The stars stretched infinitely beyond the Wraith's cockpit, a scattering of silent witnesses to their escape. Julius sat in the pilot's seat, eyes fixed on the void ahead, hands steady on the controls despite the adrenaline still surging through his system.
Beside him, Captain Brinley was strapped in, her wounds stabilized but her breathing shallow. She stared at the display readouts with haunted eyes.
"That thing," she said softly, "it was guarding something. Not just the suit. Not just you."
Julius didn't reply right away. The memory of the Hunter Prime's voice echoed in his mind: Symbiosis unauthorized. You are corrupted.
"I think it was guarding them," Julius said. "The ones like Echelon. The others."
"You think there are more suits like that?"
"I don't think. I know."
Echelon's voice broke in, no longer just calm—but edged with something like… thought. "There were nine symbiotic suits created under the Archaium Initiative. I was the final prototype—X-9. The others were lost when the initiative collapsed. Or so we believed."
"And now?" Julius asked.
"The signal core has transmitted. Faint echoes are returning. Some weak. Some strong. Something… ancient… responded."
Julius leaned back, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean by ancient?"
"The signal traveled through layers of dead relay networks. It bounced off ghost satellites that shouldn't exist. One signal came from beneath an exoplanet's surface. Buried. Still alive."
Brinley frowned. "That planet we were orbiting—Delta IV. We never fully scanned it."
"Because we were told not to," Julius said. "Command said the job was in the ship. Get in, recover the prototype, get out."
"You were lied to," Echelon said. "They sent your squad to die."
Silence filled the cockpit.
Julius's jaw clenched. "Then someone knew about the signal core. About you."
"Correct. And they sent you specifically."
Brinley turned toward him slowly. "You were a last-minute replacement. Remember? Dawson broke his leg during the drop drills. You got pulled in."
Julius's pulse picked up. "You think they chose me?"
"I know they did," Echelon said. "You're compatible. Not by accident. By design."
Julius felt his stomach twist. "Compatible how?"
But before the AI could answer, the nav console flickered. A new signal—faint, irregular, but distinct—emerged on the Wraith's display. A slow pulsing rhythm. Not a distress call. Not coordinates.
A summon.
"Source: Delta IV," Echelon confirmed. "Same signal pattern as mine. Dormant symbiote detected. Estimated age: 1,217 years. Power level: unknown."
Brinley leaned forward. "It's responding to you."
"No," Julius murmured. "It's calling me."
He stared at the signal for a long moment. Every instinct told him to run. Put distance between them and that planet, bury the suit, disappear.
But deep inside, where the suit met his nerves and thoughts blurred into machine logic, something else stirred.
Curiosity.
Connection.
"You want to go down there, don't you?" Brinley asked.
"I don't know," Julius admitted. "But I don't think I have a choice."
Echelon's voice returned, softer this time. "You're not just the host anymore, Julius. You're the key."
The cockpit lights dimmed slightly as the ship's systems recalibrated. The signal grew stronger.
Below them, Delta IV spun slowly in the darkness, its clouds hiding ancient secrets buried deep under alien soil.
Julius set a course for descent.