The Milky Way is but one ordinary galaxy among the two trillion known to the vast universe. Yet, because it cradles the Solar System—the cradle of humankind—it became, by default, the first frontier of human exploration.
From Earth, a naked eye peering into the night sky can glimpse only the Milky Way itself and four neighboring extragalactic sisters. Its two hundred billion stars weave a river of white light across the heavens, a sight both familiar and wondrous.
To humanity, even now, this boundless cosmos remains an endless riddle, a tapestry of mysteries without end.
The Solar System, Earth's home, nestles on a spiral arm far from the galaxy's bulging core, still some ten thousand light-years from the rim.
Since the Federation shattered the barrier of light speed, mastering hyperspace travel between positive and negative realms, it flung itself outward in all directions. Over five hundred million inner-galactic systems were charted, and from these, a thousand or so deemed fit for human life were chosen.
Twelve hundred colonial worlds bloomed—outposts clustered along the spiral arms beyond the core, near the Solar System's perch. No ship, even at hyperspace's breakneck pace, has breached the star-thick nucleus, a daunting forty thousand light-years distant—an unreachable void that bids caution over recklessness.
The Agate system stands as the Federation's vital relay toward that core, poised midway between it and the Solar System, fifteen thousand light-years from each.
Losing its colony there dealt a grievous blow to the Federation's dream of conquering the galaxy's enigmatic heart. Thus, at any cost, they resolved to wrest this key system from enemy hands. The "Noah Initiative" was born of that desperate resolve.
After two Earth days of tense waiting, Noah One's signal flickered back to life on the Predator's detection grid. Cheers erupted across the ship.
From the vessel's flanks, eight launch bays flung open their gravity-sealed doors. Two armed escort craft, each bearing ten warriors, streaked out first, weaving into their routine patrol.
Then came the fifty-meter landing craft, gliding from the largest bay, with the radiant Academic Natasha among its fifty souls—its commander for this perilous quest. Five triphibious anti-gravity tanks followed—swift marvels of Federation design, built for air, land, and sea.
Each held two fighters and could hit three-quarters sublight speed in normal space, though hyperspace remained beyond their reach.
In the cockpit, Natasha's eyes gleamed with a brilliance never seen before, lending her an incandescent glow. Beside her stood Colonel Pera, deputy commander and her second-in-command.
Both fixed their gazes on the swelling ninth planet ahead—its gray-yellow mountains, deserts, craters, and hardened lava now visible to the naked eye.
Two tanks scouted ahead, escorts flanked the sides, and the remaining three hovered above, below, and behind in tight formation.
Natasha's voice rang out, steady and clear: "All personnel to stations. Activate every probe—close-range scans of the planet, including life detectors. Report any findings at once."Pera shot her a glance, her expression all but saying, Isn't this overkill? Life on a rock like this?But before the thought could settle, a cry crackled through the comms: "Good heavens! The life detector's pinged—something's moving, and fast!"
Silence gripped the ship, every soul frozen in disbelief.
Then Natasha's voice cut through, urgent yet composed: "Tanks One and Two, pursue the lifeform. Use only paralyzing or cryogenic weapons—no harm must come to it. Repeat..."
The brutal daylight had passed at last. Bone-chilling cold replaced the scorching heat; howling winds stood in for the earth-shattering firestorms.
Vast plumes of gas erupted from the planet's core—some spiraling into the void, others sinking back to join the frigid currents, whipping the gales into a frenzy.
He clambered from the thickening melt pool, kneeling on the ground, his head tilted to the star-strewn splendor of the night sky.
A long, glowing shape hung there, suspended in the dark—an oddity unlike any he'd seen. In his long life, gazing at the heavens countless times, this was the first intruder from beyond his world.
Fear didn't touch him—only awe and a tremor of astonishment.
He adjusted the energy in his eyes, pulling the strange object closer for scrutiny. Then, from its side, openings yawned, spitting smaller versions of itself that dove toward him.
He leaped up and bolted down the mountain toward the cave, running at full tilt.
His uncanny senses flared—he knew the beings within those objects had spotted him, were studying him, casting strange wavelengths across his form.
His mind stretched skyward, locking onto the shapes, speeds, and positions of five smaller crafts. Further still, it probed inside, "seeing" what lay within.
A wild yell tore from him as he stumbled, crashing onto the icy rock. For the first time since birth, he'd fallen without danger prompting it.
Because he'd "seen" beings from the tales—his own kind. Fragile and softer, yes, but unmistakably kin. Three bore the shapes and contours of the women from legend.
The wind sharpened, biting deeper.
He lay still, thoughts churning. He could flee, of course—back to the cave. But to what end? Death would find him eventually.
These kin, whatever their intent, might kill him at worst. Why not seize this final chance?The five objects swelled larger, hovering overhead. A booming voice rang from one, but its meaning eluded him.
He sprang up, arms raised, shouting his willingness, his readiness to join them.With a rumble, a tank settled onto a boulder a hundred meters off. Joy surged in his chest as he raced toward it.
A flash of white burst forth—a frigid blast from the tank's launcher hurling him backward. Numbing cold seeped into his nerves.
Rage flared within him. He'd done them no wrong—why this assault?Another beam lanced down, bathing him in light. His inner energy surged, burning away the paralysis.
He leaped up and sprinted for the cave. The tank swooped, spraying two gobs of cryogenic fluid.He staggered, tumbling as thick, white frost encased him.
Crack! His power shattered the frozen shell like powder, and he ran again, desperate.
This time, he'd learned. His senses pierced the enemy craft, reading their moves.
When they fired liquid or beams, he felt it coming, dodging as he had the firestorms. No matter their barrage, they couldn't touch him.
Fury roared in his heart like a blaze, yet he refused to strike back. No one knew life's worth better than he.
And these were his kind—he'd not harm them, no matter their brutality or malice.The cave loomed ahead.
Through the night viewport, Natasha and Pera gaped at the "Inferno Being" below—swift as a specter, weaving through paralyzing rays and cryo-blasts with ease.
Pera gritted her teeth. "We're out of time! The return trip's over an hour, and we've fifteen minutes at most. Use the neural cannon!"
Natasha's face drained of color, shaking her head. "That'd turn him to a husk. Wait!"The neural cannon fired a heat-nuclear beam that shredded a creature's nervous system—leaving the body intact but the mind ruined.
Pera pressed, frantic. "Only its wide beam can catch him! Decide fast! The ninth planet's about to crumble, and Noah One's buried in that bizarre, solid muck."
"He's the living key now—sacrifice one to save the Federation!" she urged.Her words struck hard. Natasha clenched her jaw. "Fine."
He darted like lightning through a flurry of attacks, vaulting off a twenty-meter rock to land nimbly on the gravel below, then leaping onto another ten-meter boulder.
Natasha, tracking his shadow, gasped. Impossible! On a world with thrice Earth's gravity, a three-meter jumper there would manage a mere tenth here.
That meant, on Earth, he could soar thirty meters—near flight itself.Even the neural cannon might miss.
Then he froze, staring at the cave's entrance—now a collapsed ruin against the cliff. Without it, where would he find the vital water drops?
The landing craft hovered in the wild winds. Beside Natasha, Pera shouted, "Fire!"
A blinding flash engulfed him, rendering him a translucent, weightless silhouette. He stumbled and fell.