As Captain Raku Mobra and the Brawley worked to bring the USS Morro Bay back to port with a destroyed warp core, events were still unfolding in the system they left.

A structure stood at the far edge of a city seemingly carved from the surrounding landscape. The magnificent building was carved into the hillside as colossal monument to their sun centuries ago. The building was shaped like a pyramid, roof coming together as a wide, towering triangle. The building was elongated, stretching along a valley like a ceremonial barge anchored in place. Its base was twice as long as its height. The sloped stone roof arched in a gradual angle from both long sides to form a narrow crest that ran the entire length. Red-amber stones offered a warm and luminous appearance. They caught the rays of Vaabanth III’s sunlight in cascading gold and crimson highlights. Surface blocks were polished smooth and seamlessly joined. Faint inscriptions were carved into the outer walls. Ancient spiral motifs were barely visible beneath the reflections of their glossy surface.

The long pyramid housed the Hall of Intent. This was a place of state record, civic gatherings, and rituals of decision. Its solemn presence presided over a city that pulsed with life after invasion.

Leaders of this faction of the Antuu people had emerged from their shelters and underground enclaves days earlier. Continental communications still tinged with faint static from the orbital disruptions. Their civilization had weathered the Vaadwaur incursion and the recent distortions of space with poise, but not without cost. The capital bustled in vivid color and sound as efforts to repair the damage were underway.

The people of Vaabanth III, complexions ranging from orange to yellow, strode the polished plazas and open-air corridors with mixed expressions. Their eyes, each in some vibrant shade of purple or soft pink, glimmered with the light of a hopeful future. The Antuu people seemed to personify a living palette of the solar light that shined brightly onto them.

Their garments matched the heat and spectacle of their world. Men wore split sashes over their torsos, baring their chests and muscled arms. They wore short kilts or leggings in rich metallic fabrics. Garments of bronze, plum and indigo twinkled in the light. Women favored layered wraps that draped off their shoulders. These were worn low cut, letting the air blow down their chest. Their wraps fell above their upper thighs as they with moved with relaxed elegance. Both sexes wore complex metallic jewelry including ear cuffs, arm spirals, and layered chain belts that jingled softly as they moved.

In the forecourt before the Hall of Intent, two Antuu conversed under the shade of a flowering brial tree. White plumes fell from light gray branches in slow flutters.

“Do you believe it’s truly over?” asked the taller one. The woman had burnt-orange skin and hair bound into thick cords that ran down her back. She watched the horizon with a frown. The woman named Anekhe bore the markings of a civic artisan. Spiraling tattoos twisted just below her clavicle.

Her companion was a lighter-skinned man with a star-shaped cluster of violet freckles across one cheek. He scoffed gently. “No battle leaves the sky clean,” he said. “But we will reclaim clarity. We are the Antuu.”

She smiled faintly, though concern lingered in her eyes. “I still hear the echoes. The humming of their lightships shaking the walls.”

“That is only a memory,” he said as he placed a hand on her arm. “Let it go. Please.”

A low chime echoed across the courtyard to mark the passing of a solar hour. Both turned as a figure darted up the pyramid’s far stairwell. Long robes flapped behind him like smoke trails.

He was young, pale gold in skin tone. Short curly hair the color of sunrise flame crested his head. His pink-violet eyes were wide with urgency. As he neared the top step, he stumbled and caught himself. An apologetic grin flashed towards the two guards standing like statues on either side of the great stone archway into the Hall.

Both guards were massive. One was orange-toned and bald. The other was dark gold with braided hair. They wore ceremonial armor comprised of overlapping copper plates. The men slowly raised their long spears in unison as the youth approached.

“Halt,” barked the bald one. “State your name and purpose.”

“I.. I am Etarul. Engineer. Fourth Band, Agency of Flight,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “I have come with a report. It’s about the visitor.”

The guards glanced at each other.

“Exactly which visitor?”

“The one… from the stars,” Etarul said as he pointed to the cloudy blue sky. He tried to speak more calmly as he panted. “I need to inform the Council. Please, I was instructed to. I must.”

“Do you have a code?” the braided guard asked, his tone was as sharp as obsidian.

Etarul blinked. “Yes! Um.. Yes, of course. Just… one moment.” He fumbled in his sash for a tablet. His fingers flew across the shimmering flatplate he withdrew. A miniature data array glowed in shifting glyphs. He frowned and squinted. “Ah yes. Here: Eight-Seven-Purpure-One-One-Arrow.”

The guards said nothing for a beat. Then the bald one lowered his spear.

“Code is accepted,” he said gruffly. The archway behind them hissed faintly as it opened. The door retracted inwards, revealing the cool interior of the Hall.

Etarul exhaled and offered a grateful nod before hurrying inside.

The bald guard walked with him, escorting him into the long pyramid.

The Hall of Intent was a tranquil place of reflective walls and filtered sunlight. Long streams of white light cut through high windows to form shifting patterns on the polished obsidian floor. Voices echoed faintly as more Antuu engaged in civic rituals, policy debate, or simply spoke of rebuilding their civilization.

Etarul and the guard rushed past them all, heading toward the central spire. His eyes sparkled with urgency and disbelief as he saw the famed structure for the first time. After several minutes, they found themselves deep and high within the catacombs. They could see the triangular roof of the pyramid high above them, transparent viewports allowing sunlight to join light created by a strip of horizontal fixtures running along each wall.

The ceiling rose high above them in a golden arc. Every wall and corridor was carved with purpose from the same shimmering ruddy stone. Veins of iridescent blue traveled in glyphs along the walls. The temperature was cooler inside, regulated by flowfields that traveled down the long halls.

The large guard named Tozun seemed to ignore the history around him. His chest was broad beneath the crisscrossed sashes of his armor. His biceps flexed beneath the leather-strapped guardsman’s vest underneath it. A thin ceremonial dagger rested at his side, spear carried with military bearing in his grasp. With a subtle gesture, he motioned for the newcomer to follow more closely. Etarul was still catching his breath from his brisk arrival. He gave a quick nod and fell in step behind the bulky figure.

Etched across the walls of the hall were enormous paintings. Some were painted directly on the stone. Others were mounted on frameless panels that levitated slightly away from the walls. They depicted the noble bloodlines of the Antuu people on the planet they called Antua. Artwork showcased proud leaders in regal poses, often surrounded by swirling light motifs or rendered mid-speech in abstract symbolism. There was Lady Kourath of the Hundred Nights. Her raised hand grasped a curved staff surrounded by red flower petals. Grand Minister Duvahrel stood atop a hill during a time of extreme drought on the planet. In his hand was a silver orb representing water.

Etarul slowed as they passed a massive gold sculpture that rose from a circular depression. Abstract and towering, the structure resembled two interlocking crescents that looped vertically. They were studded with bright gems like sapphire, amethyst, and citrine. The form pulsed faintly from internal lighting and the clever use of refractive crystals. The plaque beside it read: “Balance Requires Tension.”

Tozun gave a respectful nod to the statue as they passed, in accordance with customs. Etarul followed the gesture as they approached the Grand Staircase. The wide, sweeping ascension was bracketed with thick gold railings. Every step was inlaid with polished black stone. Tiny purple lights guided the way up. The higher they climbed, the more the hallways above them began to curve outward in gentle spirals. The halls were like the limbs of a living tree stretching toward light above.

“I’ve never been past the second tier,” Etarul admitted, voice low in awe.

Tozun grunted softly. “Most haven’t.”

At the top, they entered a long hallway carpeted in threads of silver and copper patterns woven into wind-swept diamond motifs. A quiet hum filled the air as coolant systems embedded behind the walls gently exhaled their breath into the corridor. Horizontal light bars ran along the sides. They glowed in amber tones that softly pulsed every few moments at a relaxing cadence.

They stopped before a high-arched doorway framed in white marble laced with the same blue glyphs that marked that halls. A guard posted here tapped once on a crystal pad before the door shimmered. It folded open inwards.

Inside was the Provincial Reagent’s chamber. A wide round table made from the petrified root of a worldtree sat at the center of a room adorned in vertical banners. Each flag represented a major House of the planet’s lowlands. Seated around the table were five men and three women. They were each clothed in open-sleeved garments that glittered with what they called ‘thread-of-night’ embroidery. The Provincial Reagent was a statuesque woman with sharp cheekbones and hair twisted into high amber spirals. She stoically peered down from the tallest chair at the far end of a large table.

Etarul stepped forward and bowed low, as was customary. Tozun stood at his side, spear pointed up towards the transparent viewport that allowed sun and starlight to enter this hallowed chamber.

“Your Radiance,” he said, “and honored voices of the council. I bring a message from a stranger among stars.”

He lifted his head and watched their composed expressions flicker with mild curiosity. He continued.

“There is an alien.. The kind who attacked us. A group of them have deserted their people, the Vaadwaur. This one calls himself Jekot. He has proven to us what our sky-watchers have long theorized. Faster-than-light travel is not only possible. It is a reality!”

Whispers moved like wind across the chamber. The Reagent raised her hand slightly. Silence returned.

“I serve in the Agency of Flight,” Etarul went on. “I have examined the records. And I have in my possession”. He lifted a pocket on the side of his robe. “diagrams of a propulsion system unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Jekot calls it a ‘lightspeed engine.’ He asks for your audience.”

The Reagent studied him with eyes the color of chilled lilac.

“Bring the documents forward.”

Etarul reached into his coat and withdrew a thin crystalline sheet. He activated its core by running his fingers along a glyph. Light flared upward and projected the engine’s schematics in mid-air. The device resembled a toroidal core suspended by branching lattice arms. Containment matrices were interwoven like a floral network. The symbols were in Vaadwaur script, but the math beneath was legible to some of the room’s more prominent scientific minds. It reflected toric curvature alignments, quantum anchor points, and the application of plasma wave modulators.

A wiry counselor with golden-orange skin and lavender eyes leaned forward. “The containment ratios here… they defy our known limits. What is the energy source?”

“A gravimetric cascade,” Etarul replied excitedly. “It’s folded through what they call a zero-phase chamber. It is stable! I’ve reviewed it with three of our flight physicists. NO… Four!” Sweat pooled along his orange brow as he spoke.

Another councilor, a woman with braided hair and eyes like pale plum, turned to the Reagent.

“If what he says is true, then this could rewrite every law of flight.”

The Reagent gestured with one finger. “Can this Jekot be trusted?”

“He fled his own kind to bring this to us,” Etarul said. “He says many of the Vaadwaur still cling to conquest and war. Others… Their scientists and thinkers? They seek a new way. Jekot pledges allegiance to you as an ally, Your Radiance. He comes to offer us power over the other Provinces. An advantage like this would give your esteemed council the power to unite the lands.”

The Reagent stood and walked slowly around the table. Her flowing garment shimmered with metallic sheen as she moved, gaze never leaving Etarul.

“Why come to us? Why now?” Her delicate movements came to a halt directly in front of the pair. Tozun shot his eyes forward and straightened his posture.

Etarul hesitated as he pondered some of the Vaadwaur’s more unusual requests. “He asks for sanctuary. He, along with those with him, wish to remain here. Not merely as visitors.” He paused again.

The chamber held still, breathless in anticipation.

“He seeks… marriage. Two wives for each of his people. He believes that their offspring could inherit the wisdom of both civilizations. He speaks of founding a new colony among us.”

The room did not erupt in chaos. The silence that followed was louder than any uproar. Even Tozun tilted his head and narrowed his eyes slightly.

“A colony of hybrids?” a plum-eyed councilor repeated softly.

“They wish to be reborn,” Etarul said. “Jekot believes the Antuu would lend their strengths well a mixed Vaadwaur.”

The Reagent stepped back to her seat and lowered herself into it with grace, internally shocked. She placed her hands together as her delicate fingers slipped together.

“A bold proposal,” she said sharply. “Perhaps even a foolish one. But boldness often leads to stars.”

Another councilor chimed in, “We must see this Jekot. Let us speak to him ourselves. There is much in these diagrams we do not yet understand.”

Etarul bowed again. “That was his hope. I will arrange the meeting.”

The Reagent nodded. “Then arrange it you shall. Do so within the passing of three suns. We shall prepare the proper chamber.”

As Etarul bowed once more and stepped back, a strange sense washed over him. It wasn’t not pride or triumph. It was just an electric anticipation. Something tectonic had shifted in the heart of the Antuu’s rulers. What came next might change more than just the trajectory of their path through the stars.

It might change their very bloodlines.