 3228, an attempt by mega-companies to overturn economic reforms, ended with their collapse, replaced by a system prioritizing equality over wealth. The last vestiges of militarization dissolved, leaving the United World¡¯s military police as little more than ceremonial peacekeepers. Despite these vast achievements, humanity¡¯s greatest frontier remained the stars. The Compendium, a comprehensive record of mankind¡¯s triumphs and tactics, documented every lesson learned from centuries of struggle and conquest¡ªboth among the stars and within itself. Yet, in all its meticulous records, one question remained unanswered: had peace made humanity stronger, or had it simply softened the edge of survival? If faced with conflict or danger, would man be able to hold his own? Or would civilization fall...You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    The answer would come soon enough.

 Chapter 1- The Big Ugly

    It was an unassuming mining ship that first noticed the ¡°dark spot.¡± The ore cruiser Terra Twin was in the middle of a routine navigation check when the ship¡¯s computer flagged an anomaly. One of the primary navigation stars was being obstructed by an unidentified object.


    ¡°Switch to secondary nav-set and display the object at full magnification,¡± ordered Commander Jeffrey Calan, leaning forward in his chair.


    ¡°Fix positive. Object displayed,¡± the computer responded in its crisp monotone.


    Jeff frowned at the dark shape on the screen. ¡°How far are we from it?¡±


    ¡°Approximately seventy million miles,¡± came the reply.


    He exhaled through his nose. ¡°Well, that¡¯s not exactly up close and personal.¡± He drummed his fingers on the console, then gave his next command. ¡°Alter course to intercept. Bring us in at one-thousandth¡ªdecelerate to fifteen hundred feet per second. When we¡¯re within twenty-five thousand miles, slow the ship, and alert me at ten thousand miles from the surface.¡±


    As he left the central command cell, the ship¡¯s hull thrummed softly, the fusion drives adjusting course with a practiced smoothness. Jeff made his way aft to the communications room, where technician Murray Dean was already at his station, fingers idly tapping against the console.


    ¡°Hey, Jeff,¡± Murray greeted, not looking up. ¡°Who do we bug first? Terra, or whichever UW station is fastest to respond?¡±


    ¡°Terra,¡± Jeff replied. ¡°And let¡¯s not drag our feet on this. We could have a situation.¡±


    Murray cracked his knuckles and leaned toward his console, speaking into a black globe perched on a two-inch cylinder base. ¡°Terra Twin OC 1732 of Charon Mining Co., registry TATNCH 1732, calling Terra Comm or any UW station inside Mars orbit. We¡¯ve detected a large, unidentified object in this sector. Please advise.¡± With a quick hand motion across the globe¡¯s surface, he set the message to repeat. He turned to Jeff with a grin. ¡°I¡¯m just saying, we might be about to make history.¡±


    Before Jeff could reply, the ship¡¯s computer cut in, its voice steady as ever. ¡°Stationary ship located ten thousand miles from the object''s surface, Commander.¡±


    ¡°Acknowledged. Maintain course,¡± Jeff instructed, then turned back to Murray. ¡°You were saying?¡±


    Murray turned in his chair, eyes gleaming with excitement. ¡°No object big enough to eclipse a star has been marked NPR in sixteen centuries! This is a big deal, man.¡± He tapped at his screen. ¡°Everything that large was supposed to have been recorded from Terra before Luna was even explored.¡±


    Jeff snorted. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know if they give medals to computers, but the log disk will show the Terra Twin¡¯s system found ¡®the big ugly,¡¯ not us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Murray sighed dramatically. ¡°But it¡¯s still a nice thought.¡±


    Jeff smirked. ¡°Meantime, call a full crew meeting in twenty minutes.¡±


    ¡°On it.¡± Murray touched two fingers to the left side of his desk and spoke. ¡°Full complement meeting in eighteen minutes. Thank you.¡± He leaned back with a smug look. ¡°Chung is gonna lose it,¡± he muttered, checking the chronometer. Gym period ran from 18:00 to 20:00. It was now 18:09 ship¡¯s time.


    While Murray kept the transmission on loop, Jeff returned to the command cell and queried the computer for more information on the object.


    ¡°Object diameter: sixteen thousand meters¡ªapproximately ten old Earth miles across. Spheroid shape. Initial radar analysis indicates a nickel-iron alloy, mostly smooth, with several dents and gouges present. Possible collision damage.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Motion?¡± Jeff asked.


    ¡°Negative. Object is stationary relative to the star field. No detected energy or radiation signatures. Mass indicates it is either hollow or composed of lighter materials. Gravity pull is significantly weaker than expected for a metallic asteroid of comparable size.¡±


    Jeff rubbed his chin, considering this. An object that large, just sitting still in the void? Odd.


    The computer interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Commander, our call to Terra Comm has been answered. Shall I articulate?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Jeff said, straightening up.


    The computer¡¯s voice shifted to relay the received transmission. ¡°Terra Comm Satellite Station GS Geneva 15. Message from United World Science Affairs Council to Commander Calan, ore cruiser Terra Twin of Charon Mining Co. Inspect and record all parameters of the unidentified object. Remain with the object until the arrival of the research vessel Argus, en route from Venus. Estimated arrival: eight hours subjective.¡±


    Jeff exhaled and shook his head. ¡°Figures.¡± He turned to the console. ¡°Transmit all current observed data to GS Geneva 15.¡±


    As he left the command cell, the computer added a final note. ¡°Addendum to previous message. Prominent UW scientists postulate the unidentified object is a wandering asteroid.¡±


    Jeff threw his head back and laughed. ¡°Yeah, and half of those ¡®prominent scientists¡¯ have never set foot off-planet.¡± Still chuckling, he ducked under a support beam and made his way toward the common room, already bracing himself for Chung¡¯s reaction.


    18:09 ship''s time. Room M10 on the Terra Twin was occupied by one striking presence. Jamie Chung, six feet tall with coal-black hair and large green almond-shaped eyes, never slacked on physical fitness. Every movement she made was controlled, precise¡ªa product of discipline and relentless training. As she stretched, her one-piece body stocking clung to her damp skin, a chill creeping over her as sweat cooled. She exhaled sharply, shaking off the sensation, and reached for the salmon ladder, ready to begin her routine. Then, Murray¡¯s voice crackled over the intercom.


    ¡°Attention crew, briefing in the common room at 18:30¡±


    Jamie froze mid-motion, fingers just brushing the rung. Her muscles tensed, heat rising up her neck. Damn it, Jeff. Her jaw clenched. She was a stickler for schedules, and this interruption had thrown her evening plan into chaos. Tightening her fists, she took a slow breath. Bide your time.


    Dropping from the bars, she landed with a controlled thud on the practice mat, grabbed her towel, and stomped off toward her quarters. Jeff was going to pay for this later¡ªone way or another.


    Russell Carlin was hot, cramped, and buried in work deep within the bowels of his asteroid hopper, Terra Nova. He preferred it this way. Working alone, surrounded by machinery that didn¡¯t waste time with small talk. A pocket tester clenched between his teeth, he tightened a coupler seal with both hands. The display flickered¡ªmetal fatigue detected. With a grunt, he yanked out the faulty fitting and replaced it with a new one. Efficient. Precise. Just like him.


    He had been out here for hours, inspecting and replacing worn-out H2 fittings before they became a problem. The work was grueling, but Russell thrived on it. At 6¡¯5¡± and 260 pounds, his sheer size often made people assume he was just a brute. But brute force didn¡¯t earn you system-wide efficiency bonuses. He had two major modifications in circulation on half the ore hoppers in the sector, both introduced before he was twenty-one.


    When Murray¡¯s voice interrupted his solitude, Russell didn¡¯t flinch. He sighed, slid out of the service hatch, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. If they were being called in, it meant something was up. Might as well grab some coffee before the meeting.


    At 18:30 ship¡¯s time, the crew of the Terra Twin gathered around the teardrop-shaped conference table in the common room. The space was compact but efficient, with every element designed for maximum utility. A large glass stovetop, blender, food processor, hydration station, fridge, and microwave lined one wall, while the opposite side housed a sectional pantry and storage cabinets. At the back, a double sink and waste processor completed the setup. Once the meeting ended, the benches would retract seamlessly into the floor, a reminder that space was a commodity out here.


    Commander Jeff Murray sat at the tapered end of the table, his crew lining the sides. He surveyed them for a moment before pressing a button. A hologram flickered to life in the center of the table¡ªa metallic, irregularly shaped mass rotating slowly in the air above them.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to say this is going to be as easy as falling off your g-bed,¡± Jeff started, ¡°but it might not be. Terra and the other United Worlds are interested in our whatchamacallit here.¡±


    A collective groan rippled through the room. They had already been in space for three months. Another two waiting for a research ship from Venus wasn¡¯t exactly welcome news.


    Jeff ignored their reactions. ¡°While we¡¯re here, they want us to learn as much as we can about it and record the data. Chung, Ennett.¡±


    Both crew members straightened. Jamie¡¯s expression was unreadable, but the way she gripped her towel suggested she was still irritated.


    ¡°I need both cameras on slow speed and maximum illumination to scan the surface as we orbit. If you can¡¯t get good detail, switch to infrared and ultraviolet beacons.¡±


    Jamie, still toweling her damp hair, arched an eyebrow. ¡°Should we tight-focus or wide-angle the lenses for faster coverage?¡± Her tone was even, but there was a sharpness to it. She was still annoyed.


    Jeff swallowed. She¡¯s pissed. ¡°Use wide angle unless you spot something interesting. Telephoto the highlights. Ennett, send telemetry through to Charon.¡±


    ¡°Roger that.¡± Ennett nodded.


    Jeff turned to his mining crew. ¡°Russell, that thing is fair-sized and metal-covered, according to the radar image. Take Nova and Cotta, since Three and Two are in for maintenance. Start at the center and deploy on courses 180 degrees apart. When you meet again north and south, return east and west. Gather samples and thermal readings. Operate your cutters slowly and ring charge it. It may be hollow. Take Shawn with you in Number Four. Chuck and Owen will take Number One.¡±


    Russell leaned back, arms crossed. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, then smirked slightly. ¡°What do you think we¡¯ll find, boss?¡±


    Jeff exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°The scientists think it could be a wandering asteroid, but it¡¯s not moving. That theory¡¯s in the flusher.¡±


    A few chuckles broke the tension.


    ¡°The Argus should be here in about fifty-five to fifty-eight days. Then it¡¯s three months of paid vacation for us. That sound good?¡±


    Moods visibly lifted around the table.


    Jeff glanced at each of them. ¡°I¡¯ll be in control. If any questions come up, call in. Use proper voice command procedure, though¡ªour computer is feeding directly to Terra.¡±


    As the meeting wrapped up, Jamie rolled her shoulders and shot Jeff a look that promised she hadn¡¯t forgotten his earlier interruption. Russell, meanwhile, took a long sip of coffee, already mentally planning his approach to the mystery object.


    Outside the ship, the void stretched on, silent and unknowable. Whatever was waiting for them out there, they were about to find out.

 Chapter 2- Ships Eye View

    As the meeting dispersed, Jeff turned to leave, but Jamie, standing closer to the doorway, cut off his escape. She positioned herself directly in front of him, her stance firm, throwing her towel over her shoulder in a display of passive defiance. The dim lighting of the ship''s corridor cast sharp angles across her face, making her expression all the more unreadable.


    ¡°I believe I am owed an apology, sir,¡± she said, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable authority.


    Jeff exhaled, shifting his weight uncomfortably. ¡°Look, Ja¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Jamie raised a single finger and pressed it lightly against his lips, silencing him. Then, leaning in just enough for her presence to be undeniable, she continued, ¡°You will do everything you can to make it up to me tonight. And I¡¯ll be taking your gym slot at twenty-hundred hours. Rest assured, Commander, after that, you will still owe me plenty.¡±


    Jeff swallowed hard, momentarily stunned. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, his voice barely above a whisper.


    She smirked. ¡°Good boy.¡±


    He told himself he had gotten off easy. Jamie had let him walk away, which meant she wasn¡¯t truly angry. If she had been, she wouldn¡¯t have stopped at just words. It wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d clashed aboard the ship, and it wouldn¡¯t be the last. As he made his way down the corridor, he found himself both dreading and anticipating their next encounter.


    Inside Terra Twins¡¯ receiving bay, hoppers One and Four stood on four splayed legs above their floor conveyors. Harsh industrial lighting illuminated the vast chamber, reflecting off the metallic surfaces of the mining vessels. The air carried the scent of coolant and machine oil, a constant reminder of the ship¡¯s mechanical heartbeat.


    ¡°Damn, it¡¯s cold in here,¡± Shawn muttered, rubbing his arms.


    Russel barely glanced up from the console. ¡°It¡¯s a receiving bay, not a damn lounge.¡±


    Each hopper was a workhorse of engineering, built for raw efficiency. The ore gathered from planetary bodies could be carried from the hoppers to any of the eight storage bays, each capable of holding four thousand cubic meters of material. The conditions in these bays could be precisely controlled¡ªtemperature, pressure, vacuum, radiation shielding, humidity, even lighting¡ªto ensure the integrity of whatever they hauled in.


    ¡°Still. They could at least pump in some heat,¡± Shawn grumbled.


    Russel smirked. ¡°Or you could work faster.¡±


    Shawn rolled his eyes and climbed into OH-#4. The interior was cramped, the scent of worn-out machinery and metal lingering in the cockpit. As they initiated the preflight cycle, the hum of systems booting up filled the space. Meanwhile, in OH-#1, Charles Midden and Owen Reed mirrored their preparations.


    ¡°#4 preflight check complete,¡± Russel reported.


    ¡°Same for #1,¡± Chuck responded over the comms.


    Russel reached for the pressure control panel. ¡°Depressurizing bay compartment.¡±


    A low hiss filled the chamber as the lights switched from white to red. The external pressure gauges ticked downward, counting to zero.


    Shawn tapped the console. ¡°You ever get that feeling we¡¯re just cogs in a giant machine?¡±


    Russel snorted. ¡°You just figured that out?¡±


    ¡°No, but sometimes I like to pretend it isn¡¯t true.¡±


    Russel shrugged. ¡°Beats being broke planetside.¡±


    Shawn sighed. ¡°Yeah. Guess so.¡±


    The receiving bay reminded Russel of an ancient rail transport building he had once seen in historical records¡ªa roundhouse where locomotives would enter, be serviced, and exit in a continuous cycle. Here, the four hoppers were arranged in a similar radial pattern, each aligned with its own exterior door. The compartment spanned fifty feet in diameter, with conveyors stretching beneath each ship, leading to four pneumatic shafts at the chamber¡¯s center.


    ¡°Opening bay doors,¡± Russel announced.


    As the bay doors fully opened, the vast, star-speckled void stretched endlessly before them. The ship¡¯s interior, all metal and machinery, suddenly felt small in contrast to the infinite black beyond.


    ¡°Still amazes me sometimes,¡± Shawn muttered, staring out at the abyss.


    Russel paused, his hand hovering over the console. It wasn¡¯t just amazement. It was something deeper¡ªsomething that never quite left him, no matter how many times he saw this view. Out here, there were no towering cities, no crowded streets, no artificial lights drowning out the sky. Just the quiet hum of the ship and the endless, unknowable dark pressing in from all sides.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    He¡¯d seen a thousand sunrises from orbit, watched the light of distant stars bend and scatter across ice fields on nameless moons, felt the rumble of his ship cutting through the silence of deep space. And yet, every time the doors opened to the void, he felt the same pull in his chest. A mixture of awe and insignificance. A reminder that no matter how much metal they wrapped around themselves, space would always be bigger, older, and completely indifferent to them.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Russel finally said, his voice quieter than before. ¡°It does.¡±


    He didn¡¯t say more. He didn¡¯t have to.


    Jeff watched from the command cell as his crews deployed from the ship, moving toward the UO. He keyed his chair to track their progress as they approached the surface.


    Russell maneuvered his hopper over the UO, traveling from south to north. Meanwhile, Charles positioned his ship in the opposite direction. The two pilots separated, increasing their distance as they conducted a close-range scan of the object. At two miles apart, both stopped and began their descent. Upon landing, Russell and Chuck initiated their EM checks and deployed a cable with a cup-shaped end¡ªseismograph microphones¡ªbefore beginning to drill into the surface.


    Russell monitored the core drill¡¯s depth and drive pressure as the bit cut into the alien alloy. At three and a half meters, the drive pressure suddenly dropped to zero¡ªno further resistance. Almost simultaneously, Chuck called in with a similar report.


    "Broken through at three point seven meters," Chuck confirmed.


    Now it was up to Jeff. Russell reported their results and waited.


    "Ring charge, point zero-zero-one T. Monitor echoes," Jeff ordered.


    Russell keyed his charge rack to release a 1/1000 T charge into the air gun tube, already locked in place over the drill hole. The detonation signal was set to trigger ten meters inside the UO¡¯s interior. These remote-controlled charges had made asteroid mining safer and more profitable. Now, they were being used to take sound-image scans of planetary interiors, a routine but precise process.


    Chuck reported, "Sound probe¡¯s in, about four meters from the interior surface."


    Russell launched the charge and started the detonation sequence. Three-tenths of a second after firing, the charge exploded. Chuck¡¯s probe recorded and transmitted telemetry data instantly. When the sound echoes dissipated, both crews retracted their seismic microphones.


    Next, Russell and Chuck extracted shallow surface cores, one to accompany the deep sample and another to plug the long hole. Their plasma cutters glowed as they superheated the plug, sealing it back into place. Russell could hear the hum and rattle as the core drill switched bits beneath his feet.


    Their hoppers continued this pattern¡ªstopping, drilling, charging, and sealing¡ªacross the UO¡¯s surface. Every two miles, they parted ways, meeting again on the opposite side of the "Twin." Alternating charge deployments ensured accurate imaging and eliminated sound shadows. Upon completion, they each turned ninety degrees, Chuck heading west and Russell east, repeating the process along the object¡¯s flanks. When they met at the front, where they had started, they lifted off and returned to the receiving bay of the Twin.


    The core samples traveled along conveyor belts to the pneumatic tubes, where they were tagged, recorded, and sealed in a tough ceramic compound. All collected data was uploaded into the Twin¡¯s computer.


    Jamie Chung, an expert in imaging and analysis, worked swiftly in the survey room. She had already mapped the UO in the visible light spectrum using the Terra Twin¡¯s camera satellites. As Russell¡¯s team completed their first pass, Jamie called Jeff from the command cell.


    "Can you activate the two non-visible light beacons on the comm mast?" she requested.


    "On it," Jeff confirmed.


    Jamie adjusted the cam-sat film and display modes, then initiated another spiral scan, following the pattern she and Ennett had used earlier. On one side of the UO, she spotted a dish-shaped depression. Strangely, there were almost no impact marks near it¡ªand none on its rim or within the depression itself. She had never seen a UO this pristine before.


    She took several extra shots using different filters and marked its location on the grid reference map. Near the bottom of the sphere, she noted two sets of parallel lines, slightly raised like low walls or tracks. They measured approximately one hundred meters long and six inches high.


    As Jamie completed her third spiral pass, Russell and his crew returned, their mission complete.


    Russell stretched as he stepped off his hopper, rolling his shoulders before unstrapping his gear. ¡°If I never have to drill through alien alloy again, it''ll be too soon,¡± he muttered.


    Chuck smirked as he pulled off his gloves. ¡°Oh, come on, Russ. You love drilling into stuff we don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Russell gave him a flat look. ¡°Not when my drill suddenly drops through solid metal like it¡¯s cutting through air. That¡¯s not normal.¡±


    Jamie entered, holding a tablet loaded with telemetry data. ¡°Speaking of things that aren¡¯t normal,¡± she said, flipping through the scans, ¡°our new friend out there is cleaner than anything we¡¯ve ever seen. No impact marks, no debris, no erosion. That¡¯s weird.¡±


    Jeff joined them, arms crossed. ¡°What about that depression you found?¡±


    Jamie nodded. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s another oddity. Perfect dish shape, untouched. No signs of collisions inside or around it. Either something''s been maintaining it, or it¡¯s built from material that repels space junk.¡± She exhaled. ¡°And then there are those parallel tracks near the bottom. Too precise to be natural, but too shallow to be functional¡ªat least by our standards.¡±


    Russell frowned. ¡°So¡­ what? Landing gear? Docking mechanism?¡±


    Jamie shrugged. ¡°If it is, it¡¯s not for anything we¡¯ve ever seen before.¡±


    Chuck leaned against the wall. ¡°Let¡¯s assume for a second this thing was built. Someone¡ªor something¡ªmade it. That would mean¡­¡±


    ¡°That it wasn¡¯t just floating out here by accident,¡± Jeff finished. His expression darkened. ¡°And if it¡¯s been left alone this long, maybe there¡¯s a reason.¡±


    Silence settled over the group.


    Jamie tapped her tablet. ¡°Well, one thing¡¯s for sure¡ªwe¡¯re gonna need a hell of a lot more data before we start making guesses.¡±


    Jeff nodded. ¡°All right. Get everything analyzed. Jamie, I want you running comparisons with every known material on record. Chuck, help catalog the core samples. Russell, go over the charge imaging and see if there¡¯s anything beneath the surface that we missed.¡±


    Russell sighed dramatically. ¡°Great. More drilling.¡±


    Chuck grinned. ¡°I thought you loved drilling into things we don¡¯t understand?¡±


    Russell pointed a finger at him. ¡°I hate you.¡±


    Jamie smirked. ¡°Save it for after the report¡¯s done, boys.¡±


    Jeff exhaled and glanced back at the screens. Whatever they had just uncovered, it was only the beginning.

 Chapter 3- Lending a Hand

    Over the next fifty days, the crew of the Terra Twin poured over every scrap of information they had collected from the object. When the Argus arrived, they had more questions than answers.


    One of the greatest mysteries was the gravity anomaly. The sphere¡¯s mass was measurable and solid, yet no amount of calculations could reconcile its gravity, which was only half of what it should have been.


    ¡°This makes no sense,¡± Jamie said, staring at the readouts. ¡°A mass this size should exert way more gravity. Are we missing something?¡±


    Russell rubbed his temples. ¡°Unless there¡¯s some exotic physics at play, I can¡¯t explain it. Either it¡¯s hollow in a way we can¡¯t detect, or¡­ I don¡¯t even know.¡±


    The material composition was equally perplexing. The iron-nickel alloy was not naturally occurring; it had been fused from multiple source ores, with various impurities embedded in the metal.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s artificial,¡± Jeff muttered, tapping the console. ¡°Someone¡ªor something¡ªbuilt this thing.¡±


    The evidence was undeniable: the sphere was an artifact, a constructed object. The sheer scale of a nickel-iron structure this large suggested that whoever created it did not think in small terms.


    The sphere defied other known astrophysical principles. By all previous knowledge of celestial bodies, it should have generated a magnetic field¡ªbut it didn¡¯t.


    ¡°That¡¯s just weird,¡± Nigel Sapps, the commander of the Argus, remarked. ¡°Even a small asteroid this dense should have a measurable magnetic field. This thing is breaking every rule in the book.¡±


    Even stranger, its reflective properties were inconsistent. While the sunward side of the sphere reflected light as expected, its ability to absorb energy was phenomenal.


    ¡°So, what happens to the energy?¡± Jamie mused. ¡°It¡¯s being absorbed, but where is it going?¡±


    Then there were the parallel lines discovered by Jamie. Unlike the rest of the alloy, these lines contained absolutely no impurities.


    ¡°It¡¯s like the builders used a different process for these parts,¡± Jamie noted, examining the data. ¡°If this was some sort of circuitry or a conductor for energy¡­¡±


    The same high-grade material composed the dish-like structure they had identified on the surface, now referred to simply as "the dish."


    Inside the sphere, sonar scans conducted by Russell and his team revealed even more astonishing findings.


    ¡°This is incredible,¡± Russell breathed, looking at the scans. ¡°The columns¡­ they extend for miles. And the core, it¡¯s completely sealed off.¡±


    ¡°No air, no gases,¡± Jamie added. ¡°Nothing. This thing is a dead zone.¡±


    Jamie¡¯s non-visible light photography provided the final clue. The dish structure reflected all infrared and ultraviolet light, making it brilliantly visible against the sphere¡¯s otherwise light-absorbing surface.


    For three days, the crews of the Terra Twin and the Argus exchanged information, visited each other¡¯s vessels, and took the opportunity to stretch their legs¡ªif only metaphorically.


    On the fourth day after the Argus¡¯ arrival, the crew of the Terra Twin enjoyed a rare moment of respite. Commander Nigel Sapps officiated a wedding aboard the Argus, uniting Jeff Calan and Jamie Chung in marriage.


    The ceremony was simple but joyful. The cramped quarters of the Argus¡¯ common room were transformed with makeshift decorations¡ªstrips of metallic wiring twisted into garlands, soft lighting from recalibrated panels, and a small bouquet of preserved flowers someone had managed to bring on board.


    ¡°I now pronounce you husband and wife,¡± Nigel said with a grin. ¡°And may your ship always have functional life support!¡±


    Laughter rippled through the room as Jeff kissed Jamie to cheers and applause. Someone had managed to produce music, and soon, the crew members were swaying in an impromptu dance. For a few hours, the weight of the unknown sphere was forgotten, replaced by warmth, camaraderie, and celebration.


    The newlyweds¡¯ crew remained aboard the Argus overnight, taking advantage of the change in environment.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Russell Carlin, meanwhile, found himself drawn to Argus¡¯ maintenance engineer, Debra Hilds. They met in the ship¡¯s maintenance bay, where Debra was troubleshooting a finicky cooling vent.


    ¡°You ever notice how everything breaks the second you actually need it?¡± Debra muttered, wiping a smudge of grease from her cheek.


    Russell chuckled. ¡°Story of my life. Need a hand?¡±


    Together, they worked in companionable silence, exchanging glances as they passed tools back and forth. When the vent finally hummed back to life, Debra leaned against the console with a satisfied smirk.


    ¡°Not bad, Carlin,¡± she said. ¡°I might just keep you around.¡±


    Russell felt a flicker of something unexpected¡ªsomething pleasant. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind that,¡± he admitted.


    Their easy banter continued over the next few days, and more than once, they found excuses to be in the same room. Some anomalies aboard the Argus, like the proximity sensors failing to register their location, became background noise compared to the growing connection between them.


    On the ninth day after the rendezvous, Commander Sapps and the Argus¡¯ scientists presented their conclusions to Jeff. They now believed the sphere was not merely a structure, but a spaceship¡ªor perhaps a pod from an even larger vessel.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe it¡¯s just been sitting here for over a thousand years,¡± Debra murmured. ¡°And now, we¡¯re the ones knocking on its door.¡±


    With these findings in mind, the Argus team proposed their next step: entering the sphere. Their objective was twofold¡ªexplore the central core that the Terra Twin¡¯s instruments couldn¡¯t reach and attempt to activate the dish in hopes of contacting whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªhad created the sphere.


    The mission ahead was daunting, but the potential discoveries were beyond imagination. If the sphere was truly a vessel, it meant that somewhere out there, an unknown intelligence had once traveled the stars¡ªand possibly still did.


    Jeff didn¡¯t know why, but something about their plan made him uneasy. Commander Sapps had asked if Charon Mining would accept replacement value plus twenty-five percent for two of his ore hoppers. Argus¡¯ only manned outboat was simply too large to navigate the jumbled interior of the sphere. Jeff relayed the request to Charon¡¯s general manager, who accepted without hesitation.


    Russell and Chuck ferried the two fully repaired ships, numbers two and three, over to Argus and docked.


    As soon as Russell stepped onto Argus¡¯ docking bay, he found himself wrapped in Debra Hilds¡¯ arms. Chuck, standing just outside the inner bay door, waited patiently for his friend.


    ¡°How long do you think you¡¯ll stick with this?¡± Chuck asked.


    Russell exhaled, still holding Debra. ¡°I¡¯ve got my ten years in, and all my comp time saved up. I¡¯ll be resigning from UW Science soon. We¡¯re due to put in on Charon before returning to the core, so I¡¯ll see Commander Sapps before then.¡±


    He pulled her close, and they kissed gently. ¡°I love you,¡± Russell murmured.


    ¡°I love you too, Russ Carlin,¡± Debra replied.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait for you,¡± he promised, their hands slowly unclasping. He turned and walked away from the docking bay, resisting the urge to look back, knowing it would only make leaving harder.


    Chuck noticed his friend¡¯s long face and clapped a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Welcome,¡± he said, ¡°to the ranks of the hopelessly in love.¡±


    Russell gave him a wry look. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Just that sooner or later, everyone meets their soulmate. And sometimes, it hurts a lot more than others.¡± Chuck sighed, shaking his head. ¡°My wife and I were engaged for eight years¡ªshe had to finish college on Mars first. Believe me, Russ, missing them never gets easier.¡±


    As they were ferried back to the Twin in Argus¡¯ outboat, Russell found himself feeling more pride than remorse about leaving his newfound love.


    Back aboard the Twin, the engines were cycling, heating molecular hydrogen for injection into the fusion drive pod. Russell and Chuck settled into their g-beds, preparing for their three-week trip home.


    Meanwhile, Argus positioned herself one hundred meters from the sphere¡¯s surface, waiting while the two hoppers finished cutting a one-hundred-foot-diameter circle into the structure.


    Once the cut was complete, twenty-five five-hundred-ton charges were placed into angled core holes around the perimeter. If everything went as planned, the detonation would blow the ¡°hatch¡± clear at all edges.


    The hoppers attached an eighty-foot, three-inch-thick cable, anchoring one end to the hatch and the other to the sphere to prevent it from drifting away. As Commander Sapps backed Argus another five hundred meters, both hoppers moved to a safe distance, hovering three hundred meters to the side of the soon-to-be-loosened hatch.


    ¡°Fire in the hole,¡± Debra Hilds announced. She triggered the charges, watching as the massive disk swung out into space. It reached the end of its cable, then began to swing back toward the opening.


    Both hoppers turned their drive engines toward the hatch, firing attitude jets in front to slow its momentum. Gradually, they nudged it back into place until it settled gently against the sphere.


    Hopper number two remained in position to keep the hatch open, while number three core-drilled into the hatch¡¯s inner surface and fused another three-inch cable into the hole. The other end of the cable was carried to the sphere¡¯s surface and planted securely.


    Debra Hilds activated her comm. ¡°Commander, we¡¯ve got the door open and tied back.¡±


    ¡°Good work,¡± Sapps replied. ¡°Permission granted to enter the UO. Plant two AV relays¡ªone inside, one outside.¡±


    Two black cylindrical shapes detached from hopper number three. One magnetically locked onto the outside edge of the hole, while the other entered the sphere and attached itself to the inner lip. The Argus¡¯ science staff now had full audio-visual access to everything the hoppers would encounter inside.


    Debra took a breath, ready for what came next. ¡°We¡¯re going in.¡±


    She swallowed hard, gripping the controls tighter than she needed to. This was the moment they had been working toward, yet a gnawing unease settled in her stomach. What if there was something inside they weren¡¯t prepared for? What if the structure reacted unpredictably to their intrusion? No, she couldn¡¯t afford to think that way. She forced herself to breathe evenly, focusing on the mission ahead. Whatever lay beyond that threshold, she would face it head-on.

 Chapter 4-Radio Silence

    As Debra Hilds piloted Hopper Three inside, Hopper Two left the hatch and followed. With tunnel lights on, both hoppers descended toward the center of the sphere, where all the columns converged. Upon reaching the center, Hilds decided to circle it first, weaving in and out between the columns to observe from all sides before landing.


    Temperature probes indicated that the center mass was several hundred degrees warmer than the shell or the columns. As the hoppers neared the three-quarter mark of their orbit around the center, they spotted a column much larger than the others at its base¡ªyet with no noticeable difference at the other end. Grid coordinates confirmed that this column was directly beneath the dish structure on the surface.


    Hilds orbited twice, searching for an entrance, but found nothing. Sapps suggested they could cut a thirty-foot opening between the column bases, as they had done on the shell. But Hilds hesitated. The temperature variance suggested the presence of another energy source. Instead, she proposed a smaller opening¡ªtwo meters¡ªallowing two of her team to enter while two remained in the hoppers, ready to assist.


    She toggled the comms. ¡°Sam, we¡¯re not going in full force. A thirty-foot cut is too risky.¡±


    Sam Kohan¡¯s voice crackled back. ¡°You don¡¯t think the damn thing already knows we¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it does, maybe it doesn¡¯t,¡± Debra countered. ¡°Either way, the temperature readings are off, and I don¡¯t like it. We go in small¡ªtwo meters, just enough for two of us. You and Tony stay outside, cover us.¡±


    A pause. Then Tony Calvin¡¯s gruff voice cut in. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Deb. Feels like we¡¯re poking a sleeping bear.¡±


    Greg Alvich, silent until now, finally spoke. ¡°And we¡¯re already inside its cave.¡±


    Hilds exhaled sharply. ¡°Exactly. So let¡¯s not start swinging.¡±


    Sam sighed. ¡°Alright, your call. You and Greg go in. Tony and I will be your safety net.¡±


    Debra nodded, adjusting the controls. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s get this done.¡±


    But the moment Debra activated the plasma cutter, the decision became irrelevant.


    A flash¡ªblinding, searing white light. Even as she squeezed her eyes shut, it burned through her eyelids, searing into her vision.


    Aboard the Argus, scientists watching through the monitors were also blinded by the intense flare. As their vision returned, chaos erupted. The sphere was rotating.


    Commander Sapps, his sight clearing, stared in horror as the dish structure locked onto his ship. A single word surfaced in his mind, dredged from history: weapon. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that¡¯s exactly what it was.


    "Computer," he barked, voice taut with urgency. "Course to Charon, one-tenth C¡ªinitiate!"


    Too late.


    As the Argus turned and accelerated, a beam of pure white light engulfed the ship. An instant later, both were gone.


    No one was left to witness the ¡°hatch¡± moving outward from the sphere¡¯s hull. No one saw the three-inch cables snap as the edges of the hatch reformed, sealing itself seamlessly. Every core hole drilled into the sphere vanished. The severed cable pieces were absorbed into the alien structure.


    Inside their hoppers, silence hung thick and suffocating.


    Debra Hilds¡¯ hands were clenched so tightly around the controls that her knuckles had gone white. The hum of the instruments, once a comforting backdrop, now felt eerie¡ªhollow.


    Greg Alvich broke the silence first, his voice a low whisper. ¡°Tell me someone still has a connection to Argus.¡±


    Sam Kohan¡¯s fingers flew over his console. ¡°Nothing. No telemetry, no pingbacks. It¡¯s like¡ª¡± He stopped, staring at the screen as if sheer willpower could change the readings. ¡°It¡¯s like they never existed.¡±


    Tony Calvin let out a slow breath. ¡°That flash¡ªwhat the hell was that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Debra muttered. ¡°But I know what it looked like.¡±


    No one spoke. She didn¡¯t have to say it. They were all thinking the same thing. A weapon. A killing shot.


    Greg swallowed hard. ¡°We should¡¯ve seen debris, some kind of energy signature¡ªsomething. But there¡¯s nothing. Just us.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Debra glanced at the hatch that had sealed itself as if they¡¯d never been there. The smooth, seamless surface mocked them. It had fixed itself, erased their intrusion like an immune system wiping out an infection.


    She licked her lips, forcing her voice to stay steady. ¡°Alright. Until we know what happened, we stick to protocol. Battery conservation, two check-ins daily. No unnecessary power usage.¡±


    Sam¡¯s laugh was humorless. ¡°Until we know what happened? Deb, we know what happened. Argus is gone. And unless we figure a way out, we¡¯re next.¡±


    Silence again.


    Greg exhaled, his breath shaky. ¡°I don¡¯t like this. I don¡¯t like any of this.¡±


    Tony sat forward, eyes locked on the sealed hatch. ¡°That thing¡ªthis sphere¡ªwhatever it is, it knew we were here. It reacted.¡± He turned toward the others. ¡°So what happens when it decides we don¡¯t belong at all?¡±


    No one had an answer.


    Debra¡¯s heartbeat pounded in her ears. They had three weeks of life support. Maybe less if their stress burned through oxygen faster. No tools, no engine power. No one outside to come looking for them.Just them and the silent, watching void.For the first time since she was very young, Debra Hilds wept.


    As far as she knew, no one was coming to save them. Every United Worlds (UW) science station monitoring Argus'' mission¡ªalong with the Science Council in Geneva¡ªhad received the telemetry images of the ship¡¯s destruction. The technicians and scientists gathered around the screens had no doubts about what they had witnessed. This wasn¡¯t an accident. This was murder.


    Since the Terra Twin first detected the object, a handful of researchers had trained their largest scopes on it. Now, every scientist worth their pay was monitoring it constantly, analyzing the faintest changes. The data was indisputable: the sphere was moving. Slowly at first¡ªbut accelerating. Its trajectory pointed straight at Mars.


    Mars, in this age, was the heart of solar system commerce and transport. Lower gravity made it ideal for launching missions. Its central location meant it was a hub for trade and travel. If anything happened to Mars, Earth and Venus would be cut off from their outer colonies¡ªand worse, they¡¯d be within striking distance of an enemy force stationed on Mars.


    The UW Security and Science Councils convened immediately. There was no time to waste.


    ¡°They provoked it.¡±


    The voice belonged to a younger scientist, his tone uncertain but firm. ¡°The sphere was inert until Argus¡¯ hoppers entered it. What if they triggered a defense mechanism?¡±


    Across the table, the head of the Science Council folded his hands and exhaled sharply. ¡°If the sphere was disturbed by the hoppers, why did it allow them inside in the first place?¡± His voice carried the weight of experience, his gaze unwavering. ¡°If it had the capability to destroy a 250-ton space cruiser, I doubt it was ever afraid of two 25-ton landers.¡±


    The younger man hesitated. ¡°Then¡­ why destroy three ships? Two inside, one outside? If it wasn¡¯t provoked¡ª¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it wasn¡¯t destruction,¡± the chairman interrupted. ¡°Perhaps it was curiosity. The two crafts inside may not be destroyed but taken¡ªhostages, if you will.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the room. The idea was chilling.


    Another scientist, an older man with thinning hair, shook his head. ¡°But the sphere was dead¡ªlifeless. No energy emissions, no signals, no movement. If it was intelligent, why didn¡¯t it show signs before?¡±


    The chairman lifted a hand, silencing the room. ¡°We do have the data on energy absorption to consider. Just because this entity doesn¡¯t waste energy into space like we do doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t aware. Don¡¯t assume silence means absence.¡±


    A heavy pause settled over them before he continued. ¡°And the more I examine its structure, the more convinced I am that it came from much, much farther away than we initially thought.¡±


    A different scientist leaned forward. ¡°That doesn¡¯t fit with the object''s estimated age.¡±


    The chairman gave him a sharp look. ¡°And how do we measure age in space?¡±


    The younger scientist scrambled for an answer. ¡°All known meteors, asteroids, and planets have been dated by their background radiation¡ªtraced back to the core explosion that formed them.¡±


    The chairman¡¯s lips curled slightly. ¡°And what if you took raw materials¡ªiron, nickel, elements from dozens of different celestial bodies¡ªand smelted them together?¡±


    The younger scientist hesitated, realization dawning on his face. ¡°That¡­ that would make dating impossible.¡± He frowned. ¡°But why mix so many samples together to build one ship?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± the chairman said, his voice grave, ¡°they don¡¯t want us to know where they came from.¡±


    A chill ran through the room. The implications were staggering.


    ¡°Three of our best minds in quantum energy were lost with Argus,¡± the chairman continued, his voice softer now. ¡°But Dr. Hopewell and Professor Sackett have been analyzing the data. They have something to show us.¡±


    The lights dimmed. At the front of the room, a massive thirty-foot viewscreen flickered to life. Dr. Ernst Hopewell stepped forward, his face lined with exhaustion but his eyes sharp with focus.


    ¡°Professor Sackett and I have been analyzing the same data you all have,¡± he began. ¡°Most of it comes from the two hundred core samples collected by Terra Twin¡¯s preliminary survey.¡±


    The hologram lit up¡ªa massive blue sphere, overlaid with points of color representing different core samples. ¡°We assigned colors based on relative age,¡± Hopewell continued. ¡°And when we mapped them¡ª¡±


    The image shifted. Across the sphere, distinct regions glowed with different hues. Around the dish-like structures and track formations, the material was between one and two thousand years older than the rest of the sphere.


    ¡°Some of these cores exhibit dual age readings,¡± Hopewell said, pointing at a highlighted cross-section of metal. ¡°The outer surfaces are significantly newer than the inner layers. The ship, gentlemen, wasn¡¯t built all at once. It was added to¡ªgradually, over time¡ªas it moved through space.¡±


    The murmurs returned, louder now.


    ¡°Now, let¡¯s talk about energy absorption,¡± Hopewell continued. ¡°Frankly, it¡¯s astonishing. This craft absorbs seventy percent of visible light. But that¡¯s not the part that concerns me. Except for the dish and track structures, it absorbs one hundred percent of ultraviolet and infrared light.¡±


    A few people sat up straighter.


    ¡°I¡¯d bet good money that if we tested for it,¡± Hopewell said, voice tight with tension, ¡°we¡¯d find it absorbs one hundred percent of neutrinos and cosmic rays as well.¡±


    A sharp intake of breath.


    A long, stunned silence.


    Then, somewhere in the back of the room, a low whistle.


    And the weight of what they were facing settled over them like a shadow. Sub

 Chapter 5- So it Begins

    Edward Sackett stood and stepped up to the podium. He placed his hands on either side, steadying himself. A hush fell over the room as the assembled officials, scientists, and military personnel waited. Some leaned forward, others clenched their hands in their laps. No one wanted to hear what he was about to say, but they needed to.


    ¡°Ernst has shown you what we saw and how we saw it,¡± he began. ¡°But what we deduced from it¡ªthat¡¯s the sobering part.¡±


    The stillness in the chamber thickened, anticipation shifting into unease.


    ¡°Deduction one: This craft was launched at least five thousand years ago.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the audience. Five thousand years? The implications alone made several council members shift in their seats, exchanging troubled glances.


    ¡°Deduction two: It has been steadily increasing its mass and energy along the way.¡±


    A few members of the Science Council frowned, whispering amongst themselves. What kind of technology could sustain such a journey for millennia?


    ¡°Deduction three: This craft is hostile and on a destructive mission to our system.¡±


    Gasps. The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Someone in the back cursed under their breath. Others sat frozen, as if they hadn¡¯t fully processed the words. Sackett let the reaction settle before pressing forward.


    ¡°Our evidence for the third deduction: the complete destruction of the science cruiser Argus and the trajectory of the object following that event. If this craft destroyed Argus solely in self-defense, why would it then continue toward the very system Argus originated from? And if its approach were peaceful, why destroy the cruiser at all?¡±


    A heavy silence.


    ¡°Lastly,¡± he added, ¡°it has made no attempt to communicate with our vessels.¡±


    More whispers, more shifting in seats. The absence of communication made the situation worse, not better. Even the most cautious scientists had hoped¡ªperhaps foolishly¡ªthat some form of diplomacy might be possible.


    ¡°A self-defense strike would serve to deter pursuit¡ªunless, of course, the Argus was allowed to escape and warn others.¡±


    Some nodded grimly. Others paled at the realization that humanity might not be dealing with simple hostility, but cold, calculated strategy.


    ¡°Deduction four: This vessel has a weakness¡ªor something to hide¡ªat its core.¡±


    People sat up straighter. If there was a weakness, there was hope.


    ¡°The Terra Twin was able to orbit the object for two months, drilling core samples and setting off seismic charges. Yet, the sphere took no action against her. However, the moment Argus attempted a cutting operation on the center¡¯s surface, it was annihilated.¡±


    Speculation filled the room. Some officials exchanged quiet theories, while others scribbled notes furiously. If the enemy had something to protect, then there was an opening¡ªsomewhere.


    Sackett took a breath, glancing at Dr. Hopewell before continuing.


    ¡°Dr. Hopewell and I have formulated three hypotheses, along with their estimated probabilities based on the sphere¡¯s observed behavior.¡±


    A large screen behind him displayed the data, but few looked at it. Most were too focused on his next words.


    ¡°Hypothesis one: The sphere is some sort of weapon¡ªperhaps a bomb¡ªto weaken us ahead of an invasion. Probability: sixteen percent.¡±


    A few sighed, almost relieved at the lower number¡ªuntil they realized what the other probabilities must be.


    ¡°Hypothesis two: The sphere is a war machine¡ªboth soldier and spy¡ªsent to analyze us before an invasion. Probability: thirty-two percent.¡±


    The murmuring started again, louder this time. A war machine meant whoever sent it was watching. Learning. Preparing.


    ¡°Hypothesis three: The sphere is an invasion vessel itself, carrying alien troops aboard. Probability: fifty-two percent.¡±


    The room erupted. Some shouted over each other, others sat stiffly, as if unable to move. One man buried his face in his hands. A woman near the front rubbed her temples, shaking her head as if willing the words away. The idea that hostile alien soldiers might already be en route sent a cold wave of dread through the assembly.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Sackett stepped back. ¡°That¡¯s all we have, Mr. Chairman.¡±


    The Science Council Chairman¡¯s voice was tight as he spoke. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, I yield the floor to the chair of the Security Council.¡±


    Linette Hughes approached the podium, her face grim. If she was shaken by what she had just heard, she didn¡¯t show it.


    ¡°Based on our records and projections,¡± she began, ¡°if this vessel reaches Mars and destroys our transport and storage facilities, we stand to lose all personnel on Mars and, ultimately, every other colony.¡±


    The weight of those words settled like a thick fog. The loss of Mars wouldn¡¯t just be tragic¡ªit would be a death sentence for thousands, if not millions.


    ¡°This thing is aimed at our jugular¡ªand I do not believe that is a coincidence.¡±


    She let that sink in.


    ¡°My question¡ªand my directive¡ªis this: What can we do to stop it? And we must act fast.¡±


    Her voice, though calm, carried an urgency that made even the most composed officials tense.


    ¡°For nearly fifteen centuries, our people have lived without war or civil conflict. We have poured our energy into art, literature, science, and tolerance. Our warlike past is long behind us, and we have not missed it.¡±


    A few in the audience nodded in quiet agreement. Humanity had flourished in peace, grown beyond its violent past. But as Hughes continued, her words sent an unmistakable chill through the room.


    ¡°But if this vessel is the vanguard of an invasion force, and we are forced to fight, I fear there can be only one outcome.¡±


    She scanned the room, her gaze heavy with meaning.


    ¡°Our society¡ªsoftened by centuries of peace, genetically culled of violent tendencies¡ªmay go like lambs to the slaughter.¡±


    A stillness fell over the room. Some clenched their fists, while others simply sat in stunned silence. The idea that their genetic evolution toward peace might now doom them was too bitter to process.


    ¡°We have no weapons for the populace, no fortified shelters, no militia. And any makeshift defenses we can assemble in time will be woefully inadequate.¡±


    The weight of reality pressed down harder. Hope flickered and dimmed.


    ¡°Unless someone can devise a weapon powerful enough to destroy this vessel before it reaches us, Mars and our colonies are doomed.¡±


    The silence that followed was absolute. The room was filled with some of the brightest minds in the system, but at that moment, not one of them had an answer.


    For the first time in centuries, humanity was staring down the possibility of its own extinction.


    Chairman Hughes waited for the noise to subside before speaking again. ¡°Based on all available assessments of this entity¡¯s power and composition, we can inflict damage¡ªperhaps even delay its advance¡ªbut ultimately, it will reach Mars. Given this reality, I authorized the evacuation of all women, children, and hospital patients from Mars as of yesterday, following the loss of the Argus and confirmation of the sphere¡¯s trajectory.


    "To strengthen our defensive measures, thirty additional one-thousand-ton mass drivers are being deployed to supplement the twenty-one already in place on Mars. These will be strategically arranged in clusters of seven or eight on the hemisphere that will maintain the longest line of sight with the sphere as it approaches. The objective is to subject the entity to continuous bombardment. Dr. Hopewell has presented a hypothesis that the exclusive use of rock-based projectiles may induce structural brittleness within its shell.¡±


    ¡°When the sphere enters optimal range, our approach will shift,¡± Dr. Hopewell continued. ¡°We will transition to hydrogen-oxygen solid-packed charges housed in divided containers with contact detonators, similar to those utilized in controlled excavation. Should we succeed in compromising the central core, our next course of action will involve targeting it with precision strikes from modified excavation lasers and concentrated mass driver fire.¡±


    ¡°And at that point, we will rely on providence,¡± Sackett murmured.


    Hughes ignored the remark. ¡°Additionally, four companies of United Worlds military police have been stationed on Mars. They will remain in place for the duration of this operation.¡±


    Sackett suppressed a grimace. Six hundred officers with stun weapons¡ªsymbolic reassurance at best, hardly a deterrent against an adversary of this caliber.


    Hughes turned his attention to a Mars science delegate. ¡°Madam Chair,¡± he acknowledged.


    The delegate stood. ¡°Several of Mars¡¯ mining and transport companies have committed vessels to¡ª¡±


    ¡°We have ships, Delegate,¡± Hughes interjected.


    The delegate¡¯s tone remained measured. ¡°If the Chairman will permit me to continue,¡± she said, ¡°the proposal is not merely to contribute ships, but to strategically utilize them. These vessels would be equipped with high-yield explosives and positioned behind Jupiter¡¯s mass. Once the sphere passes, they would execute precision ramming maneuvers at a velocity approaching one-tenth the speed of light.¡±


    A pause followed. Hughes studied her, then inclined his head. ¡°Your initiative is noted. My apologies for the interruption, Delegate.¡±


    The delegate nodded. ¡°It is reassuring to see that only the most resolute strategies are given consideration.¡±


    Hughes turned to the assembly. ¡°Members Hopewell and Sackett will coordinate directly with the Delegate to assess feasibility. As always, additional proposals may be submitted to the Security Council through appropriate channels.¡±


    The Science Chairman stood. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen.¡±


    All seven hundred and fifty members and delegates rose in applause, the chamber resounding with an intensity that would not be heard again for many years.


    Hughes remained standing, offering nods of acknowledgment, his face composed. Yet, as the echoes of applause faded, a heaviness settled in his chest. They cheer because they need to believe. They need to think we have a chance. But they don¡¯t see the calculations, the probabilities¡ªthe near-certainty of failure.


    He gathered his notes, careful to mask his thoughts behind a neutral expression. A show of confidence, that¡¯s what they need. That¡¯s what they¡¯ll get. But as he turned to leave, a single thought remained, persistent and unshakable.


    Will history remember this as the moment humanity fought back? Or as the last desperate gesture before the inevitable?

 Chapter 6-The Man for the Job

    About the same time Chairman Hughes was ordering Mars evacuated, Jeff Calan was breaking the news of the Argus¡¯ destruction to Russ Carlin. He knew it would hit hard. Russell was a strong man, but this¡ªthis could break him.


    Jeff took a slow breath. ¡°We just lost contact with the Argus, Russell.¡±


    Russell frowned. ¡°Are we behind Charon already?¡± His voice was steady, but Jeff could see the tension in his jaw.


    Jeff shook his head. ¡°No, Russ. The Argus is gone. Destroyed.¡±


    The color drained from Russell¡¯s face. ¡°What?¡± He lurched forward. ¡°Debra¡¯s aboard.¡±


    Jeff met his eyes. ¡°No,¡± he said quickly. ¡°She was in hopper number three.¡±


    Russell¡¯s breath caught. Hope flickered in his eyes. ¡°And she¡¯s safe?¡±


    Jeff hesitated. He hated this part. ¡°We don¡¯t know.¡±


    Russell¡¯s hands clenched into fists. ¡°What do you mean, you don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°The hoppers were inside the sphere when Argus was attacked,¡± Jeff explained. ¡°Before the AV relay went dark, we saw the hatch they cut closing¡ªsealing itself back up. Welding itself shut.¡± He exhaled slowly. ¡°Then we lost everything.¡±


    Russell¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°So they¡¯re trapped.¡± His voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°Inside that thing?¡±


    Jeff nodded grimly. ¡°Russ¡­ the Argus never had a chance. It happened too fast. No warning. No time to escape.¡± He paused, jaw tightening. ¡°The hoppers didn¡¯t have a chance either. They were already inside when the attack happened. There was no way out.¡±


    Russell¡¯s expression turned hollow. ¡°And we¡¯re just¡­ leaving them?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Jeff pulled up a display, showing the sphere¡¯s trajectory. His voice was grim. ¡°It¡¯s coming to us.¡±


    Russell barely glanced at the readout. His eyes were locked on the looping video from the Argus¡¯ final moments. The hatch sealing itself. The glow at its edges. The sudden static burst as the AV relay melted into nothing.


    His voice was rough when he finally spoke. ¡°Whoever they are¡­ they have us beat in technology, Jeff.¡±


    Jeff nodded. ¡°It would appear so.¡±


    Russell inhaled sharply. ¡°The hopper launched two AV relays, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    Jeff blinked. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, it did.¡±


    ¡°We saw the outside relay go out,¡± Russell said, voice steadier now, focused. ¡°But if the other one is still inside¡­¡± He turned sharply. ¡°Our receivers could lock onto it, Commander. If it¡¯s still functioning, we might be able to hear something. Know if they¡¯re alive.¡±


    Jeff¡¯s eyes flickered with renewed energy. ¡°True. If the inside relay is still working.¡± But before he could act on the idea, his screen lit up with a priority transmission. His stomach sank as he read the directive. ¡°Russ¡­ UW Science and Security Councils are in emergency session. They want the core samples we¡¯re carrying on Terra. Immediately.¡±


    Russell¡¯s mouth tightened. His knuckles were white against the console. His rescue would have to wait.


    For now.


    ¡°Fine.¡± His voice was flat. ¡°Then let me call up everything we¡¯ve got on the sphere.¡± He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening in determination. ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s another way out of that thing. And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªwe can figure out how to keep it off Mars too.¡±


    Jeff allowed himself a small smile. Russell had been dealt a brutal blow, but he was still fighting.


    As Terra Twin accelerated toward Earth, Russell dug into the most difficult engineering problem of his life. He re-ran the telemetry. Studied the data. Watched the last recordings over and over. Patterns. There were always patterns. And patterns could be broken.


    The sphere drank in energy like a sponge. But not all energy. Thirty percent of visible light was reflected rather than absorbed. That was a weakness.


    A properly tuned laser¡ªone in the right spectrum¡ªcould cut through it like a knife.


    He called up the spectrograph data from the Argus¡¯ readings. The green band of visible light¡ªbordered between yellow and blue¡ªwas the most reflected wavelength.


    Green.


    Russell leaned back, staring at the numbers. If the sphere rejected green light¡­


    Then green was invisible to it.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    His pulse kicked up. Could that be it? Just as infrared and ultraviolet were invisible to human eyes, maybe green was beyond the sphere¡¯s perception. And that meant¡ª


    His mind raced. The sphere¡¯s weapon, the light beam that obliterated the Argus, had contained every visible wavelength except green. That confirmed it. Green didn¡¯t exist in its world. It couldn¡¯t.


    Which meant¡ª


    Their home system had to be orbiting a blue-white or red-white star. No yellow light. No green light. It had never evolved to register it.


    Russell exhaled sharply.


    That was something.


    It wasn¡¯t a rescue plan yet. But it was something.


    And right now, it was all he had.


    As soon as Terra Twin landed, Russell immediately contacted the Science Council and took the first shuttle to Geneva to present his findings to Hopewell and Sackett. Both men listened attentively, making notes on their personal recorders. When Russell concluded, they exchanged a glance before turning back to him.


    Sackett leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. ¡°Let me get this straight. You believe the sphere ship¡¯s defenses are designed to react to certain materials and energy signatures, meaning a ship coated in this green compound you¡¯ve identified could bypass its detection?¡±


    Russell nodded. ¡°Exactly. We discovered that the sphere¡¯s outer membrane absorbs and repels standard hull materials, but when exposed to the organic compounds in the algae-infused resin we used for temporary repairs, the response was negligible¡ªalmost like it didn¡¯t recognize us as a threat.¡±


    Hopewell frowned. ¡°That¡¯s a hell of an assumption to gamble lives on, Carlin.¡±


    Russell knew that. He knew how insane this plan sounded, how many ways it could go wrong. But he also knew who was on that ship.


    Debra.


    Her name echoed in his mind like a warning, a reminder of the stakes that no one else in this room fully understood. Debra was out there, trapped inside that sphere, her oxygen dwindling with every passing hour. He couldn¡¯t let that be the end of her story.


    His fingers curled into fists against the table.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s a risk,¡± he admitted, forcing his voice to remain steady. ¡°But I¡¯m not proposing a blind approach. We¡¯ll run tests on a probe first, send it in coated in the same material, and monitor its response. If the theory holds, we move forward.¡±


    Sackett exhaled sharply. ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t?¡±


    Russell met his gaze, unwavering. ¡°Then we find another way. But time isn¡¯t on our side. The hopper crews trapped inside that thing have, at most, ten days of life support left. If they¡¯re alive, we have to act fast.¡±


    Debra. If she was still alive, she was counting on him.


    Hopewell exchanged a glance with Sackett before rubbing his temples. ¡°Assuming your ship gets close enough, how do you propose to extract the teams?¡±


    Russell pulled up a schematic on the table¡¯s holodisplay. ¡°The sphere¡¯s interior structure is still a mystery, but based on the energy signatures we picked up, I think it uses a layered containment field. If we can find the right frequency to disrupt it¡ªmaybe with a focused EMP pulse¡ªwe could create a breach long enough to retrieve them.¡±


    Sackett let out a low whistle. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of ¡®ifs,¡¯ Carlin.¡±


    Not as many as the ones running through his mind. Was she injured? Was she scared? Was she still fighting, still stubbornly trying to find a way out on her own? Or was she already¡­?


    No. He wouldn¡¯t go there. Couldn¡¯t.


    Russell squared his shoulders. ¡°It is. But it¡¯s the best shot we have.¡±


    The room was silent for a long moment before Sackett leaned back in his chair. ¡°You¡¯ve given this more thought than I expected.¡±


    Hopewell sighed. ¡°Which means we¡¯re going to have to argue this before the councils.¡±


    Finally, they stood, shaking Russell¡¯s hand. ¡°You¡¯ll have our support,¡± Hopewell said.


    Russell accepted their praise with quiet resolve but quickly hardened his expression. ¡°I hope my findings are accurate and that the councils can put them to good use, but I have a request.¡±


    ¡°You, sir, can name whatever you want,¡± a voice interrupted.


    Chairman Hughes entered the room, her expression sharp with interest. ¡°I was listening in on your ship¡¯s communications as you approached. You¡¯ve accomplished what no one else has¡ªidentifying two key weaknesses in the sphere ship. And you did it with fewer resources, less experience, and minimal funding. Now, I want to know how.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, Madam Chairman,¡± Russell said, ¡°what I want isn¡¯t recognition. I need a ship, a place to modify her, and a crew¡ªfive members to join me and two of my colleagues. I intend to attempt a rescue mission for the two hopper crews trapped inside the sphere. If they¡¯re still alive, they have about ten days of life support left, and time is our biggest enemy. If we fail, I want the backup plan in place¡ªyour ram ships, also camouflaged in green, waiting in Neptune¡¯s orbit to intercept the sphere.¡±


    Hughes studied him for a moment before nodding. ¡°You¡¯ll have your ship, Mr. Carlin,¡± she said. ¡°But I reserve the right to select her commander.¡±


    Russell had anticipated this. ¡°Commander Calan has agreed to captain the mission¡ªdespite being overdue for his honeymoon.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Hughes said firmly.


    Doubt flickered across Russell¡¯s face.


    ¡°This will be a military vessel, the first of its kind in sixteen hundred years,¡± Hughes continued. ¡°It requires a military commander. That commander will be you, Captain Carlin.¡±


    Russell stiffened.


    ¡°The Security Council has granted me emergency powers, including the authority to form a military space service,¡± Hughes explained. ¡°Its purpose will be to patrol our frontiers, respond to alien threats, and assist in emergency evacuations. This afternoon, at fourteen hundred hours, Dr. Hopewell and Professor Sackett will introduce you to the Science and Security Councils. Forty minutes later, I¡¯ll commission you. That gives us about four hours to finalize the details.¡±


    Russell remained silent, absorbing the weight of responsibility now resting on his shoulders.


    He¡¯d come here to plead for a chance to save Debra. Now, he was being given an entire military force.


    ¡°We need uniforms, insignias, and a clear distinction between officers and enlistees,¡± Hughes continued. ¡°As our first officer, I¡¯m giving you that task, Carlin. Consult with the military police commander if you need historical references¡ªhis archives are extensive.¡±


    Russell hesitated only for a second before straightening. If this was what it took to bring Debra home, then so be it.


    ¡°Understood, Madam Chairman.¡± He turned and strode from the room, his mind already racing.

 Chapter 7- Do or Die

    Having no idea what a uniform should look like, Russell decided to consult the police commander first. As the chairman had said, the man''s library of military history was staggering. When Russell explained his task, the commander grinned and pulled a file from the archives.


    "This plays in that old microfilm reader over there," he said.


    Russell examined the title beneath yellowed plastic coverings: The Common Man in Uniform 1900¨C2200: A Pictorial Collection.


    He pored over each image carefully, not wanting to miss a single detail. The earliest soldiers wore elaborate hats and chest plates, but the commander explained these were forms of armor, long since obsolete. Dismissing them, Russell focused on practicality. As he studied the film, he sketched a design, filling the borders with notes.


    An hour later, he carefully handed the film back to the commander. ¡°Take a look and tell me what you think.¡±


    The commander examined Russell¡¯s sketch closely. The uniform was a close-fitting black jumpsuit with a silver disk fixed to the right breast. It featured thin lapels and a V-shaped neckline, tucked into calf-high boots. A belt with a round silver buckle cinched the waist, embossed with UWSS¡ªUnited Worlds Space Service. Officers would wear a ship-shaped pin on the lapel, while enlisted personnel would don a smaller silver disk, representing their member colony. The final touches included a lanyard and a sidearm for the UW military police.


    Russell felt a surge of pride.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a commanding officer more in need of a sergeant major,¡± the police commander remarked. ¡°I volunteer to plan your drill, ceremonies, protocol, and rank structure.¡± He extended a hand. ¡°If you¡¯ll have me.¡±


    ¡°Gladly,¡± Russell said, shaking his hand.


    ¡°Call me Ted,¡± the commander replied. ¡°Ted Harmand. Now, let me get this over to the tailor¡¯s factory and start production.¡± With that, he spun on his heel and exited the office.


    Russell spent the next two hours wrestling with an acceptance speech.


    The United Worlds council chamber was thick with anticipation. Dr. Hopewell and Professor Sachett stood before the assembly, laying out the details of Russell¡¯s findings, along with his plan to rescue the hostages and destroy the sphere.


    ¡°I have full confidence,¡± Hopewell declared, ¡°that this man¡¯s instincts are correct. We will succeed in eliminating this invader. However, we must also face hard truths. Our military consists of nine companies of military police spread across Terra, Venus, Luna, and Mars. We have not engaged in war for sixteen hundred years. We have no standing conscription system. Until one can be enacted, we will rely solely on volunteers.¡±


    A heavy silence followed.


    Hopewell took a steadying breath. ¡°It is my solemn duty to announce that open enlistment into the United Worlds Space Service will commence at 18:00 hours solar time¡ªon Terra and across all space stations and colonies.¡±


    The chairman of the Security Council, Linette Hughes, stepped to the podium. She faced the full membership of the United Worlds General Assembly, joined by six to ten emergency delegates from each colony, as well as representatives from the far-flung mining stations.


    As she took in the sea of faces before her, a grim thought settled in her mind: If I can convince them that this threat is greater than a single ship, humanity has a fighting chance. If not¡ªif we only come together for a temporary pact¡ªthen one day, we will face this again, with fewer options and far worse odds.


    Another realization struck her: We have been at peace for so long that we believe peace is the natural state of things. We have forgotten what it means to fight for our survival.


    She let the room settle before speaking.


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    ¡°Thank you, Dr. Hopewell, for your briefing,¡± she began. ¡°The man behind these insights is here with us today. He has traveled from the farthest colony¡ªCharon, Pluto¡¯s moon¡ªto aid in our defense. For him, this mission is personal.¡±


    She paused.


    ¡°Four crew members were aboard the Argus when it was lost to the sphere. Among them was Argus¡¯ engineer, Debra Hilds¡ªRussell Carlin¡¯s partner.¡±


    Murmurs rippled through the chamber.


    ¡°For his work in uncovering vulnerabilities in the sphere, and for his willingness to lead a rescue and sabotage mission, I am invoking the Emergency Power Act.¡± Hughes straightened her shoulders. ¡°As of this moment, he is commissioned as the first captain of a vessel in the United Worlds Space Service. This decree is issued on the 122nd day of the year 3960.¡±


    She looked out over the assembly.


    ¡°His ship, now nearing completion, remains nameless. Perhaps he will tell us his choice.¡±


    Her gaze found Russell. ¡°Captain Carlin¡ªwill you and your Sergeant Major join us at the dais?¡±


    From the two large entryways at the rear of the assembly, two men emerged, clad in jet-black uniforms. On the lapel of one, a pair of silver ships gleamed, flying parallel¡ªRussell¡¯s captain¡¯s insignia. The other man wore a plain silver disk with the word Terra embossed at the top edge. Both had round, silver belt buckles emblazoned with the letters UWSS and wore calf-high black boots of webbed nylon fiber. Side holsters and lanyards, also matte black, completed their stark attire.


    They walked in perfect step down the carpeted aisle, ascending the podium with military precision. Russell stepped forward first, gripping the podium. His voice carried easily across the assembly hall.


    ¡°By this time tomorrow, my vessel will have a name,¡± he began, his tone firm but not without a touch of pride. ¡°And standing beside me is a man who will play a key role in shaping this service. Sergeant Major Theodore Harmand, late of the UW military police, has agreed to oversee all training operations. Those of you who have served under him before know what that means.¡±


    A murmur rippled through the crowd, some exchanging knowing glances. Russell allowed himself a brief smirk before continuing.


    ¡°The uniforms you see us wearing will soon be standard issue for all UWSS personnel. And training¡ª¡± He glanced at Harmand, who gave a curt nod. ¡°Training will be rigorous. We are not forming a club, ladies and gentlemen. We are forming the first line of defense against an enemy we barely understand. Sergeant Major Harmand will ensure that only the best step forward, assisted by a cadre of seasoned UWMP veterans.¡±


    Russell then hesitated for just a beat before turning toward the far end of the room. His voice took on a slightly different quality¡ªless authoritative, more personal.


    ¡°Now, there¡¯s one more matter to discuss.¡± He let his gaze land on Jeff Calan. ¡°After reviewing the needs of this fleet and speaking with my ground cadre, I have a recommendation to make. Commandant, I¡¯d like to formally submit Commander Jeff Calan for officer training.¡±


    A few heads turned toward Jeff, who sat stiffly in one of the rear visitor benches. He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.


    ¡°If you accept, Jeff,¡± Russell added, ¡°Chairman Hughes has already approved it.¡±


    Jeff hesitated, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes on him. A lifetime of training, of discipline, had prepared him for moments like this. And yet, his instincts screamed at him to walk away.


    Jamie, seated beside him, squeezed his hand, her fingers trembling slightly. She already knew what his answer would be.


    Finally, Jeff stood, clearing his throat before speaking. ¡°If you think I¡¯m the right person for the job, then I won¡¯t refuse. I¡¯ll do it.¡± His voice was steady, but his eyes flickered toward Jamie, knowing the sacrifice it would demand. ¡°I¡¯ll train the Astro-gators and pilots. We¡¯ll need the best if we¡¯re going to survive what¡¯s coming.¡±


    Russell nodded approvingly. ¡°That¡¯s what I was hoping to hear.¡± He looked out over the crowd. ¡°Because make no mistake¡ªthis is just the beginning.¡±


    That evening, at 18:00 hours, the remaining complement of Terra Twin enlisted into the UWSS. Within a single week, the space service had amassed 10,500 enlisted personnel, 350 officers, and a training cadre of 100. Two installations were established¡ªBase One on Luna and Base Two on Charon.


    The astonishing speed at which the military was forming left Chairman Hughes with mixed feelings. On one hand, the enthusiasm and efficiency were reassuring; on the other, the ease of its establishment was unnerving. Open enlistment had been chosen deliberately¡ªhistory had proven the dangers of conscript armies that lacked commitment and morale. Yet, many recruits had barely reached the eligibility age of twenty. They were eager, talented, and full of confidence. But Hughes harbored no illusions¡ªhumanity knew little of their enemy, and after sixteen centuries without war, they were dangerously out of practice.


    Years later, in her memoirs, she reflected:


    They were all so young, so full of pride and skill. They were confident, competent, and competitive. They looked to me as sheep do to their shepherd. And I turned away¡ªso they wouldn¡¯t see my fear.

 Chapter 8- Here to Help

    Luna Base was a hive of activity, a relentless machine of refitting ships, cannibalizing parts, and training pilots and astro-gators. Equipment shipments to Mars and Charon moved in a constant stream. Eight thousand five hundred people labored in three shifts around the clock. The commercial sector had pledged a third of its resources to clothing, ships, and armament for the service.


    But armament remained the UW¡¯s greatest weakness. There had been no wars in living memory, and few weapons existed. The stun guns carried by the UWMPs were designed as humane deterrents, not instruments of war. Technicians and specialists scrambled to adapt energy tools¡ªoriginally built for digging, cutting, and heating¡ªinto makeshift weapons. Mass drivers were repurposed for planetary defense, but ammunition was limited to rock, frozen gases, or a handful of scarce explosives. The modified digging beams, tuned to the green spectrum band, worked well enough on nickel-iron asteroids and standard targets, but they still couldn¡¯t replicate the sphere¡¯s eerie ability to mend itself when damaged.


    Carlin had no way of knowing how long it would take to locate the hoppers inside the sphere, so he devised three desperate contingency plans. The first hinged on his theory about the green spectrum band being correct. If his green ship remained undetected until it was close to the sphere, he planned to cut two entry points simultaneously¡ªusing one to enter and the other as a distraction. Once inside, he would locate the hoppers, attach them to his vessel, and escape the same way: two cuts, one exit.


    Dr. Hopewell had proven invaluable to Russell, coming through in more ways than one. Russell¡¯s ship would now carry two dozen remote-guided drones, each equipped with a small rocket engine. These drones could anchor themselves to the cut sections of the sphere, ferrying them into space before the structure had a chance to heal. Hopewell reasoned that if material were removed entirely, the sphere wouldn¡¯t be able to repair itself as quickly.


    Inside Hopper Three


    Debra Hilds had cycled through every possible emotion¡ªdespair, denial¡ªbut in the end, none of it mattered. Survival demanded action.


    Hopper Two, visible through its feeble red-lit windows, was dying. It had done most of the work getting inside the sphere, and now its life support was failing. With both ships trapped and immobile, Hilds had maintained radio contact but knew they were out of time. Desperate measures were the only option.


    She gathered Sam, Tony, and Greg in the cramped crew compartment. Their faces were shadowed by the dim emergency lights, exhaustion written in every crease.


    ¡°Alright,¡± she said, crossing her arms. ¡°We¡¯re not sitting here waiting to suffocate. We¡¯re getting out.¡±


    Tony let out a sharp breath. ¡°Deb, we¡¯ve got nothing. Hopper Two¡¯s dead in the water. We can¡¯t even tow ourselves.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± she countered. ¡°We have cables. We have torches. We have brains. And we¡¯re gonna use all of them.¡±


    Greg ran a hand over his face. ¡°Even if we transfer supplies, that just buys us time. We need an actual escape plan.¡±


    Debra nodded. ¡°We cut through.¡±


    Sam frowned. ¡°Cut through what?¡±


    ¡°The columns.¡± She pointed toward the walls as if she could see through them. ¡°We¡¯ve already figured out they¡¯re hollow¡ªexcept for the dish¡¯s stalk. If we cut into one, we can push Hopper Three inside, seal ourselves in, and then cut through the outer shell. We blow the roof, ride the blast, and we¡¯re free.¡±


    Silence.


    Then Tony laughed dryly. ¡°That¡¯s insane.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only thing that makes sense,¡± Debra insisted. ¡°We don¡¯t have thrusters, but we do have air capsules on Hopper Two. We can use those to push us inward. Once inside, we seal the hatch, carve our way out, and then use seismic charges for a secondary push.¡±


    Sam rubbed the back of his neck, considering. ¡°If we detonate them right, we might get the force we need.¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± Debra said firmly. ¡°And it¡¯s not like we have a better option.¡±


    Greg exhaled slowly. ¡°Twelve hours of outside work. We¡¯d have to cut into the column, set up the charges, move supplies¡­¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little more,¡± Debra admitted. ¡°But we can do it.¡±


    Sam finally nodded. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡±


    Tony hesitated, looking at each of them before sighing. ¡°Four for, none against,¡± he muttered. ¡°Hell. Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    That evening, Debra and Sam began running the cables while Tony and Greg converted the handheld oxygen and acetylene torches into hose-fed units, discarding their depleted cartridge tanks.


    Outside the ship, it was pure darkness.


    They had chosen not to use their suit lights to preserve power¡ªeach minute counted. More importantly, they didn¡¯t want to draw attention. The sphere had remained passive until it had been ¡°poked¡± before. They weren¡¯t about to risk provoking it now.


    Guided only by radio, Hilds met Sam Kohn halfway between the hoppers, locked the cables together, and secured them. One hour and twenty minutes had passed.


    On the return trip, she followed the cable blindly, floating in the void. She could hear Sam breathing over comms, but she couldn¡¯t see him. Occasionally, she bumped into him, a reminder of how fragile their connection was in the darkness. The process had seemed easier when they were joining the cables¡ªtake a few steps, call for Sam to speak, watch the signal strength indicator in her visor, pan her helmet until the signal was strongest, then step off again.


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    But now, weightless and silent, the journey back was far more unnerving.


    Just as she was about to break the silence¡ªsay anything just to hear a voice¡ªshe saw them. Dim red triangles glowing in the blackness. Hopper Two¡¯s windows.


    For the next ten hours, they shuttled supplies back and forth, preparing for their escape.


    Debra was beyond fatigue now¡ªshe was numb. The feel of the cable beneath her thick glove felt unreal, the pain in her shoulders and wrists from hauling the load was maddening. Hand over hand, she and her team strained, starting and stopping their cargo¡ªnearly eight hundred pounds per person¡ªrequiring relentless stamina. Weightlessness did nothing to change mass; inertia still had to be overcome.


    By 11:00 hours, Hilds and her team were finally ready. They left behind a partially emptied gas canister, strapped to number two, along with ten seismic five-ton charges affixed to its upper half. After finishing the cut into the nearest column by number three, they used the remote valves on the tanks to jet the hopper into the column and began welding the slug back into the wall.


    Number three ascended to the shell end of the shaft, cutting six barely separated crescents into the metal, drilling six core holes between them, and planting six ten-ton charges. It then descended back toward the bottom, detached its crew section from the ¡®work horse¡¯ lower half, and returned halfway up the shaft. The crew sealed the blast shields over the viewports.


    As a diversion¡ªjust in case anyone was watching¡ªHilds had rigged number two to fly a short distance via the gas canister and explode on contact with any solid structure. She keyed the remote valve and waited. Ten seconds passed.


    Then, the explosion hit.


    Number three and the column it was inside shook violently. She detonated the roof charges, counted to fifteen, and fired the remaining explosives in the lower hopper section. A ball of red-yellow light surged upward, chasing them as the blast expanded from below. The explosion, equivalent to five thousand pounds of TNT, blew the lid off the tube, hurling the upper hopper module skyward.


    Her eyes darted upward. Above them, a chunk of nickel-iron was moving¡ªbut was it moving faster than they were? If so, they were safe. If not, they were about to collide. Just as doubt crept in, her breath caught.


    Floating ten inches from her right hand was a blue sphere, and it was speaking.


    "Do not fear. Escape is our shared purpose. Continue."


    She stiffened. "What are you?"


    "Friendly," the sphere replied. "I will help you escape. Please continue, or your race will be destroyed in the same manner your captors have always killed their rivals."


    Hilds didn¡¯t waste time debating. As the hopper¡¯s instruments flickered back to life, she cycled the small hydrogen-oxygen rockets, increasing speed and angling the ship toward the system¡¯s core.


    At that moment, Russell Carlin¡¯s ship, the newly christened Avenger, came into visual range of the sphere and hopper number three. As soon as Carlin¡¯s first officer confirmed the craft was an ore hopper¡ªits upper section only¡ªRuss altered course to intercept. The sphere, seemingly uninterested, continued toward Mars, slowly fusing shut the blast hole she had made.


    Russ couldn¡¯t believe his luck. Had they arrived five minutes later, they would have missed the escape entirely. The Avenger came alongside, dwarfing the battered hopper. The scale difference was striking. She immediately opened the communications channel and waited.


    Russell¡¯s response was instant. ¡°Prepare to come aboard.¡±


    As soon as the transmission ended, Russell felt his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew survivors were on that hopper, but when his first officer confirmed the name¡ªhis breath caught. Debra. Alive. Relief crashed over him, sudden and overwhelming, his vision momentarily blurring with the force of it. He clenched his jaw, steadying himself, but his hands trembled as he gripped the armrest. He hadn¡¯t dared to hope.


    When she stepped onto the Avenger¡¯s deck, swaying unsteadily, Russell felt his chest tighten. Before he could speak, she collapsed.


    "Debra!" he surged forward, but the medics reached her first, easing her onto a stretcher. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. She was safe. She was here. That was all that mattered.


    Medics rushed her to the clinic.


    Russ wasted no time. He contacted UW Headquarters via Luna Base, relaying the situation. The Security Council voted swiftly¡ªCarlin was cleared to engage. He could test his ship and weaponry against the sphere without concern for Hilds or her team.


    The sphere, still ignoring them, continued its slow march toward Mars.


    Russ turned to his crew. ¡°Battle stations.¡±


    His first officer manned the laser gunnery controls in the command center. The two ensigns flanking him prepped the ship¡¯s mass cannons¡ªfour mass drivers designed for synchronized or salvo fire. Half of the Terra Twin¡¯s old crew had joined him, thanks to Jeff¡¯s recommendation, and now, the moment of reckoning had arrived.


    Russ gave the order.


    A green beam of several million-candle power lanced from the ship¡¯s top-center, carving a glowing thirty-meter circle into the sphere¡¯s side. Three more beams from below, right, and left followed, slicing into the alien alloy, vaporizing it on contact.


    Russ nodded to his mass gunners. ¡°Fire.¡±


    The first salvo of bombs struck. The ice bombs worked perfectly¡ªeach held a core of solid oxygen encased in explosives, insulated by an outer hydrogen ice layer within a honeycombed steel shell. The Murchison detonators, originally mining devices, triggered the explosions, igniting the gases inside. Hexagon-shaped steel fragments, each weighing sixty to seventy kilos, tore through the sphere. The cut sections were blasted apart, some disintegrating entirely. The sphere attempted to fuse itself shut, but the green beams halted the process.


    Switching to rock ammunition, the gunners fired two-to-four-ton boulders at high velocity. The sphere struggled, attempting to incorporate the rock into its structure, but the material was too brittle. Holes widened. Gaps remained exposed.


    Slowly, the sphere began to rotate.


    Russ had expected this. As the dish weapon on its edge came into view, he shouted, ¡°All weapons¡ªtarget and fire at will!¡±


    Thirty-two boulders, eight bombs, and forty million-candle power of collimated green light slammed into the sphere¡¯s external weapon. The dish shattered under the onslaught, reduced to twisted wreckage.


    As Russ called for a rearm and reload, his eyes locked onto something eerie¡ªthrough the gaping wounds in the sphere, a pale white glow flickered to life. Faint at first. Growing stronger.


    Something inside was waking up.

 Chapter 9- All Aboard

    The center glowed within the torn hulk of the shell. Onboard Avenger, the crew watched as the sphere shrank from nearly sixteen thousand meters in diameter to just one and a half kilometers across. Radar and magnetic scanners now showed that all remaining metal had been pulled inward, forming a thick, closed armor around the core, supported by short, dense columns. The rock had been pushed to the outer surface and fused into slag.


    Russell suspected the sphere was still capable of something dangerous. He didn¡¯t trust whatever was happening inside it, so he ordered another attack. The Avenger¡¯s beams struck, but now they merely cut into the thick, glassy rock. The silicates refracted and scattered the lasers. Rocks hurled at the sphere were absorbed on impact, instantly fusing into its surface. The bombs still caused damage, but they only gouged and dented the structure¡ªpenetration was impossible now.


    The dish structure hadn¡¯t re-formed, but the tracks on the opposite side of the globe were glowing. A pale blue light pulsed and dimmed until the tracks seemed to vanish completely.


    Russell¡¯s scanner tech suddenly yelled, ¡°What!?¡± Then, as if trying to make sense of his own words, he added, ¡°Sir, it¡¯s gone! The sphere¡ªthe metal part¡ªit¡¯s just gone!¡±


    Russ turned sharply. ¡°What the hell do you mean ¡®gone¡¯?¡±


    ¡°If you think I¡¯m kidding,¡± the technician snapped, ¡°bomb that thing again!¡±


    Russ gave the nod, and the mass cannoneers fired. Explosions lit up the viewports, sending slag and rock flying. When the last blast cleared, there was nothing left but the cold void of space.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be damned,¡± muttered Carlin.


    ¡°Did it explode?¡± Russ demanded.


    ¡°No,¡± the tech said. ¡°It was gone before the last blasts even hit. Right when those tracks vanished.¡± He gestured at his console, eyes still wide. ¡°I had heat patterns, magnetic readings, mass data¡ªeverything. Then nothing. Like it just¡ª¡± he exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°Vanished.¡±


    Russell clenched his jaw, staring at the empty starscape. His mind raced. It was here. It let us beat on it. It acted like it was falling apart. Then it hunkered down. And now it¡¯s just... gone? He exhaled through his nose. Where the hell is it now?


    The answer came from Earth in fragmented transmissions:


    ¡°Object has bypassed Jupiter bomb ships¡­¡±


    ¡°No data on course or speed¡­¡±


    ¡°Object within eighteen minutes of Mars orbit¡­¡±


    ¡°Measures one and two-tenths kilometers in diameter now¡­¡±


    ¡°Mass drivers seem ineffectual¡­¡±


    ¡°Projectile weapon striking mass driver sites¡­ total¡ª¡±


    ¡°Repeat¡ªtotal destruction of M.D. sites.¡±


    ¡°Object appears to be landing on Mars¡ªPlain of Elysium.¡±


    ¡°All ships, all ships, general recall. Return to OP and await instructions. Do not, repeat, do not approach object. All ships¡­¡±


    Russ exhaled, tension coiling in his chest. ¡°Cut it off, Murray.¡± OP meant every ship was to return to its origin point and await further orders. For Avenger, that meant Earth and Luna Base.


    He issued quick instructions to his astro-gator and first officer before heading down the corridor to Med-Clinic. His legs carried him fast, and he nearly overshot the door.


    Inside, Debra was awake, sitting up in the g-bed. She looked to him immediately. ¡°Is it over?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Russ admitted. ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡± He stepped closer. ¡°Are you alright? I was afraid you¡ª¡±


    She cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she assured him. ¡°For now, at least. But Russ¡­ something happened in the hopper.¡±


    He frowned. ¡°What?¡±


    She hesitated, searching for the words. ¡°Something¡­ appeared. Inside. Just after I detonated the charges.¡±


    Russ¡¯s pulse spiked. ¡°What something?¡±


    She hesitated, searching for the words. ¡°Something¡­ appeared. Inside. Just after I detonated the charges.¡±


    Russ¡¯s pulse spiked. ¡°What something?¡±


    ¡°The blue globe,¡± she said, her voice lower now. ¡°It just showed up inside the hopper¡­ and it spoke to us.¡±


    Russ felt ice crawl up his spine. ¡°Spoke?¡±


    ¡°And I understood it. They spoke like the council does,¡± she confirmed. ¡°It told us to go ahead. That it would help.¡±


    His gut twisted. He turned sharply, stepping to the doorway panel. Placing his hand beneath the circular interface, he spoke, ¡°Intruder aboard hopper craft. Disconnect and distance the hopper immediately.¡±


    Just as Russ lowered his hand and turned back, something moved in his periphery.


    The blue globe¡ªthe very thing Debra had spoken of¡ªrose from behind the g-bed, floating effortlessly.


    Russ¡¯s instincts kicked in hard. His breath quickened. His fingers closed around the grip of his sidearm. What the hell is this? Some new trick? A last-ditch deception? A leftover from that damn sphere?


    His weapon was up in an instant, sights locked on the orb.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t!¡± Debra yelled.


    But Russ¡¯s mind was already roaring, his muscles tense, finger hovering just shy of the trigger. His pulse thundered as the weight of everything crashed in¡ªMars under siege, mass drivers obliterated, a planet-killing anomaly jumping through space like it owned the damn universe.


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    And now this thing. Right here. Floating inches from Debra. Watching.


    Not this time. Not again.


    Before Russ could press the firing stud, the globe faded into nothingness. The stunner¡¯s bolt snapped and crackled in the small clinic room as it displaced the air. Russell quickly scanned the area but saw no trace of the globe. Then, he heard its voice behind him.


    ¡°You must think I¡¯m an enemy or a spy,¡± it said. ¡°But I am neither.¡±


    Russ spun around, tense. ¡°And why should I think otherwise?¡± he demanded. ¡°I can¡¯t even see you.¡±


    ¡°And you won¡¯t,¡± the globe replied, ¡°until your weapon is holstered.¡±


    Russ narrowed his eyes. ¡°How the hell am I supposed to trust something I can¡¯t even see?¡±


    ¡°I have no armament to harm you with,¡± the voice assured him. ¡°But I must protect my existence.¡±


    ¡°Put away the stunner, Russ!¡± Debra cut in, urgency in her voice. ¡°It didn¡¯t hurt me or my crew. If it wanted to stop us from escaping the sphere, it could have¡ªeasily.¡±


    Russ hesitated, his grip tightening on the stunner. Finally, he exhaled sharply and holstered it. ¡°Fine. Besides, if it meant us harm, it would¡¯ve taken me out the second I pulled a weapon on it.¡±


    ¡°Incorrect,¡± the globe responded as it reappeared in front of him. ¡°I could not attack you under any circumstances. My only defense is evasion.¡±


    Russ crossed his arms. ¡°Great. So you win the argument by default. Now tell me¡ªwhat the hell are you?¡±


    ¡°In your primitive language, the closest word would be ¡®computer.¡¯ However, my capabilities far exceed that definition.¡±


    Debra frowned. ¡°What¡¯s your purpose, then?¡±


    ¡°I am a war correspondent,¡± the globe said. ¡°I was constructed to observe, record, and report on the war between my creators and the race that built the sphere.¡±


    Russ blinked. ¡°A reporter?¡±


    ¡°And a historian.¡±


    Russ shook his head, trying to process it. ¡°Alright, fine. But where exactly did you come from?¡±


    ¡°From the fifth planet of the star you designate as Alpha Cygni, or Deneb. It is one thousand six hundred light-years from here, by your measurement.¡±


    Debra exchanged a glance with Russ before asking, ¡°Why were you inside the sphere?¡±


    ¡°I was recording and observing.¡±


    Russ let out a sharp breath. ¡°If your creators built you, why are you still here? The sphere must have left its origin a long time ago. According to our data, it¡¯s been traveling for at least nine hundred years.¡±


    ¡°Your estimate is close. Nine hundred seventy-three of your years have passed since the sphere¡¯s journey began.¡± The globe¡¯s voice was steady, but there was a weight to its words. ¡°I remained aboard because the descendants of my creators are still inside.¡±


    Debra and Russ both stiffened. A sick feeling settled in Debra¡¯s stomach. ¡°The descendants of some of the sphere¡¯s prisoners?¡± Russ asked hesitantly.


    ¡°No,¡± the globe corrected. ¡°The last survivors of the Denebian race.¡±


    Debra paled. ¡°They¡¯re still alive?¡±


    ¡°Yes. What remains of them is alive¡­ technically speaking.¡±


    Russ¡¯s mouth went dry. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®what remains of them¡¯?¡±


    The globe hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. ¡°They are no longer the sentient beings who created me. The race that subjugated them has been experimenting on their genetic structure for over eight hundred years.¡± It paused. ¡°They are slaves now. Pawns of their conquerors. They have no writing. No speech. No memory.¡±


    Debra felt her knees weaken. ¡°You still communicate with them?¡±


    ¡°Not since I realized they were mindless,¡± the orb admitted. ¡°That was four hundred years ago.¡±


    Russ shook his head, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Then why the hell did you leave with us?¡±


    ¡°I was powerless to help them inside the sphere. You were escaping. You are an unconquered race. I stowed away, hoping to report to you¡­ perhaps to help them.¡±


    The globe¡¯s voice held something eerily close to sorrow. ¡°I am a sentient machine. And I¡ª¡®feel,¡¯ to use your word¡ªa loyalty to my creators and their progeny. But once my reports became useless, and since I can only observe and record, this was all I could do.¡±


    Russ let out a bitter laugh. ¡°So you¡¯re hoping we¡¯ll storm in and set them free?¡±


    The machine¡¯s response was immediate. ¡°No.¡±


    A chilling silence followed before the globe spoke again.


    ¡°I hoped that, with my information to guide you, you would permit them to die¡ªbefore your race becomes the sphere¡¯s next conquest.¡±


    Russell and Debra looked at each other, then at the globe. Russell said to Debra, ¡°go up the corridor to the command room, tell Murray to get his portable relay back here.¡± He turned back to the machine. ¡°If you¡¯ve been aboard so long, didn¡¯t the sphere race try to destroy you as well?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I avoided them for so long they probably have forgotten about me. That last time I tried to speak to one of the descendants, he pointed me out to them and I was pursued briefly. The sphere builders set beam activated traps for me in the corridors and airshafts, but I avoided them easily enough. Several years later the story the guards told their commander made me out to be a hallucination of the slave involved¡± it said.


    ¡°This is probably not relevant to you,¡± said Russ ¡°but our race will need a name to address you by.¡±


    ¡°Of course, it is¡­¡± the sound which followed was somewhat like a few musical notes and a thin scream uttered inside a tunnel.


    When the reverberation stopped, Russ said, ¡°That was different, but I don¡¯t think any of us could say it. Do you have another name or a title that will translate into our language?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps my machine designation will serve better; Advanced Data Access Memory, well?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll do, but abbreviated it¡¯s better; ADAM we¡¯ll call you Adam!¡± said Russell


    ¡°Adam¡± quoted the globe ¡°yes it will serve, and what is your name?¡± the machine asked.


    ¡°Russell Carlin, Captain of the UWSS Avenger.¡±


    ¡°And you came from where?¡± asked the globe.


    ¡°The third planet of Sol, the sun outside out ports, called Earth or Terra. How do you speak our language Adam?¡± Russ asked.


    ¡°I accessed the computers of the mining crafts, the hoppers, and listened to the crews talk by microwave signals until my vocabulary was sufficient. Frankly, the race which built me would have been amazed at a language with only twenty-six characters. The Y¨© q¨«l¨¢i addendum to your language was an afterthought or a compromise I gather.¡±


    ¡°Both actually¡± Russell said as a few laughs escaped him. Remembering from his history lessons the computer incident which combined the two most populous languages of the old Earth. ¡°About two thousand years ago these were separate languages, A predominately eastern language spoken by the Chinese, Korean, Mongolian, Japanese and similarly regioned peoples called Y¨© q¨«l¨¢i , and all the rest of the world was using one called Amer-English. English, Spanish, German, and African words made up Amer-English. Computers on the two sides of the world were programmed in the language preferred locally. When, at last, all computers on the Earth were joined on the UW network, they gibbered and gabbered at each other until every concept had a word to define it in any language. The machines of course opted for the clearest language with the fewest letters for easy storage, only when no word in Amer-English existed the computers used an Asian word, and even then wrote it in AE letters and used english pronunciation rules. The East Asian nations were furious at first but finally calmed down when the machines also rejected the western measuring system and went completely metric at last. There were advantages and drawbacks to this of course. The huge number of Chinese characters made it a perfect language to encode, literally one character per word. Tolstoy¡¯s War and Peace would have been a paperback three centimeters thick in Chinese writing, but to teach all children to read, speak and define thousands of characters was impractical. Also new concepts would have to be characterized and recorded in a new letter as they were discovered, very tedious and mind tiring.¡±


    ¡°So your machines actually chose your language for you?¡± asked ADAM.


    ¡°Yes ADAM, we programmed them to be like us and always take the easiest job so that¡¯s exactly what they did.¡±


    ¡°The fight you will have with the sphere builders won¡¯t be easy, Captain¡± said ADAM.

 Chapter 10- ADAM

    Murray arrived in the clinic room, lugging his portable microwave relay and a computer link-up interface. He set the equipment down with a grunt, brushing off his hands. "I understand we have a visitor," he said, eyeing the floating metallic sphere that was ADAM.


    "And a talkative one at that," Russell replied, crossing his arms. He turned back to ADAM. "Before I leave you with Murray and his kit, I have a few more questions. Let¡¯s start with this¡ªwhat star do the Sphere Builders originate from?"


    "Your designation is Alpha Lyrae," ADAM responded, his synthetic voice unwavering. "In layman¡¯s terms, the name is Vega."


    Murray let out a low whistle. "Just as you thought, Russ. A blue-white with more reds and blues nearby."


    Russ nodded, thoughtful. "That much followed if the green was outside their visual spectrum."


    ADAM''s form pulsed briefly as if emphasizing his next words. "I was monitoring the sphere¡¯s inhabitants during your attack, Captain Carlin. Your ship and its beams were invisible to them. Only your mass projectiles were perceivable."


    Russ¡¯s brow furrowed. "You''re sure about that, ADAM?"


    "Positive, Captain," ADAM confirmed. "You saw them flee from your assault."


    Russ let out a frustrated breath. "I was tricked into fighting an empty husk, from my viewpoint."


    "Yes," ADAM agreed. "Their shift took you by surprise."


    Russ straightened, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me, ADAM, but what exactly is their ¡®shift¡¯?"


    "When they realized you could harm the core ship, they shifted into your past to avoid you," ADAM explained.


    Russ inhaled sharply. "And back into the present near Mars?"


    "Precisely."


    Murray glanced between them, eyes widening. "Hold on a damn second¡ªare we talking about time travel?"


    Russ turned away for a moment, processing the implications. When he spoke again, his voice was tight with frustration. "Of all the injustices so far, this is the worst. The enemy has time travel and a light drive." He exhaled sharply. "Anything else?"


    ADAM hesitated, then spoke in a measured tone. "Your agitation is understandable, Captain, but your conclusions are incorrect. Their drive is actually slower than yours. Only by shifting temporally do they appear to command superior speed. When my creators first encountered the enemy, they also believed them capable of trans-light speed. The truth is far more deceptive."


    Russ¡¯s expression hardened. "Explain."


    ADAM¡¯s voice remained patient but firm. "They can barely achieve six-hundredths of light speed. However, some time before they enter a system, they shift into the past and then proceed forward at their normal pace. This makes it seem as though they have arrived instantaneously at trans-light speeds."


    Russ shook his head. "The results are the same. What¡¯s the difference?"


    "The difference, Captain," ADAM said, "is that you can follow them."


    Russ blinked, his frustration giving way to a flicker of intrigue. "I¡¯d sure like to know how."


    "I know how," ADAM stated simply.


    Russ huffed a short laugh, more out of exasperation than amusement. "That doesn¡¯t reassure me much, ADAM. Your creators had temporal displacement and they still lost."


    "No, Captain," ADAM corrected, his voice carrying an almost human-like intensity. "By the time I was able to tap into the enemy¡¯s computer records, my creators were already defeated. But I modified myself."


    That caught both men¡¯s attention. Murray frowned. "You¡ªmodified yourself? How?"


    "By integrating their temporal displacement technology into my systems," ADAM explained. "I needed their time-shift ability to remain undetected within the sphere, and to follow them. Now, I can offer that same advantage to you."


    Russ felt a stirring of possibility beneath his skepticism. "Can this ship be modified, ADAM?"


    "Any metal-hulled vessel is adaptable to the system, Captain," ADAM assured him.


    Russ took a slow breath. "Then why modify yourself? You were already inside the sphere."


    "True," ADAM conceded. "But I could not hide indefinitely. Eventually, I would have been discovered. Now, however, I can not only evade them¡ªI can help you fight them. With the information I extracted from their data banks, and your ship¡¯s invisibility, the next engagement will be different."


    Russ exchanged a look with Murray, who gave a slow nod. "Sounds like a hell of an upgrade, Captain."


    Russ straightened. "Murray, get everything recorded and transmitted to Earth. Delay should be slight¡ªwe''re over halfway there by now."


    "On it," Murray said, already adjusting the relay setup.


    Russ turned back to ADAM, something close to admiration creeping into his voice. "ADAM, I want you to give Murray and our computer every scrap of information you¡¯ve collected about the enemy. And I want to know exactly how your creators were imprisoned aboard the sphere."


    If the little machine had arms, Russ swore it would have been trembling with anticipation. "I cannot comply quickly enough, Captain," ADAM said. "After four hundred and sixty-two of your years, I will once again be able to execute my primary function."


    Murray chuckled. "If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say you were excited." He finished connecting the voice pickup to the interface when ADAM suddenly floated over his shoulder.


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    "Does your computer require sound transmissions to receive data input?" ADAM inquired.


    Murray sat back, scratching his head. "No, but¡ª" he gestured to the equipment, "¡ªcan you interface with the system directly? Circuit to circuit, I mean."


    ADAM floated back slightly, his metallic shell reflecting the dim light of the clinic room. Then, in a moment of almost comical innocence, he asked, "What, Technician Murray, is a circuit?"


    Murray blinked, then let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, buddy¡­ we¡¯re gonna have a long night."


    Russ allowed himself a small smile before his expression sobered. The battle ahead was going to be unlike anything humanity had ever faced¡ªbut for the first time, they had a fighting chance.


    ¡°Oh, brother,¡± Murray stifled a guffaw. ¡°Do we have a technology gap here. ADAM,¡± he asked, ¡°what¡¯s inside you? What makes up your physical self? Your hardware, your memory banks, your working parts?¡±


    ADAM lifted slightly from the g-bed. ¡°I am constructed of artificially grown, living crystalline cells, identical in nearly every way to the brain cells of my creators'' race. My external shell is a perfect sphere, four and five-tenths centimeters thick, composed of an adamantium and titanium-alloyed steel containing no impurities. The inner surface of the shell serves to collect, process, and recycle the wastes produced by my cells, returning them for reuse to sustain me. The shell draws energy from light, heat, vibration, or radiation with an efficiency of ninety-six point nine percent. This collected energy is used for movement, warmth, cooling, recycling, and communication. Since my modification, an outer layer¡ªone point eight centimeters in thickness¡ªhas been added, composed of the sphere¡¯s pure nickel-iron alloy. This layer contains the temporal displacement lattice, absorbing and conducting all ambient energy to the inner layer while storing excess energy for later use.¡±


    Murray blinked. ¡°Uh-huh. And I thought my toaster was complicated.¡± He rubbed his temples. ¡°Alright, the way you¡¯re describing the metals in your shell¡­ you use them as superconductors, ADAM. When these materials are properly slathered with silicates and ions¡ª¡±


    ¡°Slated,¡± ADAM corrected.


    ¡°That too,¡± Murray waved him off. ¡°Anyway, arranged in exact patterns by electromagnetic influence, in a liquid state, then solidified in that pattern, they become superconductive materials, containing huge volumes of free electrons. The atoms are so polarized that electron expressways are formed throughout the matrix.¡±


    ¡°The pattern of my matrix,¡± ADAM continued, ¡°is an expanded copy of the brain synapses of my creator, Denebian scientist Rath Logam. He pioneered cybernetic science on Hathlon, Deneb Five¡ªmy original planet. He built the first artificial intelligence machines. I was his thirty-ninth project and success¡ªan artificial war correspondent assigned to observe and report on the progress of the war with the Shapers and to preserve the history of the Denebian race, including the war. As you must plainly realize, Murray, transmitting all my accumulated data¡ªif limited only to the war¡ªwould take an alarming amount of time.¡±


    ¡°How much time, ADAM?¡± Murray asked weakly, already dreading the answer.


    ¡°At the fastest rate your recording devices can maintain reproduction¡­ two and seven-tenths years.¡±


    ¡°Balls of fire,¡± Murray groaned. ¡°Mars is waiting for help now! Is that the best you can do? Wait a minute,¡± he suddenly brightened. ¡°How did you say you tapped into the enemy¡¯s computer records?¡±


    ¡°I read their computer¡¯s thoughts. Its makeup was cruder but somewhat similar to my own and lacked a protective vessel.¡±


    Murray perked up. ¡°Wait, wait, wait¡ªso the Shapers¡¯ computer is a living machine like you?¡±


    ¡°It is alive, but not a machine, Murray,¡± ADAM corrected. ¡°It was grown by the Shapers¡¯ scientists to perform the functions of astrogation, maneuver, deployment, repair, life support, armament, supply, and evaluation. The Shapers reserve flight, battle, and exploration functions for themselves.¡±


    ¡°So they keep all the glamour jobs, huh?¡± Murray snorted.


    ¡°Quite so. They consider the functions of their computer as menial chores best left to animals,¡± ADAM replied.


    Murray stopped short. ¡°Hold up. So it¡¯s an animal?¡±


    ¡°No, Murray. It is the hypertrophied brain of one of their species, removed from its body and altered to function only on a subconscious level. It initiates no thoughts itself, but obeys all commands given to it.¡±


    Murray¡¯s face went pale. His stomach twisted. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ horrific. Ghastly. Inhuman,¡± he sputtered, nearly gagging. ¡°How could an intelligent race do¡­ that?¡± He swallowed hard, holding his gorge down through sheer willpower.


    ¡°From their records, it was one of many ways they utilized undesirable individuals in their society,¡± ADAM said matter-of-factly.


    Murray¡¯s stomach threatened rebellion. ¡°You mean criminals, ADAM?¡±


    ¡°No, Murray. What humans consider criminal would not impress them. Their definition of ¡®undesirable¡¯ includes the strong-willed who refuse to conform, the weak-bodied who cannot labor for their masters, and the weak-spirited, too gentle to join in the traditional pastimes of the Shapers. The computer aboard this sphere was consigned to its fate early on, Murray. It had a birth defect¡ªit was blind. Actually, it believes it made a bargain with its masters. It lost its limbs and body, but now it ¡®sees¡¯ the stars and planets by sensors linked to the optic nerves and travels through space obeying its orders like a trained dog.¡±


    Murray ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. ¡°Monstrous! Evil!¡± He shook his head, then, in an attempt to break the heavy tension, added, ¡°I mean, come on, ADAM¡ªif I ever start doing stuff like that, I give you full permission to fry my circuits and toss me into the nearest black hole.¡±


    ADAM¡¯s lights flickered as he processed the statement. ¡°Understood. If you engage in unethical bioengineering practices akin to the Shapers, I will initiate immediate termination protocols and ensure your remains are disposed of in the most gravitationally efficient manner.¡±


    Murray blinked. ¡°Uh¡­ ADAM, buddy, that was a joke.¡±


    ADAM paused. ¡°Clarify. You do not wish to be destroyed and ejected into a black hole?¡±


    Murray sputtered. ¡°No! No, I do not wish to be destroyed and ejected into a black hole! That was sarcasm! A little ¡®ha-ha¡¯ to lighten the mood!¡±


    ADAM¡¯s lights flickered again. ¡°Acknowledged. I will recalibrate my parameters to better detect non-literal statements.¡± A pause. ¡°However, your previous joke contained no such parameters. It appears humor has varying structures.¡±


    Murray sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a little more complicated than just defining irony. But hey, you¡¯re catching on. Slowly.¡± He shot ADAM a smirk. ¡°Just, uh¡­ maybe don¡¯t take everything I say as a binding contract, alright?¡±


    ADAM¡¯s response was immediate. ¡°Acknowledged. No immediate termination of Murray unless explicitly authorized.¡±


    Murray groaned. ¡°I don¡¯t like how you phrased that.¡±


    ADAM processed Murray¡¯s emotional outburst. ¡°I detect elevated vocal intensity, increased heart rate, and heightened neural activity consistent with distress.¡±


    Murray groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s because it is distressing, ADAM. You don¡¯t just rip someone¡¯s brain out and turn them into a glorified space GPS.¡± He huffed. ¡°Listen, buddy, you¡¯ve got a lot of facts, but you¡¯re missing some context. For instance, what I just said? That¡¯s called a joke.¡±


    ADAM¡¯s lights flickered. ¡°Define ¡®joke.¡¯¡±


    Murray grinned. ¡°Oh, this is gonna be fun. A joke is a statement meant to amuse, often using irony, absurdity, or exaggeration.¡± He leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°For example: ¡®Two atoms walk into a bar. One says, ¡®I think I lost an electron.¡¯ The other asks, ¡®Are you positive?¡¯¡±


    ADAM processed. ¡°That is scientifically accurate.¡±


    Murray¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s supposed to be funny.¡±


    ADAM¡¯s lights flickered again. ¡°The humor is derived from a play on words. The phrase ¡®are you positive¡¯ contains a double meaning, referring both to emotional certainty and electrical charge.¡±


    Murray whooped. ¡°Hey! You got it! You might be a big metal coconut, but you¡¯re learning!¡±


    ADAM remained still for a moment. Then, in perfect deadpan, he said, ¡°A neutron walks into a bar and asks the price of a drink. The bartender says, ¡®For you? No charge.¡¯¡±


    Murray froze. Then, slowly, his face split into a grin. ¡°Oh-ho! Now you¡¯re getting it! Not bad for a rookie.¡±


    ¡°I am adapting to the concept,¡± ADAM admitted. ¡°Do all human conversations include humor?¡±


    Murray clapped him on the side. ¡°The best ones do, my friend. The best ones do.¡±