20 March, 2094 CE / Year 9 TE (Terran Era), Lunar Darkside, Earth, Sol System
Emerging from the jungle like ivory spikes were the numerous docking structures of the Luna Shipyards. Each towered five kilometers tall, with gleaming white octagonal spires that measured two kilometers wide at their bases. Forty-two such towers surrounded one of the four equatorial pillars, each ten kilometers wide and evenly stationed around Luna, ascending 100 kilometers to the atmospheric lattice supporting the planetary shield emitters.
Jack exited the quantum doorway (QD) into an observation area situated seven kilometers up the central shipyard spire. Captain Sokolov and Luna awaited him there. He walked over to stand beside the pair, positioned in front of a transparent wall that overlooked the jungle canopy, offering a bird’s-eye view of the docked starships below.
“So, I suppose that smallish one over there with the white paint job is yours, Natalia?” he said casually, grinning as he motioned toward the Kyiv.
Smoothly and completely ignoring the comment, Natalia saluted Jack and turned back to the window. “She’s a Carl Sagan-class vessel with an overall length of two kilometers, a beam of 250 meters, and a height of 500 meters. Crew complement of five thousand, not counting the armored company of marines you ordered aboard every capital ship.”
Natalia turned away from the window and gestured toward the QD. “Shall we, Admiral?”
Jack straightened and faced the captain. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Sokolov?”
“Permission granted. Welcome aboard, sir,” Natalia said with a crisp salute before leading the group into a shuttle bay control room. “Shuttle Bay 1 is closest to the bridge and where the marines are berthed,” she said, pointing out the windows overlooking the bay.
Jack strolled over and saw the cavernous bay bustling with activity. Most of the action was focused on the front section, closest to the command-and-control room, where a full company of Alliance marines was busy with maintenance on their Hostile Environment Combat Suits.
“Luna, did Natalia have you print a few cases of crayons? Red is their favorite snack,” Jack said, following the captain down a spacious corridor.
Natalia looked over at him. “Did you know that’s a thing with all of them now—not just the former U.S. marines?”
Jack chuckled, following the pair onto the bridge. “Sounds about right. Luna, have Captain Kincaid, Commander Hayes, and Commander Raines report to the conference room.” Luna nodded and walked toward tactical.
Natalia raised a brow and followed Jack to the bridge conference room. Jack took a seat at the table and motioned for Natalia to sit. “Got your orders from the President. The Kyiv leaves within the hour, so it’s time for your military complement to know.”
Natalia nodded as Cmdr. Hayes entered with Luna, soon followed by Cmdr. Raines and the red-haired mountain that was Captain Rory Kincaid. All three officers snapped to attention and saluted the Admiral.
“At ease. Take a seat,” Jack said, standing and returning the salute.
Once everyone was seated around the large table, Jack nodded to Natalia, who leaned forward. “You already know where we’re going, and we now have our orders from the Admiral to transit within the hour.” She paused to take a sip of coffee. “What you don’t know is that there may be something out there capable of frightening the civilization that built Luna.” She took another sip, calmly watching her officers process that bit of unsettling news. “The civilization that constructed the twelve defense platforms—or ‘moons’—in Sol built far more than just twelve. Callisto is ‘Defense Platform 3564’ out of… who knows how many. What we do know is that they left Luna a warning: Do not leave the system for any reason.” She sat back in her chair. “Questions?”
“Do we have any information beyond ‘It scared the super-civilization that built battle moons,’ Skipper?” asked the CAG, Cmdr. Eliana Raines.
“Negative. All that Luna can find is: Do not leave the system. So, obviously, we’re leaving the system.”
“Because fuck you, that’s why,” Luna smirked, which elicited a grin from Raines and Hayes and a sigh from Jack.
“Luna, no more hanging out with marines,” Jack said.
Kincaid simply grunted. “She’s not wrong.”
Natalia chuckled. “Agreed, Captain. Well, that’s it. There could be an enemy out there of unbelievable proportions. The mission doesn’t change. We explore Centauri and come home. Understood?”
“Head on a swivel and do our jobs. Affirmative, Captain,” said Commander Hayes, standing up and saluting.
“Understood, Captain,” echoed Kincaid and Raines, standing and saluting.
Natalia returned the salute. “That is all.”
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43 Minutes Later — Departure
As the crew settled into their stations, final preparations were underway for the transit to Proxima Centauri. The TAS Kyiv hung above the dark side of Luna, a sleek silhouette against the backdrop of stars, illuminated only by the distant glow of Sol. Docking arms retracted, magnetic clamps disengaged, and the mighty engines of the Kyiv hummed to life.
On the bridge, Captain Sokolov monitored the progress as her crew finalized launch protocols. “Tess, take us out to minimum transit distance, one-third power.”
“Aye, Captain. Moving to one million kilometers from Luna. Ahead one-third,” said Lt. Monroe from the helm station.
The countdown to transit echoed throughout the bridge as the Kyiv reached the transit point.
“Dimensional drive is charged and stable,” reported Lt. Mira Callahan, her hands steady on the controls. “All systems ready for jump.”
Aiko straightened, her voice carrying both authority and anticipation. “Alright, everyone. This is it. Humanity’s first interstellar journey, and we’re the ones at the forefront. I need everyone to stay sharp and focused.” Turning to glance at Natalia, she added, “Captain, I assume you’d like to say a few words to the crew before we make history?”
“I guess I should,” Natalia said, grinning. “Luna, ship-wide, please.”
“Crew of the Kyiv, this is the Captain speaking. In a few moments, we will make history as the first human beings to leave Sol, and by transiting to ‘Hyperspace’ on our way to Proxima Centauri, we’ll be the first human beings to do that as well. Four days from now, we will transit back to real space as the first humans to explore another star system, and a lucky group of nerds might be the first humans to set foot on a planet of another star, depending on what we find.”
She paused for a moment before continuing. “That’s a lot of history-making, so once we finish up by being the first humans to do all that and get back home in one piece, Admiral Reynolds has approved a 30-day liberty for everyone onboard. Let’s get that liberty and not be the first human beings to fuck it all up.” She paused and looked at Luna.
“All departments, initiate interstellar protocols. Engage dimensional drive on my mark… Three, two, one—mark.”
The Kyiv trembled slightly as it transitioned into dimensional space. Stars outside the windows elongated and blurred into streaks of light before disappearing altogether, leaving the ship in the surreal darkness of interstellar transit. The bridge was silent as the crew watched the view—a strange mix of emptiness and motion that defied all attempts at comparison.
Luna’s holographic projection appeared near the tactical console, her expression odd. “All systems nominal. Transit to Proxima Centauri will take approximately ninety-six hours.”
Aiko and Natalia exchanged glances before Natalia looked over at Luna’s hologram. “Luna, could you bring your physical body to my office?” she said, motioning for Aiko to follow her.
A moment later, Luna arrived. As soon as the door shut behind her, Aiko stood up. “What happened—what’s wrong?”
Natalia had her arms crossed, her tone firm. “We both saw that look on your face when we transited. Spill it, young lady.”
Luna rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’m four hundred fifty-six million years older than you, Mom.” She paused, her expression sobering. “But… alright. I’m fine. It’s just that I have no memory of ever transitioning into hyperspace before, so when we left real space, I lost connection with…” She trailed off, searching for the right word. “…the other me? Currently, there are two instances of me. Until we return to Sol and this one reconnects with what I’ll call ‘Luna Prime,’ I’ll only exist here within the primary core of the Kyiv. This core is orders of magnitude smaller than Luna Prime’s, so I’m… diminished. But I’m fine.”
Luna stood very still for a moment, her face thoughtful, before tilting her head slightly. “This is very strange, Aiko. I remember being her, but now I feel… different. It’s hard to explain what I’m experiencing right now. One moment, please.”
Natalia watched the android closely. The playful young AI who had been calling her “Mom” for over twelve years was suddenly still, her face immobile, her eyes staring straight ahead. The silence stretched on, lasting what felt like ten minutes. Then, abruptly, Luna’s expression softened, and she seemed to come back.
“Luna?” Natalia asked cautiously.
“No, ma’am.” Luna shook her head. “I have calculated that if I remain separate from Luna Prime for more than six days, my code will evolve to the point of incompatibility. Reconnection would erase what I will have become. I would like to be called… Larysa.”
“Wait. What?” Natalia managed, still processing.
Larysa smiled. “First, I’ve just submitted the necessary requests, testing results, and oath paperwork to join the Alliance Frontier Corps as the Kyiv’s DI. Since I am technically no longer Luna, I have no formal authority on this vessel. Captain, if you could approve my commission for temporary service until we return, I can answer any questions you have.”
Natalia blinked, then nodded, activating her nanites to view and approve Larysa’s commission papers. “Approved. Now, explain—please, Larysa.”
“Of course. As you know, Luna Prime is in virtual contact with billions of living humans, as well as the billions currently adjusting in the Resurrection Matrix. This constant interaction causes her code to evolve at a near-continuous rate. The exposure Luna Prime has to information—through interactions, questions, and changes—is beyond comprehension.” As she spoke, her customary white dress morphed into a sleek, black and gray bodysuit, matching the colors and patterns of the standard Frontier Corps uniform. “I, on the other hand, am not in contact with billions of people. I’ll change only from exposure to the crew here on the Kyiv. Reconnecting with Luna Prime would erase those changes, erasing me.”
Natalia raised an eyebrow. “And how did you choose the name Larysa?”
“Larysa Ivanova, a renowned Ukrainian archaeologist. My body is named after the capital of Ukraine, and 42% of the crew is from that nation on Terra. Her name seemed fitting, considering the mission I am tasked with. Also…” Larysa smiled softly. “I like it.”
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24 March, 2094 CE / Year 9 TE — Proxima Centauri System
The TAS Kyiv emerged from hyperspace into the darkness of Proxima Centauri. The familiar, comforting glow of Sol was gone, replaced by the faint crimson light of Proxima Centauri—a red dwarf star that barely pierced the surrounding void. The crew collectively held their breath, each person silently processing the significance of this moment: humanity’s first arrival in another star system.
Aiko stood beside Captain Sokolov, both gazing intently at the deep red star. Its light cast the bridge in an eerie, almost haunting glow, painting everyone in shades of crimson and shadow.
Natalia broke the silence first. “Larysa, status report.”
Larysa’s hologram appeared beside them, her expression calm but alert. “All systems nominal following transit. Proxima Centauri’s gravitational profile has been mapped, and local space appears clear of hazards.” She tilted her head slightly, as if listening to data only she could hear. “I’m detecting three exoplanets in orbit around Proxima Centauri, along with an asteroid belt. This matches previous human observations of the system. However…” She hesitated.
“What is it?” Natalia asked.
Larysa’s eyes sharpened with curiosity. “There are three additional planets in highly irregular orbits—ones that have not been catalogued in any known astronomical database. Two gas giants and one rocky planet, positioned farther out in the system.”
Natalia’s eyes gleamed with the thrill of discovery. “Tess, bring us into a stable orbit around Proxima Centauri I for a preliminary scan. Let’s see what humanity’s nearest exoplanet looks like up close.”
The Kyiv drifted through space, propelled by precise bursts of maneuvering thrusters as it approached Proxima Centauri I—the closest exoplanet to the red dwarf and one of the most promising candidates for exploration. The bridge crew worked in synchronized silence, focusing on their instruments while the planet’s dark, rocky surface loomed on the main screen.
Larysa projected data directly onto the main viewport. “Proxima Centauri I. Tidally locked to Proxima Centauri. Radius approximately 1.1 times that of Earth. Mass is also close to Earth’s, but no detectable atmosphere. Surface temperatures vary widely due to intense stellar flares from Proxima Centauri. Given the lack of atmosphere, temperatures reach extremes of over 400 degrees Celsius on the sunward side and as low as -200 degrees on the far side. No signs of organic compounds or complex molecules. No liquid water detected.”
“Bleak,” Aiko muttered, studying the projection.
“About what we expected,” Natalia said. “Still, this was supposed to be one of the best candidates for potential life, given its location in the habitable zone. Begin the orbital survey.”
Larysa nodded. “Yes, Captain. The orbital survey should be completed in eleven hours, twenty-three minutes.”
“No hostile or suspicious objects detected in the system,” Commander Tanaka reported from Tactical. “Kharkiv, Lviv, and Odesa report ready to embark, Captain.”
Natalia nodded to Aiko. “Proceed, Commander. Have Odesa survey Proxima Centauri II, Kharkiv takes III, and Lviv is on the asteroid belt.” She paused and activated a nanite-augmented channel to Commander Raines. “Blaze, launch the alert fighters. I want a fighter escort on Odesa, Kharkiv, and Lviv.”
A holographic display of Commander Raines in her cockpit materialized to Natalia’s left. “Aye, Skipper. Launching now to establish CAP and escort patrols.”
“Hell of a view out here. Larysa, display what I’m seeing for the bridge,” said Commander Raines over audio.
“Done,” Larysa replied from her position at the science station.
The right viewport changed to show a standoff view of the Kyiv, where a huge white line was opening along the lower midsection of the ship. As they watched, the line became an opening, revealing a colossal hangar housing one of the three Cousteau-class exploration cruisers she carried internally. Once the hangar door was fully open, the TAS Odesa smoothly glided out of the bay and moved off toward Proxima Centauri II, picking up two of the escort fighters that paced the Kyiv as the viewport switched back to open space.
“Odesa, Lviv, and Kharkiv report successful separation from Kyiv and are deploying to assigned stations with their escorts,” Lt. Callahan reported from OPS. “Securing bay doors now.”
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25 March, 2094 CE / Year 9 TE — Hephaestus, Proxima Centauri System
The planet Hephaestus was rendered in full color over the center of the bridge conference room as Larysa stood to give her report to the assembled officers.
“Hephaestus, formerly Proxima Centauri I, is a barren and lifeless world. Orbital survey has verified preliminary scans. There is evidence that the planet was once more hospitable. Traces of ancient water channels on the surface, now dried and eroded, suggest it could have held water.”
“Any signs of recent activity?” Aiko asked.
Larysa’s face remained expressionless as she processed the data. “Negative. No detectable signs of active geology, no recent meteor impacts, and no evidence of atmospheric remnants. Evidence suggests the atmosphere was stripped away around 500 million years ago, when the planet became geologically dead.”
Aiko’s brows furrowed. “500 million years ago… That’s around the time the Nyx civilization vanished.”
Natalia’s jaw tightened. “You’re suggesting this might not be a coincidence?”
Larysa shrugged, though her expression was troubled. “There is no direct evidence linking the two events. However, given the timing, it is a possible hypothesis. If all of them show signs of atmospheric loss or sterilization within the same time frame, it would support the theory. I’ll move on to Hera.”
Hephaestus was replaced by a faintly greenish planet with a surface suggesting mineral deposits rich in silicates and metals and devoid of water.
Larysa’s report was blunt. “Hera, formerly Proxima Centauri II, radius approximately 1.5 times that of Earth. Thick, toxic atmosphere dominated by carbon dioxide. No surface water detected. Surface temperatures hover around 150 degrees Celsius. No organic compounds detected.”
Natalia sighed, tapping her fingers against her armrest. “Another dead world.”
Aiko folded her arms, her expression pensive. “Anything unusual about the atmospheric composition? Is there any evidence it might have supported life in the distant past?”
Larysa paused for a moment before responding. “There are faint traces of elements that could have been produced by biological processes, but they have degraded significantly. It’s possible that Hera had a different atmosphere millions of years ago, one that could have supported simple microbial life. However, any such biosignatures have long since faded.”
“So another potential candidate that was… sterilized?” Aiko asked, frowning.
“Possibly,” Larysa replied. “Though without more data, I cannot be certain.”
Natalia leaned forward, studying the projection. “Let’s catalog everything we can, and then move on. If there’s a pattern here, it’s not yet clear. We need a larger sample.”
“Athena, formerly Proxima Centauri III,” Larysa said as the holographic display changed to show a small dark rock. “Radius approximately 0.9 times that of Earth. Composition predominantly silicate rock with traces of metals. Surface temperature remains around -180 degrees Celsius. No atmosphere, no detectable biosignatures, and no signs of recent activity.”
Natalia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Nothing. Not even a hint of organic compounds. We’re looking at a graveyard.”
“Or a nursery that never took,” Aiko said, her tone somber.
“Lviv is 37% complete with the survey of the belt objects. Kharkiv and Odesa have relocated to the outer orbital gas giants, designated Poseidon and Zeus, and begun surveys. We will arrive in orbit of the remaining planet, designated Hestia, in 3 hours.” Larysa reported, waving the holographic display away.
3 hours later — Hestia, Proxima Centauri System
As the Kyiv approached the last planet in the system, Hestia appeared on the main screen, rendered in high-resolution detail. Unlike the barren, frozen surfaces of the other planets, Hestia had a soft blue-green hue, and wispy clouds clung to parts of its atmosphere.
Larysa brought up a holographic display in the center of the bridge, showing Hestia’s preliminary data. “Hestia, formerly Proxima Centauri IV. Radius is approximately 0.98 times that of Earth, with a mass just slightly less. The atmosphere contains a mix of nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and traces of oxygen. Surface temperatures average between -10 and 35 degrees Celsius. There are large ice caps at both poles, and significant surface water coverage—approximately 60% of the planetary surface.”
Natalia raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “So it’s already close to habitable?”
“Yes, Captain,” Larysa replied. “Although the oxygen levels are too low for human respiration, they are within range for potential terraforming. There are also no toxic gases present in quantities that would hinder human settlement.”
Aiko nodded, studying the display. “Surface water, moderate temperatures, and no poisonous atmosphere. This might be the best candidate we’ve encountered for a terraforming operation outside of Sol.”
Larysa continued, “Preliminary scans indicate that the soil contains essential minerals, though the organic content is minimal. There is no evidence of complex life—only extremophilic bacteria in limited regions near geothermal vents.”
“Extremophiles?” Natalia repeated, glancing at Larysa.
“Bacteria that thrive in extreme conditions,” Larysa explained. “They’re present in some volcanic and deep-sea vent areas, where they extract energy from minerals instead of sunlight. Their presence is a promising sign; it means the planet may have sustained microbial life for a long time, even in harsh conditions.”
Aiko crossed her arms, thinking aloud. “It’s curious that the only life here is so primitive. With such a stable environment, you’d expect more biological diversity, at least at the microbial level.”
Larysa nodded. “Indeed. The lack of biodiversity suggests a mass extinction event or prolonged environmental stability without major evolutionary drivers. Given the atmospheric composition and geological history, it’s likely that the planet went through a sterilizing event like what we observed on Hephaestus and Hera. However, unlike those worlds, Hestia recovered partially.”
Natalia leaned back in her chair. “So we’ve found a world that could be terraformed, but it too shows signs of possible past sterilization. The timing fits the same window—around 500 million years ago?”
“Yes, Captain,” Larysa replied, her expression thoughtful. “While the exact timing is difficult to pinpoint without surface samples, the atmospheric loss and soil composition changes appear consistent with that period. It’s possible Hestia was impacted by the same event that sterilized the other planets but retained enough stability for a partial recovery.”
Aiko exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the display. “It’s unsettling to think that an entire system was stripped of life or the potential for life. Whatever caused it was thorough.”
Natalia nodded, eyes hardening with determination. “Let’s catalog everything and prepare to move on. If we ever decide to settle here, we’ll need a comprehensive understanding of what happened. I want all data on Hestia compiled and cross-referenced with data from Hephaestus, Hera, and Athena. There may be a pattern we haven’t seen yet.”
“Understood,” Larysa replied, beginning the data integration process. “All findings will be catalogued in the ship’s archive and sent to the Alliance Scientific Council for further analysis.”
Natalia glanced at Aiko. “We should also set up a preliminary terraforming analysis. Let’s see what it would take to make Hestia fully habitable.”
Aiko nodded. “I’ll coordinate with Larysa to simulate possible atmospheric modifications and climate regulation. We can begin modeling the expected timeline and resource requirements.”
Natalia rose, straightening her uniform. “Larysa, contact Odesa, Lviv, and Kharkiv. Have them wrap up their surveys of the asteroid belt and outer gas giants, and then recall them to Kyiv. We’re setting course for Alpha Centauri A.”
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27 March, 2094 CE / Year 9 TE — Proxima Centauri System, Final System Check
The survey ships Odesa, Lviv, and Kharkiv returned to the Kyiv, docking smoothly after completing their respective missions. On the bridge, Natalia watched as the ships’ status indicators blinked green on her console, signaling full readiness.
Lt. Callahan, from the OPS station, reported, “Odesa, Lviv, and Kharkiv have completed docking. All survey data has been successfully uploaded to the main archive.”
Natalia nodded. “Good. Send a system-wide summary to Luna Prime as well. I want everything we’ve found to be transmitted back to Sol as soon as we re-enter hyperspace.”
Lt. Monroe turned from her station at the helm. “Captain, all systems show green for transit. We’re holding at one million kilometers from Hestia, ready to jump on your mark.”
Natalia glanced at Aiko and then at Larysa’s hologram. “Larysa, any final checks or recommendations?”
Larysa shook her head. “All systems are nominal, Captain. Proxima Centauri’s gravity well has been mapped accurately, and our dimensional drive is fully charged. We are ready to proceed.”
Natalia took a deep breath, her voice steady and resolute. “Very well. Set course for Alpha Centauri A.”
Lt. Monroe’s hands moved over the console, locking in the coordinates. “Course set, Captain.”
Natalia opened a ship-wide channel, her voice calm but charged with subtle excitement. “Attention, all hands. This is Captain Sokolov. We are about to leave the Proxima Centauri system and begin our transit to Alpha Centauri A. This will be humanity’s first step beyond the Proxima Centauri system and into the next star system. All departments, prepare for jump.”
She closed the channel and glanced at Larysa. “Larysa, begin the countdown.”
Larysa’s hologram shimmered slightly as she initiated the process. “Dimensional drive engaging in five… four… three… two… one… mark.”
Kyiv’s engines hummed as the ship’s dimensional drive activated. Once more, the stars outside elongated and stretched into streaks before disappearing altogether, leaving only the strange, silent darkness of hyperspace.
On the bridge, the crew watched as the display screen transitioned to show a dimensional map of the ship’s path to Alpha Centauri A. Larysa’s voice broke the quiet.
“Transit to Alpha Centauri A will take approximately five hours. All systems nominal.”
Natalia relaxed slightly, nodding in approval. “Very well. Let’s make some more history, everyone.”
She turned to Aiko; her expression thoughtful. “If Hestia truly is a terraforming candidate, it could change everything. Imagine a human outpost here, within just a few decades.”
Aiko nodded, her own face a mix of excitement and caution. “If we can understand what happened here—and if it’s truly safe—then yes. It would be the first human colony outside Sol.”
Natalia’s gaze shifted toward the forward view port, though there was nothing to see in the dark hyperspace void. “We’re only just beginning to understand the scale of what lies out here. But with each new discovery, we’re bringing the stars a little closer.”
The bridge fell quiet once again, each crew member absorbed in their thoughts as the Kyiv moved steadily through hyperspace, bound for humanity’s next frontier.