Eleven days later.With enough data about the planet—or its surface, at least—the crew of the Farsight had a prioritized list of possible landing areas. Each of them had points of interest that the ship’s AI had picked out and the researchers had filtered. They ranged from unique geographical formations, to clusters of vegetation that differed from the plants around it, to possible artificial structures that would require a more hands-on investigation. What none of them included, however, were signs of habitation, so the planet had been deemed safe enough for a single lander to be sent down.“What we know about the planet is that it’s currently a pangea. There is a single, mountainous supercontinent and the rest of the surface is scattered with archipelagos. A bit more than 88% of the surface is water, which our satellite scans were unable to penetrate beyond a certain depth.“Proxima Centauri itself serves the same gravitational purpose of a moon, which Proxima Centauri b lacks. Or a
The entire landing was being broadcast, both through external cameras on the lander and helmet cameras from each crew member, for anyone in Task Force Proxima to watch. At least if they were off watch, anyway; people who were on duty were prohibited from watching the broadcast instead of doing their jobs. It drew every eye in the entire task force save only the most dedicated of researchers still on the cityship studying the gravitational tides between Proxima Centauri and the Alpha Centauri binary system.The altimeter continued ticking down as the lander crept toward the surface at an agonizingly slow speed. One hundred... fifty... thirty... twenty... ten.... The numbers finally stopped creeping down when it reached ten centimeters from the surface of “New Australia”. A collective stare state swept over the crew of the task force as everyone currently standing watch at their stations were suddenly given permission to watch the live broadcast. Fleet Admiral of the Red Bianchi had con
The lander continued rising, though at a speed that wouldn’t overtax its inertial compensator. The pilot did, however, continue random walking to the point where someone that wasn’t aware of what was going on might think that he was drunk. The vessel sure was swaying and lurching about like he was, anyway.They stopped briefly at the fifty kilometer mark, since that was the flight ceiling for the unmanned collection drones that had been sent to collect samples from the ocean. Even with gravity drives, there was still a practical limit for machines that small.Two of the drones were caught by the whipping root tendrils, but the other eight managed to return safely to the lander and deposit their samples in the stasis fields prepared for them. And the pilot wasn’t willing to wait around, as it seemed the roots were growing at a speed visible to the naked eye, so he rocketed straight up toward the Karman Line in a maneuver that the marines who normally rode in landers called “unassing th
Fleet Admiral Bianchi was the first to react. “What makes you say that?” he asked. He wasn’t surprised that they had found life—or rather, sentient life anyway; whether or not it was sapient was still in question. After all, liquid surface water was what made life possible in the first place, and if Proxima Centauri b had anything in spades, it was water.(Ed note: Sentience and sapience aren’t exactly the same thing. Sentient beings are capable of experiencing sensations and, perhaps, emotions. Sapient beings are capable of higher orders of rational thought. For example, dogs are sentient beings; they can experience physical sensations and emotions, but aren’t capable of rational thinking. Humans, on the other hand, are sapient. We’re capable of thinking beyond our urges.)“This,” Dr. Standing Bear replied, her eyes glazing over as she selected a file to play on the screen behind her. The recording showed the mana pulses detected by the Henry’s Eyes sensors moments before the “root”
“We should maintain our position and try not to provoke the being until we have an idea of how to communicate with it, Admiral,” Ayaka said. As the leader on the ground, Fleet Admiral Bianchi had looked to her to open the discussion. “After all, if you look at the situation from the being’s side, we’re the invaders that’re interrupting its life. So its reaction is... understandable, in that light, even if it is both sapient and purposefully hostile.”“Wherever we go, the law of nature still applies,” Captain Marinakis interjected. “The strong eat the weak, and mercy is a privilege of the strong. We have no idea if communication will even be possible, so I’d rather eat than be eaten, Sir.”Nobody else spoke, letting Fleet Admiral Bianchi weigh the two options presented to him. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum, which was rare for the command team of Ayaka and Dimitrios, who were normally rather synchronized in their approach to problem solving.The admiral, however, gave no si
Over the next few weeks, the researchers of Task Force Proxima conducted hundreds of different tests and learned a few things about the “root”. As it turned out, it was just one of an entire network of roots that covered the bottom of the entire ocean that they had jokingly named the New Australian Sea. After all, everything they knew lived in it had demonstrated that it was out to kill them, so the name seemed quite appropriate.The root network was incredibly dense, with nearly a hundred percent coverage of the ocean floor, and each root itself was equally dense. The water pressure in the deepest part of the ocean—which was a full twenty kilometers deep—applied over ten million PSI of water pressure. But even at that depth, they’d learned (at the cost of a few submersible drones loaded with mana batteries) that the roots could still move with the same blinding, predatorial speed as they had near the surface when one had attacked the crewed lander.Another incidental discovery was th
“What’re the odds of being attacked by ocean roots if we’re on land?” Ayaka asked. She had already been briefed about the assumed safety of the plants on land, but was still wary of the root network at the bottom of the New Australian Sea.“We estimate it at less than one in fifty, Commander. We stopped getting reactions from the roots at about a kilometer from the shore when we sent down the mana batteries as bait, but we’ll be testing it with a few landers full of marines before we greenlight any researchers or explorers landing. Begging your pardon, you just aren’t as trained as we are when it comes to havoc and mayhem, Ma’am,” Major Kelly O’Shanrahan answered. He was the commanding officer of the Farsight’s marines, and it was his job to ensure the safety of the exploration teams on the ground.“Once we’re positive that the surface is safe for extended stays, then you can come down and establish a more permanent camp,” he continued. “Before that, I can only allow brief expeditions
Two of the five squads of marines left their places on the perimeter of the landing zone and headed to the “decorated” containers. One by one, the containers cracked open, small clouds of fog drifting out of them and pooling in the low areas on the ground. The fog was the remains of the shock foam that researchers in Lab City had developed to allow for higher-speed impacts in yeet pods or cargo launched from mass drivers. The beauty of it was that it was a completely analog system; mechanical altimeters would detect when the pod or cargo container reached a set point—usually a hundred meters before impact—and trigger a valve that would allow two binary agents to mix. The resulting chemical formed a foam that expanded, bursting the relatively fragile containment tanks it was mixed in and allowing it to expand to fill whatever space it was in. It had a ridiculously high shock tolerance and would rapidly decay and sublimate into a gas composed primarily of nitrogen, helium, sulfur hexaf
“Seraphina,” Aron began, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of authority, “I’m not your enemy—unless you choose to make me one. I understand your anger, your frustration. You’ve lost control of a situation you believed was firmly under your command. But this predicament wasn’t my doing—you’re here because your leader chose to sacrifice you. What I’m offering you isn’t a chain—it’s an opportunity.”Her sharp eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze unwavering, but she held her silence. Aron leaned forward, his own gaze unrelenting as it met hers.“You can continue resisting, pushing the boundaries of the mana oath, and enduring needless pain. Or…” He paused, letting the words linger like a challenge. “You can choose to turn this situation into one that serves us both. Your strength, your insight—these are not things I wish to suppress. Quite the opposite. I want them refined, amplified, and put to meaningful use.”He motioned toward the table, where Nova was still doing fina
[Colosseum]Aron and Seraphina stood motionless, maintaining the same distance as at the start of their faceoff. Neither had moved, even during the spectacular fireworks show that followed Aron’s acceptance of her surrender. The only exception was Aron briefly waving to the citizens of his empire watching the broadcast, many of whom were overcome with emotion, crying in celebration of their historic victory. This event marked the first-ever interstellar combat they had participated in, and despite their lack of experience, they emerged as the sole victors.As cheers of triumph reverberated among his people and the disbelief of others lingered, the broadcast concluded. The moment Aron secured his final victory, the Arena itself was officially handed over to him as part of his reward, along with control of the AI referee. Without hesitation, the AI complied with her new owner’s first command: to end the broadcast. Aron had more pressing matters to attend to—a private conversation with a
[Meeting Room]Inside the Zelvora mental network, an oppressive silence hung over the gathered representatives around the meeting table. The events of the day had left them all stunned, their minds racing with the implications of what had transpired. These were not just any representatives—they were the ones who had signed off on the agreements, the architects of their civilizations’ participation in this contest.Now, they were confronted with the brutal outcome of their decisions.Many representatives sat deep in thought, their faces betraying various degrees of fear, frustration, and resignation. Those who hailed from civilizations steeped in selfish political traditions knew all too well the grim truth: scapegoats would be needed. Someone would have to bear the brunt of the blame for the humiliation, anger, and setbacks their civilizations had suffered.For many of them, the path forward seemed bleak. In the best-case scenario, they might lose their positions, exiled from the corr
To say Aron was surprised would be the understatement of the gigaannum. The announcement had obliterated every scenario he had meticulously crafted in his mind. In all his time spent in simulations, preparing for countless contingencies, not once had he considered the possibility of the Xor’Vaks surrendering—least of all without a fight.Their pride in their strength was legendary, surpassing even the vaunted arrogance of the Valthorins. For a race that reveled in their dominance, surrendering, especially on such a grand stage, was unthinkable. This sudden reversal of expectations hit him with such force that he could practically feel the metaphorical veins in his temple throbbing from the sheer shock of it all.The audience’s collective astonishment mirrored his own, but none felt it as acutely as Aron, whose carefully laid strategies now seemed almost laughably over-prepared in the face of this unanticipated twist.The largest part of Aron's shock wasn’t just the surrender itself bu
The minutes passed quickly for the viewers, their eyes glued to Aron as he sat unmoving in the same meditative position for over fifteen minutes. Speculation ran rampant on both sides, fueled by curiosity and tension.For those in the Empire, the consensus was that Aron was in VR, likely meeting with family or key figures. Many debated who he might be speaking with, guessing that he was either calming worried loved ones or strategizing for the next fight.On the other hand, viewers from the Astral Conclave harbored a mix of anxiety and intrigue. They questioned whether Aron was recuperating in preparation for the upcoming battle, enhancing his focus and mental clarity, or if his recovery from the previous fight was incomplete and he was still in the process of healing.But their speculations ceased to matter as Aron opened his eyes with five minutes remaining in the waiting period. Calm and deliberate, he removed the glasses from his head, placing them back into their container. His n
The moment the fight was officially declared over, Nova acted without hesitation. She immediately dispatched the collector ship, equipped with a medipod, to retrieve the Trinarian fighter's body. Simultaneously, she ensured Aron could rearm himself with a fresh set of nanomachines. For the first time, this process was being done openly, marking a significant shift.Previously, nanomachines had been classified technology, their existence kept strictly under wraps. However, that secrecy had been unintentionally broken when Nova used them to cover Aron’s exposed body during a critical moment, prioritizing his dignity over confidentiality. As a result, while the technology remained shrouded in mystery, its existence was now officially acknowledged, albeit without disclosing any further details.Aron retrieved a small canister from the ship and opened it, revealing a liquid-like substance inside. Pouring it onto his hand, the substance behaved unnaturally, defying gravity as it began to sp
"Him alive is better than dead, right? I can use his live brain data to study how they use their spatial abilities—it might even help accelerate my plans if things go as intended," Aron said as he stood over the fainting Trinarian fighter.{True, having him alive presents opportunities. But dead men cause no problems, while the living carry infinite potential for chaos—especially one like him. If our spatial lockdown isn’t enough to fully contain his abilities, he could use them long enough to cause catastrophic damage, even if it means enduring the backlash,} Nova replied, her tone laced with caution. She wanted to ensure Aron was fully aware of the risks he was inviting by sparing the fighter's life.Usually, Nova would have been in favor of keeping him alive—it meant more data for her to process, analyze, and extrapolate from. But spatial ability users were in a league of their own when it came to danger. Even a dead one would yield enough data to at least satisfy her curiosity for
“Nova,” Aron called out in his mind the moment his eyes snapped open, rapidly collecting information and orienting himself, realizing he had finally left the enigmatic place the system had sent him.“Nova,” he called again, this time aloud, his voice carrying a commanding weight as it echoed faintly in the arena. Receiving no response to his first call, his sharp gaze shifted to his surroundings. It didn’t take long for him to notice his current state—nearly naked, save for the swarm of nanomachines that had begun assembling around him.{The system had ejected me, sir,} Nova’s voice finally came through, calm but slightly delayed as the nanomachines completed their task. They prioritized covering his lower body, forming a sleek pair of trousers, as there weren’t enough surviving nanomachines to reconstruct full armor. His chiseled upper body remained exposed, glistening under the lights of the Colosseum, much to the awe and unease of the spectators.Nova’s pragmatic choice left Aron l
Following Nova's orders and the AI referee's approval, the mana stone carriers swiftly began moving toward the Colosseum. As the first ship arrived and entered, it wasted no time, promptly unloading its entire cargo of mana stones before departing to make way for the next carrier to do the same. The process was conducted with remarkable efficiency, ensuring a steady flow of mana stones into the Colosseum without any unnecessary delays.The process continued as over fifty ships unloaded their cargo of mana stones, an act many from the Conclave viewed as both excessive and wasteful. With each successive ship, the pain of the Conclave's viewers grew, particularly when the fifth ship alone had already matched the quantity of mana stones used during the Colosseum's initial construction. Yet, they didn’t stop there; instead, they went on to unload ten times that amount, as if mana stones were an endless resource, leaving the Conclave citizens bewildered and horrified by such apparent extra