The Unity glided through the outer Kuiper Belt, its hull aglow beneath the distant shimmer of starlight. Despite the silence in space, tension echoed through the vessel—tight, unrelenting. Elara stood at the helm, eyes fixed on the slowly closing coordinates. They were still twenty hours from the signal's source, but every breath felt like the next step in a long-awaited confrontation.
Behind her, Nova monitored the system diagnostics. The silence between them had grown louder since the message. Not cold—never cold—but distant, like they were both afraid of what would break if one of them spoke first.
"Status?" Elara asked, just to fill the space.
Nova glanced up. "All systems nominal. Shields at 80%. Communications secure. We're clean—no tails, no chatter."
"Good." Elara paused. "How's the crew?"
Nova hesitated. "Restless. Word's spread about the message. Ren thinks it's a trap."
"Do you?"
Another pause. Then, "I think… it doesn't matter. You're going either way."
Elara turned. Nova's expression was unreadable. Soft, sure, but hiding something—like always. "She taught me everything," Elara said. "And she left me with nothing."
Nova nodded slowly. "I know."
They stayed like that for a beat too long, until the lights dimmed slightly—indicating a shift in the ship's circadian cycle. Elara exhaled. "I'll be in my quarters. Ping me if anything changes."
Nova didn't reply, but Elara felt her gaze follow her out of the bridge.
Elara's quarters were neat, spartan, except for a few relics from Earth—a pressed flower, long dried; a silver pendant that had belonged to her mother; and a sealed data crystal she hadn't opened since Aderyn disappeared.
She sat at the edge of her bunk and activated her terminal. The screen lit with archived footage—memories recorded out of loneliness more than nostalgia. And there she was: Aderyn, younger, sharper, eyes like fire under a storm.
"You can't make people follow you, Elara. You have to make them want to. That's the difference between a commander and a cause."
The recording flickered. Another clip: Aderyn laughing, arms around Elara's shoulders during a training sim gone wrong. The closeness between them had once been effortless, magnetic.
And then, gone.
No goodbye. No explanation. Just silence—and the wreckage of a friendship Elara never learned how to grieve.
She leaned back, resting her head against the wall. The stars outside spun slowly in their endless drift, and for once, she let the memories in.
The next day, The Unity neared the origin point of the signal. The ship dropped into sub-light near a scattered field of derelict satellites and ice-sheathed asteroids. At the heart of it all, shrouded in dust and half-cloaked from sensors, hovered a medium-class reconnaissance vessel: Lyra Ascending.
It looked intact.
Nova stood beside her on the bridge as the viewscreen zoomed in. "No signs of weapons. Power signature's low, but stable. One lifeform aboard. Human."
Elara swallowed. "Hail her."
A moment of static. Then, the voice again—slightly clearer this time.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come."
Elara's throat tightened. "Aderyn."
"Still dramatic. That's something, at least." A dry chuckle. "Permission to come aboard?"
Nova frowned. "That's bold."
"She was always bold," Elara muttered, then to the screen: "Granted. One person only. You try anything else, and we'll open the airlock before you can finish your first excuse."
A beat. "You've gotten meaner. I like it."
The transmission cut.
Nova turned to her. "Want me at the docking bay?"
Elara hesitated. "No. I need to do this alone."
Nova didn't argue. She just nodded once, and Elara felt the burn of unspoken words settle in her chest.
The docking bay hissed as the pressurization finished. The outer airlock opened with a groan, and there she was—Commander Aderyn Calix, older now, but unmistakable. Silver strands ran through her once-black hair, and her eyes, though still sharp, carried weight they hadn't before.
"Elara," she said softly.
Elara didn't move. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet, here I am." Aderyn took a slow step forward. "I didn't come to fight."
"You never do. You just leave the war behind you."
A flicker of guilt passed over Aderyn's face. "I deserve that."
"Try five more like it."
Aderyn exhaled. "There's more going on than you know. I came because I found something—something that connects to the artifact you recovered. Something dangerous."
"Of course you did," Elara said, folding her arms. "You always bring danger wrapped in riddles."
Aderyn smiled faintly. "And you always open the door anyway."
That stung. Because it was true.
Elara gestured for her to follow. "Come on. Let's talk somewhere quieter."
In the Unity's debriefing room, the atmosphere was taut. Aderyn spread out a projection—a 3D map of a system none of them had logged before. Orbiting its dead star was a structure: vast, triangular, pulsing faintly with the same energy signature as the artifact that nearly killed Elara three weeks earlier.
"I traced the signal from the Kuiper node," Aderyn explained. "It led here. Something's waking up, Elara. Something old."
"And you think I care why?"
"You should. Because it's calling for you."
Elara froze.
Aderyn's gaze didn't waver. "You activated the first artifact. It was meant to test your intent, your loyalty, your instincts. Whatever this is—this ancient force—it's watching now. It sees you as a catalyst."
Elara's hands clenched at her sides. "Then I'll tear it down."
"You can't fight this with fire, Elara." Aderyn's voice softened. "That's why I came back. To help you do what I couldn't."
The words hung between them like a bridge too fragile to cross.
Later, Elara stood again at the viewing deck. Nova appeared behind her without a word, just presence—solid, constant. Elara didn't turn.
"She says it's watching me. That I'm part of some… cosmic evaluation."
Nova leaned beside her. "You believe her?"
"I don't know." Elara finally looked at her. "But I hate how easy it was to fall into old rhythms with her. I hate that part of me still wants to trust her."
Nova's jaw tightened, just slightly. "You don't owe her anything."
"I know." Her voice dropped. "But there's something else."
Nova glanced at her. "What?"
Elara hesitated. "You. I keep thinking about how you stayed. How you look at me like I'm still worth fighting for."
"You are." The reply was instant. Quiet. Absolute.
Elara turned toward her fully. For a heartbeat, the air shimmered with something unspoken—something dangerous, and real, and close enough to touch.
But the comm chimed, and the moment broke.
Nova stepped back. "We'll be ready for whatever comes next."
Elara nodded, heart aching. "I know."
In her quarters, Elara stared at the data map again. Aderyn's presence on the ship was a storm waiting to break. And Nova—their connection had shifted, deepened, until silence between them felt louder than words.
This wasn't just a mission anymore.
It was a reckoning.
And the stars were no longer silent.