Orbital Station "Leviathan", Titan Orbit, Year 2311

  The vast office was sterile, cold, nearly lifeless. The silence was broken only by flickering holograms and the pale light of a distant star beyond the window. It looked weak, as if the universe itself had decided to strip this world of warmth. Frosted patterns clung to the glass — fragile, yet eternal, like the very structure of power.

  Leonard Graves stood at the window, unmoving, as if carved from obsidian. His posture was precise, composed. The tailored suit hugged his tall frame perfectly — minimalist, elegant, with a whisper of military sharpness. Cybernetic implants at his temples and neck pulsed faintly, each flicker a trace of data streams flowing through his mind, far ahead of what any ordinary human could conceive.

  Holographic maps floated midair — complex trajectories, ship routes, resource networks. Graves swiped through them with his fingers, shifting perspectives. He saw the whole picture. He saw the future.

  Footsteps echoed behind him. Slow, measured. Someone who knew better than to rush.

  "Graves." The voice was low, restrained, tinged with fatigue.

  Adrian Brown entered the room, his eyes briefly scanning the displays before settling on the figure before him. Unlike Graves, Adrian looked very much alive, if tired. His gray hair was slightly unkempt, his face lined not just with age but with doubt. In his hands — a pair of gloves, which he removed slowly and tossed onto the edge of the desk.

  "Haven’t seen you in this sector for a while," he said evenly, though it was clear this conversation wouldn’t bring him joy. "You don’t waste time on visits unless you’ve got a damn good reason."

  Graves didn’t reply immediately. He turned only for a fraction of a second, then looked back at the glowing maps.

  "Arthur would’ve liked this project," he said, almost pensively. "He always believed the boundaries of humanity had to be pushed."

  Adrian’s jaw tensed. Arthur. Their third companion. Now just a shadow in their conversations.

  "Arthur was cautious," he said. "He understood the price of risk."

  "And he understood the price of inaction," Graves replied smoothly.

  Silence fell. Two gazes met — cold calculation versus firm skepticism.

  "Erebus is a chance, Adrian. A world, resources, a new balance of power. While you hesitate, the corporations are preparing their move. They won’t wait. They won’t tread carefully. I’m offering you a seat where the real decisions are made. You belong on the first manned mission though."

  Brown smirked.

  "You want me to be your flag? The face of the expedition? Or just a guarantee it all unfolds your way?"

  "I want you to see. With your own eyes. No politics, no pressure. Just the truth. Do you really understand what awaits us on the other side? You don’t. And I want you to. You need to be there."

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  Adrian said nothing. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Graves wasn’t just inviting him — he was cornering him. Say yes, and he’d play by Leonard’s rules. Say no, and he’d be out of the game entirely.

  Graves stepped forward — slowly. The pressure in the room became almost physical.

  "You know I’m right. You know where you belong. Not in reports. Not in observation towers. Out there — in the new system. At the edge of the map."

  Adrian inhaled deeply. He stared at the holograms, the stardust, the ship trajectories. He saw the future — but the real question was, did he want to be part of it?

  "I need time," he said quietly.

  "You don’t have it," Graves replied.

  Silence again. Only a few seconds passed, yet it felt like an eternity. Leonard’s fingers brushed the air, cycling data on the display.

  "You’ve always been a genius, Brown. And always too cautious. That’s why you need my hand."

  Adrian stepped closer, eyes narrowing on Graves’ face, searching for something behind the mask of calm.

  "I know what you’re planning. I can guess how this could spiral. Do you really think you can control what’s on the other side?"

  Graves gave a faint smile.

  "Control is an illusion. But stepping in first means setting the rules. That’s the only law that ever works."

  He traced a glowing red contour on the holographic map — the coordinates of the anomaly.

  "You want access to the resources beyond Erebus. And the knowledge buried with them. You’re a scientist, Adrian. Erebus isn’t just a goldmine. It’s the greatest scientific enigma of our time. I need them to see you as the authority out there. Together, we take everything."

  "And if we don’t find resources? If we find something that doesn’t fit your neat little plan? Something we’ve never seen before? It’s a different galaxy, Leonard. It could be anything!" Adrian clenched his fists.

  "Something that doesn’t fit the plan?" Graves tilted his head, implants glinting with icy light. "Adrian, for the last hundred and fifty years, humanity has been chasing the unknown — and finding nothing but dead rocks, oceans of liquid gas, and ancient dust. If there’s anything else out there, it’ll be the first real miracle in an era. But I don’t believe in miracles. The universe is a vault of infinite resources — too old and too vast to leave room for anything but ourselves."

  Adrian looked away. He knew Leonard too well to buy into his words. And he’d walked beside him too long to walk away now.

  For a moment, Graves paused — as if a memory had brushed across his mind.

  "If Arthur were here…" His voice softened, oddly warm — a warmth that felt alien in the icy atmosphere of the office. "He always said the greatest breakthroughs are born not in quiet labs — but where the edge of the possible meets chaos."

  Brown let out a mirthless chuckle.

  "Breakthroughs? Shall I list how each one ended? Fusion gave us the power of stars — and the first orbital war over reactor control. Genetic engineering gave us bodies adapted to the void — and triggered dozens of pandemics when nature refused to obey. Artificial intelligence gave us autonomous mining fleets — and killed thousands when a glitch turned them into executioners."

  Graves stepped to the window, staring into deep space.

  "Every time we paid the price," he said evenly. "And every time, the price was worth it. Because it pushed us further. We never stop, Adrian. Not for anything. Because failure drives progress. That’s how evolution works — from single-celled organisms to complex empires. We learn. We pay. We adapt. And we keep moving."

  Adrian watched his old friend. In that silence, lay everything they’d lived — doubts, arguments, compromises, fear, and pride.

  "You’ve already pulled me in," Brown said as he slipped his gloves back on, preparing to leave.

  "Because you understand, Adrian. What’s beyond Erebus isn’t just minerals. It’s a new order. And if we don’t build it — someone else will." Graves took a step closer, his voice now a whisper. "I’m not afraid to look into the void. Because the void is a blank page."