Omega had already told him about the anomaly, about the non‑organic energy source, about something that shouldn't be there. But one thing had been overlooked in all the reports and scans. A detail no sensor could capture: the feeling that something terrible had happened in that place.
A massive crater opened before him, like a wound in the planet's surface. And at the bottom of the crater, a destroyed metallic object lay like the skeleton of a giant beast.
Dorian stopped at the edge, observing. The crater was at least a hundred meters in diameter, maybe more, its sloping walls covered in debris and dust that had accumulated for decades. And at the bottom, dimly lit by the lichens growing on the walls like fallen stars, lay the remains of something Dorian recognized instantly, even though he had never seen it in person.
Omega scanned it from above, activating all its sensors. The light of the scans swept across the crater like a beacon in the fog, revealing details invisible to the naked eye. The AI worked in silence, processing, analyzing, comparing.
Material: Helion nano‑alloy —Omega reported, and its voice sounded different, strange. It had lost that professional tone and adopted something dangerously close to astonishment—. Composition: 78% reinforced titanium, 15% ballistic ceramic, 7% electronic components. Estimated deterioration: centuries. Multiple cycles of exposure to the elements, corrosion from biological agents, projectile impacts. Conclusion: remains of a Helion vessel.
A Helion vessel… ancient? Dorian repeated mentally, as if he needed to process the information several times for it to feel real. What does that mean?
It means you are not the first to arrive here, sir —Omega replied, and there was something in its tone that Dorian couldn't identify. Respect? Fear? Admiration?—. It means Helion Astra knew about this planet. A long time ago.
—I already know that, Omega —Dorian answered quickly, and although he had reached the conclusion first, Omega was right behind him. The two thought the same thing at the same time, as they had so many times before.
But there was something else. Something that didn't fit.
—There's something strange about that —he said, bringing his fingers to his chin, his eyes losing all combat or playful glint to give way to a new one. Completely new.
His other self emerged: the explorer, the examiner, the one who didn't just kill monsters but tried to understand them. The one who asked questions instead of looking for easy answers.
—In the analysis before entering the canyon, you said the anomaly wasn't a Helion Astra vessel, right? —Dorian asked Omega, his mind working at full speed.
That is correct —Omega replied, and its voice had become more professional, more focused. Both knew when to adapt to the moment—. The energy signature did not indicate Helion technology. It represented a different signature. Something else. Something that did not match anything in our databases.
—Then that means only one thing —Dorian murmured, his eyes fixed on the wrecked ship below.
Indeed, sir. The signature faded due to our presence, releasing the composition of the ship's technology —Omega replied, anticipating Dorian's conclusion as it always did—. As if something had been hiding the true nature of these remains until we got close enough.
—Yes, that's the only thing that comes to mind —Dorian said, shaking his head slowly—. I can't think of anything else. But…
He paused, his eyes scanning the crater, the ship, the marks on the walls, the remains of what had once been an important mission.
—But how did these explorers end up like this? No —he corrected himself, the right question forming in his mind—. What the hell did they face? Or rather, what did they find?
His eyes now had that special gleam, one of concern. Not from fear—Dorian didn't know fear, at least not the paralyzing kind—but from not knowing what the hell he was going to face and how the hell he was going to prepare. Uncertainty was the most dangerous enemy, because you couldn't fight it with swords or strategies.
—Well, staying here won't solve anything —he murmured, more to himself than to Omega—. Nothing will be solved by just observing. Maybe another time, but right now, no.
Are you thinking of going down to investigate, sir? —Omega asked, and its voice now had a hint of… concern as well? Was it possible for an AI to worry? Dorian had always thought so, even if the manuals said otherwise.
—You know how I am, right? —Dorian replied, a crooked smile appearing on his lips—. I can't stay still without doing anything, especially with something like this right in front of my eyes. It would be like having an unopened gift on my birthday and deciding not to touch it. Impossible.
…
The silence said more than a thousand words. Omega didn't need to answer; its lack of objection was answer enough.
Dorian descended quickly into the crater. His boots absorbed the impact with each jump, the acoustic dampeners reducing sound to a minimum, but it wasn't stealth driving him now.
It was a different urgency, a need to know what the hell was happening here. A curiosity that had been stronger than fear for as long as he could remember.
When he reached the bottom, his eyes opened wide with surprise and something deeper: respect. The ship was wrecked, yes, but its shape was still recognizable. It was a Sigma exploration unit, no doubt about it.
Its design was older than any ship Dorian had ever seen in person—only in history manuals, training archives, virtual reality simulations—but the principles were the same. Helion engineering didn't change much over time; when something worked, it stayed.
—What was… a Helion ship doing here? —he murmured under his breath, more to himself than to Omega.
Helion Astra didn't send random missions. Every expedition had a purpose, an objective, a reason for being. Resources weren't infinite, and the Council didn't approve missions on a whim.
If a ship had been here, there was a purpose. The question was: what? What had they been looking for? And what had they found?
Omega projected data in real time, overlaying information on the wreckage with millimeter precision. Approximate identification: Sigma‑12 Unit. Listed as 'Missing' for 147 Helion cycles. Mission: exploration of uncharted systems. Crew: seven members. Last transmission received: coordinates in this sector. Then… silence.
147 cycles… Dorian did the mental calculation quickly. In standard terms, that was over a hundred years. A hundred years. This ship had been here, decomposing in this crater, for over a century. The remains of seven explorers, seven warriors, seven souls, had been waiting a hundred years to be found.
Dorian approached what had been the main cockpit. The hatch was sealed, but time and corrosion had done their work; it gave way with a push, opening with a creak that shattered the crater's silence like a scream in a church.
The sound echoed off the walls, multiplying, until finally it died out.