"What exactly do you plan to do on Ieya?"
Alan shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips:
"Make a mess."
Jennel frowned.
"Are you sure that's the best approach? What little we know about this planet doesn't justify such boldness."
"Exactly, we know nothing," Alan countered. "So we might as well go straight to the source."
The cruiser emerged from hyper-quantum transit, approaching the planet.
Alan immediately ordered a landing, selecting the most practical location.
Jennel, skeptical, crossed her arms.
"Normally, we descend in a shuttle to show some form of respect."
Alan gave her a mischievous smile.
"Today, urgency overrides etiquette."
The cruiser began its descent, piercing through the thin, turbulent atmosphere of Ieya.
Massive red sand clouds swirled below, casting shifting shadows across the desolate desert.
From above, they could see the chaotic terrain: vast dunes interwoven with jagged rock formations, remnants of collapsed structures and millennia of erosion.
The instruments scanned for stable zones, and a rocky plateau appeared to offer the best landing site.
Alan brought the ship down, stabilizing it on its antigravitic field.
He donned a sleek black suit and a respirator before turning to Jennel.
"We’re going down."
She hesitated. "Shouldn’t we bring fewer people?"
"The more, the merrier," Alan replied lightly.
Jennel rolled her eyes, bewildered by his attitude, but followed him nonetheless.
They traveled a short distance, descending a slope, ensuring they were out of the ship’s line of sight.
Alan sat on a rock, took a deep breath, and spoke loudly:
"We come to you because we believe being the pawns of an unseen power has gone on long enough."
"The vessel approaching your planet, is it here for a diplomatic visit, or to wipe this place off the map?"
"I’m waiting for your answer because, understand this: we are out of time."
Jennel's eyes widened in shock at his blunt approach.
She held her breath, wondering what would happen next.
Seconds dragged on in a heavy silence.
Then, before them, the desert woman—a figure well known to Alan—appeared slowly.
Her voice, a mental communication, resonated in their minds:
"Foreign concept: Urgency. Arrival expected."
Alan frowned, his gaze locked onto the ethereal figure before them.
"Ours, or that of the unknown vessel?" he asked firmly.
The woman remained motionless, then responded in her calm, emotionless voice:
"Both."
Jennel, still stunned, regained her composure and intervened:
"What is this vessel? Why is it here?"
A brief silence, then the voice echoed again:
"Vessel: Initial Gull. Modification of the past."
Alan and Jennel exchanged a troubled glance.
"Initial Vessel?" Alan repeated warily.
"What do they want to modify?" Jennel asked, her concern growing.
A few seconds passed before the response came, more nuanced, as if the figure was adjusting its communication method:
"Initial Vessel was the first Gull ship. Used to leave Ieya."
"They seek to modify the programming of the Selection vessel arriving at Sol. No Survivors."
A shiver ran through Jennel as she realized the catastrophic implications of this act.
It would erase their entire timeline.
"Why come here?" Alan asked, his mind already racing through strategic possibilities.
"We can make the modification."
Jennel immediately tensed.
Outraged, she took a step forward.
"Why would you do such a thing?" she demanded, her voice ice-cold.
"Threat of Ieya's destruction."
Alan and Jennel stood in stunned silence.
The stakes were even greater than they had imagined.
Alan fixed his gaze on the woman and asked the question that burned his mind:
"Who exactly are we dealing with?"
"We are the Thinkers."
Alan's thoughts whirled through the torrent of information.
A new question surfaced in his mind.
"Were you the ones who contacted me twice?" he asked.
"Yes."
Jennel immediately jumped in:
"And my dreams?"
"Yes."
"Why?" she pressed.
A suspended silence, then the voice resonated again:
"A temporal path exists."
"An energy flux passing through the destruction of the Gulls."
"It required the formation of the Jennel/Alan union and the reinforcement of Alan’s motivation."
Alan's jaw dropped slightly, stunned.
He turned to Jennel, who was just as overwhelmed, trying to process the weight of those words.
Taking a deep breath, he held her gaze for a long moment.
"I should be outraged by this manipulation," he said at last, "but instead, I’m just... grateful."
Jennel arched an eyebrow, then smiled. A smile deep, sincere, woven with countless emotions.
She slowly reached for his hand, and he held it gently.
Then, Jennel recalled her conversation with Ran Dal about her visit to Ieya. And then her own visit.
A contradiction struck her.
"But… you said you didn’t intervene to help Ran Dal!" she exclaimed.
"The Precursors responded."
Jennel's confusion deepened.
"What’s the difference?"
This time, the mental voice seemed almost… amused.
"Thinkers: energy beings."
"Precursors: semi-material, first inhabitants of Ieya."
"Gulls: material."
"Simple classification."
Jennel blinked.
She muttered to Alan:
"I think they have a sense of humor."
But Alan’s mind was locked on another revelation.
He crossed his arms and stated:
"So, the Gulls come from Ieya."
"Yes."
Jennel let out a low whistle.
"And now, they’re coming back to destroy it?"
"Ieya is of no importance to the Gulls."
Their hearts clenched at that statement, devoid of any emotion.
Once again, the Gulls' nature—their absolute indifference—revealed itself in all its cold brutality.
Alan frowned, his mind on high alert.
"Can the Arwiens destroy this vessel?" he asked.
The Thinker hesitated only briefly before responding, its voice more deliberate:
"The Gulls' technological capabilities are far superior."
"They have accumulated the knowledge of many Complexes scattered across the galaxy."
"The Initial Vessel is the collector of this knowledge."
"It cannot be destroyed from the outside."
Alan immediately caught the key phrase.
"From the outside?" he repeated slowly.
"Is it possible from the inside?"
A pause, then a confirmation:
"Yes. But not today."
"It requires following a precise temporal path."
Jennel shuddered.
Her instinct kicked in, and she asked:
"Where does it begin?"
The Thinker turned its head slightly and corrected her flatly:
"When does it begin?"
Alan and Jennel exchanged a bewildered glance.
"In the past."
"Though it is not a beginning, but a branching point."
Jennel felt dizzy.
She had known about Ieya’s temporal anomalies, but never had she imagined they could be manipulated to this extent.
Alan murmured, his brow furrowed,
"I don’t see it…" while Jennel nodded, just as lost.
The Thinker then revealed the truth in a voice calm and unwavering:
"Lady Jennel must travel to the past to trap the Initial Vessel before it is discovered by the Gulls. But it must disappear into the future to prevent altering the present."
Alan jerked upright, his blood running cold.
"Why her?!"
"Because she is the only one who can validate the Path by successfully trapping the vessel."
Alan clenched his fists, struggling to contain the fear consuming him.
"How do you know that?!" he snapped.
The Thinker did not waver.
"Because only Lady Jennel will reach the point of Path validation: the vessel. According to the archives, she has already been there. Alone."
Jennel opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all.
"But I… I don’t understand."
The Thinker tilted its head slightly toward her.
"The Path we are following now may be the one leading to the destruction of the Initial Vessel. Or another… if you fail."
Jennel shuddered.
Alan, for his part, fought against a terror he hadn’t felt in a long time.
"Is there a way back?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
A pause, then the simple answer:
"Yes. One departure and one return, with the aid of the Precursors."
A crushing silence fell over them.
Alan was devastated. The thought of seeing Jennel embark on an uncertain fate was unbearable.
Jennel gently placed a hand on his arm.
"Alan…"
He met her gaze, the one he knew better than his own, and in it, he saw an unyielding resolve.
"I have to try. To save everything."
Alan opened his mouth, but she pressed a finger to his lips.
"For Jade, Michel, and Ambre," she whispered.
Alan felt his heart shatter.
Everyone tried to ignore the possibility of failure, but it was a losing battle.
Alan and Jennel spent a long time together, wrapped in a silent tenderness they wished could last forever.
But there could be no goodbyes. Only a "see you soon."
Jennel boarded the shuttle that would take her to the stone towers.
The Thinker had assured her that a part of its essence would accompany her throughout her journey.
This thought comforted her, but something still felt missing.
Before departing, she whispered softly:
"I’m going to call you… Friend."
The Thinker did not immediately respond.
Perhaps it didn’t fully grasp the meaning of the word, or perhaps it simply had no opinion on the matter.
Either way, it didn’t matter.
Jennel needed this presence, even if only immaterial, by her side.
“You must be transported to a point in the past where two Paths cross," the Thinker—now Friend—explained.
"A precise temporal node that will allow you to slip into one or the other."
Jennel understood that this explanation was simplified, but the real truth remained beyond her grasp.
"This passage requires a considerable amount of temporal energy. Only a Precursor can still extract it, by drawing from the phantom loops. With the guidance of the Thinkers."
Friend’s words echoed in her mind as she descended into the depths of the planet.
The journey quickly became labyrinthine.
Under Friend’s guidance, Jennel slipped through narrow rocky crevices, following barely discernible paths.
The stone walls vibrated softly, as if echoes of the past still lived within them.
Then, the descent steepened, and the ground became treacherous.
Suddenly, a rock ledge beneath her feet gave way, sending her tumbling down onto a lower platform.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs, and a sharp pain shot through her leg.
She gritted her teeth, pushing herself upright with difficulty.
Her suit had absorbed most of the shock, and the nanites would handle the rest.
She forced herself to breathe evenly.
"Stay calm, Jennel," she whispered to herself.
Friend’s voice gently intervened in her mind:
"Minor injury. Continue. Destination is near."
Jennel took a deep breath and pulled herself out of the rocky pit.
Each step forward was more cautious, her eyes scanning for any further dangers.
The narrow passage finally opened into a vast cavern.
Jennel froze.
Before her stretched the Lost City of the Precursors.
A colossal underground expanse, hidden beneath a rocky dome of impossible dimensions.
Ancient structures, carved directly into the cavern walls, formed a surreal metropolis.
Towering buildings clung to the cavern’s sides, connected by suspended walkways and spiraling staircases hewn into the stone.
Balconies and terraces lined the facades, where soft amber lights flickered in the eternal twilight.
At the city's center, a luminous river flowed, its waters reflecting a deep, otherworldly blue.
It seemed almost unreal, shimmering with a spectral glow.
Towering spires reached into the darkened heights, some adorned with stained-glass panels that cast mystical, shifting colors upon the stone.
Here, everything felt frozen in a delicate balance between past and present. A city suspended between ages, sheltering the last beings capable of manipulating time itself.
Friend’s voice whispered:
"Welcome, Lady Jennel, to the final sanctuary of the Precursors. The city brought back from a distant past by the Great Cataclysm's flux."
As Jennel descended toward the river, its waters churned unpredictably, glimmering with strange pulses of light.
As she approached, she saw something impossible.
Visions flickered across the liquid surface: fragmented images of unreal landscapes.
Broken skyscrapers floated in a starless void.
Forests of luminous trees faded into thin air.
Mountains, inverted, reflected upon incandescent oceans.
Then...
A shape emerged from the depths.
Jennel’s breath caught in her throat.
The river split open, revealing a colossal silhouette.
A dragon, its scales woven from pure light, rose majestically, its iridescent mane flowing like living stardust.
Each movement left behind a trail of color, like a celestial painting unfolding in real time.
Its eyes burned with ancient intelligence, deep and immeasurable.
When it opened its maw, no roar emerged, only a breath of pure energy.
Friend’s voice echoed in her mind:
"Materialization of a Precursor."
Lady Jennel stepped back, her breath caught.
The dragon seemed to be watching her, as if evaluating her presence.
Was this a test? A threat? A guide?
Then, the Precursor’s voice resonated in her mind, deep and reverberating, like an echo from another time:
“Lady Jennel of Sol. Follow.”
Jennel asked no questions, and followed.
The luminous creature moved effortlessly, leaving behind trails of shifting colors that swirled above what appeared to be a river.
As Jennel observed the shimmering currents, the Precursor corrected her:
“Not a river. Entangled time flows. Phantom loops.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
She tried to memorize what she was seeing, but the moving reflections defied comprehension.
Each second warped her perception. Light transformed into matter, matter into energy, only for everything to revert and begin the cycle anew.
The path twisted through stone arches, their surfaces carved with inscriptions that flickered in and out of existence.
Jennel noticed that some runes overlapped strangely, as if they oscillated between two realities.
At last, they emerged into a vast hall, a crypt carved from black stone, streaked with veins of opalescent light.
Towering pillars rose around her, their bases wrapped in pulsing threads of energy that flowed and branched in a mesmerizing dance.
At the chamber’s center, a wide basin shimmered, its surface glowing with an iridescent hue.
The Precursor halted above the basin.
Jennel stepped onto a raised stone platform, overlooking the intricate web of time flows below.
She followed their interwoven paths, trying to grasp their meaning.
Suddenly, a column of pure energy erupted from the basin.
A whirlwind of light surged upward, enveloping the Precursor as it advanced toward her. Slowly, but inexorably.
Jennel’s heart pounded.
A tension beyond words filled the chamber, as if the universe itself was holding its breath.
A primal instinct screamed at her to retreat.
But at that moment, Friend’s voice whispered in her mind:
"Let it happen."
Jennel closed her eyes.
She felt the Precursor’s presence approach.
Then...
A shockwave of icy energy coursed through her very being.
Every atom of her existence seemed to dissolve into infinity.
An instant of absolute nothingness.
A vertigo without end.
Then...
Air flooded her lungs.
The scent of damp earth and mountain wind wrapped around her.
She gasped.
And opened her eyes.
Before her, an awe-inspiring landscape unfolded.
Towering mountains, their peaks crowned in snow, rose against a crystal-clear sky.
Between their rugged slopes, a mosaic of emerald lakes shimmered under the sun’s golden light.
Everything felt impossibly serene. As if existing outside of time itself.
Jennel took a tentative step forward, feeling the solid earth beneath her boots.
She exhaled slowly.
Where was she?
When was she?
Alan watched as the shuttle drifted away, slowly disappearing beyond Ieya’s rocky horizon.
A cold emptiness settled deep within him. A nameless chill, tightening around his chest.
Jennel was gone.
It felt as if she had been swallowed by Time itself, a force merciless and treacherous.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered: would he ever see her again?
A sudden buzz from his nanite communicator ripped him back to reality.
"High-energy hyper-particle surge detected. Probable origin: Imperium sector."
Alan's brows furrowed.
A pulse that powerful could only mean one thing: the unknown vessel was making its move.
Without hesitation, Alan turned away from the empty horizon and strode swiftly back to his ship.
The moment he stepped onto the bridge, Mehmet was already waiting, concern etched on his face.
"Admiral, urgent communication from Admiral Arin Tar."
Alan nodded, activating the holo-projector.
Arin Tar’s image materialized, her expression tight with tension.
"Alan de Sol, we have detected a massive energy surge from the unknown vessel. Likely a long-range detection pulse. It’s scanning for targets."
Alan’s jaw clenched.
They’re hunting.
Arin Tar continued, her voice grim:
"We can now confirm: it is a Gull vessel."
A heavy silence filled the bridge.
Arin Tar straightened slightly, her posture rigid.
"I suspected as much... Do you have any further intelligence?"
Alan exhaled slowly.
He knew what he was about to say would strike her like a blow.
"There’s something you need to know. We have identified this ship: it is the Gull Initial Vessel."
He let that sink in before adding:
"It possesses technology far beyond anything we have ever encountered. According to the Thinkers of Ieya, it intends to change past events…"
He took a breath.
"And it seems to want to prevent the birth of the Survivors on Sol."
Arin Tar’s eyes widened slightly.
"Modify the past?!"
Alan nodded gravely.
"That’s why Jennel went alone. She has been sent back into Ieya’s past to trap this vessel before it can be used to erase our timeline."
Arin Tar’s expression hardened.
But Alan also caught a flicker of astonishment across her face.
"Alone?!"
Alan sighed.
"Alone… because she is the only one who can do it, according to the Thinkers."
A tense silence settled between them.
Arin Tar’s gaze shifted slightly, as if weighing her words. Then, in a near whisper, more to herself than to him, she murmured:
"An extraordinary woman…"
Alan allowed himself the faintest smile, but his eyes remained dark.
Jennel had to go.
But after that?
How long would it take for her to return to their present?
Would she even be able to?
That question gnawed at him.
If her journey had to follow a precise path, where would it lead her?
When—if ever—would their future find her again?
Time dragged heavily.
Two hours passed in agonizing stillness before another call from Arin Tar shattered Alan’s restless thoughts.
Her image flickered back to life, her face grave.
But this time, Alan sensed something new in her tone.
Unusual concern.
"Alan de Sol… the Gull vessel has initiated a hyper-quantum jump."
Alan’s stomach tightened.
"Likely headed for Ieya," he said, voice tense.
Arin Tar nodded, her expression darkening further and she added:
"There’s something else."
A chill crept up Alan’s spine.
"We’ve detected that it left behind… clusters of micro-spheres. Hundreds of them."
Alan’s eyes narrowed.
"Micro-sphere clusters?"
"Yes. Preliminary reports indicate each cluster is equipped with a hyper-quantum drive."
A cold dread spread through him.
"How many micro-spheres per cluster?"
Arin Tar’s voice barely wavered, but the numbers hit like a hammer.
"At first estimate, a hundred per cluster… meaning approximately fifty thousand of these things."
Alan’s jaw tensed.
"Are they moving?"
"Not yet."
A heavy silence settled over them.
Alan inhaled slowly, his mind already piecing together the implications.
"Alert me the moment they activate."
Arin Tar nodded sharply, then ended the call.
Alan remained motionless, his mind racing.
What was this maneuver?
A diversion?
A dormant weapon?
Or worse.
An unleashing of a force unlike anything they had ever faced?
The war he thought he understood might have just transformed into something far more terrifying.
Alan suddenly stood up, sharply, his thoughts accelerating like a storm.
If the Gulls succeeded in altering the past, then…
Everything would vanish.
-
The Initial Vessel would never be found in this timeline.
-
The micro-spheres wouldn’t exist here.
-
The Confederation itself would never have formed.
And then what?
The war would resume exactly where it had left off.
With the Arwiens drowning under a tide of nanites, losing.
But what if, by some unthinkable chance, the Thinkers refused to cooperate?
Unlikely.
But then: what were these micro-spheres for?
And why had they been left behind?
Alan closed his eyes, methodically assembling every piece of data.
The Gulls coming now. They knew their local forces had been defeated.
But they likely believed it was the Arwiens alone who had beaten them.
Because the Confederation, in their timeline, did not exist yet.
They might have heard vague reports from surviving Gulls about human involvement, but likely nothing more.
Then, that energy pulse they had detected.
Why such a massive detection scan?
Alan forced himself to think like a Gull strategist.
-
What were the micro-spheres for?
-
Why such a wide-range detection pulse?
Not to find Ieya. The Gulls already knew where it was.
But to locate the most advanced systems.
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
Arw.
The Arwien homeworld.
The heart of the Imperium.
It was so obvious.
Alan immediately requested a secure line to Arin Tar.
The seconds stretched endlessly as he forced himself to stay calm, even as his instincts screamed.
Minutes later, her image reappeared.
She frowned slightly, her tone controlled, but distracted:
"My apologies, Admiral, we were in the middle of..."
Alan cut her off, his voice sharp as a blade:
"The micro-spheres are likely preparing to attack Arw."
Arin Tar froze.
A long silence followed.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
She understood.