Silence hung in space like a held breath.
Where the Fractal Gate had closed, only drifting debris and faint geometric afterglows remained—slowly dissolving into darkness.But the thousands of ships that had escaped now hovered before Astra-9, wounded yet alive.
"Commander Rhea," Lyra reported from her station, "I'm detecting multiple species across the refugee fleet. Organic, synthetic… and something in between."
Orion watched the scans roll across his console.Some life signs pulsed faintly, almost extinguished.Others flickered erratically, as if their biology didn't fully agree with this universe's physics.
"It's a miracle they survived the transition," Orion murmured.
Rhea's voice came through on the shipwide channel, controlled but filled with tension:"All stations, maintain yellow alert. We don't know if they're hostile, but we also don't leave injured beings drifting in vacuum."
Astra-9's bridge erupted into organized activity as standard procedures engaged—quarantine protocols, translation algorithms, energy-resource assessments.
But Orion wasn't paying attention to any of it.
His eyes locked onto the massive crystalline flagship drifting toward them.
It looked like a floating cathedral—columns of shimmering crystal rising from a fractured hull,light refracting through its structure in waves of rainbow plasma.
Its core pulsed weakly, like a heart struggling to beat.
"That one's their command ship," Orion said.
Lyra nodded."I'm reading four hundred thousand life forms aboard. Most in stasis. Energy reserves at near-zero."
"Can we dock?" Rhea asked.
"No." Orion shook his head. "Their tech is too unstable. One wrong interaction between our energy fields and theirs could collapse both ships."
Lyra swallowed."Then how do we help them?"
Before Orion could answer, the dragon construct moved.
It drifted between the refugee fleet and Astra-9, wings folding gracefully until it resembled a massive, glowing shield.
Lyra whispered, "It's protecting them… from us?"
"Or it's protecting us from them," Orion said quietly. "We don't know how their tech interacts with ours."
The dragon vibrated—sending out a resonant wave of energy.
Astra-9's main display suddenly flickered.
Static.Then symbols.Then… a message.
The translation AI kicked in instantly, fighting to decode the alien patterns.
Lines of geometry twisted into words.
WE SEEK SANCTUARY.WE FLEE THE UNMAKING.WE CARRY NO WEAPONS.WE CARRY ONLY SURVIVORS.
Orion felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"Unmaking…" he repeated. "That's what they call it?"
Lyra nodded."That void inside the gate. The thing that erased their universe."
Rhea's voice softened for the first time since the anomaly began."Open a channel. Let's talk to them."
The holoscreen shimmered.
A figure appeared—tall, crystalline, humanoid in shape but built of refracted light.Its body shifted colors as it breathed.Its eyes glowed with soft azure luminescence.
Its voice, when it spoke, was layered—multiplying and harmonizing as though hundreds of beings were speaking at once.
"We… thank you… for receiving us."
Orion realized the being wasn't just one individual.It was a collective consciousness, a unified intelligence housed in a crystalline body.
Lyra bowed her head slightly."We're honored. I'm Lyra Voss, communications lieutenant of Astra-9."
The being nodded.
"I am Seraxis, Archivist of the Lost Realm."
The title made Orion's stomach tighten.
Lost Realm.
"Seraxis," he asked carefully, "what exactly did you flee from?"
Seraxis dimmed.The light of its body flickered like a candle in wind.
"Something older than time," it said."Something that feeds on reality.It devours laws of physics.It erases dimensions.It unmakes all that exists."
The room grew still.
Rhea's jaw clenched."How far behind you is this… Unmaking?"
Seraxis raised a crystalline hand—its fingertips glowing with fractured light.
"Time… is difficult to measure now."A pause."But if our estimations are true…"
Every sensor aboard Astra-9 beeped at the same moment, as if confirming what Seraxis would say next.
"…it will reach your universe soon."
Orion exhaled sharply, throat tight.
Lyra whispered, "Commander… what do we do?"
Rhea looked at her crew on the screens.Looked at the wounded ships outside.Looked at the dragon construct still watching them with cosmic patience.
And she answered with the only thing a leader of Earth's fleet could say.
"We prepare."
Seraxis bowed its glowing head.
"And we pray… that this time, preparation will be enough."
The lights of the refugee ships dimmed simultaneously—their energy nearly spent.
A choice had been made.
Astra-9 would help them.
Even if doing so put their universe at risk.