===Antarctica, Cygnus Station===
-0718 hours Standard Time
Cold lashing winds sink in from all sides, biting through layers of protective insulation. The whistle of engines discharging from the private jet ahead marks the end of our wait. Touching down on the improvised runway, the aircraft cruises across its entire length before arresting its momentum at the far end almost blending into the dark, Antarctic expanse.
The private jet is an oddity, a far cry from anything the United Nations has in their fleet to my knowledge. Its wings are swept back much further than most of a similar size, and there is not a single sharp edge to its contours with its engines embedded into the structure, the only hint being the two unassuming vents on either side.
With a soft hiss the aircraft's door slides open, revealing a pair of armed security troopers dressed in matching, bright orange, polar expedition uniforms with M7 rifles slung across their chest. A few steps jut out from beneath the fuselage, forming a platform for the pair to disembark. Following closely behind, several more figures appear from within the jet's lit interior.
It's finally here—the last piece on the board. Tweaking the knob at the side of my helmet, I cycle through a range of options and set it to the station's frequency.
"Cygnus, this is Lieutenant Simmons. Orion One has landed—will proceed with onboarding for Ambassador Calder and crew now," I report.
"Understood Lieutenant, direct relevant personnel to Ops immediately for Operation Icebreaker," a firm voice answers after a short delay.
The two troopers make their way down the steps and set up on either side, clearing the way for the passengers to exit the aircraft. They proceed down the stairs in an orderly file with their baggage and gather along the runway sticking close to their armed escorts. Only a few had the foresight to bring along a source of lighting to stave off the polar night.
"Calder's somewhere in that mix. Let's flush him out," I say, directing the team to meet the approaching troopers.
"First official representative for our whole damn race," James remarks pacing beside me, "hopefully he's up for this."
I shrug. "We'll know soon enough, just have to get him under our scope."
Waving to get the attention of the two escorts, both troopers break off and meet us halfway. One of them extends a hand to which I accept, putting a little extra squeeze in light of both our thick insulating gloves.
"Neat place you folks got here," the man says in awe, gawking at the station behind me. He then points to himself and his companion, his voice quickly switching to a calm and measured tone as he continues. "Name's Miller, and he's Keagan—we're private security. Calder's the one with the red and grey strips, I understand he's the head honcho you're gunning for."
I nod and address myself and the team accordingly. "2nd Lieutenant Simmons. My team's ready to get you folks hunkered down on Cygnus station. And yes, we're waiting on him for something big."
Miller shakes his head, and points to the small crowd behind him. "We're not staying, it's a drop and dip kind of stint for us. We'll be off in an hour or less once our pilots are ready."
"Alright," I reply and urge the team past the escorts and towards the group. Each individual is dressed differently, making it easy to spot Calder from the dozen or so figures within the mix.
It is time to finally deliver on the outstanding. Mission-specific supplies such as ammunition, water, and other perishables are already accounted for. Everything we could prepare in advance, we did.
By the end of this evening, we should be good to go for the mission that will take us to the Euralian city of Kal'Lenna. The onboarding process is objectively the simplest of the prerequisites, but it is the only one beyond my control.
Depending on the outcome, our mission will continue as planned, or be aborted, thereby rendering our preparations moot. It all depends on the man in front of me.
"Travis Calder," I announce, eliciting a sharp response from the hooded figure. The presumed UN ambassador breaks away from his colleagues, peels back his hood and answers with his left hand extended.
"That's me," the man replies, introducing himself to the whole team, "Travis Calder, and I'd like out this cold now."
"Noted, we can start by showing you which hab' module you'll be staying in—to settle your stuff," I say, looking down to the two bags Calder had set down by his feet.
Looking past the Ambassador to his companions behind, most of them carried just one or two. With the general notion that his team will be here for the long term—up to a year at least, this seems less than expected.
Calder follows up a shrug, his gaze sweeping across the station. "They told us to pack light so we did, said the rooms aren't that spacious. Starting to see some truth in that."
I turn around to the roughly dozen modular prefabs constituting Cygnus at the moment. Space is a premium with these types of buildings, and with most of it being embedded underground with the exception of the station's headquarters, there is certainly some grievances to be had for those permanently stationed on this side of the Rift.
"You'll be spending most of your time on the other side, so it's not a big deal," I comment.
"They should be good on baggage," James interjects, sending a quick glance to Douglas.
The operative steps past us and assembles around the rest of Calder's team, raising his hand towards the station after getting everyone's attention. "Make sure you've got everything with you, we won't be returning to the strip. It'll be a busy day," Douglas intones and organizes the crowd in front of him.
Adding to his announcement, I turn to Calder and raise a question. "There's eight—including you, so who specifically is tagging along for the mission. I need to know before we set off."
The Ambassador ponders for a moment. "Just two, me and Ashley Moreau."
"Okay," I reply and issue a brief nod. That clears up who needs to be involved in the upcoming meeting.
"Douglas, there's an Ashley Moreau in that mix. I'll handle her and Calder, those two are slated for that briefing with Cygnus command," I say.
"Got it, I'll send her your way," he responds.
After a short while, the operative identifies the woman in question and points her to my direction after a short discussion. Moreau hesitates but eventually breaks away from her colleagues, shining her torch several feet ahead into the snow as she paces.
"I'll get the rest settled in. We'll be back Rift-side once it's done, about time we do a final equipment check—yours too if you're still busy," Douglas proposes.
"Thanks, if I'm not there just do it without me," I reply, watching my second-in command pull the rest under his lead.
They set off and head deeper into the station. Ambassador Calder observes his colleagues as they are led into one of the habitation modules. He turns to Moreau once she stops by his side and promptly reminds her to introduce herself.
The woman takes another step forward, her lips frozen for just a moment. "Ashley Moreau, I'm told your team is assigned as our escort for Icebreaker?" she asks, adjusting her grip on the two duffle bags by her sides.
"You heard right," I confirm, noting the slight tension on her face.
Frost clings to the fringes of her hair—a faded blonde spilling out from the white, padded hood. Her lips curl into a mild grimace showing her teeth, and her shoulders quiver with each shallow breath. Her jacket—although thick, did not seem appropriate for the extremes of the south pole.
"2nd Lieutenant Simmons, pleasure to meet you," I reply, gauging her expression. The signs all lead to one conclusion.
"L—likewise," Moreau weakly answers, her voice trembling. That confirms my suspicion.
"Cygnus command wants you both under their wing, we'll settle accommodations later. They've been waiting for two hours now. There's a few key things you two need to know before we set off on that mission," I announce, keeping a close eye on the woman as she picks up her bags with a groan.
"We've already been briefed about the nature of our operations here. The Rift—real native cultures, pretty much everything," Calder explains, "I just need to know if there's been any new insights in the past few days—things that might be beneficial to our cause."
"You can take that up with the science division, they'll be present," I answer and begin leading the way to the heart of the station.
Both of them stick close to me, occasionally following up with questions about the UN's vested interests on New Eden as we proceed. I send a few inquiries of my own, mainly to get a better read on who they are and how exactly they got roped into arguably the UN's most critically sensitive and clandestine base of operations on the planet.
Along the way, I highlight the identifiers on each prefab we passed, flashing my torch on the buildings to draw attention to the prefix stamped on their exteriors in a white, bold font.
Both listen intently as I explain what could be found in each specific building, later rounding up the brief lesson by disclosing the general logic behind the naming conventions for future reference.
We soon arrive at the entrance into Cygnus headquarters. The two guards on shift step up with the intent to perform the usual security check—mainly to verify our identities and log our visits. The troopers relax once I disclose my name, turning their scrutiny to the pair beside me.
Gesturing to the new arrivals, I break the tension and introduce them to the sentries. "Travis Calder, United Nations Ambassador, Eden Anthropological research," I say, indicating to the Ambassador who nods to the troopers at the mention of his name.
Shifting my hand over to the unassuming figure beside him, I continue with the introduction. "Ashley Moreau..." I stop, coming up empty on what exactly her role is.
She registers the pause and looks to me, her eyes widening after reading the situation. "... S—senior Linguist, also Eden Anthropological research—specializing in indigenous language," she finishes.
"Alright," the trooper nods, tapping at his digital notepad. After a moment he looks up, slipping the device into a pocket on his polar uniform.
"Go right ahead," he says, thumbing back at the entrance.
"Thanks," I say and move past the sentries.
Pushing into the building, the soft rolling hiss of the Antarctic winds gently fade. A handful of staff laze around at the lobby, sparing only a curt glance at most before returning to their own devices.
"Finally," Moreau sighs, releasing a hazy breath. After a short rest on a couch, the woman stands back up, beams a light smile and gives me a thumbs up, prompting me to continue.
A few select turns brings us in front of a small lift at the end of the small corridor. Pushing the button to call it up to ground level, a familiar chime breaks the silence and the lift at the end opens to reveal its grey interior.
It did not have much to show, containing only the very basic functions to be classified as a lift. It never was finished, and likely would remain as such for the foreseeable future.
"You sure it's safe?" Calder eyes the lift with a doubtful look, "Looks really unfinished."
I roll my eyes and enter the lift. "Come on, it works."
With some encouragement, both of them step inside. The final leg of the trip proceeds without any hassle and the isolated room now lies directly ahead.
I knock twice and open the door. Key officials from all relevant departments sat around the table, perking up as I intrude into the small room. Documents, images, and various other materials are splayed across the top, haphazardly arranged as though they were passed around at a whim.
"Lieutenant Simmons," Meagan asks, stacking the files in her area back into order, "is this all of them?"
I give the Chief Administrator a nod. "Yes Ma'am, Calder and Moreau are slated for Operation Icebreaker. But the other six are still assigned to Rift-side Ops, just not for this run."
"Good. Have a seat, let's begin," she announces, gesturing to a line of empty seats across her.
All three of us take up the unoccupied row on the closer end of the table. It will be interesting to see what they have to say for Calder and Moreau and how it would differ from the variant my team and I went through a few days ago. Even if some parts would be repeated, a second rundown on the overall mission can only do good.
The Chief Administrator takes the lead and briefly covers the mission's primary goals. At every pause, Ambassador Calder interjects with questions concerning the locals, prompting an official from the science division to disclose the latest findings on the nation that will be the focus of our diplomatic efforts.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
The explanation concludes with a short mention on their perceived style of government based on the accounts by the two survivors of expedition six—a constitutional monarchy with the line of succession passed exclusively through the female lineage.
Nodding as the Anthropology representative concludes, the Ambassador leans forward, pressing the woman further. "What of the geopolitical situation, the files made clear mention of an ongoing war between the... Euralian Kingdom and another regional power. Isn't it why one of your field teams went dark—a case of mistaken identity leading to an escalation?"
"What happened to Dr. Keller's team was... a regrettable incident. The expedition teams back then were given full autonomy and often went ahead without military escort. We've revoked that privilege entirely so something like that won't happen again," the representative asserts.
"There's still plenty of folks against that ruling, in spite of what happened," I comment, eliciting a few heads to turn my way. "As you all should know, certain units within the Euralian military are capable of feats which.... seem supernatural, for the lack of a better word."
"That's one reason why I'm on fence on this," the Ambassador admits. He stands up and continues with a sharp look.
"That Rift is an incredible opportunity not just for the UN, but the rest of Humanity, we can all agree on that. Given enough time, we will make something out of it. But... this is tall order you're planting on us. I've been given that notice just over a week ago, and I've been burning nights just getting myself up to speed since."
Moreau feigns a cough. "Not to mention getting myself acquainted with the local language, it isn't easy matching the bits and pieces just based off recovered examples of their scripts. I'm far from being able to hold a basic conversation, let alone get started on a translation dictionary just from what I've been sent," she states with a light frown.
"I'd reckon Icebreaker's the best way to kickstart your foundations, since a good number would be speaking that language, "one of the staff officers suggests, "but we're aware that this isn't without risks. Which is why after some consideration, Cygnus Command is willing to consider your requests and provide monetary compensation that it deems as appropriate in addition to your base."
At the revelation, the Ambassador's eyes light up. "How much exactly?"
Another person interjects from the right side of the table. "Six hundred thousand US dollars—split evenly for your whole team. I've already submitted the claim to regional HQ, just waiting on their reply."
"You also won't be going alone, since that hasn't been established," the Chief Administrator intercedes, holding up a palm to stop Ambassador Calder just as he is about to speak.
"We'll spare no expenses for your security, I need to make that distinction before we move forward," she continues, her voice tacked with a sharp edge, "two Special Operations teams from 1st Eden Reconnaissance will serve as escort—totalling eight operatives, of which 2nd Lieutenant Simmons is part of."
Ambassador Calder and Moreau turn to me, their concerns still unanswered. Both had already expressed reservations but did not seem overly against the mission. It will be a pivotal moment in human history, and they would lead that historic exchange. A lot will be riding on their shoulders. They understood that, and the burdens that came along with it.
I straighten my posture and look them both in the eye. "We'll do our absolute best to protect you both, I can promise that on behalf of teams Desert and Sabre."
Words normally didn't compare to actions, but there are exceptions. In this moment, I meant every word, down to each letter. Every operative knows the significance of this mission and will give nothing less than their utmost diligence in ensuring their safety at all times.
Calder's expression remains tight as he weighs his options. His brows furrow as he looks over the documents placed in front of him, eyes skimming across each page without any comments. Moreau glances to me with a reserved look, only shifting to the Ambassador once he sets the files down with a slight rustle.
"Okay, I'll do it. Just hope I won't regret this," Calder announces, then turns to his companion, "Ashley?"
The Senior Linguist sips a breath and returns a neutral look. "What we're doing is important, it'd be good to finally see what they look like in person. There's a lot to learn from both sides, we just have to believe they're as reasonable as we assume them to be."
She pauses and turns to me with a light smile on her lips. "And I trust we're in good company, so the answer is still a yes."
The Chief Administrator nods. "Good, then Operation Icebreaker is still good to go. Jerome, I'll leave the next part to you. I understand there's a rough guideline your team advocated during your report."
I lean up from the seat. "Correct. We know that some of their soldiers are capable of... well," I pause, aware of the absurdity of using such an informal word in this setting, "...magic. Hate to say it, but that's what's making the rounds. These are the ones we need to watch out for during Operation Icebreaker, which means adopting an S.O.P. and coming up with distinct terminologies to quickly identify such targets and whatever actions we presume them to be committing. It'd be good if Ambassador Calder and Moreau are at least aware of that."
Calder leans forward, his fingers interlocking in front of him. "I'm all ears."
Moreau responds in kind. "Likewise, we're in this together."
===Tartarus Base, New Eden===
-0433 Military Hours
Early into the morning, before even the sun rose over the mountains we are up. I organize our supplies with the help of two operatives from team Sabre, making sure all items are properly strapped on the central aisle in one of the Valors. Two of such aircraft will be making the trip, one housing both teams plus our two representatives, and the other carrying everything we needed to sustain the mission for up to a month if need be.
Out on the landing pads, Sullivan leads the rest of my team towards the other tiltrotor craft, linking up with the crew of that particular Valor. As the Lieutenant converses with the pilots, Ambassador Calder, dressed in a formal suit makes his way into the cabin followed by Ashley in a more modest, but still professional outfit consisting of a white blouse covered by a dark blazer along with a matching skirt that admittedly held my gaze for longer than is appropriate.
A hand races across my vision with a snap, pulling my attention away from the Linguist. "We get it," a member of Sullivan's team chuckles.
I roll my eyes but do nothing to rebuke his snide comment. Davis looks to the woman over his shoulder just as she turns past the door, shaking his head before returning his focus to the stack of boxes in front of him.
Since our introduction days ago, I have nothing but good things to say about Ashley. She is smart, a natural at leading conversations, and overall great company.
Unsurprisingly, the woman is a wealth of insight into not just the locals but also the planet's exotic wildlife. There was always something to take away from our conversations, whether it relates to the mission itself—which is usually the case, or on the rare occasions where it takes on a more personal turn.
For what it is worth, I am glad she ended up as the team's cultural liaison.
"Jerome," a familiar voice interrupts, "Ambassador Calder and Ashley are set. I can tell they're nervous, but both are good. Talon-One's ready to dust off, just waiting on us."
Both Sullivan and the Valor's quartermaster step inside and briefly survey the stacks of crates and jerry cans secured along the centre aisle.
Handing the checklist over to the quartermaster, I gesture to the last group of unsecured crates flushed near the front. "Only got these three left, just spare equipment and battery packs for our gear."
The man takes the checklist and stows it between two seats and ushers us out of the aircraft. "Not a big deal, I'll handle it. Go, only fifteen minutes till the clock hits 0500."
I head straight to the other Valor and take an empty seat, Sullivan and his team joining a moment later. The engines rumble to life, and I feel the vibrations running across my back and feet.
The lift up is smooth and a quick glance at my watch shows that we have just passed 0500 hours. We are right on schedule. The cabin is bathed in a smooth, utilitarian red light. The hum of the engines plays over the silence in the cabin, only being broken by snippets of conversation between both teams.
Ashley, normally amicable has not spoken a word since entering the Valor. She holds onto the harness across her chest, mostly keeping to herself.
Between the small talk shared among the operatives and even the Ambassador himself, the woman stands out as an outlier. Even as the sun rises and light filters into the cabin through the windows, she remains closed off, responding only when spoken to and never returning anything longer than a curt answer.
I look away, thinking against pursuing the issue. Everyone's nerves are tight and this might just be her way of tackling it.
The ensuing conversations manage to lighten the mood around the cabin. We share jokes, and at times engage in light-hearted banter with our sister team until, for the time being, the mission itself is no more than an afterthought.
Two more hours roll by before the conversations dry up, and the impending reality of our mission sets in.
I glance out the window. The once rolling hills and expanse of green is slowly replaced by signs of civilization. Sprawling fields covered the land with a distinctive pattern, bordered on one side with a cluster of buildings with a thin road leading off further west.
Nothing looks out of place. Without context, anyone could have mistaken this for an average stretch of countryside—on Earth that is.
"We're close," James quips just as the others begin readying their equipment.
"Have visual on LZ. ETA three minutes," the Pilot's voice chimes over the intercom.
Unstrapping myself, I stand up and grab my weapon off the rack and make my way to the front, thumping on the cabin's walls twice to draw attention to myself.
"Before we step off, just a few reminders," I begin, stopping to make sure I have everyone's attention before continuing.
The operatives from both teams readily give me their focus, dropping whatever conversations, or thoughts they had in a moment's notice. Calder sits on the left closest to me, the man's posture rigid as he stares with a particularly stern expression which is probably mirrored by those beside him under their helmets, something not shared by the only woman in our midst.
"Ashley," I say, getting the Senior Linguist to perk up from her corner at the back.
"Y—yes, just... mentally rehearsing on the what-if scenarios that you taught us," she explains, her voice trembling lightly.
I look down to her clenched hands, noting the tension on her knuckles. In hindsight, maybe keeping her in the loop of the worst that could happen might not have been the best idea.
"You'll be fine," I assure her, giving the Linguist a final look over before returning to my original agenda.
I take a deep breath, briefly reflect on my words and begin.
"Most of the talking will be done by Calder and Moreau, but the burden's also on us to represent our species. Conduct yourselves well and maintain the highest standards of behavior at all times," I emphasize.
A chorus of affirmatives roll across the cabin from both teams.
James puts on his helmet and holds out a fist. "Observe, respond, but don't overstep," the team medic recites, raising a finger for each point.
"Exactly. Don't mingle with any of the locals anymore than necessary. That also means keeping your hands to yourself, we didn't come here to knock boots with the ladies," I continue in a lighter tone, garnering a few chuckles from the back of the cabin.
The Valor touches down with a gentle thud. Douglas unbuckles himself and turns to the door, leaning forward to disengage its locking mechanism. In a few seconds, the door slides open to reveal the sprawling fields and the same town as seen from above. Distant figures—people, linger in the space between them. They all had the same, unusually white shade of hair typical of their ethnicity.
"We've got locals, I count seven between us and that group of buildings ahead," I highlight, moving closer to the edge.
"Looks like civilians," Douglas adds and steps off, trotting ahead to a position roughly twenty metres away before sinking to a knee, weapon raised across his field of view.
A member of team Sabre follows him past the threshold and turns sharply to the front. After a tense wait, the operative's voice crackles over comms. "Left side's clear... no locals," he announces.
"Right side—likewise. Registering indig' movement, but nothing to indicate hostile intent," Douglas adds, still in visual in front of me.
I disembark from the Valor and wait for the rest to make their way out the aircraft. Stopping the next operative with a firm hand on the shoulder, I gesture to the back of the Valor.
"Go—rear security," I yell, glancing down at his nametag while indicating to the direction I wanted.
Responding with a short nod, Davis moves to the back of the landing zone and assumes a defensive position. The remaining operatives quickly file out and gather a short distance away from the Valor.
Sullivan and I keep tabs on our respective team, and after ensuring all members are accounted for, prompt several more operatives away to both reinforce and expand the defensive perimeter.
Still inside the Valor, Ambassador Calder and Ashley stood at the edge of the cabin's threshold, patiently waiting for the all clear signal as instructed. The second Valor appears over the horizon, approaching at a low altitude with its landing gears extended.
The aircraft hovers adjacent to its counterpart and touches down mirroring its orientation and alignment to a respectable degree.
"This is Sabre team lead, anything to report?" Sullivan asks over comms.
"Negative, all clear on our six," Davis answers, followed by similar reports from the other bearings.
"Landing's secured," Sullivan announces, giving the Ambassador and Senior Linguist a thumbs up.
Ashley hops out almost immediately, and armed with a camera in her hands, gets right to work documenting her first steps onto Euralian soil.
"This is... incredible," she remarks with an awed expression, her eyes wide with a sense of wonder.
Robert chuckles next to me. "You'll get used to it."
Ashley beams a smile back at him. "Well I hope not. Imagine the things they could tell us, not just about their culture but also history. The entire world is just—sorry, I'm... it's almost too much to take in," she pauses, and takes a few slow breaths to compose herself.
Her optimistic outlook is a refreshing addition to the group's usual disposition. So much that I could not help but break out a smile in amusement.
"I get you, but one thing at a time," I say, and gesture to both her and Calder. "The city's about a dozen klicks west, so I'm sure at least someone's aware of our arrival. We'll need to be ready when the Euralians eventually send a force to our position."
Sullivan nudges me on the arm. "Then we best get working on our camp."
"Yeah," Robert agrees, nodding slightly.
The pilots stood at the front of the cockpit, but soon join in after expressing their desire to help where they can. Everyone, excluding those on perimeter defense cross the short distance between the two aircraft and join up with the crew of the second Valor.
Standing at the side of the aircraft with the checklist in hand, the quartermaster begins delegating instructions at the top of his lungs.
"We'll start with the basics—habitation prefabs, power generators, and ammunition. Both teams will handle that. The rest, including the pilots will be with me offloading the crates and everything else," the uniformed man asserts, pointing a finger into the cabin where the aforementioned supplies dominated a good portion of the interior.
Having been previously in-charge of the logistical aspects of the mission, I was intimately aware that getting everything out is going to be no small feat even with the extra hands. But after a couple hours of hard work, the outpost slowly begins to take shape.
Six habitation prefabs, two portable power generators, and a basic sanitation and hygiene outlet between the two grounded Valors constitute the main body of our newly minted base of operations.
After the final touches are done, a tense silence looms over the outpost. Breaking the calm every so often is the occasional callout from one of the operatives on perimeter watch stating increased movement along their sectors. At times those were simply civilians minding their own business, but the more recent ones included sightings of soldiers in groups of five or more.
Just the very thought of being surrounded sent no small amount of concern through my thoughts. I had days to mentally prepare for this, but it never really compares to the real deal.
A soft voice appears behind. "Hey," Ashley calls out.
I look over my shoulder to see the Senior Linguist just a few steps away looking onto the town ahead with that same glint of wonder in her eyes.
"Someone's expecting us right, or at least promised to be here. You said her name was Lunelle?" Ashley remarks, moving to stand beside me as I resume my watch over the western perimeter.
Nodding slightly, I briefly reflect on the enigmatic priest who proved instrumental in bridging the gap between us and her own people during the team's first mission.
"Yeah—hopefully she'll keep her word. It'd make things a lot smoother," I reply, picturing the stoic, yet tender expression she wore during our last conversation.
Ashley continues after a short while. "What is she like?"
I glance over to her and answer the question. "Distant... like she knows more than she lets on. She is someone important, that much is obvious."
"The Euralians are a lot more sophisticated than we give them credit for. Could be that she's an equivalent to an intelligence officer, or whatever it's called for you guys," she muses.
"I thought so too," I shrug, coming to the same conclusion more than once over the past few days, "then it'd make a lot more sense if she appears."
"When," the Senior Linguist emphasizes with a firm voice, pointing to the soldiers ahead. "Maybe that's why they haven't approached yet. They're waiting for someone."
"We'll know soon enough," I reply, following her gaze to the nearest group just three hundred metres out.
They just kept their distance, fully armed from head to toe, and simply observed us just as we did them.
In all my five years, never has a mission name been more appropriate than it is now.
===End===
"In the future, I know we will have a plausible explanation for the Rift itself. But right now, all I am concerned about are the implications our discoveries will have on the rest of the world—our world that is."
- Jacob V. Turner, Daily Reflections Log. Excerpt on the discovery of indigenous civilizations. Circa March 14th, 2046.