March 10, 2025 — Geneva, UNSA Strategic Command Center
06:32 AM | Internal Temperature: 21°C
The Geneva war room hummed like a hive of wasps, but there was a cold, heavy hush still over all the discussion. Graphs flashed on the main wall, orbital trajectories stretched out thin and shaking, as if they'd break.
Lina Qureshi stood in the middle of a projection circle. Her hologram trembled faintly; she seemed to weigh less than she did days before. Her eyes were lined with red, but her voice never faltered.
"Pluto is now beyond the outermost tracking arrays," she started. "It's basically lost. We can no longer compute its return path. The Kuiper Belt objects nearby have also begun exhibiting small dispersions."
A young tactical officer gulped audibly. "So it's gone?"
Lina nodded. "In practical terms, yes. Pluto was our cosmic alarm bell. Now we have confirmation. Helios-B's gravitational pull is real, and increasing."
Director Matsuo leaned forward, his hands gripped so tightly his knuckles paled. "What about the inner planets?"
"They're holding steady," Lina replied, her voice as level as a doctor's diagnosis. "But there are subtle disturbances underway minute movements in perihelion and orbital inclination. Nothing lethal yet. But the patterns are unmistakable."
An older delegate ventured softly, "Do we see an extinction-level event?"
Lina gazed at the ground. "No. Not yet. But this is a timeline we do not yet comprehend. We're watching a star moving with unprecedented accuracy, as if it knows precisely where to place its foot."
The room went still, except for the quiet electric hum of the air conditioning.
---
March 11, 2025 — Mahalangur Himal Observatory, Nepal
03:17 AM
Lina went back to Dome 3. Her breathing boomed off the arched walls. She called up fresh readings, eyes darting through rows of graphs and infrared imagery. Beyond the windows, Helios-B glowed a little hotter every morning, a second ghost sun inching laboriously up the horizon.
She laid her palm on the control console. "Don't lie to me," she spoke softly to the machine. "Tell me what you see."
The screen flickered, assembling thermal maps, tidal fluctuations, and magnetosphere oscillations. A creeping stack of micro-changes, ocean tides creeping upwards, auroral bands widening discreetly, a infinitesimal increase in stratospheric radiation.
Taken singly, the changes were harmless. Taken together, they represented a creeping bleed into anarchy.
Her comms wristband vibrated. Automated message from Geneva.
"Full Tier-1 planetary response activated. Local observatories to monitor 24/7. Global revelation under consideration. Standby for further guidance."
She turned it off.
---
March 12, 2025 — Geneva, UNSA Secure Briefing
In an enclosed underground room, Matsuo spoke to a ring of world leaders. The atmosphere was denser than concrete.
"Helios-B's trajectory vector is converging," he explained. "Models indicate a gradual but inevitable assimilation into the gravitational balance of the solar system."
A chancellor cleared her throat. "Assimilation? You put it too kindly."
Matsuo gazed downwards. "We can't quite tell if it's natural or manmade. But its movement. it's nearly graceful. Purposeful."
The room dissolved into hushed, electric tension.
---
March 13, 2025 — Mahalangur Himal
05:51 AM
Lina climbed out onto the outer balcony, ice nipping at her skin. She observed the second dawn break again. Its thin, unyielding light drenched the clouds in ghostly blue.
She felt the universe watching back for the very first time in her life.
She leaned forward, forehead to the railing, closing her eyes.
"We're not alone," she said softly. "And perhaps we never were."