The chamber beneath the Sky Palace trembled.
Not physically—there were no quakes. But the air carried a low, steady hum that settled into bone. It was the sound of the Door.
Lira Ven stood beside the perimeter rail, her hands clasped behind her back, watching the elliptical frame suspended over a pool of flow-reactive crystal. The Door pulsed like a heartbeat. Unstable. Hungry.
Arron Kael entered with his usual silence. No guards flanked him today. No formal announcement preceded his step. He simply appeared.
"Status," he said.
Lira didn't turn. "Energy levels holding. Interference spike down by six percent. We may achieve opening conditions within the next half-cycle."
Arron approached the control array. Flow-threads coiled up to meet his fingers, sensing his command imprint. The data flooded in—atmospheric integrity on Zarconis, gravitational pull within acceptable deviation, translation window narrowing.
Everything aligned.
Still, he waited.
"Team readiness?" he asked.
"They're gathering in Dock Hall 7," Lira said. "Final supplies being loaded. Captain Kael is reviewing perimeter assignments."
"Medical clearances?"
"All cleared. Juno's injury is stable. She insists on going."
Arron's gaze lingered on the Door. "She's still one of the best drone technicians we have."
A pause.
"Vel is delaying his departure," Lira added. "Something about his sources in the Southern Coalition."
"I expected that."
He turned to her. "Send the final list to Observation. Lock down the outer ring. No last-minute observers."
"Understood."
As Lira left, Arron stepped closer to the Door. Its surface shimmered like a stretched mirror, rippling with slow movement. For a brief second, it reflected something that wasn't there—tall trees, glowing mist, and movement.
Zarconis.
He closed his eyes.
And remembered.
---
He was twelve cycles old, wandering the silent forests beyond his family's compound in central Nirreni space. The trees there whispered. Not with wind—but with memory.
It was the first time he'd seen one of the memory stones. It hummed beneath his hand. He remembered its shape more than its message—jagged, blue, smooth like thought.
His father had found him hours later and never scolded him. Just looked at him.
"You hear them too?" his father had asked.
That was the first time Arron knew he was different.
And now, he had built something that echoed that same hum.
Something that listened.
---
Dock Hall 7 was alive with motion. Light-pods floated overhead, adjusting their brightness automatically. Supply sleds glided in sequence, directed by whisper-coded commands. The team was almost fully assembled.
Captain Riven Kael stood by the manifest terminal, speaking with Mira Vema and Haren Vos. Rul Shar was silent, loading geological scanners into a side pack. Juno adjusted her drone-pack straps with a slight wince.
Lior crouched near a compact soil-sampler, syncing it with her wristpad. She barely looked up as Arron entered.
He walked the length of the hall, checking each cluster of gear, every power cell, every weapon seal.
No one interrupted him.
Finally, he spoke.
"You all know why you're here."
They turned toward him as one. Twenty-seven in all.
"You were chosen not because you were the best," he continued. "But because you were the right mix. The right balance. Some of you will lead. Some will argue. Some will fall. But if we do this right, some will return."
Silence held.
Mira finally stepped forward. "Is this exploration?"
"No," Arron said. "It's confirmation."
Riven crossed his arms. "Of what?"
"That we're not alone."
A low chime echoed through the hall. The Door was opening.
Arron turned.
"Form ranks. Secure loadouts. Final sync begins in ten cycles."
As the team moved, Lior found herself staring at Arron's back.
He never looked nervous.
He never looked back.
And that frightened her more than anything.
---
In the shadows above the chamber, unnoticed by the crew, the glass dome reflected not the team—but a jungle sky that did not belong to their world.
And in that reflection… something blinked.