On the main screen, the starfield ahead began to distort. It was like a drop of thick ink diffusing in clear water, the central point spreading into a swirling vortex shimmering with an unnatural violet-blue energy. This was the entrance to a hyperspace lane—a shortcut tamed, however tenuously, by human technology to bridge the vast distances of realspace.
"All systems secured. Non-essential power routed to secondary circuits," Kael ordered, his nerves interfaced with the ship, feeling the immense power building within the engines.
"Hold on tight, kids! Here we go!" Rex's voice held a note of distorted excitement, his mechanical claws firmly anchored to the deck plating.
The countdown reached zero.
"Jump," Kael commanded.
There was no violent shudder, no deafening roar. Only an instantaneous, profoundly disorienting sensation of weightlessness and distortion, as if his very soul were being wrenched from his body and thrown into a high-speed centrifuge. The view outside the bridge viewports shifted violently—the familiar starfield vanished, replaced by an indescribable phantasmagoria of light and color.
The colors were none known in realspace, flowing, colliding, and annihilating each other in ways that defied physical laws. There was no up, down, left, or right, only countless stretching and compressing tunnels of streaking light. Occasionally, vast, blurred shadows flitted past outside the luminous streams—whether they were other traveling ships, some form of hyperspace "native" life, or merely hallucinations born of sensory overload, no one knew. The engine's roar became muffled and strange, as if heard from a great distance.
Even Kael, a veteran of multiple jumps, needed to concentrate to resist the intense assault on his perceptual systems. His biological components felt nauseous and dizzy, while his mechanical parts worked frantically to process the chaotic sensor data, keeping the ship stable within the lane's center.
After a few minutes, the initial, most severe discomfort subsided, and the ship entered a relatively stable cruising state. Most of hyperspace travel was like this—a silent glide through a chaotic, unsettling chromatic void.
"Lane stabilized. All systems operating normally," Lia reported, seemingly entirely unaffected by the environment, data streams flowing steadily in her eyes.
"Tch. Feels like being thrown into a blender every time," Rex grumbled, loosening his anchorage and moving to the weapons console. "Still hours to go. Boring as hell." He began his routine check of the shipborne weapons' energy conduits, as if only fiddling with these tools of destruction could settle him.
The Doctor's悬浮载具 drifted near a viewport—though the view wasn't real, but a simulated rendering of the hyperspace energy flows by the sensors—its multiple sensors glowing faintly, recording the external spectral and energy readings. "Hyperspace... always contains incomprehensible information... Every voyage captures... a few fragments. They belong to... no known civilization."
Kael disengaged from the deep ship interface, rubbing his temples—a residual biological habit. "Lia, pull up the detailed schematics and personnel roster for the 'Lonely Endpoint' outpost. Doctor, run a cross-comparison between the sensory data fragments from the Director and the... non-encrypted sections of the 'Pandora' mission report from ten years ago."
"Processing," Lia responded.
The main screen displayed a 3D schematic of the outpost. It was built subterraneously on an airless rocky planet, its main structure dug deep, powered by geothermal and fusion reactors. It contained living quarters, laboratories, a communications array, and a hangar for small exploration vehicles. Standard configuration, maximum capacity of fifty personnel.
"'Lonely Endpoint,' established in Standard Year 4210," Lia summarized. "Primary mission: monitor G-173 red dwarf activity and survey mineral deposits on the system's planets. Director: Dr. Elara Vance, astrophysicist. Crew included geologists, engineers, life scientists (though the system was deemed devoid of native life). Last routine communication was unremarkable, reporting a minor geological survey expedition."
An utterly ordinary research outpost. It was difficult to imagine it as the epicenter of something horrific.
"Doctor, comparison results?" Kael asked.
One of the Doctor's tentacles was interfaced with the ship's main computer, its sensors pulsating. "Energy signature... spectral consistency is 99.7%. It can be confirmed... to share the same origin as that recorded during the 'Pandora' event."
"What happened during the 'Pandora' mission ten years ago?" Lia asked abruptly, her blue optical eyes turning to Kael. Being a synthoid, she asked the core question directly, without much reservation.
Kael was silent for a moment, the shifting lights of hyperspace playing across his stern face. Those memories remained locked behind thick fog, with only vague fragments and sensations accessible.
"Location was an abandoned system in Bootes," Kael's voice was low, as if straining to recall a distant dream. "We were ordered to investigate an anomalous gravitational signal. Upon arrival, we found the wreckage of a ship... of non-human design. Not large, style unseen before." He paused, seemingly accessing the permitted parts of the memory.
"Our squad entered the wreck. The internal structure... conformed to no known biomechanical or engineering logic. Then, we found it... a substance resembling a crystal, but constantly shifting form. It emitted a faint energy field, the same signature we're detecting now."
"And then?" Rex was also interested now, pausing his checks momentarily.
"And then..." a slight sting came from Kael's processor, "...the records show massive gaps. The official report states the wreckage underwent a violent energy collapse. The entire squad except for me was KIA. I was thrown clear, severely injured,昏迷, recovered later by a rescue team. There is no record of what happened to the crystal after that."
"The entire squad lost... only you survived?" Lia seized the key point. "Reason?"
"Unknown," Kael shook his head. "The core memory segments of that period in my memory are highly encrypted, possibly a measure by rescue forces to prevent post-traumatic stress." But deep down, he knew it wasn't that simple. The encryption level far exceeded standard procedure for a regular casualty.
"That crystal..." the Doctor's synthesized voice held keen interest, "...its description aligns with the 'anomalous geode' reported at 'Lonely Endpoint'. It can induce energy collapse... and seems to be connected to consciousness. Pandora... in ancient Earth myth, was the name attached to the box that released all evils."
"Seems this damn thing isn't unique," Rex snorted. "And it's got a taste for unlucky sods. Wiped out your whole team ten years ago, now it's set its sights on an outpost