As the crew of Proxima sat huddled within their confined quarters, tension thickened in the silence. They speculated endlessly about what kind of alien beings they had encountered within Substation ZZ-98. Were they simply advanced and cautious, or was there more beneath the polite, distant demeanor? The unknown left them edgy, each member wondering whether the Unified Collective saw them as allies, or perhaps as insignificant intruders.
In their isolation, small anxieties grew. The crew had tried multiple times to communicate back to Monarch Base, only to hear static filling the comms. The vast void surrounding them amplified their unease; the silence of space, now compounded by their isolation within a foreign civilization, seemed to settle like a weight on their shoulders. They could only wonder if they’d truly come this far for discovery or if they were merely prolonging their fate in an unknown, indifferent galaxy.
After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, their communication line finally crackled to life again. The crew gathered around as the voice from ZZ-98 came through, its mechanical tone softened, though still detached.
"Proxima crew," the voice intoned, "your scan results are clear. Your stated origin and purpose match the anomalies detected in the coordinates provided. You are free to proceed, although your presence will remain monitored within this sector by the Unified Collective.”
A collective sigh of relief passed through the crew. The announcement meant their story had been verified, at least to some extent, and they wouldn’t be detained or scrutinized further—though a new feeling of unease lingered. They were free to go, but under constant watch. Even in their newfound liberty, they were still far from being on equal footing with the beings of ZZ-98.
Taking a deep breath, Ryan activated the comm line to the substation. "Thank you for your clearance. Before we depart, can you guide us to the nearest station for refueling and supplies, or perhaps a nearby planet?"
There was a pause before the response came, almost as if the receiver on the other end was deciding how much information to disclose. “The nearest resource station operates on the Collective’s credit system, which requires payment in currency. Be advised, your current form of trade will be incompatible.”
The crew shared wary glances. They were essentially broke in this region of space, unable to purchase supplies or services. Ryan quickly followed up. “Understood. Could we know more about this currency, and perhaps find ways to earn it while stationed here?”
Moments later, a series of data files appeared on their console, displaying images and detailed descriptions of the Collective’s currency system. The primary form of currency was not digital, as they’d expected, but a series of rare metals each classified by value, based on composition and scarcity. The names of the metals were unfamiliar, but the file provided a useful hierarchy for reference.
Tier 1 - Low Value: Selenite a pale, glassy metal, common in minor transactions. Light and easy to come by, this metal is abundant and serves for basic transactions or small purchases.
Tier 2 - Medium Value: Cerion a denser, darker metal with a faint luster, commonly used for moderate trades and transactions. More valuable than Selenite but still relatively obtainable.
Tier 3 - High Value: Korium a rich, dark silver alloy, considerably heavier and far more valuable than Cerion. Typically used for larger exchanges, it is highly sought after.
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Tier 4 - Highest Value: Veytian the rarest and heaviest metal in the system. Its weight and sheen are unmistakable, and it’s strictly reserved for major transactions or rare, large exchanges. Veytian is rarely seen in circulation, and its worth is nearly unmatched.
Value of Selenite: 1 (baseline), 100 Selenite units = 1 Cerion unit, 100 Cerion units = 1 Korium unit (or 10,000 Selenite units), 100 Korium units = 1 Veytian unit (or 1,000,000 Selenite units)
As Ryan scrolled through the descriptions, the crew murmured amongst themselves. These metals were unlike any known on Earth, with properties and densities far beyond conventional materials. A few sample units of Selenite and Cerion had been provided, lying in their containers within Proxima’s cargo hold. Their heft surprised the crew, and they couldn't help but marvel at the alien simplicity and value these metals represented.
Over the next several months, Ryan and his crew worked diligently within Substation ZZ-98, adapting to its rules and alien systems to earn a foothold in the Collective's economy. They took on various maintenance and inspection jobs, most involving tasks within their expertise but performed under supervision and always in their space suits.
The Unified Collective seemed to regard their technological skills with a mix of curiosity and mild disinterest, often assigning tasks that kept them occupied without allowing access to crucial information or sensitive systems. They mostly dealt with lower-tier assignments, paid in Selenite and occasionally Cerion, as their supervisors maintained a cautious distance. Their tasks ranged from structural repairs to minor diagnostics on smaller transport vessels—work that didn’t require high-clearance knowledge but kept them busy.
The crew made a point to maintain a low profile, carefully avoiding questions about Earth and its own advancements. Their goal was to slowly build a reputation, collecting enough resources to fuel the next leg of their journey.
Ryan frequently gathered the crew to discuss strategy, especially how much to reveal about themselves and their civilization. The Collective clearly had its own order, and while they hadn’t encountered hostility, there was a profound sense of caution when interacting with any station personnel.
"The last thing we want is for them to see us as a resource,” Ryan reminded them during one of their meetings. “Our galaxy’s population is dwindling enough as it is, and we don’t know how these beings would react if they perceived our civilization as vulnerable or exploitable.”
The crew nodded in agreement. The delicate balance of providing enough information to stay in the Collective's good graces while protecting their origins had kept them on edge, each interaction calculated and cautiously measured.
Over time, the crew grew accustomed to the substation’s routines. Though their sense of purpose was always slightly overshadowed by their caution, they developed a system of communication with the Collective’s personnel, who they were beginning to understand were a blend of organic and mechanized beings—beings that regarded the human visitors with distant, clinical interest.
The concept of working with metals as currency added a fascinating, if alien, dimension to their interactions with the station’s personnel. Although the metals were different from anything they’d encountered, they could see that each tier held an intrinsic weight, value, and symbol of status within the Collective. Selenite transactions were the most common, used by lower-ranking beings or for minor exchanges, while Cerion and Korium seemed reserved for higher-tier dealings.
By now, Ryan and his team had amassed a modest collection of both Selenite and Cerion, though Korium and Veytian remained out of reach. The prospect of working up to a rare, Korium and Veytian level transaction became a quiet aspiration among the crew, one that might grant them leverage to venture deeper into the unknown sectors or even afford them some limited freedom within the Collective’s vast, structured universe.
Three to four months passed in this rhythm of quiet work and steady income, their purpose clear but their path still uncertain. They adapted, learning the substation’s nuances and accumulating the knowledge and resources they’d need to continue their journey into the vast, mysterious galaxy beyond. Yet, despite the progress, the crew never forgot the silent vigilance of the Collective’s watch, a reminder that in this alien realm, they were still under observation, free yet never truly unbound.
As they prepared for the next steps, Ryan could only wonder: How long would they be content working within this orbit of alien routines, and how much longer would they go unnoticed by powers far greater than their comprehension?