105,099 AD
Terrestrial Planet
Rosco awoke with a jolt, his body, weak and disoriented. For the first time since leaving Mars, he was on a planet, a true terrestrial world—not the cold metal of a ship or a fabricated biodome, but a real terrestrial planet.
He lay in the midst of an expansive field covered in tall grasses, their wild stalks swaying gently in the wind. It was a landscape he'd only seen in simulations or biodomes back on Mars, where nature had long since been confined to controlled environments. This world, however, was raw and untouched, its vastness overwhelming.
His eyes fluttered, squinting against the brightness of the sky. Clouds—real, drifting clouds—floated lazily above him, their movements indifferent to the silent turmoil within him. The sky was a brilliant blue, unblemished by the scars of war or pollution. For a moment, it mesmerized him.
But the awe quickly faded, replaced by an unbearable weight. Rosco's mind spiraled, flooded with memories of loss, guilt, and failure. The promise he'd made to Amadeus, shattered. The dreams of a peaceful future, gone. The faces of everyone he'd lost, everyone he’d failed—Amadeus, Inez, Roland—they haunted him, swirling around his mind like vultures circling prey. And now, he was here—wherever "here" was—alone, broken, and forsaken.
Rosco tried to stand, but his body betrayed him. His legs, weak and unsteady, buckled beneath him, sending him back into the grass. He didn’t try again. Instead, he let himself collapse fully, surrendering to the ground below him, staring blankly at the sky.
Tears welled up in his eyes, but he clenched his fists, refusing to let them fall. He couldn’t afford to cry—not now, not ever. Crying was for those who had the luxury of feeling, and he had buried his feelings long ago. He had to. If he didn’t, they would consume him, devour him like some unseen predator lurking just beneath the surface. But as he stared up at the clouds, the tears fell anyway, hot and bitter against his skin.
He had lost everything. His idealism, the grand dream that had propelled him forward all those years—no, millennia—felt like a cruel joke now. Humanity, peace, unity… They were empty words, hollow promises that had crumbled like sand in his hands. What had any of it amounted to?
Rosco lay there for what felt like hours, watching the clouds shift across the sky. The wind whispered through the grass, the sound soft and lulling, as though the planet itself was indifferent to his suffering.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rosco forced himself to rise. His muscles protested, still aching from his journey, but he pushed through the pain. He had no choice. He scanned his surroundings, searching for something—anything—that could give him direction.
But all he saw were endless fields of grass, stretching out as far as the eye could see in every direction. There were no signs of life, no cities or settlements, nothing that could offer hope.
Still, he began to walk.
The ground beneath him felt strange—uneven, and unpredictable compared to the cold metal surfaces of ships and domes he was used to. Every step was exhausting, the unfamiliar gravity of this planet dragging at his limbs, making each movement a struggle. His body, weak from cryosleep, was not used to exertion, and he found himself growing tired quickly.
But he couldn’t stop. He had to keep moving.
As the hours passed and the sun began to sink below the horizon, casting long shadows across the landscape, Rosco’s energy was fading. His throat burned with thirst, and his legs felt like lead. He was running out of strength, and if he didn’t find something soon, he knew he wouldn’t survive much longer.
Then, just as despair threatened to overtake him, he saw it—a faint glow in the distance.
At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but as the darkness deepened, the lights became clearer. They were not natural—they were artificial, shining steadily from beyond the horizon. It had to be a settlement.
His heart leaped with hope, and adrenaline surged through his veins. Gritting his teeth, he pushed forward, his pace quickening despite his fatigue. The lights grew brighter as he drew closer, revealing tall, egg-shaped structures dotting the horizon. They were like nothing Rosco had seen before—massive, smooth, and alien, with blinking purple and green lights at their peaks.
His heart raced. If there was a settlement here, there had to be people here. He could find help, answers, maybe even a new start. The idea filled him with renewed energy, and he broke into a jog, desperate to reach the edge of the settlement before nightfall.
When he finally arrived, his hopes were quickly dashed by the sight of a massive concrete wall encircling the city. It stretched up into the sky, impenetrable and unyielding. Rosco’s shoulders slumped, exhaustion washing over him. The wall seemed to encircle the entire settlement.
Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. He started walking along the perimeter, searching for an entrance, a gate, anything that would allow him inside. When he found none, panic began to set in.
“Hey!” He shouted, banging his fists against the cold concrete. “Please, let me in! I’m stranded out here!”
His fists pounded against the wall until his knuckles split open, blood staining the pale surface.
For a long moment, there was nothing—just the sound of his own ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city beyond the wall.
Then, a strange, almost robotic voice came from above, distant but clear. “Identify yourself.”
Rosco’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m a science officer, my ship was destroyed, and—”
The mysterious voice cut him off. “Which planet have you come from?”
“I’m from Mars!” Rosco shouted.
There was a brief pause. “We are not familiar with this planet. Have you dilated?”
Rosco blinked, confused. “What? What do you mean?”
“Have you dilated time through interstellar travel mechanisms?” The voice reiterated.
“Yes, I have…I’ve been through hell—my ship was destroyed and I don’t know where I am…”
A long pause followed.
No response.
“Hello?” Rosco called out again. “Are you still there?”
Before he could say anything else, there was a faint pop from behind him. He barely had time to turn before something sharp and fast struck him in the back, sending a searing jolt of electricity through his body. He screamed as the shock hit him, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably.
His body crumpled to the ground, wracked with spasms as the high-voltage shock kept him pinned to the Earth. Through the haze of pain, Rosco could hear voices approaching, cold and detached.
A pair of tall, lanky humanoids revealed themselves. “He’s down. Let’s get him inside.”
These “men” looked human but also somehow different—as though they had been altered in some way. They were tall, much taller than an average human. Their arms and legs were almost impossibly long and thin, almost like the appendages of an insect. Their faces were small and appeared somewhat scrunched. Whether these differences were an effect of natural evolutionary processes or simply through intentional genetic engineering was unclear.
Rosco’s vision began to blur as he was jerked to his feet, his arms and legs restrained tightly by the men who had captured him. They hoisted him up like a piece of cargo, dragging his weakened body toward the looming concrete wall that surrounded the city.
Without a word, one of the men approached the structure, and to Rosco’s astonishment, the solid surface rippled and peeled open like liquid, revealing an entrance. The men passed through the mysterious portal, and the wall seamlessly sealed itself behind them, trapping Rosco inside.
As they entered the city, Rosco was shoved into the back of a small, hovering vehicle. Its door slammed shut in his face, leaving him disoriented in the dark interior. He had no idea where they were taking him, but the sensation of the vehicle lifting off the ground was unmistakable. He felt it ascend rapidly, almost vertically, his stomach lurching as they climbed higher and higher.
Outside, the city unfolded below them. The egg-shaped structures Rosco had seen from the fields now towered above him, their smooth surfaces reflecting the dull, artificial light that seemed to bathe the entire settlement.
The vehicle approached one of the enormous eggs, and just as Rosco thought they would crash into it, a hole appeared in the wall, perfectly timed to allow their passage. The vehicle floated inside effortlessly and began its descent, sinking deep into the bowels of the structure.
It felt as if the city was swallowing him whole.
After what felt like an eternity, the vehicle came to a stop. Rosco’s head swam from the rapid changes in direction and altitude, but before he could gather his bearings, the men yanked him out of the vehicle and dragged him down a narrow, sterile corridor. His feet barely touched the ground as they hauled him toward a small room at the end of the hallway.
They threw him inside without ceremony, the cold floor greeting him with a hard thud as he landed. One of the men, standing in the doorway, looked down at him with a sneer.
“You will wait here.” He said, his voice devoid of emotion, before stepping out and locking the door behind him.
Rosco sat on the cold floor of the detention cell, his mind heavy with exhaustion. His pulse still raced from the fear that had gripped him since his capture, but now he felt a strange numbness settling in. The cryptic parable about the broken vase whispered in the back of his mind, haunting him with the suggestion that humanity was too fractured to ever be whole again. It gnawed at him, pulling him deeper into despair as he tried to come to terms with what had become of his life.
The metallic click of the door opening startled him from his thoughts. Another tall figure entered the room, the light behind him casting a sharp outline. His black uniform seemed to absorb the light, his presence commanding and cold. There was no trace of warmth or curiosity in his expression, if anything, Rosco could feel a cold disdain emanating from the man.
The man didn't waste time with pleasantries. He walked toward Rosco with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze fixed on him like he was an insect to be crushed underfoot.
Rosco attempted to stand but found it hard to muster the strength. He stared at the man, waiting for him to speak, hoping that maybe there was some chance to explain himself.
The tall man stopped just short of the table, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked down at Rosco as if deciding whether or not this conversation was worth his time.
Finally, he spoke, his voice flat and devoid of empathy.
“My name is Dio Kroll.”
The man paused for a short moment.
"Unfortunately, there is nothing to discuss."
Rosco blinked, caught off guard. "I don’t understand—"
"You admitted brazenly to time dilation."
Rosco opened his mouth to speak but wasn’t sure exactly where to start.
“I wasn’t aware there was anything wrong with time dilation—”
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Kroll quickly cut Rosco off, his tone becoming harsher. "Time dilation is forbidden on this world and all others in the Jericho Alliance.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea about that, I don’t even know which world this is…Why is it forbidden?”
“There are many reasons. For starters, those who dilate time most always come from extinct cultures—their loyalties can’t be gauged and their values are not compatible with those who live linearly.”
Rosco felt a tightening in his chest. His mind raced, trying to make sense of this. "I understand what you mean, but for me, it wasn’t intentional—"
“It is of no consequence whether or not it was intentional. The result is the result. You come from an unknown time and planet. You are unmoored from the natural progression of history."
He looked down at Rosco with cold finality.
"Our mandates require that we send you for execution. It’ll be performed tomorrow.”
Kroll’s words penetrated deep into Rosco, pushing him even deeper into the hopelessness that was already threatening to consume him. Rosco thought for just a moment about pleading his case once more, but he then realized it was pointless. In the eyes of the people on this planet, he was nothing but an aberration—a virus to be eradicated. There would be no convincing these people of anything else.
As soon as Kroll had announced the plan for Rosco’s execution, he turned on his heel and walked back toward the door, leaving Rosco to grapple with the weight of what he had just said. The door closed with a metallic thud, locking Rosco back into silence.
The night passed in a blur of anxious thoughts. Rosco couldn't sleep, though exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His mind churned with questions and regrets, but no answers came. He didn’t know what to expect the next day.
The morning light brought no relief.
“Come with us, now.” Two uniformed men barked as they stormed into Rosco’s detention cell.
Rosco, now exhausted beyond words, used nearly all of his strength to rise to his feet.
“I’m sorry…I’m feeling weak, it’s hard for me to walk…”
“You walk on your own two legs—you can’t do that, we’ll have to break them and figure it out from there.” One of the men responded callously.
Rosco pushed through the pain and exhaustion and forced himself to walk along with the men, the fear in his gut twisted.
However, there was also a strange calmness that came over him.
He had accepted his fate.
Perhaps death would be easier than this endless fear and uncertainty.
The men brought Rosco back to the hovering vehicle, and once again it ascended rapidly into the air, the city unfolding beneath them. Rosco barely paid attention this time.
The vehicle came to a stop above one of the massive egg-like structures, and Rosco was led out into an enormous plaza. It was like nothing he had ever seen—a vast arena with thousands of floating spheres moving erratically in all directions. They were spectators, he realized, but of what nature he couldn’t tell. There were no living beings here to witness his death, only these strange orbs bouncing in anticipation.
Kroll waited at the center of the plaza, his expression cold. The two men marched Rosco toward him, forcing him to stand in the middle of the arena. Kroll turned to face the floating spheres, addressing them as though they were the crowd in some grand amphitheater.
"This man," Kroll began, his voice echoing across the plaza, "has committed the weightiest of sins. He has desecrated the most sacred of axioms. He has openly and brazenly manipulated the passage of time. He has wantonly danced across eons—now having no nation to speak of and no culture to ground him.”
The spheres pulsed with light, reacting to Kroll’s words. They seemed excited, jittering in the air as though they anticipated the moment of Rosco’s execution.
Kroll’s voice grew sharper. "There is only one suitable punishment for one who has committed such an act of blasphemy—only one punishment for a man who has demonstrated such total and utter disregard for the fabric of the cosmos itself.”
“Death!”
The crowd of spheres surged, bouncing more erratically as Kroll stepped aside. From the center of the arena, a massive, glowing orb began to rise from beneath the floor. It was unlike the smaller spheres that hovered around them. It glowed with an unnatural light, flickering through an array of colors—blues, greens, reds—shifting so rapidly it was impossible to comprehend.
Rosco’s eyes widened in confusion and terror. The sphere in front of him didn’t appear to be living, but it also wasn’t mechanical in the way he understood machines.
The enigmatical sphere began to hum, its glow intensifying. The smaller spheres grew more frenzied, their excitement palpable as the moment of execution neared.
Rosco stood frozen in place. His heart raced, but there was nothing he could do. This was it. His body tensed as he prepared to meet his end.
But just as the glowing sphere began to shift, ready to unleash whatever strange energy it contained, Kroll stepped aside.
He had received a ping.
Kroll pressed his hand to his ear, listening intently as the voice on the other end spoke. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched.
"What? That’s impossible, sir. We—" He stopped, listening again, his frustration growing. "No, I understand, but… yes, sir."
Rosco stood in disbelief as Kroll lowered his hand and turned toward the plaza once again.
“The execution has been postponed!” Kroll announced, his voice taut with barely suppressed anger. “Get him out of here!" He barked at his men.
The uniformed men exchanged puzzled glances but quickly followed orders.
Above them, the crowd of spheres buzzed in frustration, their agitation palpable, but they remained powerless to intervene. Kroll stormed toward Rosco, grabbing him roughly by the arm and yanking him toward the vehicle. His grip was painfully tight, his face flushed with fury.
"What did you do?" Kroll spat, venom in his voice. "Who the hell did you talk to?"
"I don’t know what you—" Rosco started, but Kroll cut him off.
"Someone made a bid for your life."
“Who would do that?” Rosco asked, his mind spinning.
“How the hell should I know? Whoever they are, they had enough firepower to make one of our generals stand down. They threatened to destroy this entire planet.”
Kroll pulled Rosco’s arm as he dragged him back to the vehicle which brought him here and shoved him in with a force that made him stumble. "They’re sending you off-world. You don’t even know how lucky you are…”
Rosco sat there, his mind reeling. He had no idea who could wield such power, who would want him alive. All he knew was that, for now, he had survived. But at what cost? What kind of force was pulling the strings behind this sudden twist of fate?
Kroll locked eyes intensely with Rosco as the vehicle's door closed.
“If you ever step foot on this world again, you better believe I’ll be dealing with you personally.”
The strange vehicle then came to life once again, levitating weightlessly for a brief moment before ascending vertically upwards. Rosco felt the rhythmic pulsing of the machine’s engines vibrate lowly through the floor as they ascended higher. He leaned back against the cold wall, his mind still reeling from what had just happened. He had been seconds from death, and now he was being whisked off this strange world by forces beyond his understanding. The who and why gnawed at him. Someone out there wanted him alive, someone powerful enough to stop the execution. But for what reason? And who could possibly know him after so many millennia?
The weight of the unknown settled heavily on his chest.
The city beneath him began to shrink as the transit module rapidly accelerated, leaving behind the colossal egg-shaped structures and the strange floating spheres that had hovered like eager spectators to his death. Rosco stared out the window, watching as the settlement became nothing but a distant blot on the landscape, eventually disappearing as they ascended into the upper atmosphere.
He should’ve felt relieved. He had narrowly escaped death. But instead, a sense of unease swirled in his gut. Whoever had intervened on his behalf wasn’t a friend—at least, not one he knew. And whatever their intentions, they had the power to influence entire planets. That thought alone filled him with dread.
The shuttle passed through the thin veil of the planet’s exosphere, and the deep black of space greeted him once again. Stars twinkled far away, a familiar sight in a galaxy that had become anything but familiar. The shuttle began to slow as they neared a small vessel, floating in the distance. Unlike the massive structures below, this ship was modest in size, sleek and efficient, built for speed and precision.
Rosco squinted, leaning closer to the window. The ship looked ordinary enough, but seemed too small to belong to a powerful faction. How could such a modest craft have threatened an entire planet?
As the shuttle docked with the vessel, Rosco was forced out of his thoughts by the jolt of connection. He felt the pressure in his ears shift as the airlock sealed behind them. The door slid open, revealing a dimly lit passage leading into the unknown.
Rosco stepped out of the shuttle, his legs shaky beneath him, and found himself in a long corridor. The ship's design was simple, almost utilitarian, but everything had a faint, sterile glow. He moved forward cautiously, following the faint hum of machinery that seemed to pulse through the walls.
At the end of the corridor was a door that slid open automatically as he approached, revealing what appeared to be the command bridge. It was a small, efficient space, with a single console and a view of the stars through the large, wraparound window.
Standing there, looking out of the viewport towards the planet below, was a woman.
She turned as Rosco entered, her dark eyes locking onto him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. She was tall, with sharp features and an air of calm authority.
"I’m Alexandra Durham." The woman said, her voice clear and direct.
"Welcome aboard, Rosco."
Rosco, still reeling from his near execution, was too disoriented to immediately respond. He rubbed his temples, trying to make sense of everything.
"How do you know my name?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
"I was sent for you." She replied, almost mechanically.
"Sent by who?"
"I’m not completely sure." She admitted with a shrug, her indifference palpable. "An old man contacted me, asked me to pick you up and bring you to him."
Rosco’s confusion deepened. "Why me? I was adrift in deep space for thousands of years, how could anyone know who I am or where I was?"
"I don’t know," Alexandra said plainly, "and honestly, I don’t really care."
Rosco blinked, taken aback by her bluntness. "If you don’t care, then why go through all the trouble of getting me?"
"It has nothing to do with you." She explained, turning her back on him and walking to the ship’s control console. "I’m an anthropologist. I’ve spent my career—my life studying the varied fates of the human diaspora. The old man who hired me offered valuable data in exchange for delivering you."
Rosco absorbed her words, but his suspicion only grew. "So, you'd risk yourself just for some data? Why even put yourself in this position?"
Alexandra smiled faintly, as if she found his question naive. "I’ve dilated tens of thousands of years, jumping between star systems, watching how our species has spread, flourished, and in many cases, fractured. The danger is irrelevant when there’s knowledge to be gained."
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Rosco could feel her detachment. This wasn’t personal for her. He was just another variable in her research.
"And how exactly did you convince the people on that planet to hand me over?" Rosco asked, narrowing his eyes.
Alexandra’s faint smile returned, this time with a sharper edge. "I told them a lie so big they couldn’t afford to question it."
"They told me that someone threatened to destroy their entire planet." Rosco said, his tone betraying his disbelief.
"I did tell them that." She confirmed, with no trace of remorse.
"And they believed you, just like that?" He asked, his incredulity growing.
"They believed me because not believing me was too dangerous. That’s how it always goes down—fear is leverage."
Rosco stared at her, a chill running down his spine. He had already seen enough of the galaxy’s cruelty to understand how true her words were.
"Fear is leverage…" He muttered, trying to wrap his head around it all.
After a brief pause, Alexandra turned back to the console and began inputting coordinates. "We’re going to meet the old man on a planet a few light-years away. We’ll be going under for the trip.”
Rosco paused for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?” Alexandra glanced back to Rosco.
“How are you able to travel from planet to planet without being fired upon? Is your ship able to cloak itself somehow?”
"Of course." She replied. "You can’t travel at relativistic speeds without cloaking. It’s a death sentence otherwise."
Rosco let out a slow, heavy breath, now finally understanding. "So that’s why my ship was destroyed. We had no way of hiding ourselves."
"You attempted interstellar travel without cloaking? You must have been pretty desperate to try something like that.” Alexandra inquired, perplexed.
“Yeah… I guess I was.” Rosco fell silent, lost in thought about all that had led him here.
Alexandra broke the silence, her tone shifting back to business.
"We’ll head out immediately. I don’t want to waste any more time."
“Alright.” Rosco agreed, though unease still haunted him.
He had no idea who the old man was, or why he was wanted—but his curiosity was undeniable. He had to know what was going on, to find some footing in the chaos. That driving need for answers was enough to make him go along with it.
Alexandra engaged the ship’s systems, and the vessel began pushing away from the planet, leaving its strange, oppressive city far behind.
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