The blackness was complete, yet not quiet. Devon perceived the sweep of air as Luna Lorelei shifted—not a sprint but a smooth approach, precise and unaffected, by the absence of light. He lunged sideways his shoulder striking sharply against the corner of a console. A hand swept near his neck close enough to sense the movement of air.
"Nathania! Are you able to restart?" he shouted into the darkness.
"Operating on a battery!" her tone rang out tense with concentration. A lone small display ignited above her console illuminating her face with a spectral blue. It displayed the data feed to Mars. The minuscule repetitive glitch persisted, beating defiantly among the data, from the thrilled volunteers.
Within the corridor's beam of light Flavio stood as a figure of serenity. "The reset requires twenty-three minutes " he declared, casually as if remarking on the weather. "Your interference will be trivia. The Confluence moves forward."
Pamela's voice came from, to the door a tense whisper. "I've secured the hatch. They'll require a plasma torch. That's… twelve minutes."
"Now we've got twelve minutes " Devon remarked, his vision struggling in the light. He noticed Luna's figure from the shadows beside him shifting with calculated caution, toward the brightness of Nathania's screen.
He took the action that came to mind. He didn't strike at her. He struck against the quiet.
"Luna!" he yelled, his tone harsh and booming within the quarters. "What's the earliest memory you have? The genuine one. Not some data stream. A scent. A noise that made your ears ache."
She halted, slightly tilting her head. The query was, like a stone cast into the calm water of her upbringing.
Flavio's voice interrupted, calming. "Ignore the noise Luna. It holds no significance."
However Devon insisted, backing away from her while directing his voice toward her. "For me it's the scent of ozone, before a thunderstorm. It frightened me. It felt alive. What frightened you? What drove you to become an enforcer? To experience strength? Before all of this… this calm."
A brief flash. A subtle hint of bewilderment, on her face. The training of the Quiet Flavio's ideology—it all pointed to a conclusion. It promised freedom from desire from fear from identity.. It couldn't wipe away the recollection of once possessing a self.
From, behind a console Javier's voice trembled. "The Quiet's language… it lacks past tense. It doesn't grasp a 'before.' Only an 'is.' She has a 'before.' We all do."
Luna moved forward more though at a more deliberate pace. Her eyes moved away from Nathania's screen to rest on Devon's face bathed in blue light. The emptiness, in her eyes swirled with a lost residue.
The time lingered. Eleven minutes.
Nathania's fingers moved rapidly. "I've piggybacked a signal onto the Mars feed! Transmitting everything—Lentor data, the flaw, our position—, to Vance's channel. It's a shout into the void."
Abruptly the tiny display divided. The calm corrupted data, from Bohemia compressed to one portion. The opposite side was occupied by the angular visage of Elara Vance set against the chaotic bustle of a Martian command room. Her voice, metallic yet intense burst forth into the center.
"—message received! Corruption. Intensified. Attention, Earth! This is Dr. Elara Vance, from the Martian Congressional Science Directorate. We denounce Project Lentor as preparing for apocalypse. A dignified demise remains a demise. Humanity refuses to fade into that ultimate bureaucratic directive."
Flavio's figure tensed. "This is disruption. A manifestation of your anxiety Doctor."
"No " Vance snapped, her tone filled with resistance. "This is a perspective.. We're proceeding based on it. Starting now Mars is launching the Prometheus Initiative."
A fresh diagram appeared on the display: the satellites of Jupiter and Saturn—Europa, Enceladus, Titan. On these glowing indicators showed up.
"We are initiating a batch of self-replicating terraforming seeds. Their code is straightforward: generate intricate, dynamic and continuously intensifying engineering obstacles. Volatile atmospheres. Developing habitats. Resource challenges that renew each decade. They will guarantee that any human who comes after will constantly face ' tasks.' An endless regulated contest. Not an artificial one behind glass. An authentic one, in space."
The boldness of it was astonishing. As Earth aimed to unite with tranquility Mars was engaging in cosmic destruction to ensure upcoming suffering. It represented the pinnacle of discord.
Javier gazed intently his intellect spinning. "You're… you're turning purpose into a weapon."
"We're maintaining the prerequisites, for consciousness " Vance clarified. "Life isn't a state. It's a journey of becoming. You're attempting to become nothing. We opt to continue becoming… something. When it's hard. Particularly when it's hard."
Flavio discovered his voice, a quiver of fury, beneath the composure. "You intend to condemn your children to ceaseless labor? To discontent? That isn't progress. It's brutality!"
"It's a destiny " Vance retorted sharply. "Your destiny is a period. Ours is a semicolon." She fixed her gaze into the feed her eyes meeting Devon's in the shadows. "Stand firm, Analyst. Your interference is our message. Prometheus takes off in six minutes. Let them revel in their ignorance. We'll be occupied creating a universe beyond anyone's reach."
The broadcast concluded. The display reverted to the data, with its single persistent captivating imperfection.
In the quiet that came after Luna Lorelei remained still refraining from moving toward Nathania. Her gaze was fixed on her hands as though observing them anew. The recollection of a 'before'—a cause to battle to shield, to act as an enforcer—was a spark of disorder, in the expanse of the Quiet.
Flavio witnessed it. His calm at last shattered, exposing a heart of raging foretelling anguish. "Do you understand? This is the option. Not harmony. Not solidarity. An endless cycle of senseless contrived conflict. A cosmic hamster wheel spanning the galaxies. Is that your victory? Your magnificent, human 'no'?"
Devon, panting in the darkness locked eyes, with him. "Yes."
That was the word that held importance.
Beyond the door the faint remote hum of a plasma torch started to gnaw at it. Their moment had ended.
Yet within the dark chamber of space on the planet that declined to perish silently six quiet vessels, filled with the origins of infinite striking turmoil unfastened their bonds and sped into the far darkness. They bore no greeting of harmony. They bore a contagion of magnificent persistent life.
The war was no longer over philosophy. It was over the definition of a future. And for the first time, the silence had a rival sound: the distant, echoing crackle of a fire being deliberately, recklessly, lit.