“Captain. We are receiving a transmission from Eros. It’s Calliope on the Mothership.”

  “Patch her through, Lieutenant.”

  “Captain. This is Calliope. Ship relocation is underway. At my current velocity, I’ll be able to reach and maintain an orbit behind Mars in four days.” With this, the ship should be able to keep its position in the shadow of the pnet, hiding it from anyone on Earth.

  “Excellent. Has the course correction of the asteroid begun yet?”

  “Yes, Captain. Partial transtion of the mothership’s computer systems allowed me to take control of one of the vessels in its hangar bays. Testing with automated asteroid mining drones has concluded with great results. I have begun to use them remotely to push the rock back to its original trajectory.”

  “Finally, some good news. I was worried some astronomer would spot it. With the mining ships, we should be able to gather resources soon.” When Mars was first colonized, resource-rich regions were selected and extensively mined to create the first ships that ventured further out. But now they already know where these areas are, making it much easier for them. “How about the other vessels onboard?”

  “From what I have learned from using the mining drones, I was able to create an algorithm to transte the ship controls to a standard UNSC command console. These inputs, however, do cause some g due to the transtion. The engineers are currently designing a bridge module that they could install in one of the strike craft they found. If these new controllers can adapt to the alien ship, we may be able to further test its viability and possibly rewrite the code altogether to improve computation speed and ship response time.”

  “Looks like you have more work ahead of you. How’s the transtion going, by the way? Do we have a name for the ship yet?”

  “We do. However, it might be best to just rename the vessel, Captain, as even I am not sure how to pronounce it. This ship is simply too alien to us. When I accessed the ship’s navigation computer, a star map showed me its origin. Messier 51a. The Whirlpool Gaxy, 23.5 million lightyears away from us.”

  Samuel was taken aback by this news, unsure of what to do with that information. “Why… is it here then?”

  “Unknown. In the final entry of its logs, the crew found a better vessel inside a nebu. They took what they could from the ship and abandoned her there. The ship’s jump drives were also taken, so I’m not entirely sure how it arrived here.”

  “As if a cosmic being is toying with us…” This worried Samuel. There was a likelihood that they weren’t even in the same reality as before; Professor Reed’s data had suggested as much. But ships from faraway gaxies appearing in their backyard? The Covenant might not even be in this universe... but if they aren’t, what’s out there? This filled him with further dread. At the very least, they knew the Covenant and how to deal with them. Facing a new enemy altogether wasn’t something he looked forward to.

  “We need to prepare, Captain. That’s why I am contacting you now. I’m requesting permission to begin creating dumb AIs to speed up my work, and ter on to create new ships to defend Earth from threats.”

  Irons couldn’t even wrap his head around the dangers out there, yet the AI was already pnning a means to resolve it. It took Samuel some time, but he finally responded, “I’m not familiar with the science behind artificial intelligence, but is that even possible?”

  “Yes, Sir, It happens all the time.” Dumb AIs ck human-like personalities and the ability to creatively solve problems, making Smart AIs much better. But because of this ‘ck’ of complexity, Dumb AIs do not deteriorate as easily. Regardless, they are still extremely useful, and in any scenario, having an AI, Smart or not, is better than not having any at all.

  “Why are you asking for my permission? You are with ONI. What about Lieutenant Kane?”

  “Lieutenant Era Kane does not have the appropriate rank to authorize this task, Sir.”

  “And a Captain does?”

  “Negative. But an Admiral does. Additionally, the construction of any warship also requires an admiral’s approval.”

  Running his hand through his hair, Samuel couldn’t help but feel uneasy with the request. “I can’t help you, Calliope. That rank was ceremonial at best.” When he retired, he was given the rank of Rear Admiral. This was usually done to provide the retiree more benefits, but even when he was reactivated, he refused the position.

  “That may be so, Sir, but please reconsider.”

  Samuel fell into deep thought, wondering what to do. His career hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing, and he felt as if he didn’t deserve it.

  "This better be good," General Althos grumbled, stepping onto the creaky elevator. His piercing blue eyes scanned the small room with a mixture of impatience and irritation. Standing tall and imposing, he cut a striking figure in his meticulously maintained uniform, reminiscent of European commanders. His jacket, adorned with brass buttons and epaulets, contrasted sharply with the crisp white of his shirt and the polished leather of his knee-high boots. A finely crafted sword hung at his hip, its hilt gleaming under the dim light.

  The General's face, weathered by years, bore a scowl that matched his displeased tone. His thick, graying mustache bristled as he exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed by the summons that had brought him here.

  Encai couldn’t help but sigh and shake his head. As the empire runs on meritocracy, there is a growing number of people within the elite who despise those of noble blood. It's not as if he wanted this. As Governor of Madagascar, so far from home, it is to be expected that people would bare their fangs toward him and publicize their discontent.

  “Oh, Your Grace, is my presence disturbing you?” the Marquis asked as he and his scribe entered the elevator. Looking at Encai from head to toe, he noted that, although not as extravagant as his own, Encai’s clothing was made of the finest quality. Tailored silks in deep, muted tones complemented his warm, sun-kissed complexion—a subtle blend of authority and humility. This annoyed the General further. His military uniform was adorned with achievements and medals, while the Marquis wore minimal jewelry, a simple yet elegant ring on his finger, and a finely wrought amulet tucked discreetly beneath his shirt.

  A servant bowed to them before pressing a button. With cables, gears, and mechanisms, the elevator ascended.

  “If I say yes, would you shut the hell up?” Encai bluntly replied. Not exactly a response one would expect from a royal, but the Marquis didn’t really care. The Empire is a constitutional monarchy, meaning every member of the royal family is born and trained for one purpose only: to lead. The best of them are elected by popur vote to govern the core provinces of the empire, while the rest are sent elsewhere as diplomatic bargaining chips, foreign ambassadors, or stuck in the middle of nowhere, governing the ingrates at the farthest reaches of the empire.

  The General scoffed, smiling as if proud of his achievement in getting under Encai’s skin. All they ever see are the big paces, the extravagant parties, the vish lifestyles, but they do not know the truth. “I invited you here because Maester Seykins has made a discovery. I was hoping that, while you are busy counting the bribes you have taken from the merchants that pass through my isnd, you’ll at least be able to realize the gravity and importance of what your betters have found.”

  General Athos stood tall, his eyes narrowing as he faced the Marquis. His voice was steady, resonating with a mix of controlled anger. “That’s quite an accusation, Your Grace,” he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his bde. “To suggest that I would stoop to taking bribes from merchants is not only an affront to my character but an insult to the very uniform I wear.”

  “May I remind you that I am still the governor of Madagascar, General. I know what happens within my nd,” the Marquis replied, staring up at him. But before the tension could escate further, a servant opened the door as the elevator finally reached the top floor.

  “Your Grace!” called out the old maester. Seykins bowed as best he could, but his fragile bones allowed him to go no further, groaning a little as he straightened his back. Maester Seykins was a figure of quiet dignity and profound wisdom, his age evident in the deep lines etched across his weathered face and the silver strands that framed his bald crown. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, held the depth of a thousand untold stories and the curiosity of a man perpetually on the cusp of a new discovery.

  His long, flowing robes were adorned with the symbols of ancient knowledge and celestial bodies. A man of both science and mystery, Maester Seykins had dedicated his life to unraveling the secrets of the natural world and the vast expanse of the cosmos. His study was a sanctuary of parchment and vellum, where meticulously annotated scrolls shared space with complex astrobes and mysterious artifacts from nds far beyond the horizon. Shelves sagged under the weight of tomes, each one filled with his detailed observations of the stars and the intricate patterns of the heavens.

  At the northern tip of the isnd, doubling as a lighthouse, stood a citadel, even more heavily guarded than the Governor’s pace itself. A great library y behind the thick castle walls, and the Maesters who studied and cared for it. The Empire had kept its dominance throughout the centuries by securing knowledge from the four corners of the world. Even in times of crisis, the library and its books were evacuated first without question.

  “Maester. I have arrived as you requested.” The Marquis bowed as well. In his youth, like all children of his family, he had been taught and trained by Maesters within the capital. From every subject under the sun—politics, sciences, mathematics—great intellectuals whose wisdom seemed unending had educated them, teaching them the errors of leaders' past so they might bring the Empire further. But the moment of reminiscing was ruined as soon as Athos opened his mouth once more.

  “Why are these machines not in their correct positions?!” excimed the General. Atop the tower y an observatory, with machines that allowed them to see far and wide. Friends, foes, ships, pirates, and even weather were spotted ahead of time via a series of telescopes, one typically bolted in pce facing each direction to ensure complete coverage. However, at the moment, most of them had been taken from their posts and brought to the northwest, where a group of Maesters were gathered, watching the skies above.

  “Forgive me, General, but we have grown tired of watching for ships and clouds. No pirates dare come close to our coasts; no invaders ever arrive. We decided that it is best to repurpose these machines and look into something vastly more important.”

  "More important? More important?! So this is why I have not received any reports from this tower! These devices are to watch the isnd’s coasts! What you are doing is putting the safety of the empire in peril!"

  “General!” interjected Encai. Though he couldn't help but agree with the warrior, these devices were meant to warn the people of the isnd of any approaching threats. But trying to get these old men to ignore something that would expand their knowledge after years of stagnation would be like trying to stop the sun from rising. “Please, Maester, continue.”

  Athos gred at him in disbelief, unable to understand why Encai allowed this idiocy to continue. Encai simply shook his head at him. “The sooner we get them to talk, the sooner we can get the scopes back in pce. I’ll gather the funds to buy more if need be.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” The maester bowed once more before making his way to a desk covered with scrolls and books. “For the st couple of days, we have been tracking mysterious lights coming from the mainnd. It took some time, but after two days of searching, we learned they are flying from the center of the African continent, quite possibly from the Belgian territory of Congo.” He looked through a nearby sextant, double-checking his notes before continuing. “We then moved all our telescopes in that direction and found that these occurrences not only happen at night but also during the daytime. These lights take flight towards the heavens; it's just a lot more difficult to spot them during the day.”

  “And where do they go?” asked Scribe Yuvan, who had so far been quietly standing nearby. Encai was watching Athos, who looked as if he was about to explode.

  “Our best estimation is that they are heading towards Mars, the red pnet.” The telescopes on this tower are simply not powerful enough to watch the heavens. They were able to modify one to have better range and crity, but the attachment on it made it difficult to move.

  “What a load of bullcrap. Please don’t tell me you actually believe this nonsense? Lights that fly toward another pnet? Even reaching Lua is an impossibility!” Athos couldn’t believe he was actually listening to this drivel.

  Taking offense, the Maester retorted, “You brainless buffoon! Just because your infinitesimal brain does not understand something, it does not mean it's impossible! To utter such a word within these very walls is heresy!”

  “Stop! Stop.” Even Encai was slowly losing his patience. “Maester, I too have heard of the rumors. So, funding? A better telescope? Just get to the point, and I’ll get what you need. Just make sure to put those scopes back.”

  “Apologies for my outburst, Your Grace. As I was saying, the lights were making their way back and forth from Mars, and yesterday, our effort was soon rewarded.” He began rummaging through the pile of papers on his desk, tossing aside any page he deemed worthless. “Aha!” he shouted excitedly before passing a sketch to the Marquis.

  Encai looked at it, trying to understand what it was, and while in deep thought, he murmured, “A frog in a well.”

  Their food, water, shelter, and protection were all provided by their guardians. He was not deaf; some were already questioning his leadership. He had given them nothing. This is all I have, he thought to himself, toying with a knife given to him that night. There were a couple of warriors who had followed him since before, but his tribe had grown far too rge now, and yet all he had was a 'promise.'

  Luckily for him, their guardians at least kept them distracted. Little by little, the warriors began to learn more about their weapons, turning into true hunters. At times, the warriors cd in bck would train them in combat, grappling as well as fighting with knives. Warriors who had lost their hands from the cruelty of the masters were freed from their disability, learning faster than anyone else, allowing them to teach the rest.

  As a servant entered his tent, he sheathed his bde while whispering to him. “A warrior has returned, Elder.”

  “I see. Enter!” he called out. He had sent men into the outside to gather the rest—tribes, cns, friend or foe—as long as they were being oppressed by the ‘masters.’ He called out to them to band together and set up camp inside the sturdy walls. This was the only way he could think of to get their guardians to the negotiating table.

  The warrior knelt before him and spoke, “Elder, I have returned with news. The tribes under your rule have begun to march. They should arrive here in a couple of days.”

  “I see. How about the other cns?”

  “Many refused to leave their homes, Leader. I fear for the worst.”

  Kasongo ran his fingers along his chin, deep in thought. “I have sent scouts to look into the enemy currently gathering outside. It seems they are about to move. My people, who blended among them, learned they are pnning to raid nearby tribes first, ensving more of our people. Knowing their cruelty firsthand, I could only imagine what they have pnned for us.” Soon, Kasongo stands from his throne, determined, knowing what he must do next.