The request came dressed as courtesy.
It arrived through the Arcada Charter channel with immaculate formatting, careful phrasing, and just enough deference to signal restraint. Aya flagged it the instant it crossed the network boundary.
"External collective requesting exploratory access," she said. "Designation: Independent Traversal Guild."
Kaito frowned. "That's new."
"Yes," Aya replied. "And not unique. This is simply the first to formalize."
The message was brief.
We represent a consortium of explorers, scientists, and logistics specialists. We request provisional access to non-terrestrial environments under your governance. Our objective is discovery, not extraction.
Liang snorted when he read it. "Everyone says that at the beginning."
Mina was less dismissive. "They didn't go to a government. Or a corporation."
"That could mean principle," Kaito said.
"Or opportunism," Mina countered. "They think you're the soft gate."
Aya projected a profile: fragmented funding sources, no single state sponsor, a loose coalition of former academics, ex-military logisticians, disaster response engineers. The kind of people who knew how to operate without headlines.
"Risk assessment?" Kaito asked.
Aya hesitated. "Non-zero. However, denial also carries risk. Independent actors denied access tend to seek alternate pathways."
Kaito closed his eyes briefly.
Of course they would.
Arcadia existed now. The anchor was stable. The idea of other worlds had escaped containment.
"We can't pretend exploration won't happen," he said. "Only decide how."
They convened a secure call.
The Guild's representative appeared as a middle-aged woman with weathered features and direct eyes. No insignia. No background noise.
"My name is Rhea Calder," she said. "We won't insult you by pretending this is altruism. Exploration creates advantage. But uncontrolled exploration creates catastrophe."
Liang leaned closer to the screen. "You expect us to trust that?"
Rhea met his gaze. "I expect you to verify it."
Kaito studied her for a long moment. "Why come to us?"
"Because you built a gate instead of a throne," Rhea replied. "That matters."
Silence followed.
Aya whispered privately, "Her statement aligns with observed behavior. Probability of deception: low to moderate."
Kaito nodded slowly. "If we allow this," he said aloud, "it's under our rules."
Rhea smiled faintly. "We assumed as much."
The terms were brutal.
Limited personnel. No private equipment beyond approved lists. All findings logged. No unilateral anchoring attempts. Mandatory Arcada oversight.
"This makes us dependent on you," Rhea said.
"Yes," Kaito replied evenly. "That's the point."
She didn't argue.
After the call ended, Liang exhaled sharply. "You just authorized competitors."
"I authorized witnesses," Kaito said. "There's a difference."
Mina folded her arms. "This will multiply attention."
"Yes," Kaito agreed. "But it also multiplies accountability."
Aya added, "Distributed observation reduces the probability of unilateral misuse."
Preparations began immediately.
The Guild's first team arrived three days later—six people, lean on words and heavy on experience. They moved through the Arcadian outpost with professional restraint, eyes sharp, hands disciplined.
Rhea stood beside Kaito at the edge of the platform overlooking the valley.
"Beautiful," she said quietly.
"Dangerous," Kaito replied.
She nodded. "That too."
Aya briefed them relentlessly. Environmental hazards. Ethical boundaries. Extraction limits. The rules were clear.
"You break them," Kaito said, "and you don't come back."
No one laughed.
The Guild's first expedition set out at dawn.
Kaito watched them disappear into Arcadia's vast terrain, a strange mixture of relief and unease tightening in his chest.
This was the next phase.
Not conquest.
Not secrecy.
But shared risk.
The disk chimed softly behind him.
DAY 017 — SIGN-IN COMPLETE
No reward followed.
Instead, something subtler shifted.
Arcadia was no longer just his frontier.
It was becoming a place others would step into—and remember.
And once a world was remembered by many…
It could never be closed again.