Dimension returns to the Great Void in 370 pulses
The air in the cavern hung heavy and still, pressing against Zaria’s skin like an unwelcome cloak. Her breath hitched as she peered into the inky void stretching before her. Shadows clung stubbornly to every corner, refusing to yield even the faintest hint of what lay beyond. The faint glow of bioluminescent fungi in the previous chamber was gone, leaving her enveloped in a silence so oppressive it felt alive. Her voice broke the quiet, a shaky whisper that barely carried in the heavy air.
“What fresh hell is this?”
Her words dissolved into the stillness, offering no comfort. Zaria rubbed her hands over her arms, more out of reflex than cold, as she scanned the unyielding darkness. Another dark, suffocating space. Every room she’d woken up in since this twisted nightmare began seemed drenched in shadow. It was as if the entire Nexus Trials were designed to strip her of light, comfort, and clarity—bit by bit.
She took a hesitant step forward, her boots scraping against the uneven ground, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. If wandering in the dark is my new life, I’m going to need a flashlight, she thought grimly. Her hand instinctively reached for her datapad, patting at her lab coat pocket for its familiar weight. Her fingers grazed the fabric, but it was empty.
She froze, her heart skipping. With growing urgency, she patted the other pocket, then ran her hands over the sides of her coat, her chest tightening. Nothing. She checked again. Still nothing. A dawning realization crashed over her, cold and cruel.
Her datapad was gone. Her utility belt, too.
Zaria stared down at herself, her lab coat a stark reminder of how little she had left. Her tools, her lifelines, were missing. She hadn’t even noticed when they’d disappeared in the chaos. All she had now were the clothes on her back, and even they were starting to feel grimy. A bitter laugh escaped her lips, dry and humorless.
“Fantastic,” she muttered under her breath, straightening her coat. “This day just keeps getting better.”
She glanced down at her boots, scuffed and covered in dirt, then at her sleeves, where grime had begun to seep into the once-pristine fabric. Her nose wrinkled. If there’s no laundry facility in this place, I’m going to be too ripe to think straight.
Her lips pressed into a firm line, and she forced herself to take a steadying breath. Focus, Zaria. She straightened her shoulders, standing taller despite the gnawing uncertainty in her chest. I am Lieutenant Commander Zaria Jenkins, officer aboard the USS Horizon Seeker. She recited the words silently, her mental voice growing firmer. Captain Hale doesn’t pick just anyone. He picks the best. That’s me.
She clung to the thought, a flicker of pride cutting through the gnawing fear. If she could face Master Sergeant Haley Reynolds’s unrelenting scrutiny—and survive her pointed “motivational” speeches—she could face whatever twisted challenges the Nexus Trials had in store.
Another breath. Another step forward.
The darkness didn’t seem so all-consuming anymore.
The cavern’s walls shimmered faintly in the dim light, the texture a mesmerizing fusion of ancient stone and biomechanical intricacy. Zaria’s boots crunched softly against the uneven ground as her gaze darted between the strange, pulsing patterns etched into the walls. Unlike the jagged, rugged caves of Ganymede, where she’d spent field trips picking apart geological formations, these walls seemed alive—woven with faintly glowing moss and intricate, rhythmic runes that emitted a faint blue light, as though breathing.
Her fingers itched with curiosity. She stepped closer, hesitating only a moment before reaching out to trace the smooth surface. The warmth startled her—it was almost alive, radiating a steady heat that pulsed faintly beneath her fingertips. Her mind reeled back to a field trip in her early student days, a holographic museum on Ganymede. They’d recreated Earth’s pyramids, the stone walls alive with vibrant glyphs. Standing here now, tracing the glowing runes, the memory surged forward.
“Glyphs,” she murmured, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. Her fingers moved over the symbols, connecting their alien shapes to the ancient marks etched into her memory. This can’t be a coincidence. She leaned in closer, her brow furrowing as the glowing symbols shifted and pulsed beneath her touch. Each mark seemed deliberate, intentional, forming a sequence that demanded to be understood.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“Toth…” The name whispered through her lips unbidden, tugged from the recesses of her mind. The Egyptian god of knowledge, rumored in human mythology to have come from the stars, bringing language and wisdom to Earth amongst his most notable gifts. Could it be? Could these symbols share that same otherworldly origin, bridging not just time but the vast reaches of the galaxy?
Her scientific mind roared to life, casting aside the lingering fear and exhaustion. The runes held a sequence—an open circle, a vertical line, a spiral, and something resembling a gear. Her fingers followed the shapes as they seemed to hum beneath her touch. Then, before her eyes, the glowing symbols shifted, their alien forms dissolving into readable text.
The History of Technomancy.
Zaria gasped, the words glowing faintly before her, their meaning settling like a puzzle piece clicking into place. “No way,” she whispered, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her voice held a hushed reverence, barely audible in the cavern’s stillness. “This is insane. Is it actually going to explain this stuff better than that drivel Luxor Vael was spewing?”
She leaned in, her fingers trailing along the edge of the runes as the wall seemed to respond to her curiosity. Slowly, the text morphed, revealing more words.
Technomancy is a gift from the Ancients, given to the galaxy. It is the synthesis of advanced technology with mystical, energy-based abilities—the power to manipulate, augment, and create technology in ways that defy conventional understanding. It opens a mind and soul to the rhythm of the universe.
Her breath caught as she read. The glowing text bathed her face in soft light, illuminating her wide eyes. Every word fueled the spark of her scientific curiosity, igniting a hunger for more. She wasn’t a historian by nature, but her relentless need to understand the unknown had driven her down countless rabbit holes in the past. This, though—this wasn’t obscure trivia from an old textbook. This was alive, mysterious, and infinite.
Her hands danced over the runes as if coaxing them to reveal their secrets. She barely noticed the faint vibration beneath her palms, the way the wall seemed to pulse in rhythm with her own quickening heartbeat.
“Technomancy…” she whispered again, the word foreign yet electric on her tongue. For the first time since this ordeal began, her fear ebbed, replaced by a singular focus. Whatever this was, she was going to uncover it—every glowing rune, every whispered secret etched into these ancient walls.
Zaria squinted closer at the glowing runes, her fingers tracing the intricate lines as she leaned in for a better view. The faint blue light cast shadows across her face, but something pulled at the edge of her focus—a faint, rhythmic noise that seemed out of place in the stillness of the cavern. She stilled her hand, tilting her head toward the sound.
“Scrap… scrap…”
The noise cut through the silence, grating and mechanical. Her heart stuttered. She snapped her head around, scanning the shadows behind her. Nothing moved in the dimness. The flickering blue light of the runes danced along the jagged edges of the cavern, but no figure loomed. She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening on the wall as if grounding herself.
Just my imagination, she thought, turning her attention back to the glowing symbols. But the noise came again, louder this time—more insistent.
“Scrap… scrap… scrap…”
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She spun around, her breath hitching, and froze. Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she stared at the creature only a few feet away. It stood no higher than her knee, cobbled together from jagged pieces of mismatched junk—rusted plates, gleaming chrome, and wires that sparked faintly at its joints. One arm was grotesquely oversized, a crude claw twitching open and shut, while the other dangled awkwardly at its side.
Its head tilted toward her, red orbs glowing where eyes should have been, fixed on her like twin lasers. A low, grinding sound emanated from its core, where a round gear blinked with an ominous red light. The blinking intensified as the creature twitched, its movements jerky and unnatural, like a wind-up toy on its last legs.
Zaria’s breath quickened, her feet glued to the spot. Before she could make sense of the bizarre, patchwork thing staring her down, blue text flared to life in front of her, crisp and glowing in the damp air:
WARNING: SCRAPPING DETECTED. LOW-LEVEL THREAT.
Her eyes darted from the floating text to the creature, which let out a high-pitched whine as its claw snapped shut with a metallic clang. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t friendly—and it wasn’t going to wait for her to figure it out.
Scrappings:
Technomancy Potential (TNP): 1
These are low-level minions that pose a threat mainly in numbers rather than in individual strength. They rely on swarm tactics and use their environment to self-repair and reproduce through junk accumulation. Immune to poison. Vulnerable to high-impact attacks or targeting the energy core in their chest. Provide basic loot that is useful for crafting and survival.