Ryan sat in the observation deck, staring down at the planet his team was studying. Primer had once been a beacon of life—a planet that could have thrived with vibrant ecosystems and civilizations. But now, it was a wasteland. Its surface was a chaotic tapestry of fissures and lifeless plains, cloaked in an atmosphere churning with endless, violent storms. Lightning forked through the dense clouds, illuminating the desolation below with brief, haunting flashes.

Despite the advanced instruments surrounding him, Ryan found himself relying on his own eyes to absorb the grim reality. The planet looked eerily similar to the visions of Earth he had conjured in his mind ever since the Erebus Anomaly. He couldn’t help but wonder if his home planet had been reduced to the same barren state—or worse.

The team of scientists worked tirelessly around him, their focus unwavering as they collected data and analyzed the storms. Ryan admired their dedication, though he often felt out of place among them. Unlike these researchers, he was a mere technician back on Earth, thrust into a world far beyond his expertise. Still, he tried to contribute where he could, offering observations and answering questions about his experiences with the anomaly.

One of the scientists, a tall figure with lavender skin and glowing yellow eyes, approached him. “Ryan, your records indicate you witnessed your planet’s descent into the anomaly. Can you provide further details about what you experienced?”

Ryan hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. He had already shared the basics: the strange weather patterns, the disintegration of the atmosphere, and the inexplicable journey through the chaos. But he had left out the most personal detail—the unknown entity that had saved him.

“Well,” he began, carefully choosing his words, “it started with an unease in the air. The weather turned violent—storms, earthquakes, and then... something more. It was like the fabric of reality was being torn apart. The chaos wasn’t just destructive; it was all-encompassing. Time, space, even gravity—it all seemed to unravel.”

He paused, his gaze drifting back to Primer. “When we were pulled into the anomaly, it was like falling through infinity. Everything fragmented—thoughts, sensations, everything. Somehow, we ended up in the Graveyard Sector, but I can’t explain how. It felt like we were thrown there by chance.”

The lavender-skinned scientist nodded thoughtfully. “The Graveyard Sector acts as a kind of funnel for displaced matter and energy. But survival, as you described it, is extraordinarily rare.”

Ryan shrugged. “Maybe we were just lucky.” He offered no further explanation, and the scientist didn’t press him.

Later, Ryan joined Keira and the other scientists for a discussion on countermeasures against the anomaly. They were brainstorming potential solutions, though the scale of the problem made it feel almost insurmountable.

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Keira led the conversation, her sharp mind evident in the way she dissected each proposal. “We’ve been testing multiple storm disruption technologies,” she said, her tone measured. “One involves nanomaterials designed to stabilize atmospheric conditions, but we’ve hit a wall with energy efficiency.”

Another scientist, a stocky figure with metallic skin and a deep, gravelly voice, chimed in. “Containment fields show promise, but the energy requirements are astronomical. It’s feasible for Type 4 civilizations, but even they haven’t perfected it.”

Ryan listened, feeling both awed and overwhelmed. Earth’s technology had seemed advanced to him, but compared to what he was witnessing now, it was primitive. He couldn’t even comprehend the full extent of what this Type 4 civilization had achieved.

Keira turned to him, her expression curious. “What about Earth’s efforts? Anything from your world’s research that might help?”

Ryan shook his head. “We didn’t have time to develop countermeasures. By the time we understood what we were dealing with, it was already too late. I can tell you what didn’t work—trying to contain it. The anomaly doesn’t behave like a traditional force of nature. It’s not just destructive; it’s transformative. We need to think beyond conventional methods.”

The room fell silent as the team absorbed his words.

The next day, Ryan was on the observation deck when he noticed a small ship being prepared for launch. Its sleek, aerodynamic design suggested it was meant for short-range missions. A group of scientists was carefully loading a translucent gel-like substance into its cargo hold. Intrigued, Ryan approached one of the scientists overseeing the operation.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the gel.

The scientist, a humanoid figure with green skin and short, spiky hair, glanced at him. “It’s an experimental material designed to interact with the storms. If it works, the gel will act as a reverse engine, destabilizing the storm’s energy patterns and absorbing the chaotic forces.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Has it worked before?”

The scientist hesitated. “This is Experiment 310. None of the previous attempts have succeeded, but we’ve made adjustments. There’s always a chance.”

Ryan watched as the ship was launched toward Primer. It disappeared into the planet’s atmosphere, a small beacon of hope against the backdrop of destruction. Hours passed as the team monitored the mission’s progress. Finally, the results came in: another failure.

The scientist sighed, their shoulders slumping in defeat. “The gel couldn’t maintain its integrity. The storm overwhelmed it almost immediately. Experiment 310... failed.”

Ryan felt a pang of disappointment, though he wasn’t surprised. The anomaly was unlike anything they had encountered—a force that defied understanding.

Returning to his cabin, Ryan found himself lost in thought. The station’s artificial time clock indicated it was “night,” but the concept of time felt meaningless in the vast expanse of space. In this galaxy, days, months, and years were measured differently. Some planets didn’t even have a fixed number of hours in a day.

As he lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, Ryan’s mind wandered back to Earth. Was it still there? Were there any survivors? The uncertainty was a heavy burden, one he carried with him every day.

Before sleep claimed him, he whispered to himself, “Maybe tomorrow will bring something new. Something better.”

He closed his eyes, the hum of the station’s machinery lulling him into restless dreams. Another day awaited—mundane, tiresome, and filled with faint glimmers of hope.