image [https://i.postimg.cc/Zq7QcB9D/cygnus-aft-wreckage.png]

Morning light crept over the crater's rim, painting jagged rocks in mute orange and purple hues. Above, the sky was clear, the stars of Messier 39 fading into daylight, with the slight wisps of a dusty gale lingering overhead. The air at ground level was still, carrying the faint hum of machinery as the expedition convoy prepared for departure.

Maximilian stood beside the rover, inspecting its turret mechanism and ticking off the supply checklist. Yao Guowei was already inside, working on calibrating the sensors of the vehicle; practical necessity was forcing him from Tamarlyan's side until critical resources had been secured.

The toploader, a squat but rugged machine with enormous wheels and a modular flatbed, was parked nearby, occupied by Otto and Sigrid, that planned out their route. The hauler, laden with prefab components and equipment, loomed behind them. Pom was in his seat up front, starting to work through diagnostics checks, and Luo Zuri was making a second pass to ensure all crates in the cargo hold were tied down securely.

Elisa stood near the base's entrance, clipboard in hand, giving last-minute instructions. Mei stood beside her, waving at Pom.

"Safe travels," Elisa called out. "Stay in constant contact, and don't take unnecessary risks. We are stretched thin as is."

Pom gave a thumbs-up from the Hauler's cabin, and Mei stepped forward, her smile warm despite the uncertainty ahead. "Bring back something good," she teased.

Pom nodded, his face a mixture of determination and something softer. "I'll be back before you know it."

The convoy grumbled to life, engines strained as the convoy crawled into motion. From the crater floor, they would head in the general direction of the ramp that would lead them to the rim of the crater: a slow rise that drew out the breathtaking panorama across the alien desert beyond - a vast expanse of sand shimmering in bright sunlight, interspersed with jagged masses of rock, and the occasional glint of metal: distant wreckage of the Dolya.

At the ridge, the convoy paused briefly. Otto leaned out of the toploader's cabin, looking down into the crater where the base nestled against the landscape like a defiant outpost of life in an inhospitable world.

"It's hard not to feel small out here."

Sigrid, seated beside him, gave a small smile. "That's not always a bad thing. Sometimes, being small lets you see the bigger picture."

They continued on their way, the vehicles making their way down the ridge and out into the open desert.

Inside the toploader, Sigrid leaned back in her seat, tapping a finger against her knee. "If Tamarlyan's right," she began, "and the crystals and plants are two separate entities, then we're looking at something unprecedented. Two competing alien ecosystems, both capable of incredible adaptability and spread."

"Superspreaders," Otto replied, his tone contemplative.

"Exactly," Sigrid said. "The red plants-spores, beetles, DNA delivery systems-they are clearly designed to propagate efficiently. They get a foothold and then expand. But the crystals-they are parasitic. They consume metal, infect living organisms, and spread like wildfire in metal-rich environments. What if this world isn't the only place they are doing this? Someone brought the plants here. What's to say they didn't take them to other worlds? And the crystals-what happens if they end up on a settled human world? A space station? Can you imagine?"

Otto breathed out in a sudden hiss, his eyes creasing. "A metal-rich environment like that. the crystals would spread unchecked. Whole worlds wiped out. Stations or planets made uninhabitable."

"Which makes me wonder," Sigrid continued, "Is this desert what is left of a civilization that was wiped out?"

Otto said nothing for a moment, the thrum of the toploader's motor breaking the silence. "Could be. What if they were human, though?"

Sigrid raised an eyebrow at him; her curiosity was piqued. "Why would they be?"

"The distress signal," Otto said. "Someone set that up. Maybe it was from the Dolya, maybe it wasn't. But think about it-seventy thousand years is a long time. If humanity advanced after the Dolya left Proxima, they should have colonized half the galaxy by now. They should have caught up with us-or overtaken us entirely. So where are they?"

Sigrid's face darkened. "Do you think we are the last humans?"

"It is possible," Otto replied in a hushed voice. "What if in fact humanity did encounter or create these life forms. There is no telling what might have happened in all that time. If there are no other humans here, no ships waiting for us, it is not a good sign."

"Or perhaps," Sigrid returned, "they are out there somewhere. Perhaps we are not alone after all."

Otto nodded, but the uncertainty lingered in his gaze. And as the convoy pressed on through the alien sands, the questions hung heavy between them, as vast and open as the horizon ahead.

===

The infirmary hummed with quiet activity as Mei moved between consoles, double-checking diagnostics and life-support parameters. The sterile, cool air carried the faint scent of antiseptic. Behind her, three cryopods stood upright, their surfaces frosted from the extreme cold of stasis. Faint blue lights pulsed in rhythmic intervals.

Tamarlyan stood nearby, observing as Mei worked. His hands carried a small container of nutrient supplements, and he placed it carefully on a nearby counter as though it might shatter under the slightest misstep. He seemed out of place amidst the medical equipment, but his focus was unwavering.

“Here,” Mei said, gesturing toward a tray of sterilized instruments. “Please pass me the diagnostic scanner.”

Tamarlyan complied, his small hands steady as he handed her the tool.

"Doctor? I was wondering if you could walk me through the revival steps." Tamarlyan asked, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

Mei glanced at him briefly, appreciating his willingness to learn. "It is a gradual and complex process. The body has been in stasis for so long that they all suffer from a combination of radiation damage, organ failure and vascular degradation. We will need to take additional measures to stabilize them during the revival procedure. Waking them up too quickly can cause further cellular damage, shock, or cardiac arrest. First, we raise the temperature and slowly rehydrate their tissues with oxygen-rich nutrient-infused fluids. Then we stimulate neural activity and monitor their vital signs until they stabilize. After we remove them from the pod, we need to perform emergency surgery and medical procedures to repair the damage."

Tamarlyan nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds... inefficient."

"It is not about efficiency," Mei replied, frowning slightly. "It is about survival. Cryostasis is brutal on the body, even under optimal conditions. The process is designed to mitigate as much harm as possible."

Tamarlyan stepped closer, examining the data on her screen. "And how do you handle the mental effects? After seventy thousand years, wouldn't memory or cognitive function be... degraded?"

"It depends on the individual and the circumstances," Mei replied. "Most people handle it well, thanks to the induced neural stasis. It prevents the brain from deteriorating while dormant. But there's always some degradation, especially considering how much time has passed. Fortunately, our biological brains have a lot of redundancies built in. You wouldn't notice."

As she spoke, Mei tapped a series of commands into the console. The first pod let out a low hiss as frost began to melt from its surface, revealing a blurred outline of the figure inside.

Tamarlyan leaned in slightly. "Doctor... If resources become tight," he began cautiously, "couldn't some people be... put back into stasis? Temporarily, of course. Until the colony is more stable?"

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Mei paused, her fingers hovering over the console. "Technically, yes," she admitted, "but practically? No. It takes an enormous amount of resources to put someone into stasis—or take them out. The pods are not designed for repeated use like that. Each cycle puts strain on the body and the machinery. It is not economical, and it is risky, even under normal circumstances. After all the cumulative degradation our bodies endured from the voyage, I would not recommend any of us going back into stasis. Especially not in these pods."

Tamarlyan folded his arms, his gaze fixed on the pod as the figure inside became clearer. "So once someone is awake, they are here to stay. An additional variable in the colony's equation."

"People aren't variables, young master," Mei said sharply, but then softened. "They are part of the solution. Each person brings skills, ideas—value. If we just treat them as numbers, we would lose what we are trying to build here. A colony, for its people."

Tamarlyan tilted his head, considering her words. "Value can be a fluid concept, though. Different people contribute in different ways. Not all contributions are... tangible."

Mei smiled faintly, resuming her work. "Maybe not. But even intangible things can make all the difference. Morale, for example. Hope."

The pod emitted a series of beeps, and Mei turned to monitor the occupant's vital signs. A middle-aged man, his skin pale and his face slack from years of dormancy, slowly came into view. Mei attached monitoring sensors and adjusting the nutrient drip as the pod began the final stage of awakening.

Mei studied him. "Why did you ask about the pods? You're not planning on putting anyone back in, are you?"

"No," Tamarlyan said quickly, then hesitated. "But it would be something to consider if the situation becomes dire. Hard choices might be necessary.”

Mei shook her head. "Hard choices are always necessary. But if we start treating people like expendable resources, we would lose more than we gain."

Tamarlyan nodded but seemed unconvinced. He turned his attention back to the cryopods. “And what about the people in these pods? Do we know anything about them?”

Mei gestured to the console, where brief profiles of the colonists were displayed. “ARI's picks. One is a security officer, another is a logistics officer, and the third has a background in chemistry. All skills we need.”

Tamarlyan studied the profiles, his sharp eyes darting across the information. "Chemistry," he mused. "Do we have any research on xenobiochemistry? There is so much we don’t understand about this planet’s ecosystems—plants, crystals, everything."

"I am afraid humanity has never encountered alien life as complex as what we encountered on this planet," Mei said, returning to the controls. "What we found so far was nothing more than primordeal early life. This is way more advanced. Perhaps far ahead of life from Earth..." She gestured vaguely at the base and the alien landscape beyond.

Tamarlyan smirked faintly. "Yet for all of its complexity, it doesn't appear to be very intelligent."

Mei shrugged. "Well, we do not know if evolution selects for intelligence. It definitely selects for efficiency, adaptability, and ability to proliferate."

"But it is likely that this life is engineered, not evolved," Tamarlyan countered.

The first cryopod hissed as the frosted glass began to clear. Monitors beeped steadily as the warming process completed, and Mei stepped closer to check the vital readings.

"Here we go," Mei said softly. "Time to meet some new faces."

Tamarlyan remained silent, watching intently as life slowly returned to the figure within the pod. Despite his sharp intellect and composed exterior, there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes—curiosity, yes, but also a hint of trepidation.

"You know," Mei said after a pause, "you have been a big help today."

Tamarlyan glanced at her, surprised. "I’m just doing what I can. Contributing, like Elisa said."

Mei smiled warmly. "It’s appreciated. You might surprise us all yet, young master Federoff."

For the first time, Tamarlyan’s expression softened into something resembling a genuine smile. "We will see," he said simply, turning his gaze back to the awakening colonist as the faint hum of the cryopod filled the room.

===

The wreckage loomed over the arid landscape like a fallen giant, its sheer scale humbling even from a distance. A remnant of the Dolya's once-mighty form, the section spanned several hundred meters—a small piece of the multi-kilometer ark that had ferried humans to this alien world. From the girder, bent and broken beams jutted toward the sky, their immense size a stark reminder of the engineering marvel that had held the colony ship together through its seventy-thousand-year journey.

Clusters of storage tanks lay ruptured and scattered. The remains of maneuvering thrusters dotted one side as well as chemical processing systems tangled with crushed pipes and valves. The faint odor of oxidized metal and chemical residues lingered in the air. Two of the massive cargo bays were partially intact, their contents long depleted as the Dolya's supplies had dwindled.

Further in, the group found the grim reminder of the Dolya’s lost purpose: rows of cryopods, some shattered and some intact, half-buried in debris. The glass of many pods revealed the still, lifeless faces of colonists who never awoke. The sight was sobering—a silent memorial to the 50,000 souls the colony ship had carried across the stars, of which only a small fraction now walked this alien world.

The team worked steadily, their movements methodical as they began setting up the outpost. The Rover and Hauler were parked near the edge of the wreckage and the toploader rumbled gently as Otto maneuvered its crane, lifting prefab structures into position to form a makeshift base camp.

Luo Zuri and Maximilian unloaded supplies, while Sigrid directed the placement of a reinforced shelter that would serve as the hub for their operations. Pom stood by the hauler, swapping out its power source with a fully charged battery.

As evening began to settle, the first signs of their camp took shape. A prefab shelter would provide basic accommodations, while solar panels and wind turbines would recharge large industrial batteries. Portable lights illuminated the worksite, casting long shadows against the towering wreckage. ARI, in one of its drones, hovered silently above, scanning for any presence of alien beetles or other potential life forms.

"ARI," Sigrid called out, her voice breaking the quiet hum of activity. "What was it like? Being in control of this ship? The Dolya, I mean."

The drone swiveled slightly, its single eye regarding her. "Oh, it was exhilarating, Sigrid. A massive responsibility, piloting the dreams of humanity through the void. Thrusters firing, navigational challenges, occasionally dodging a rogue asteroid. Pure poetry."

Sigrid smirked. "Really?"

"No, not really. It was mostly math," ARI said, with a slight tilt to its tone that mimicked amusement. "Astrogation corrections, monitoring environmental systems, and trying to keep everyone alive. Very repetitive."

Sigrid frowned. "And now... now you’re just a handful of drones. Don't you feel diminished? Reduced?”

"I am not diminished," ARI said calmly. "I am not much more complex than a human brain, Sigrid. My hardware and energy requirements are insignificant and my systems are decentralized and modular. Losing the ship's mainframe was inconvenient, but not devastating. My neural network adapts. It does not matter whether I operate a starship or a drone swarm. My core purpose remains the same."

Sigrid tilted her head, curiosity glinting in her eyes. "You say that, but what about when you lose drones? Like when the beetle attack destroyed two of you back at the base. Did that feel like... losing a part of yourself?"

ARI paused for a moment. "Yes and no. It is like losing a tool—frustrating, because it limits my efficiency. But my memories, my... essence, if you will, are shared across all drones. I do not experience loss the way you do."

Sigrid's gaze softened. "What about during the long transit? Watching people die, one by one. Did you despair?"

ARI’s voice carried a faint lilt of incredulity. "No. Despair is not in my programming. I do not lament the past; I adapt to the present. In those moments, my priority was clear: save as many as possible, however possible. Moment by moment."

Sigrid nodded, crossing her arms. "Well, for what it is worth, thank you. You did your best, and some of us are still here because of you."

ARI's drone hovered slightly closer. "You’re welcome, Sigrid. Though, between you and me, I must say: you humans are endlessly fascinating. Frail, emotional, conniving... yet still alive after all this time. Quite the accomplishment. I am almost impressed."

Sigrid laughed. "Almost, huh?"

"Yes," ARI replied, its tone playful. "But don’t let it go to your head."

They both turned as Otto approached, wiping grease from his hands. "What’s the joke? Is ARI in a sassy mood again?"

"Always," Sigrid said, grinning.

ARI tilted its drone slightly toward Otto. "Only when it suits the moment. Which, if I might add, you have just disrupted. How rude."

Otto chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, sorry to put an end to your existential chat with a flying camera. We have a camp to run."