The briefing room aboard Astrum Valiant was sharp, silver, and still. No windows. No warmth. Just cold white light above a central projection table and the murmur of filtered air. A heartbeat might've been loud in here. Ryn stood near the back, helmet clipped to his belt, spine straight, eyes forward.
Ten pairs. Twenty bodies. The best of their cycle. All husband-wife bonds assigned three rotations ago. He didn't know all their names. He didn't need to. That was the Federation way. Work. Pair. Reproduce. Repeat. And never, ever get attached.
He glanced sideways at Vaela. She stood perfectly still. Perfectly composed. Her fingers folded behind her back in the exact posture they'd been trained in. No flex of muscle. No tremor in her jaw. Not even a blink out of rhythm. Sometimes he wondered if she'd been designed in a lab and not just born under the same banners they all were. Sometimes he wondered if he had too.
The door slid open with a quiet hiss. Commander Eyven strode in with his usual long, fluid steps—the kind that said he'd never questioned the system. Not once.
"Survey window opens in twenty-two minutes," Eyven announced. "Planet 9-4001 remains unclassified. We proceed under Phase Two protocols: land, scan, extract." Typical. Dry. Direct. Like the planet itself was just another sterile lab floor.
"Your objective is simple. Full sample sweep. Biological potential. Atmospheric stability. Surface integrity. Priority goes to radiation resistance, plant viability, and elemental cohesion. Forty-eight-hour mission."
Forty-eight hours. Ryn's gut clenched—not from fear, just… habit. Half the planets they visited were dead. The other half wanted them dead. He didn't mind danger. But something about this one—it felt off. He couldn't explain it. Maybe it was the way the clouds lit up like bruises from orbit. Or the silence in the data logs.
Vaela brought up the holo-display. "Primary anomalies found along Grid Echo-Seven through Twelve." Her voice was smooth—always smooth. "Radiation spikes. Possible energy surges. Soil composition: unstable, volatile. Preliminary indicators suggest non-terrestrial cohesion signatures."
Ryn frowned. That was a lot of words for we don't know what the hell this place is. He shifted his weight. He could feel the others standing around him. Breathing. Watching. Waiting. Not one of them spoke. Just like every other briefing.
Jel Arken, front row, raised a hand. "Any record of magnetic displacement? Our last insertion at Retari ruptured the nav mid-flight." His wife, Lina, rolled her eyes. "Three shuttles fried. And the backup AI screamed itself offline." The silence cracked—just a little.
Ryn didn't laugh. Just filed the memory. Lina and Jel were always like that—sharp edges under tight control. Rumor was, they'd asked for a repartnering once. Denied due to "bio-stability." No one asked again.
Vaela replied, "No significant displacement. The field is active but contained. Anomalies consistent with geothermal drift." Of course she'd memorized all this. Probably been up half the night logging reports. Sleep was indulgence. So was doubt.
From the side, Yorae Tenn scoffed. "Manageable's what they said over Pavo-Kei. Lost two pairs to something with ten mouths and a memory for blood types." Her partner, Thal, added, "We spent two weeks excreting spores and praying we hadn't absorbed a hive-mind." Still no just faint flickers—eyebrow twitches, adjusted stances. That was as close as anyone came to reacting here.
Ryn shifted. Ten mouths. Hive minds. Exploding skies. Yeah. Pretty standard day. Still—his stomach hadn't unclenched.
Eyven raised a hand. "You'll be assigned extraction zones. Follow the procedure. Stay in formation. Deviation voids your return ticket." A few younger couples stiffened. The rest didn't move.
"Echo-Seven: Ryn Keleth. Primary anomaly. Soil core extraction." Ryn's eyes snapped to Vaela before he could stop himself. She didn't look at him. Didn't need to. That assignment had been hers. That zone—the one with the unstable signal? She'd logged it. Chosen it. Directed it. Coincidence? Or intent? If it was intent—why?
"Confirmed," Ryn said flatly.
Inside, something flickered. Not fear. Not anger. Something quieter.
Eyven moved down the list: Echo-Eight was Yorae and Thal Tenn for upper canopy scans and fungal density. Echo-Nine went to Eda and Kavi Murn for rock strata breakdown. Echo-Ten belonged to Jel and Lina Arken for atmospheric drift and thermal compression readings. Names. Tasks. No preferences. No refusals. You got the zone you got. If it killed you, it killed you. Ryn had accepted that. Still—his wrist hovered over the pairing band still synced to Vaela's vitals. He didn't check it. That would be indulgent.
"Dismissed," Eyven said.
The room emptied with a shuffle of boots. Couples moved side by side—perfectly in sync. No words. Just roles.
As Ryn turned, Vaela passed in front of him. For a moment, she paused—half a breath. Her hand twitched. Fingers opened slightly. Then closed. She walked on.
Vaela had already taken her position back in command—monitoring from the upper decks, expression unreadable, even when her eyes lingered too long on Ryn through the glass observation command interface. She would not protest. She could not. Their roles were assigned. She was bridge control. He was expendable.
Inside Docking Bay Six, Ryn stood with the others, ready for departure. The shuttle ramp groaned as pressure equalized. No one spoke. The crew moved with practiced precision. No one dawdled.
Sulen was tall and sharp-jawed, the assigned EchoGuard with a reputation for cold efficiency. Denev was broad-shouldered, a TraceMedic who carried dual kits slung tight across his back. Talia followed—the youngest of them but already marked as a standout SeedTech, her gaze alert beneath her visor, scanning constantly. Aster and Jale, silent but reliable, rounded out the pack.
Ryn stepped on last, locking his CoraNode into standby mode. SpireComm wouldn't hold on Flora anyway—not with the readings they'd gathered. A ToneSlip was inevitable.
They boarded in sequence. The glide harnesses clicked. Restraints hissed. The shuttle detached.
The shuttle bay's metal floor hummed under them. Ryn and the team moved in silence—each strapped into sealed descent pods. The interior was tight, functional, almost clinical. There were no pleasantries, only procedural checks.
Ryn strapped himself into the final pod, secured his GlideFrame stabilizers against terrain variables, and observed the others—flashlights sliding over SunFiber uniforms, CoraNodes flickering.
Vaela remained aboard the Valiant, her presence distant through the neural feed. Her voice came in terse commands—final safety checks, oxygen seal statuses, confirmation of solar-cell rations.
The thrusters started up with a hiss. The shuttle disengaged. The crew vaulted downward toward the planet's atmosphere.
Flora.
That was the assignment assigned to Planet-00235 by the Unified Systems Archive—a name chosen by orbital surveyors who never set foot on its surface. A planet lush with strange foliage, impossible topography, and dense atmospheric haze. But its name was only a placeholder. No one on the survey vessel knew what lay beneath the canopy.
Still, they descended.
As they broke through the atmosphere, everything shifted. Heat bloomed. Hull tremors rattled their nerves. The canopy roared up beneath them.
The shuttle pierced clouds of deep violet and rust, scraping atmospheric layers at precise angles. Hull temperature peaked above 4,300 °C before systems regulated heat. Ryn's senses remained neutral—no breathing visible, no sounds registered, no emotional flare. Only calculation: the menu of duty.
Sensors mapped shifting windflow, bio-signature clusters, and resonance patterns of flora moving beneath unseen triggers. All data recorded as anomalies for later review.
Their descent was fast, directed by pre-set coordinates—a clear swath in the forest near mineral-laced ridgelines.
The touchdown was textbook.
Dense canopies parted just enough for the lander's guidance thrusters to anchor it to a broad slab of flattened stone. Readings pinged across everyone's internal KAMs—temperate air, no immediate biohazards, minimal radiation. Structurally sound terrain.
The doors opened.
Humidity slammed into them like a wall. Thick air. Resin-sweet, spore-heavy. Talia coughed quietly into her mask. Sulen took point immediately, scanning the perimeter.
"Begin sweep protocol," Sulen ordered.
The team fanned out.
Each footstep compressed leaves into patterns. Vines spiraled through branches with unnatural symmetry. Ryn took point on the west perimeter, surveying root structures while logging mineral compositions. Everything in the terrain data felt wrong—not hostile, but ordered. Too organized.
"Stay within visual contact," he ordered. "Five-meter radius. Report all anomalies."
They spread out, surveying.
But Ryn barely responded, scanning the surrounding flora. Something about them felt intentional—grown rather than evolved. He knelt, slicing a piece with his energy blade. It hummed. Alive.
The terrain was alien, yes—but patterned. Flora with braided trunks. Ground cover that pulsed faintly with bioluminescence. Some of it felt wrong—not aggressive, but aware. A subtle arrangement that suggested… intelligence.
Ryn wandered farther than the rest—drawn by a lattice of pale blue vines shaped like circuitry, spiraling from the ground in perfect geometric intervals. Plant-based structure. Non-engineered, though not random. His thoughts snapped into puzzle mode.
"Don't wander," Sulen's voice crackled in his ear. "Team spread exceeds five-meter safe perimeter."
Behind them, the forest stirred.
At 0302 hours, all six team members disembarked under sealed suits. Flora's air was heavy with organic charge—though breathable, it remained protocol to wear field filters. The forest pulsed with life—fungal nodes contracting, tree stems curving toward sound, moss arching beneath each footfall.
The team separated methodically to collect samples. Ryn moved deliberately toward a root cluster emitting low-frequency vibrations. His glove contacted the stem—immediate and measurable response: a rhythmic pulse.
No defensive reaction. No withdrawal. Only resonance.
Anomaly logged.
Something moved.
Branches trembled—not from wind, but weight. A low-frequency sound trembled through the ground. It wasn't seismic. It was… breath. Massive. Close.
Sulen turned sharply. "Return to formation. Immediate fallback."
But the sound only grew louder.
From the ridge, something massive emerged—a chitinous and foliage-bound creature, nearly ten meters tall. Its movement was disjointed, sensor readings fluctuating, eyes glowing in amber bioluminescence.
An officer shouted, "Run!"
Team response defaulted to evacuation under Class-S criteria. Ryn did not move. He evaluated threat trajectory.
The creature ignored him.
It proceeded straight toward the shuttle.
Panic.
"Don't break—" Sulen barked.
Too late.
Aster bolted, pushing and knocking Ryn into the stomping path of the creature. Jale followed.
"Oofmp."
Ryn was shoved roughly from behind, caught off guard and stunned as he was pushed toward the large beast, which was fast in approach.
Ryn wisely rolled away just in time.
Talia screamed, running away too. The creature flinched at her shrieking though not slowing down its pace. It moved past Ryn—ignoring him completely—and surged after the others heading for the ship.
"Hold elevation!" Ryn transmitted, running to catch up.
The door closed on him.
The vessel engaged launch thrusters. Sulen barked orders overhead, but the override had already been executed.
Outside the viewport, the beast charged the rising ship with terrifying accuracy. Within seconds, it disappeared beyond canopy cover.
No acknowledgment.
The vessel lifted off before all personnel were accounted for.
"Wait! I'm not on the shuttle!" Ryn shouted in transmission, breathe heavy as he almost caught up.
No answer.
The launch override had been triggered from an internal command.
The ship broke the canopy. The creature followed—pursuit trajectory unwavering. Ryn watched as both disappeared beyond tree cover. The forest stilled again.
Status: Abandoned.
Ryn stood alone among the circuitry vines, the silence around him absolute.