image [https://i.ibb.co/9y7Lp7n/cygnus-stasis.png]

For a timeless moment, there was nothing but the void. It stretched outwards to infinity, vast and silent, holding him suspended in a weightless limbo. Faint whispers began to surface, distant and fragmented, like echoes from a life that was both familiar and alien.

He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy, disconnected. He was unsure if he even had a body anymore. His mind swirled with confusion, his thoughts darting between fragments of memories and strange sensations he couldn't place.

A light flickered distantly; as he moved closer, there came muffled sounds, voices or machines, he did not know which. A rhythmic, pulsating light beckoned, yet with no motion of forward movement nor a body to convey him.

In a sudden burst of light, he was in his father's study on Earth; the rich smell of cedarwood and leather invaded his nostrils. Davron Mansur Federoff was a towering figure over him, a commanding presence in the stately room. His sharp features softened as he looked down at Tamarlyan.

"One day, you will carry the family legacy, son," Davron said, equal parts of pride and determination intermingled in his voice. "The Federoffs endure. Always."

The scene shifted abruptly, the study dissolving into nothingness. Cold gripped him as he saw himself in the cabin of the interstellar transit ship, watching the Earth recede in the viewport.

"Where are we going, Father?"

"To a new home," his father had replied. "Where we will continue to thrive, no matter the challenges."

Cold bit him as he saw himself in the cryopod for the first time. Stars stretched into long streaks. A sense of weightlessness and eternity engulfed him.

The scene shifted again. He was older now, and he saw himself running through the tight and overcrowded corridors of the orbital station. The tension in the air was palpable. Five years they had been forced to stay there, their family denied landing rights that were due to them. His father's anger simmered just beneath his composed exterior, but Tamarlyan could feel it, an unyielding rage masked as stoic calm.

"Our claims have been denied," his father had said one evening, his voice low but cold. "But remember this, Tamarlyan: a Federoff always endures."

Even then, he could read the fragility in those words: The station was a cage, his family's influence no longer strong enough to secure them a foothold. The years in limbo passed in a haze of waiting, promises of a new start whispered but never fulfilled. The weight of politics, the bitter realization that they had fallen out of favor in someone else's game-these memories clung to Tamarlyan like shadows.

The present shattered into surreal images, colors and sounds merging and dissolving against his mind like waves. For a fleeting instant, he saw himself board another transit ship, its destination marked for Gliese 777. It was an event that felt important, connected with hopes of escape and new beginnings. But as fast as the thought came, it slipped away, leaving him adrift once more.

His father's voice echoed once more in his mind, faint and from a great distance. "Stay strong, Tamarlyan. The Federoffs endure. However long it may take."

A sense of warmth seeped into his awareness, an alien and intrusive feeling after the cold eternity of cryostasis. His brain fought to interpret the flux of new sensations. Pressure. Weight. The muted whine of machinery.

A voice cut through the fog, even and detached. "Vital signs stable. Neural activity within expected parameters. Beginning final revival protocol."

Who was speaking? Where was he? Tamarlyan's mind scrambled for coherence, and nothing made sense. His father's face flickered in his mind's eye one last time; the stern expression gave way to something softer, almost proud.

"Wake up, my son. You have work to do."

The words echoed as the darkness shattered, light flooding his senses. Tamarlyan gasped, his lungs burning as they filled with air for the first time in millennia. He tried to sit up, but his body felt alien, weak.

He blinked, and his vision cleared to an unfamiliar ceiling. The smell of sterile surroundings filled his nostrils, the soft hum of machinery beeping in his ears. He lay there for a while, overwhelmed by the strange atmosphere.

And then he realized he was alive. But where—and when—was he?

===

With production lines operational and morale cautiously climbing, the crew had turned their focus to building not just a base, but a home. The latest addition to the growing infrastructure was a newly fabricated automated crane, its sleek metallic arm rapidly assembling prefabricated buildings. With it, the team had constructed larger habitation units, giving everyone much-needed personal space and privacy.

In the heart of the base stood the latest achievement of their efforts: the new headquarters. Elisa had insisted on something functional yet welcoming, eschewing the idea of a personal office for a communal hub. The round white building gleamed under the sun, its smooth design interrupted only by large shaded windows that allowed natural light to flood the interior. Inside, a faux-wood printed floor added warmth to the space, complemented by modular seating and curved walls that lent the structure a homely elegance. It was not just a meeting area, but a place where the crew could come together and feel like a community.

Elisa stood near the center of the briefing room, inspecting the furnishings one last time before the meeting began. Her eyes flicked over the carefully arranged chairs and the large, central display panel where ARI's holographic interface flickered to life. Despite her exhaustion, she allowed herself a small smile. This building was a milestone of their progress, a step toward stability, and a symbol of Elisa's leadership style and plans for the future of the colony.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, and all heads turned. Tamarlyan Bakhtiyar Federoff entered first, his small figure framed by the imposing presence of Yao Guowei, the household guard. Behind them was Luo Zuri, who moved with a curt elegance despite her injuries.

Tamarlyan’s wide eyes scanned the room, lingering on the unfamiliar faces and taking in the setting. He clutched a sleek tablet against his chest like a shield. Yao Guowei’s sharp gaze swept across the colonists, lingering on Maximilian for a beat longer than the others. His posture was rigid, his movements deliberate, as if assessing the room for threats. Luo Zuri came in last, her calm and friendly demeanor contrasting with the tension radiating from Yao.

Elisa stepped forward, her voice steady but tinged with warmth. "Tamarlyan, welcome. My name is Elisa Woodward. I'm the commander of this colony."

Tamarlyan blinked, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came. Yao Guowei inclined his head slightly, his tone formal but guarded. "Commander Woodward. I am Yao Guowei, sworn guardian of the Federoff family. Thank you for reviving us."

Luo Zuri nodded in acknowledgment. "I am doctor Luo Zuri. Medic and pilot. I look forward to assisting the colony."

Elisa smiled faintly. "Your skills are exactly what we need, Doctor Luo. Thank you for being here."

The atmosphere grew taut as Tamarlyan remained silent, his young face pale and drawn. Sigrid frowned, stepping forward slightly. “With all due respect, Commander, but perhaps we should ask the child to remain inside? Outside isn't exactly a safe for anyone, let alone a ten-year-old.”

Tamarlyan's small hands tightened around his tablet, his voice a whisper but clear. "I am not just a child. I’m Tamarlyan Bakhtiyar Federoff. My family funded this expedition."

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The room went silent. Maximilian's lips curved into a faint smirk as he folded his arms, clearly amused by the boy's declaration. Otto glanced at Elisa, who remained composed but visibly tensed.

Ervin broke the silence, his voice calm but firm. "Tamarlyan, you have been through a lot, and none of this is easy to understand. But here, we all work together. Titles don't matter as much as teamwork."

Yao Guowei's expression darkened slightly, his voice sharp. "You speak as if the Federoffs' legacy can be set aside so easily."

"We are not setting anything aside," Elisa said, her tone cool but measured. "But this isn't the world you left behind, nor the one we intended to settle, Mr. Yao. Out here, survival comes first. That means everyone contributes—no exceptions."

Luo Zuri spoke up, her voice calm but commanding. "I agree with Commander Woodward. The situation we face requires adaptability. I will assist in medical and piloting duties as needed, but we must ensure clear priorities."

Around the holographic table, the group discussed the plans for the next phase of development: securing additional cryopods, refining higher-quality ore, and finally exploring the radioactive materials near the alien hive.

Elisa tapped the console, displaying a map of the surrounding terrain. "We have stabilized the base and expanded production, but we are still running lean. The next step is to retrieve the remaining cryopods. ARI's drones have located two clusters nearby and marked their positions. ARI, please report all your findings."

The map zoomed out, showing the terrain that made up the landscape surrounding the crater base.

"Our reconnaissance drones have confirmed that the second alien hive contains deposits of thorium. These materials, if extracted, could significantly increase our energy production capabilities."

Sigrid nodded. "With proper processing, we could run the refinery at full capacity, even support long-term industrial expansion."

"Correct," ARI agreed. "However, the hive’s hostile inhabitants remain a significant threat. Tactical planning will be necessary for any operation involving the hive."

Sigrid moved on to the next point. "The drones have also identified two additional sections of the ship's aft wreckage, located to the southwest. These could be major salvage sites. If lucky, we may find components that cannot be fabricated at the base—high-grade alloys, advanced circuitry, maybe even reactor parts."

Ervin leaned forward. "That is promising, but it will be labor-intensive. We will need to prioritize what to recover first."

ARI's hologram flickered slightly, signaling a new topic as the map shifted to a new location. "Finally, the expanded sensor and charging network has detected a repeating distress signal originating from the hilly terrain to the southeast. The signal is in part consistent with standard emergency protocols, but it is highly degraded. The source may be damaged equipment or a malfunctioning beacon."

Otto folded his arms. "Or, someone else made it out here before us," he said, his voice calm but firm.

"It is a possibility," ARI acknowledged. "The signal’s strength and pattern suggest it may have been transmitting for an extended period, and I am not aware of any object from our ship's manifest that could explain its presence."

===

Luo Zuri worked methodically as Mei sat on the infirmary bed, her expression tense but cooperative. The advanced medical scanner hummed softly, its interface displaying in-depth readouts of Mei's vitals and biological composition.

"Your immune response has stabilized," Zuri concluded. "No signs of infection or contagion at this time. The alien DNA in your system is fully integraded, but it is neither reactive nor transmissible."

Mei let out a long breath, relief evident on her face. "And the plants? The spores?"

Luo tapped a screen, bringing up magnified images of the spores. "The spores contain nanoparticles. These act as a delivery system for the red plant's DNA—functionally similar to a virus. However, their primary function seems to be assisting the plants in establishing themselves on various substrates. No signs of pathogenicity aimed specifically at humans, although we cannot rule out that different versions of the spores were developed during your stay at the Valley of Hope's grove."

At ARI's prompt approval, Mei began removing her containment suit, peeling it off layer by layer with a mixture of hesitation and liberation. The cool air of the infirmary was a welcome contrast to the stifling confines of the suit. "Finally," she muttered, flexing her fingers and shoulders.

Suddenly, the door to the infirmary slid open, and Yao Guowei entered, his steps deliberate and his expression unreadable. In his hands was a containment box, inside which rested the corpse of one of the smaller golden beetles. Following close behind was Tamarlyan Bakhtiyar Federoff, his sharp, calculating gaze scanning the room as if cataloging its every detail for later reference. Then they walked over to the lab area, where Sigrid was cataloging plant material.

Sigrid's eyes widened, and she immediately stepped forward. "Stop right there," she snapped. "Those materials are dangerous. Potentially infectious. You shouldn't be handling them."

Tamarlyan's expression barely shifted as he tilted his head toward her, his voice cold and clipped. "You will address me as ‘Mr. Federoff’ or ‘Young Master Federoff’. Formalities matter."

Mei blinked, stunned for a moment by his tone, before regaining her composure. "Indeed, Mr. Federoff. However, the fact remains that those alien creatures are hazardous..."

"They are my property, doctor Qi," Tamarlyan replied with icy precision. "As are all specimens I wish to claim. I will be dissecting this one for study."

Before Mei could protest further, Guowei set the containment box on a lab table, and Tamarylan slid it into the sterile examination booth. He handled the beetle's segmented body with surprising expertise, selecting tools from the workstation as if he had done this before. Mei watched in a mix of horror and fascination.

"Can I ask where you learned to do that?" Mei finally said.

Tamarlyan didn't look up as he worked. "I have studied dissection extensively as part of my education. Animals, plants, and even a human cadaver."

Mei hesitated. "A human cadaver? Are you... studying to be a doctor?"

Tamarlyan's hands moved with surgical precision as he sliced into the beetle's carapace, exposing its inner workings. "No. Biology is but one of many disciplines I have studied. It is merely a tool for understanding broader systems."

When Tamarlyan finally stepped back from the dissected beetle, he gestured toward the containment box Sigrid had pointedly set aside earlier—the remains of Ervin’s arm, consumed by red crystals. "Could you tell me what is in there, please?"

Mei hesitated, then brought the box forward. "This is what is left of Reverend Sekhon’s arm. It was consumed by rapidly growing red crystals after an encounter with the alien goo. We have kept it sealed since."

Tamarlyan's eyes lit up with curiosity as he peered at the grotesque contents. "Fascinating. Please tell me everything you know about these beetles and their relationship with the red plants."

Mei relayed what little they had pieced together: the beetles emerging from the red plants, the plants' ability to accumulate metals, the oozing crystal substances that tracked living creatures, and the observations of three distinct groves of red plants. She explained that only one grove had been blooming, while the one in the base appeared dormant, and the third—near the thorium deposit—was partially crystalized.

Tamarlyan folded his arms, his young face a mask of intense concentration. "Have you considered that these crystals and the red plants may not be part of the same ecosystem at all?"

"What do you mean?" Sigrid asked.

"The crystals could be parasitic," Tamarlyan said matter-of-factly. "A separate, alien system hijacking the plants and their beetles for its own purposes. The plants might be trying to spread and establish themselves, but the crystals could be competing with them—or even exploiting them."

The room fell silent as the implications of his theory sank in. Mei exchanged a glance with Luo Zuri, who had been listening quietly but attentively.

"That... actually makes sense," Sigrid admitted reluctantly. "We have been assuming they were part of the same system because we have only ever seen them together."

Tamarlyan's cold demeanor didn't waver. "Assumptions are the death of science, miss Ronningen. If this colony is to survive, it would be prudent to challenge them constantly."

Sigrid clenched her fists, suppressing a surge of frustration. The boy was insufferable—but he might be right.