"They are not gods. They are what gods feared becoming." - Famous Rusa Quote On Humans.
The drive back to the outpost took three long, silent hours, winding through alien landscapes that refused to become familiar. The terrain shifted like a slow dream—rolling redstone dunes giving way to jagged, crystalline ridges that caught the sun in shards of color, casting fractured rainbows across the dust. Towering, rootless trees with bone-white trunks rose from crevices, their spined leaves twitching faintly as if tasting the rover's passage.
Priene didn't say a word during the journey. She kept her eyes forward, both hands on the wheel. Her silence felt intentional, not cold but heavy with thought. Every so often, her gaze flicked to the horizon, alert, calculating. Kali wanted to speak, to ask her more about the humans, about the obelisk, about what in all the stars was going on but the words stayed coiled in his throat.
So he remained quiet, left alone with his thoughts as the rover bumped and hissed over the strange, shifting surface of this world.
As the hours dragged on, the sky began to dim, turning the strange world a shade of violet-gray. Twin moons emerged, one jagged, one smooth, their reflected light painting ghostly shadows that stretched across the path ahead. By the time they crested the final ridge, the sun was a sliver on the horizon, and the outpost came into view.
A high, reinforced wall circled the compound, pieced together from pressure-welded scrap and prefabricated barrier segments, its surface scuffed with age and scorch marks. Spikes of welded rebar jutted from the top like the spines of some defensive creature, and strips of faded solar netting flapped weakly in the wind.
"Welcome to the Fort Harlow," Priene said at last, her voice dry with fatigue as they passed through the gates.
Within those walls, the layout was simple but efficient. Massive cargo containers, some stacked two or even three high, had been converted into living quarters, labs, and storage units. Each container bore old markings from long-dead corporations, their logos now scratched and partially repainted with planetary survey codes. Narrow walkways of metal grating connected the upper levels, supported by scaffolding and tension cables that groaned slightly when the wind picked up.
He leaned closer to the window, watching strange, graceful beings—some humanoid, some not—move among the streets. There were lights, music in an alien scale, the smell of ozone and something sweet carried on the breeze.
"It's all very strange," he muttered, entranced by the views that were so unearthly.
"It's my home," she replied as the vehicle came to a stop at the Main hub. A squat octagonal building, weather-stained and humming faintly with generator noise. Thick armored cables snaked out from it like veins, feeding power to the surrounding structures. Its surface was patched with irregular metal plates, suggesting damage and hasty repairs, scars of past encounters or environmental wear.
Soldiers dressed in brown military fatigues gathered quickly around the rover as it hissed to a stop, dust still swirling from the journey. Their uniforms were dusty and weather-worn, but their movements were sharp, weapons slung casually but close at hand. They had the look of people used to being on edge.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with a cropped beard stepped forward, flashing a grin that was too bright to be entirely sincere. "Was beginning to get worried," he said, his voice carrying easily over the hum of the rover's cooling system. "Thought you got eaten out there."
Priene stepped down from the vehicle without missing a beat, her expression flat. "You should be more worried about whatever tries to eat me."
A few of the soldiers chuckled, but the tall man kept his eyes on her, amused. Then his gaze shifted to Kali, who was clambering out of the other side, blinking at the sudden light and attention.
"Who's the runt?" the man asked, eyeing Kali with a half-smirk, half-suspicion. "Another stray?"
Without so much as a glance in Kali's direction, Priene said flatly, "Cuff him and toss him in the brig."
The tall man stepped forward, pulling a pair of flex cuffs from his belt with practiced ease. Before Kali could react, his wrists were snapped together with a sharp zip of synthetic cord, and a firm hand clamped onto his arm, dragging him away from the rover.
"Hey! Wait—wait, you can't do this!" Kali barked, struggling as the man grabbed his arm and began dragging him away. "I haven't done anything! She brought me here! I—"
"Quiet down," the man muttered, not unkindly but firmly, hauling him toward a side building reinforced with heavy plating and a biometric lock.
Kali turned desperately to Priene. "You said—!"
"Hey," Priene called out, finally turning her head toward the bulky soldier. Her tone was calm but held a subtle authority. "Run bloodwork on him first. Priority scan. I want full genomic analysis, not just basic markers."
The man stopped mid-stride, frowning. "Why?"
"Just do it," she said, already walking toward the command building without looking back.
The soldiers exchanged glances. The big one muttered under his breath, then nodded and gestured for one of the others to fetch a med kit. Kali stood in the middle of it all, still cuffed, heart pounding, confusion and fury swirling through him like a storm.
He didn't know what bloodwork would prove. Would they find out he was human? What would that mean?
An object—cold and metallic—was pressed against Kali's forearm. There was a sharp hiss, followed by a sudden sting as the device pierced his skin with a needle so fine he hadn't even seen it. A flash of pain flared through his arm, more from surprise than injury. The device glowed briefly, humming as it extracted the blood, then clicked and retracted, leaving behind a small red dot on his skin.
He barely had time to process it before the bulky soldier, grabbed him by the elbow and led him wordlessly through a short corridor lined with armored doors. One of them hissed open, and Kali was shoved inside a narrow cell. The door slid shut with a dull clang, locking him behind a wall of translucent alloy.
The room was sparse, with barely a bed, a sink, and a flickering ceiling light that gave off a faint, sterile buzz. He sat on the edge of the bunk, wrists still aching from the cuffs, and tried to control his breathing.
For the next hour, Kali's nerves were coiled tight, every sound making him flinch. His mind reeled with scenarios: dissection, interrogation, and worse. He imagined doctors in clean white suits slicing him open just to figure out where he was from. Or what he was.
The door finally slid open again with a hydraulic sigh. The big man stepped inside, a folded bundle of dark gray clothes tucked under his arm.
"How are you settling in?" he asked with a sheepish grin.
Kali didn't answer. He just stared at him, jaw tight.
Leaning against the wall casually. "No hard feelings, buddy. Just following orders. You know how it is." He tossed the clothes into the cell. "Name's Markus, by the way. Try not to hold the cuffs against me."
Still silent, Kali picked up the clothes, lightweight, functional, clearly military surplus. The fabric smelled faintly of disinfectant and dust. Markus turned around to give him privacy, humming something off-key under his breath.
Once Kali was dressed, the door slid open again, and Markus nodded approvingly. "You clean up well. Let's go, the commander wants a word."
They walked in silence, moving through metal corridors that buzzed with faint electrical currents and the sound of distant machinery. Other personnel moved past them without so much as a glance—soldiers, engineers, one or two people in white lab coats, each occupied with their own routines.
Finally, they reached the main hub. The door to the interrogation room opened with a chime, and Kali stepped into a small chamber lit by a single ceiling panel. The air inside was cool and sterile, but not hostile. A metal table sat in the center, flanked by two seats on either side.
Priene was standing, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Across from her sat an older man with close-cropped silver hair, a long scar running down the side of his jaw, and eyes that looked like they'd seen too many wars.
"Kali," the man said, his voice calm but commanding. "Have a seat."
Kali sat, staring at the man with what he hoped was a fearless look.
"Relax, no one wants to hurt you," the commander said, his tone softer now, more measured. He leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers interlaced over the table. "My niece found you alone in the Corona Expanse. According to her, you claimed to have fallen into a wormhole and ended up here. Do I have that right?"
"Yes," Kali said, voice steady, though his palms still felt damp with tension.
The commander nodded slowly. "Do forgive how we received you. That level of caution has kept us alive for many years. We ran a full genomic analysis, but we couldn't pin down your species. You share some basic gene markers with the Rusa, but beyond that… nothing conclusive."
"The Rusa?" Kali asked, fumbling with the unfamiliar syllables. His voice cracked slightly, betraying his nervousness.
"Yes," the man said. "They make up about seventy percent of the residents in this outpost—me, my niece, Markus included. Which means either your people have never made contact with the wider networks... and your story checks out."
Kali swallowed. He could feel Priene's eyes on him, studying his every twitch like a scanner. He hadn't known how much she'd told them—or how much she believed.
"So," she said, finally breaking her silence and unfolding her arms. "What are your people called, then?"
Kali hesitated. A dozen thoughts swarmed his mind. What if humans are truly extinct? What if they consider the word 'human' sacred, or worse, cursed? He couldn't risk it. He needed time.
"Kreithian," he said, the word tumbling from his lips before he could second-guess it. It sounded alien enough. He prayed they wouldn't sense the lie.
But the commander just nodded. "Kreithian," he echoed, trying the word out like it was a mineral sample. "Never heard of them. But given your unique circumstances, that's not surprising."
He stood, his chair scraping back. "You'll be escorted to a sleeping quarter—get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll decide what to do with you, if you'll be staying."
"Thank you," Kali murmured, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders. The relief hit him like a cold stream down his spine, washing through the aches and tightness he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.
The commander turned and exited the room with Priene close behind. She didn't look back.
Markus entered a moment later, smiling faintly. "Come on."
Kali followed him through the winding halls of the outpost. The layout was haphazard—stacked metal containers had been welded together into makeshift buildings, reinforced with scavenged plating and crude architecture. Pipes ran along the ceilings, some leaking faint steam. Cables looped over hooks like metallic vines.
Markus led him to a modest container at the edge of the compound. It had a small window slit, a basic door, and a faint humming sound of a filtration unit. He keyed it open and gestured inside. "Home sweet home."
Inside was a narrow cot with a thin mattress, a metal shelf bolted to the wall, and a ceiling light that pulsed faintly. A small water basin sat in one corner. It wasn't much, but after everything, it felt like luxury.
The door slid shut behind him with a faint hiss.
Kali stood still for a long moment, staring at the cot. Then his knees gave, and he collapsed onto it, limbs heavy and mind blank. Only now did the silence wrap fully around him, a silence so complete it filled every crevice of his mind. No alarms. No burning hull. No shouting.
He hadn't had time to process it before. But now, curled on that thin mattress beneath an unfamiliar sky, he remembered Earth. He remembered the Daedalus One—its gleaming white corridors, its promise of exploration, and the faces of those who had laughed and worked beside him.
He remembered the fire. The screams. The silence afterward.
His breath hitched. Tears welled up and spilled over, hot and fast.
And for the first time since he had left his hometown for the States, Kali sobbed—quietly, painfully, alone in a foreign world.