The Relay

MATTRIKS ACADEMY

MATTRIKS SHUTTLE

Trees blur as they hold Asaris’s gaze out a window.

Sunlight fractures through leaves and branches overhead. Patterns stutter through the cabin.

Quiet conversations mix with the hum of the shuttle.

A hand settles on Asaris’s shoulder. His gaze breaks.

Chase stands over Asaris. His attention in the sky.

Asaris’s focus shifts.

The tree branches thin, revealing the Kurukshetra. She moors in her hover column, looming over the city—vast, motionless, locked in its hover column.

The forest parts. The city of Obzen reaches towards the ship.

OBZEN ORBITAL PORT

An arch frames the forest as it towers over the platform. Shuttle guideways stretch into the distance, through the tree line.

Cadets assemble in teams. Military officers form up.

The shuttle reduces speed on the guideways. It glides to a stop.

Doors part, Asaris and Chase’s boots step on the platform.

The murmur the crowd presses in from all sides.

Their stride falls into the same rhythm.

The scent of grilled meats carries in the breeze. UIF and Kij queue at a kiosk.

A backpack knocks into Chase. A person stumbles past him.

Glass clinks pierce the atrium’s hum.

Officers raise tumblers and bottles. The bar and tables form sections.

Monitors hang overhead.

An electrical whine climbs as a shuttle departs.

Two Kij hands fall on Asaris’s shoulders, guiding him. Iaro towers over him.

“Offworld. Where are we going?”

Asaris twists away from him. His hand thrust into the Iaro’s abdomen, barely moving him.

“I don’t know but anything to take us to outer space.” His chins lifts, his eye brighten.

A voice shrills from overhead speakers. It ricochets through the space.

”Military cadet deployment arrival in 7 minutes.”

Brevin’s voice comes from behind. “Cadets, the Kurukshetra is at column five. Departs within the hour.”

Farah bounces over. “Time to go to space!”

His hands raise. Chase reaches high grabbing Farah’s hand, releasing a clap.

Attention switches to Kiuto. Farah reaches higher.

Kiuto, unimpressed.

“Ah. Personal enthusiasm quota reached.” Farah says.

Kiuto’s eyes look down upon Farah.

“Different elevation. Same enthusiasm.”

Sanmuoro pushes through between the two.

“Let’s get over to the column. Space awaits.”

Farah and Kiuto’s eyes roll.

Asaris’s head shakes as he takes the lead, a smile pulling at his mouth.

Shadows braid together as they move across the platform.

COLUMN 05

A low hum resonates in the dome.

A column of light reaches into the sky and bracing the hull of the Kurukshetra, a pale corona gathering along the keel.

The cadets advance along the wide arc of the platform, small against the beam.

From this distance, they are little more than motion.

A guard steps forward.

“Allocations, please.”

He raises the scanner. A soft chirp answers.

Tetrums raise on the arms of the UIF cadets.

Hand grasp tetrums on the chests of the Kij.

The scanner chirps consecutive tones.

The guard tips his head as he reads the scanner.

“Enter.” “Brace yourselves.”

He steps aside, a ribbed alloy arch waits.

“Brace yourselves.”

A field in the arch thins from shimmer to glass-clear light.

Asaris and Iaro’s shoulders square in quiet alignment. Arms nearly touch.

The column of light softens.

Fabric loosens on their bodies. Hairs rise subtly.

Asaris inhales once and steps into the column.

The structure bends. Buildings and spires lean toward the vanishing point that is no longer the horizon. The soil and rock blooms beneath him. The sky becomes metal.

For a breath, Asaris stands in city and ship.

KURUKSHETRA COLUMN CHAMBER

The column diminishes. The cadets remain.

The platform thrusts from the dome’s wall, open atmosphere beneath its edge.

Admiral Delentis and Commandant Injirri preside—quiet waiting.

The line of cadets tightens.

Measured steps takes Delentis to the edge of the platform.

“Cadets.”

His fixes on Asaris.

A single step down, Brevin stands by the Admiral. Delentis steadfast on his feet.

“Thank you, sir. It is a privilege to be aboard the Kurukshetra. We are looking forward to this mission.”

Delentis turns to Brevin. “I’m sure.”

Asaris’s eyes catch with Iaro’s. Eyebrow raised.

Delentis attention returns to Asaris. Their eyes lock.

Brevin flicks his eyes between them.

The moment holds.

Asaris’s lips part. His head tips slightly, eyes still locked.“Admiral?”

Delentis gaze holds, then breaks.

“This is an important mission, cadets. I’m looking forward to how you perform.” Eyes land back on Asaris.

He pivots.

“Commandant Injirri.” A single nod from Delentis.

Injirri proceeds down the center of the room. She halts at the platform.

“Thank you, Admiral.”

Without breaking stride, Delentis exits the room.

“Mission briefing will be at 700 hours tomorrow. The rest of your team will arrive shortly. Dismissed.”

The line breaks. The platform empties as cadets file across the bridge toward the exit.

Wind rises from the drop below, slipping through the air gap and catching at their uniforms.

A hand grasps the railing, white knuckles. “Don’t look down.” Farah’s voice pitch shifts.

A grin pulls as Kiuto’s mouth. “You can see the Academy from here.”

“Uh, huh.” Farah’s hand drags along the metal.

Behind them—

“Cadet Asaris?”

Asaris’s torso twists as the team passes him, Iaro slows.

He nods. Iaro’s pace rejoins the cadets.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He closes the distance, his shoulders square to hers.

“I’d like to invite you to the bridge today for launch.”

For a moment, his face gives him away.

“Me?”

“Yes. By request of the admiral, several military cadets have been invited. We want someone from the Intelligence Division as well.”

Injirri pauses.

“Is there a concern?” Injirri queries.

“I... wasn’t expecting this.”

Her eyes lock on him. A faint smile pulls at the corners of her mouth.

“Expectation narrows your attention.”

The rigidity in her posture dissolves.

“Be present.” Her tone eases. “You don’t just observe. You control variables.”

He holds her eyes.

“Report to the bridge... Cadet Asaris.”

Asaris’s chin dips. “Thank you, ma’am.”

KURUKSHETRA — BRIDGE

The bridge opens to glass and consoles. The sun hangs in the golden sky over the mountains on the horizon. UIF Officers man stations throughout, their shadows reaching to the back of the space.

Asaris walks the corridor, his stride deliberate as the bridge nears.

He steps onto the bridge. The rhythm of the room pressing in.

Conversations of protocol corse heavy in the air.

Footfalls close from behind him.

A tight row of navy blue uniforms arrange at the rear of the bridge as they enter. The large arched entrance frames the cadets. Shoulders square, gold insignias dazzle in the sunlight.

“Acknowledge. Five-nine, six-seven, one-three,” an officer says.

“Confirm engine alignment.” A voice carries from a console.

Asaris smooths his jacket, silver insignia sparkling, as he surveys the bridge—he glances over the line of cadets.

He crosses the floor, posture upright and unforced, arriving unannounced next to the military cadets.

His shoulders draw back.

Spine straight, her chest out, Cadet Fassler steps forward. “Cadet Fassler and company, reporting for duty.”

No response from the bridge.

Asaris peeks down the line, inspects the cadets.

Another female cadet stands at attention. Her eyes cut right.

Asaris head nods. “Cadet.”

Her brow knits, just enough to notice.

The lineup holds.

Asaris takes the measure of the bridge.

Two officers post by a console. Their words carry. “Matrix is calibrated. Engines are aligned.”

An officer breaks his attention, crossing the bridge unhurried.

Settling into a chair, the officer engages with the console.

Another officer enters the bridge walking deliberately, stopping at the command console.

Admiral Delentis turns to her. She hands him a data pad.

Asaris leans forward a fraction, peering down the line.

No one moves.

His attention returns to Delentis. He steps out of the formation.

Closing the distance, he halts next to Delentis.

“Cadet Alexander Asaris reporting, sir.”

Delentis lets the moment hang. He turns to Asaris.

“Welcome to the bridge Cadet Asaris.” A forced smiles comes across his face.

Asaris briefly looks back at the military cadets.

“Thank you for joining us.” Delentis continues.

Surprise flashes across the cadets’ faces, then disappears.

“I wonder, where best would Cadet Asaris be placed for launch?”

Asaris does not reply. The question lands sideways.

Delentis does not look away.

He lets the question stand.

Asaris surveys the bridge—helm, operations, tactical.

His focus narrows on the front and center console.

“Navigation.”

The admiral nods.

“Navigation.”

Delentis’s hands press on the command console.

“Lieutenant Monaska, Cadet Asaris will be observing.”

“Aye, sir.” His word reach from the distant console.

Delentis signals Asaris forward—arm straight, palm up.

Asaris’s shadow cuts across the cadets as he crosses down to navigation.

He settles next to navigation, weight even on his feet.

Admiral Delentis fixes on the mountain range beyond the panoramic bridge window. “Commander.”

“Sir.” Authority settles over the bridge as Commander Yourond voice carries. “Cadets, are you going to stand at the back of the bridge the whole time?”

Looks fire across the lineup.

Yourond’s stride takes him across the bridge, stopping at the formation.

Asaris observe at range, the discussion between Commander Yourond and the cadets barely reaching him. Lieutenant Monaska’s voice cuts across his focus.

“A distinctive vector, cadet.” Monaska’s attention stays on the console.

Asaris checks Monaska with his eyes, registering the moment. He resets back to the commander debriefing the cadets.

Cadet Fassler shoots a look at Asaris. Her eyes narrow a fraction.

He does not disengage.

A voice rolls forward from the rear stations, firm and unmistakable. Conversations end. “Stations!”

Commander Yourond snaps his head, then turns.

He moves down the bridge deliberately, issuing orders. “All hands, prepare for departure. Standby field lock release. Engage internal station keeping. Lieutenant Monaska, standby orbital ascent.”

His path takes him to the command console; his strike and speech synchronize.

A voice comes over the bridge audio, processed and even.

”UIF Kurukshetra, Obzen Port Control—cleared to depart on vector three-four-epsilon. Climb through Corridor Lido-One.”

Asaris’s attention drops to the navigation console.

“Obzen Port Control, UIF Kurukshetra. Departure confirmed. Executing vector three-four-epsilon.” Lieutenant Monaska affirms, fingers operating the panel.

“Field lock disengaged.” Operations.

“Lieutenant.” Yourond looking forward.

Monaska’s fingers settle on the console. “Engaging engines.”

The sun and mountains drift as the Kurukshetra ascends. Shadows shift through the bridge, rising and falling on consoles and walls.

Asaris’s eye track the mountains before they slip below the window.

“Vector three-four epsilon. Proceeding to Lido-One.” Monaska confirms.

A low tremor builds through the deck.

An alert resolves on the command console.

Admiral Delentis and Commander Yourond’s eyes drop to the console.

Micro-vector Shear Quantize lock residual field

Asaris clocks the alert at navigation. A waveform fluctuates—then widens, the oscillations grows.

Delentis fixes his eyes on Asaris.

The tremor deepens, rolling through the hull.

Monaska fingers drop on the waveform scaling to a larger view.

Phase desynchronization

He taps the console.

Waveform fluctuations subside, the tremor reduces to a low hum.

Asaris looks back to the horizon falling out of view.

The golden sky gives way to the blackness of space. A star field blooms.

A hint of a smile reaches Asaris’s mouth—he restrains it. His eyes warm.

The admiral’s eyes leave Asaris.

The bridge stills.

Monaska’s voice reaches him. “We are free of Lorig, and clear to navigate.”

Asaris’s head sways, he looks back into the bridge.

“Set a course, Lorig Regional Communication Relay. Full gate. Helm speed forty once we clear the system.” Yourond commands.

Asaris’s shoulder shift as he looks back out the bridge window. He takes in the stars beyond the window.

THE QUIET ROOM

An octagonal card with a sickle on it smacks a stack of cards. A mix of cadets murmuring and music saturates the room.

Cards fan out. Kiuto peers over the edge of his hand.

His eyes dart to Brijent.

Brijent looks back. Their stare lingers.

Brijent’s fingers pluck a card with a shield from his hand. It softly lands on the stack.

Farah swiftly lays down a card with a spear. His cheeks plump as a grin pulls across his face. His eyes dart to Kiuto.

“Impetuous humans.” Kiuto tosses a card. Double shields settles on the pile.

The grin shapes to baring teeth as Farah pulls another card from his hand. “A winning human.”

A card of fire lands on the pile.

The table erupts with laughter.

A door parts open. Asaris enters composed, wide stride. The door closes behind him.

Cadets’ eyes register him, their posture not changing.

Iaro’s voice cuts through the noise. “Where have you been?”

A few confident steps take him to the sofa. He plops down, his arms spreading across the cushions.

His charged voice carries.

“On the bridge.”

Heads turn.

Chase leans in. His eyes widen. “The bridge?”

Farah’s voice injects from across the room. Cards continue to move. “How did you manage that?”

Asaris’s mouth widens—

The door parts. Cadet Fassler and two others stop just past the threshold.

The room halts.

Cards pause mid-air.

The nearest cadets’ heads turn first. Others look up moments later.

Fassler locks onto Asaris.

The three cadets close on him.

Kiuto’s chair squeaks as he turns, clocking the cadets. Farah leans, peering past him.

Kuar’s eyes peer over the edge of his book, focusing at a distance.

Chase leans back, his eyes on Asaris then Fassler.

Iaro’s weight shifts forward on his hips as his posture straightens.

Asaris’s attention rises to meet Fassler’s.

Her gaze hardens, studying him for a moment.

“Cadet...?” The word hangs.

The space tightens. Amusement flickers across his expression.

“Asaris, Cadet Asaris.”

“Cadet Asaris, I didn’t know FID cadets were permitted on the bridge?”

Kiuto’s voice interrupts from afar. “And you are?”’

Her head snaps over her shoulder, then back.

His focus sharpens on her. His body still.

“Cadet Fassler, Military Division.”

Asaris’s eyes still lock with Fassler’s.

“I was invited.”

“Invited? By whom?” She queries.

The moment holds.

He takes her measure.

“By Admiral Delentis.”

He lets the name settle.

“The admiral invited you? FID?”

He doesn’t blink.

“We have protocols in the Military Division. If you’re going to be on the bridge, you should study them.”

Farah cuts in from the card table. “You usually announce inspections like this?”

Fassler’s expression tightens. Her eyes snap in Farah’s direction while the rest of her holds.

“Military ship, military protocols. Welcome aboard.”

Asaris’s posture evens.

“You done, or can we play?” Farah’s even voice comes from behind her. His cards rise, waving them over his head.

Her jaw tightens.

Asaris throws a glance at Farah, then back to Fassler.

Farah holds his pose.

A faint smile returns to Asaris’s face.

The military cadets pivot on their heels, almost in unison. Their pace measured.

“Impetuous humans.” Kiuto breathes out.

Fassler and the military cadets leave through the door.

The room settles.

Kuar eyes drop back to his book. He takes a sip from his beverage, unhurried.

Cards continue to play.

Iaro edges closer. “What did you do now?”

Asaris’s shoulders lift a fraction. “I reported in to Admiral Delentis.”

KURUKSHETRA — CORRIDOR

The corridor runs long and straight, tapering into distance. Voices barely reach the door as it parts open.

Cadets pour out into the corridor.

Goodnights pass between them.

Feet planted, Iaro waits by the door as the cadets drift down the corridor.

“Kurukshetra, lights.” Asaris’s voice flows past Iaro.

Light thins. Asaris emerges from the dark room. The door closes behind him.

He takes to the corridor without slowing. Iaro positions alongside, keeping close.

KURUKSHETRA — RESIDENTIAL DECK

Doors repeat along the corridor as it arcs gently along the hull. Warm light falls evenly on the walls, dispersing shadows.

Laughter travels ahead of the cadets as they round the bend.

Asaris stops at his door, 757. He opens the jacket in a quick series of clicks.

“Good night.” Chase’s steps take him further down the corridor, casual.

“Get some rest.” Asaris watches Chase leave.

“Here.” Plastic strains as Asaris reveals a ration bar from his pocket.

“Kij rations?”

He slaps it lightly into Iaro’s palm. “Tastes like fish food.”

“Fish food?”

“Yeah—good night.” Asaris’s eyes grow heavy.

Door 757 parts. A halo of light barely illuminates the small room.

Asaris taps Iaro’s back as he turns, stepping into the room.

Iaro’s attention drops to the object in his hand, then back to Asaris.

The door slides closed, cutting off the dim light from inside.

KURUKSHETRA — ASARIS’S QUARTERS

Asaris swings his jacket neatly over the back of a chair angled from the desk. He smooths any wrinkles flat.

A data pad lies neatly on the desk. An open book rests face down, next to it.

He sits, settled on his narrow bed. He takes a drink of water and sets the bottle back in place.

His fingers pop a latch from his wrist as he removes his tetrum, setting it neatly next to the bottle of water. The display settles to black.

His eyes drift.

The light from the nightstand catches on the stitching of his jacket.

The shadow doubles the seam, splitting it cleanly in two.

He watches it.

His hand hovers near the light, dropping slightly.

The light recedes. The shadow softens against the fabric.

His head tips.

He lowers his hand further. The light fades. The room falls to black.

A dull weight meets the floor. Then another.

Fabric whispers in the dark.

Crisp sheets rustle, then settle.

The sound thins to the faint hum of the ship.

Constant in the dark.

KURUKSHETRA — BRIEFING ROOM

Commandant Injirri stands at a lectern. Commandant Injirri stands at a lectern. A schematic resolves behind her, a slender structure terminating at a spherical signal mass.

She waits.

A murmur from the cadets spill into the room through the entrance at the back.

Cadets funnel in, filling the rows. Conversations overlap, claiming the room.

Asaris settles into a desk. “You notice how the room exhales when you stop talking?” He smirks to Farah in the row behind him.

He slumps forward as Farah shoves his shoulder. Farah drops into a desk.

“This looks important.” Farah’s chin directs Asaris’s attention to the display.

Asaris studies the schematic. A faint shrug.

Boots shimmy in the row ahead of Asaris. Sanmuoro lowers into the seat, already focused on the diagram.

“I know what that is.” His eyes lock onto the schematics.

Farah’s eyelids droop. “Oh, joy.”

Brevin and Iaro take position next to Injirri, their weight even on their feet.

“You’re seated. We’ll begin.” Her hands take the side of the lectern.

Conversations thin. The cadets settle into their seats.

All eyes on Injirri.

She appraises the cadets row by row with her eyes

“Cadets, this is a simulated systems-analysis exercise focused on communications degradation of a key communication relay. Current models attribute the disruption to Thi Kulan interference affecting relay throughput. Your objective is to assess relay integrity, identify points of failure, and recommend corrective action.”

Injirri is the last sound in the room.

Farah’s head turns left and right, he surveys the cadets. “Communication relay?”

“Yes, cadet.”

Sanmuoro’s eyes wide open, beaming.

His hand rises slowly, fingers rigid with restraint.

Injirri nods. “Cadet?”

Sanmuoro’s hand touches down on the desk softly.

“Lorig Regional?” His softened voice barely reaching Injirri.

“Yes.” She nods.

A grin reaches across him, he tries to restrain it.

Farah’s eyes roll.

A small smirk creeps over Asaris’s mouth, shaking his head. “What exactly is happening to the comms from the relay?”

“Initial reports are communication signals are not being received at their destination.” Injirri remarks.

A hand eclipses Injirri.

She pauses.

“Cadet Sanmuoro?”

“Do we get to board the relay?”

“Yes, Cadet Iaro will lead the field mission. Asaris, Farah, Kiuto...” she leans forward. “And Sanmuoro, will be field support.”

Sanmuoro fires a grin across the room as he looks across the room to Farah.

Farah’s hand drops on his desk. He slumps back in his chair.

“Cadet Brevin will be mission commander, all other cadets will be operational support or observing roles.” Injirri remarks.

A hush comes over the room.

Kiuto slowly investigates the room, turning his head.

Injirri’s eyes connect with Kiuto.

“Cadet Kiuto?”

“Is there presence of Thi Kulan forces?”

“Initial scans indicate there are no vessels or life forms present. We arrive at Lorig Regional Communication Relay in just under four hours. Cadet Kuar will preform a preliminary scan to ascertain the tactical situation.”

Aurroff shifts in his chair, eyes surveying the cadets. Aurroff raises his hand.

Injirri’s eyes press on Aurroff. “Aurroff?”

His hand returns to the desk. “Would not this be better suited for an engineering team?”

Asaris’s voice cuts in. “Why would the Thi Kulan have interest in this relay?”

Injirri’s head turns toward Brevin. She takes a step back as Brevin advances to the podium

“Our role is to investigate interference. Among us, we have the skills, both operationally and technically, to make a recommendation of a solution, if any, and report our findings. Their intent is unknown.”

Injirri’s fixes back on Asaris.

A docking arm and port of the station resolves on the display.

Iaro steps forward as Brevin yields the lectern.

“As we dock, the primary docking port takes us to Operations. This main shaft,” Iaro points, “takes us to the core of the relay.”

His arm drops back to his side.

“We will initially diagnose locally in Operations. Only if necessary do we enter the core.”

He passes the room back to Injirri.

“You have your orders. Databases are live. Follow your team leaders.”

LORIG REGIONAL COMMUNICATION RELAY

The station rests in the black, distant stars behind it.

The Kurukshetra closes on Lorig Regional, measured and controlled.

A shadow overtakes over the station.

A wave of metal eclipses the relay—slow and deliberate.

The Kurukshetra’s hull carries forward long after her shadow claims the relay.

Space between hull and docking arm narrows.

Docking ports align.

KURUKSHETRA DOCKING PORT

Iaro and Asaris peer out the portal of the airlock.

Green and red flashes strike their faces and the white metal.

Red. Green. Red. Green.

The relay grows as space and stars recede.

A metallic shudder rolls through the port as the two vessels lock.

RELAY INGRESS

Over the airlock door, red shifts to green.

A sharp hiss fractures silence as pressure equalizes.

The inner hatch rolls in uneven increments into the bulkhead. Metal shuddering returns and diminishes.

The team pauses outside the threshold.

The ceiling flat. The walls curve outward.

No systems hum. No ventilation. Nothing breaths.

Sanmuoro’s boot falls first into the airlock. His stride continues uninterrupted.

The boots of the others stay planted.

Worn metal lines the walls frame Sanmuoro. His eyes reach up to the ceiling. The light dampened by age.

Asaris breaks from the rest of the cadets, meeting Sanmuoro in the airlock.

His eyes sweep the chamber. He finds nothing.

Iaro’s foot lands inside threshold. Kiuto follows without hesitation. They duck passing through the airlock door.

Farah’s mouth pulls sideways. He delays his step and then joins them in the ingress.

The airlock door rolls, sealing the entrance.

The chamber goes flat.

Every movement sounds sharp.

Farah’s eyes squint at the seams of the walls.

He breaks the silence. “What’re we here for again?”

Kiuto’s eyes glare down on Farah. “Investigate the relay.”

“Oh.” Farah’s eyes drift over the patina of the metal. “Right.”

Boot scrape. Iaro reaches, turning an apparatus next to the second airlock door.

Metal rumbles. A low grind proceeds the roll of the door.

The walls of the corridor vault downward in a shallow arc.

The team pushes forward. Sanmuoro ahead of them.

Irregularly paced footsteps dominate the space.

OPERATIONS

The entrance door widens, the cadets pass through.

Layered composite press against the starfield. A metallic sphere lies against a star field.

The room runs shallow and wide. Metal and light worn to monochromatic tone. Hard angles interrupt curves.

Sanmuoro’s eyes dance over a compendium of technology.

The cadets’ boots planted, they cock their heads observing the room.

Farah’s nose wrinkles. “Months since our last offworld,” looking around, “and we end up in a museum.” His voice decays into the chamber.

Sanmuoro lowers onto a seat. It settles with him.

His hands trace over computer panels. “This is Unification-era,” Sanmuoro says, eyes already tracking the console lines. “Late standard.”

Asaris’s weight rests evenly on his heels.

His eyes follow the panels overhead then to Sanmuoro. Eyebrow raised. Unimpressed.

Cadets take to different parts of the room.

Asaris leans in to the windows. His eye reach to see the structure connecting to the sphere.

“The core?”

A smile comes across Sanmuoro’s face. “That’s it.”

Their gaze holds for a moment.

“It facilitates millions of data streams to travel at superluminal speeds, over thousands of light years.”

Brevin’s voice thins through their tetrums.

“Field team, what’s your status?”

Iaro shoulders square as he approaches Sanmuoro. “We’re in operations. Beginning our analysis.”

Sanmuoro drops into his chair. An interface spreads across the display.

We’re routing additional details to you now.”

The computer panel responds to Sanmuoro’s fingers.

“Diagnostics engaged.”

Farah and Kiuto pair in the corner.

Metal pops, Kiuto pulls a panel from the wall revealing nodes and pathways.

Farah leans in, drawing a scanner from his jacket. He sweeps it across the exposed nodes.

Sanmuoro’s voice intrudes from behind them.

“Amazing piece of technology. The core creates a subspace isonomic paracline, allowing signals from one subspace layer to be redirected to another. Better reach, better signal integrity.”

Farah arm pushes into the opening in the wall.

“Great!” His voice carries to the others.

In a softer voice, “His mission report is going to read like a love letter... Dear Commandant Injirri, today I met the most beautiful obsolete—“

Kiuto swallows a growl.

“My report will also include my recommendation that Farah and Kiuto get more partner assignments.” Sanmuoro swivels in his chair.

Asaris locks eyes with Iaro. He grins.

Iaro diverts the conversation. “Diagnostic?”

“Still in progress,” Sanmuoro replies.

Chase’s voice breaks in over comms.

”Field team?”

“Go ahead,” Iaro confirms.

”We’re analyzing the transmissions of the relay. Paraclinal excitation hasn’t deviated. Saturation index remains at ninety-nine percent since out arrival.”

Iaro leans into the console with Sanmuoro.

“We’re looking into it. Stand by.”

The interface of the computer holds Sanmuoro’s attention.

“That means the relay is near operating capacity.”

“Not normal?” Iaro questions.

Sanmuoro’s eyes don’t break from the display. “Unexpected. I can’t imagine how a relay this far from UIF core space would be at maximum. The relay is old, but it was engineered to serve an entire region of space—not just Lorig.”

Sanmuoro continues to work.

Chase speaks again over comms.

“Additional details: scans do not show any signs of foreign technology aboard.”

“Understood. Continuing our analysis,” Iaro replies.

Light emits from a display opposite the windows, drawing Asaris’s attention.

He studies the display.

Transmission Output

His eyes follow dozens of bars of various lengths, their endpoints shifting back and forth.

He flicks his finger over a filter.

The display resolves, the noise falling away.

One stream swells to fill the graph. Two others shrink to slivers at the edge.

UIF Command and Military
UIF Divisions

Asaris’s focus shifts to the one long bar, then to the short one.

A message writes across Sanmuoro’s display.

System Nominal

Additional text scrolls over the display.

Sanmuoro settles back in his chair. “Everything is... optimal.”

He monitors the display.

Farah shifts his grip on the wall panel. “Remote diagnostics—“ he breaths. “—read the same.”

The wall panel locks into place as Kiuto pushes.

“Operations hardware appears intact,” he says.

The two cadets form up next to Sanmuoro. Their focus falls on his display.

The team pauses for a moment.

Asaris breaks the silence.

“What about the core?”

PARACLINAL CONSTRAINT CORE

Metal rattles as the airlock door opens. The rumble sustains in the cavernous space.

A low tone ebbs, swelling and fading in a spherical chamber.

The chamber absorbs Asaris, Iaro, and Sanmuoro presense. No one speaks. Even Sanmuoro stays at the threshold.

Rings turn within rings, suspended in the center, sweep the chamber’s diameter.

An even light persists leaving no shadows.

The deep tone swells.

The metal grate walkway receives Iaro and Asaris’s boots. Their stride measured, Sanmuoro comes up from behind.

Girders reach to the upper structure. The walkway stretches out in front of them, ending in a spherical chamber.

The tone ebbs as they draw nearer the rings.

The station recedes behind them.

Asaris’s fingers wrap around a railing.

His eyes trace the walkway curving along the perimeter of structure. Then back to one of the rings returning after a long revolution.

The air pulls at their jackets as the it sweeps past them. The tone swells.

For a moment, the air cools, their breath hangs.

Sanmuoro reaches his head out over the basin as another ring rises from below them.

Their attention sharpen on a sphere at the center of the ring. The light along the edges splits into fine bands of color.

The core draws Asaris’s gaze inward. The rest of the room distant, a tightening at the base of his vision.

Moments pass.

A dulled voice pulls at him. “Asaris?”

Another moment.

“Asaris?”

A ring sweeps across breaking his focus.

Iaro’s hand tightens on Asaris’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“What is this?” Asaris squinting. His attention shifts to Iaro.

Sanmuoro cuts in. “Oh... subspace subduction. It may not be as well controlled as current technology—low-amplitude, wide-field oscillations. Keep your mind on task.”

Iaro grumbles. “Anything else you want to warn us about?”

Sanmuoro’s shoulders lift for a moment.

“But here’s a coherence protocol. I say a word. You respond with a complimentary word.”

They wait.

“Green.” He points to Iaro.

“Field.”

Sanmuoro answers with a nod, pleased.

“Good thing Farah isn’t here. Where do we start?” Asaris says.

Sanmuoro produces a data pad from his jacket.

“I recommend we start with the transmitter coils.”

“Lead the way,” Iaro waits.

The data pad responds to Sanmuoro’s fingers.

A diagram draws onto the screen of the pad.

Boots drop on the metal grate of the walkway.

“Here.” Sanmuoro stops.

“What’s here,” Iaro questions.

“The transmitter coils... a portion of them, rather,” Sanmuoro replies.

Asaris’s eye search the wall arching over them. “The wall?”

A smile pulls at Sanmuoro’s mouth.

He settles on the balls of his feet. He lifts a panel on the walkway revealing a lever.

Wrapping his fingers around the lever, he pulls.

Sanmuoro crains his next looking up at Asaris. “Level.”

The tone ebbs as a vibration runs through the walkway.

Metal claps, ringing through the chamber.

Low whirring overtakes all other sounds. The wall parts along the vertical seem from equator to pole and pushes towards them.

A rumbles takes the chamber as the wall panel slides along the other.

Soft green light washes over the chamber cast from cylinders lining the curvature of the chamber.

Iaro and Asaris marvel.

“Release.”

Sanmuoro grins.

Sanmuoro’s attention drops to his data pad. “This is just one eighth of the coils. But they all seem to be intact. No alterations.”

He taps the data pad. “I’m going to run a local diagnostic on all coils but if these are functioning, I can’t imagine what else would cause such a massive degradation as reported.”

Asaris’s fixes on the core, then following one of the rings.

The ring sweeps past them.

Iaro’s eyes hold steady on Asaris. “I’m waiting.”

“The core is normal. Hardware normal. Systems operating optimally.”

His weight shift to one leg.

“Why are comms degrading?”

His eye meet with Iaro’s.

“Or rather, what comms are degrading?”

Sanmuoro cuts into the conversation. “Diagnostic complete. Confirmed. All coils check out.” He shrugs.

They stand together quiet for a moment.

Asaris’s eye lock back on the core. “If the Thi Kulan wanted to disrupt comms, why not destroy the relay?”

The tone swells.

“That would aligned with Thi tactics.” Iaro says.

“But this is a simulation.” Sanmuoro interjects.

A reluctant dip of Iaro’s chin. “Let’s get back to ops.”

OPERATIONS

The airlock door rolls into the bulkhead.

Farah reclines in a chair. Kiuto stands watch.

Footfalls deliberate and even, Asaris walks to the display on the wall. Iaro and Sanmuoro fallow close behind.

The display responds to Asaris’s finger taps.

“What’s the status of the core,” chair rocks as Farah’s foot wags on the console.

A chair rolls to a console, Sanmuoro seated. “This relay is working just as well as the day it was brought online.”

Iaro peers over Asaris’s shoulder as a bar swells and another remains short on the display.

“What is this chart telling us?” His knuckle taps the display.

Iaro aligns himself next to Asaris.

Farah and Kiuto shift, eyes on Asaris and the display.

Sanmuoro chair swivels. He faces the display.

“That’s output... transmission traffic.”

“And is it normal?” Asaris questions.

Kiuto’s eyes land on the short bar. His finger pokes at it.

“Why is this bar so small?”

Farah cuts in, “Other divisions?”

“Well, military transmissions... are... usually,” Sanmuoro’s words break up.

His fingers land back on the console.

“If the system is functioning at capacity—” Iaro questions.

“Then that’s a lot of Military traffic.” Asaris adds.

Only the taps of Sanmuoro’s fingers are heard.

Kiuto’s finger presses into the display, “For Lorig Regional.”

Asaris’s eyes flick over the chart.

“Where is the Thi Kulan intervention here?” Each word lands harder than the last.

Kiuto breaks away from the display.

“There isn’t any.”

Iaro’s eyes break first. “Sanmuoro, you said this relay is working as it did when it came online? Do we have logs from that period?”

“One moment,” Sanmuoro’s finger crescendo on the display.

Lorig Regional Communication Relay
Registration: 97-Γ67, Palomar Frontier Relay
Type 11 Relay
Status: Reclassified – Regional Communications, Civilian Access
Operational Uptime: 4,567,997.22 hours

“Uptime is just under 4.6 million hours. It roughly came online 521 years ago. Registration nine-seven dash gamma-six-seven”

He pauses. His face shifts from curiosity to inquisition.

“This relay was originally deployed in the Milky Way.”

Asaris looks down, his brow furrowed.

“This puts it around first UIF-Kij’bel conflict.”

Asaris fingers flick over the interface. The display redraws.

Operational Origin Load
UIF Military
UIF Divisions
Civilian
Non-aligned

The civilian and non-aligned bars swell.

“There is multiple civilian and non-aligned traffic coming into this relay. Where are they going?”

“Cached. Almost eighty percent of incoming communication is being cached.” Sanmuoro states looking at his display.

“Military prioritization.” Iaro says.

“Priority bandwidth compensation, technically.” Sanmuoro says.

A fist descends on the computer panel as Kiuto step into the conversation. “They’re drowning out transmissions!

Asaris breaks in, “But why restrict public comms rather than military?”

Sound drops from the room. The cadets speak only with their eyes.

Asaris’s lips part. His words come later.

“Lorig Regional?”

A chime signals from overhead.

“What is the current alert status of the UIF Fleet?”

A female voice surrounds them.

“UIF fleet-wide status is current Condition Yellow.”

Farah stops rocking in his chair.

Asaris turns to the display. Iaro comes along side.

“This is all contradictory. Is the alert status causing the communication prioritization or Thi Kulan intervention causing the alert status?”

Eyes search other consoles.

The room waits.

The interface responds to Sanmuoro’s fingers.

“Comms traffic incoming was normal, output is off.”

Iaro stands over Sanmuoro.

“Where did these comms end up?”

“They’re stored in local memory. The communiques aren’t gone,” Sanmuoro explains. “They are being transmitted but trickling out.”

With one stride, Kiuto encroaches on their space.

“This is what we report.“

Asaris turns to Sanmuoro. “Sanmuoro, what is your recommendation to... resolve this concern?”

“The relay needs contextual distribution adjustments. It still is operating like it was during the war,” he says to Asaris. “But only recently.”

“Can we fix this?” Iaro asks.

“Negative. We’d need higher access to core principles of the relay. It’s the most secure part of the substrate.”

“But we can recommend that course of action report,” Farah suggest.

“Our orders are to investigate the behavior of the relay,” Iaro says.

“And this is our conclusion. No Thi Kulan intervention. UIF fleet-wide alert status causing military prioritization—“

Sanmuoro injects. “Priority bandwidth compensation.”

“Priority bandwidth compensation of communications. Which is suppressing public comms.” Asaris’s fingers tap, one, two, three on the display.

The room pauses.

Farah breaks the silence. “They brought us all the way out here for this?”

Asaris’s eyes meet Iaro’s. Still.

They wait.

Iaro’s eyes settle on the chart. “Transmit our findings.”

His eyes settle back on Asaris.

Sanmuoro’s voice threads through Operations. “Yes, sir. Transmitting now.”

Asaris’s attention returns to the display.

Civilian
Non-aligned

His eyes held by the information, he looks back at Iaro.

Iaro still watches him.

Chase breaks in over their tetrums.

”Acknowledged, field team. Come on home.”

Asaris’s attention returns to the chart. The bars continue to change.