Ryan Korrin adjusted his toolkit as he stepped into the maintenance bay of the sprawling facility in Relinom. The alien architecture of the headquarters was something he still struggled to wrap his mind around—a blend of advanced crystalline materials and flowing organic shapes that felt both alien and impossibly advanced. Over the past weeks, Ryan had adapted to his role as a technician, ensuring that various systems across the station functioned seamlessly. Yet, every task felt like a drop in the ocean of his ever-growing realization: he was in a universe far beyond his comprehension, both physically and existentially.
When he wasn’t busy fixing malfunctioning systems or calibrating alien devices that still baffled him, Ryan found himself assisting his crewmates from the Frontier. Sometimes, he would shadow Kai Silva in the engineering department, observing how she integrated human ingenuity with alien technology. Other times, he worked with Mila Torran in communications, deciphering encrypted messages sent between different sectors of the organization. These odd jobs weren’t just a way to pass time; they were his way of trying to make sense of where he was and, perhaps, who he could become in this strange place.
Still, the questions lingered.
During his breaks, Ryan often sat in a secluded corner of the station’s observation deck, gazing out at the star-filled expanse. From this vantage point, the universe didn’t look so different from the one he had known in the Lumina Prime galaxy. Yet, he knew better. His universe—his home—was impossibly far away, perhaps unreachable. His thoughts spiraled into what felt like an unending chasm of uncertainty.
He thought about the people left behind when the Frontier was pulled into this universe. Billions of lives had been lost during the Infinitum chaos back in Lumina Prime. Or were they? Theories swirled in his mind, each more unsettling than the last.
The Monarchs back home had concluded that the chaos disintegrated the bodies of those it touched. It was a grim and convenient explanation, one that allowed the survivors to move on. But Ryan couldn’t shake the possibility that those people hadn’t truly died. What if the chaos had scattered them, much like it had scattered the Frontier and its crew? Were they flung across countless universes, or perhaps trapped in some liminal space, neither alive nor dead?
Ryan clenched his fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how to find answers. This universe, ruled by a Type 4 civilization, was so incomprehensibly vast that the numbers they used to measure their dominion felt like abstractions. If a civilization this advanced couldn’t fully understand the Infinitum phenomenon, what hope did someone like him—a mere technician—have?
His shifts were long, and the alien supervisors often gave him tasks without much explanation. Today, he was assigned to repair a cooling system in one of the research labs. The air was thick with an unidentifiable metallic tang, and the room was lined with glowing blue panels that pulsed rhythmically, almost like a heartbeat.
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As he worked, his thoughts drifted to the Monarchs back in Lumina Prime. He couldn’t help but wonder how much time had passed there. Time flowed differently across universes, or so he had learned from Keira. Had days turned into years? Had the Monarchs found a new planet to call home, or were they still searching, their desperation growing with each passing moment?
Ryan imagined the chaos spreading, creeping from one system to another, swallowing moons, planets, and entire civilizations. Would the Monarchs be able to hold the line, or would the chaos consume them entirely? He thought of the Lumina Prime galaxy, its stars gleaming with untold stories and possibilities, and felt a pang of longing so sharp it made him pause mid-task.
Later that evening, Ryan found himself in the mess hall, a cavernous room filled with beings from across the organization. The variety of alien species was staggering—some towering and insectoid, others small and amphibious, their voices blending into a cacophony of languages and dialects. Yet, despite the differences, they all seemed to share a common purpose, working in tandem under the immense shadow of the Type 4 civilization’s dominion.
Ryan spotted Dom and Keira sitting at a table with a few members of the Frontier crew. He joined them, the weight of his thoughts making him quieter than usual.
“You’ve been awfully quiet these days,” Dom said, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. “Something on your mind?”
Ryan hesitated. How could he put into words the vastness of his fears, the enormity of his questions?
“I’ve been thinking,” he began, his tone subdued. “About the people we left behind. The ones who didn’t make it through the chaos.”
Keira nodded, her expression serious. “You’re wondering if they might’ve ended up somewhere like we did.”
“Exactly,” Ryan said, his voice gaining momentum. “We’ve seen what the Infinitum phenomenon can do. It’s not just destructive—it’s... transformative. If it could pull an entire ship and its crew into another universe, why not others? And if that’s the case, are they even alive? Are they stuck in limbo? Or worse?”
Dom sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We’ve all thought about it, Ryan. But what can we do? We’re barely surviving here as it is. Trying to unravel the mysteries of the chaos is like trying to empty an ocean with a spoon.”
Ryan leaned forward, his eyes intense. “But we can’t just sit here and do nothing. There has to be a way to understand it, to find some clue about what’s really happening. If the chaos is tied to the multiverse, then maybe... just maybe... there’s a way to reverse it.”
Keira placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. “I get it, Ryan. I do. But don’t lose yourself chasing answers that might not exist. Right now, we have to focus on surviving, on making ourselves useful here. The more we learn, the better equipped we’ll be if—no, when—we find a way back.”
That night, Ryan lay in his bunk, staring at the unfamiliar constellations visible through the small window above him. His mind raced, replaying the conversations he’d had, the work he’d done, and the questions that gnawed at him incessantly.
He thought of Earth, its cities swallowed by chaos. He thought of Lumina Prime, its Monarchs desperately searching for salvation. And he thought of the countless lives that had been lost—or displaced—by the Infinitum phenomenon.
For now, all he could do was keep moving forward, one step at a time. But deep down, Ryan knew he wouldn’t rest until he uncovered the truth, no matter how vast or insurmountable the challenge.
In a universe of infinite possibilities, hope was the one constant he could hold onto.