It began with images of Earth in turmoil and hope—grainy footage of old crises turned solvable, thanks to the Zhao Network’s birth. In a mere 150 megaseconds, that shared union of human minds and near-godlike intelligence ended scarcity, cured many diseases, and ushered in a new age. No one doubted we had changed forever. The only question left was: Are we ready to accept the mysteries waiting beyond our familiar worlds?
We found our first answer not in the gleaming domes on Mars or the swirling haze above Saturn but on Blue Two, a planet impossibly similar to Earth—whose hominid inhabitants sent out crude radio signals, never suspecting a response from the stars. The corridors linking that distant star to ours seemed deliberate, as though a grand cosmic architect had stitched mostly life-bearing suns together. Our starship Iter ad Astra One slipped through, revealing that somewhere in the galaxy stood others like us, shaped by eons of isolation. The moral quandary was immediate: Should Homo Universalis bring them advanced cures, end their every struggle in a flourish of knowledge? Or would that trample the slow, essential growth that made us, us.
Drifting in wide orbit around Blue Two was Juno Two, commanded by Admiral Ivonna Kuhle. She handled much of the diplomatic contact with Blue Two’s people: gently, carefully, never forcing them to accept what we had become. “One day they may join us,” she said, “but that is their choice.”
Most important Juno two, made it possible to go further out in the celestial corridors, functioning as a relay for cold jumping thoughts. After “the Great Disconnect,” a reminder of how physical distance could still sever us from the Zhao Network’s soothing hum.
And yet, the cosmos does not wait.
We are Starfarers
I am Joras, on the bridge of Iter ad Astra One, staring at star charts full of newly mapped corridors. It has been a brisk few kiloseconds since I last set foot near Earth. Rose and Zoey move around me. Mother Zhao, flickers in holographic form by the main console, her blond hair and green eyes an unchanging avatar for the intelligence knitted into all our thoughts.
“We’re losing the network’s signal strength,” Zoey murmurs, scanning the readouts. “Too many gravitational distortions to maintain a perfect link. Past this boundary, we’ll be at the farthest edges of the Zhao Network’s range.”
I give a slight nod, feeling that subtle tension in my chest: excitement touched with old anxieties. “All right, then. Lower the condensate entropy and prep us for the cold jump. We’ll slip outside the celestial corridors’ fringes and see what’s out there.”
A spark of readiness passes through us. This is what we do—push the frontiers. That is the dream Nick Graham once had: a Societas Universalis that could face unknown skies.
Zoey closes her eyes, fingertips drifting across the pilot’s console. She sifts through the quantum fields that form the corridors, coaxing space-time to fold around our ship. “Coordinates set, Captain.”
Rose glances over from her scientific station. “We’re reading a faint star system—bizarre gravitational readings. Possibly a craft out there, too. I’m picking up intermittent signals, unless it’s cosmic noise.”
My heart gives a quick pound. “A spaceship? Let’s find out.”
ANGI’s warm voice sounds in my mind as well as aloud: “Proceed with care, Joras. The unknown can test us as much as any moral dilemma.”
Investigation
Zoey executes the cold jump: a lightning flicker outside the viewport, a momentary churn in my stomach, and then the starfield reappears. We’ve arrived at a place where
cosmic dust glows a faint, eerie orange. The local sun is smaller and dimmer than ours—an ember among the stars.
Through flickers of static, we detect that signal again. It’s stronger here. Definitely artificial. Possibly a distress call?
“That pattern could be a beacon,” Rose mutters, leaning in. “Repeating intervals, slightly decaying amplitude. Something or someone crashed out here.”
“All right. Let’s triangulate. Zoey, take us closer. Keep shields on standby.”
We soon confirm an old vessel orbiting a rocky planet that whips around its sun in a lazy arc. The craft is battered, hull scorched by some catastrophic event. Rose’s scans show no signs of life inside, but it’s undeniably different from what we found on Blue Two.
Before we can investigate further, the planet itself demands our attention: it exerts a peculiar gravitational anomaly that tugs at our instrumentation. Perhaps that’s what doomed the vessel. Or perhaps its crew abandoned ship and fled to the surface, hoping for rescue.
ANGI suggests we land. “If there are survivors, they might have found shelter. Alternatively, the planet might hold clues to whomever built that craft.” Despite the creeping sense of danger, we prepare a descent.
Hope they’re docile
We come in low over ragged hills of scarlet rock, dust devils swirling beneath a pale sky. Our scanners highlight a faint metallic signature near a canyon. “Putting us down next to that ridge,” Zoey says. “Atmosphere’s thin but breathable with minor augmentation.”
The Iter ad Astra One touches down gently. Gravity feels lighter here, making each step a springy bounce. We carry standard sidearms—small lasers, mostly for deterrence—and the deeper unity of the Zhao Network resonates in our minds, though faint at these distances. An away ramp descends, revealing a wide, russet desert stretching under a hazy sun.
As soon as we step onto the dirt, Rose stiffens. “I’m picking up movement. Large life-forms, possibly circling the area.”
I flick the safety off my laser. “Hostile?”
ANGI’s melodic calm settles over us. “Their curiosity might be sparked by your landing, not aggression. But be watchful.”
Cresting a slope of wind-carved rock, we see them: hunched shapes scuttling among the dunes. Their hides glisten like hammered copper, and snouts sniffing the air. One rears up, letting out an echoing call that rattles my chest. Each stands taller than we are—pack hunters?
“We found the locals all right,” Zoey mutters. “They’re bigger than the docile grazers we’ve encountered on other worlds.”
A shuffle behind us—two more appear, cutting off retreat. We’re surrounded, the creatures moving in a slow ring.
Rose exhales. “They look hungry. Let’s keep them from getting any closer.”
I hold out a hand. “We’ll try to avoid lethal force. Fire a warning shot.”
A quick laser blast scorches the ground, sending dust pluming. The creatures startle but remain watchful. They’re testing us, probably deciding if we’re prey. Another tight circle forms. They’re too many. We might drive them off momentarily, but they’ll track us if we wander too far from the ship.
Zoey’s eyes flick to Rose. “We need a plan. If we just keep shooting, we’ll run out of power or corner them into an attack.”
Rose’s mind is already whirring. “What if we set up a sonic lure? Something that repels them from the shuttle entrance? Then we can slip out to investigate that metallic reading. With a bit of planning, we can funnel them away without harm.”
I allow a grin. “Clever. Let’s rig it up near that boulder outcrop. We create a trap or, better said, a decoy that’s more interesting to them than we are.”
ANGI’s voice threads softly in my mind: “Balance caution with kindness. They have as much right to this land as you do.”
Clever girl
Working swiftly, Zoey and Rose deploy a small beacon that emits low-frequency pulses. The pulses replicate the calls of some apex predator—an old trick from our xenobiology kit. Then they lace the area around it with a mild electric perimeter to deter any approach from us. If our guess is correct, the pack will fixate on the challenge or threat near the beacon, leaving us a corridor to slip around.
At first, the creatures snarl at the signal. But curiosity or territorial instincts soon draw them away from our path. We watch from a ridgeline as half their number approach the beacon in menacing formation. The others lurk, uncertain.
Finally, Rose nudges me: “Now’s our chance. Let’s move.”
We dash across the open ground. A swirl of wind whips red dust around our ankles. My pulse thuds. Even with Homo Universalis enhancements, confrontation with unknown predators triggers ancient adrenaline. But the beacon’s ruse holds, the pack staying behind to probe the source of that booming call.
We curve around a rocky slope until the metallic signature pings clearly on Rose’s device. At last, we find it: the remains of an escape pod half-buried in the dunes, hull cracked wide. Inside, metal fragments bear alien writing—curving script like vines. No sign of the occupant.
Zoey, running a scanner “We can’t track them further. Let’s gather what data we can, see if it matches the vessel in orbit.”
Rose collects carefully: photos of strange control panels, a battered helm, a short rod with a notched handle. The ship’s design is advanced but unfamiliar—suggesting an entire starfaring culture outside the corridors we know.
She stands, eyes bright with wonder. “This might be bigger than we realized. If there’s one crashed traveler, there could be more out there in the galaxy.”
Captain ANGI’s voice says the creatures have grown restless. They’re leaving the beacon site in search of you.
Zoey tenses. “Time to go.”
Trick me Twice
We hurry back. Over the ridge, the shuttle gleams in the dusty light. The creatures roam in front of it, some pawing at the ramp. My heart leaps: if they breach the interior, they could do real damage.
Rose looks to me with a calm nod. “We can herd them again. A second trap might push them back enough for us to sprint aboard.”
“On it.” Zoey primes a second sonic lure, this time broadcasting from the shuttle’s speakers. The ramp hisses open, revealing a small retractable turret. In a flash of cunning, Zoey flips it from lethal to “stun.” A wide-angle burst flares, startling the creatures.
They flinch as the sonic pulses build. The pack stumbles away, disoriented but unharmed, leaving a clear path. We dash up the ramp, sealing the hatch behind us. My lungs burn from the frantic run, dust caking my boots.
Moments later, safely in the cockpit, I slump into my seat. Zoey lifts off, thrusters kicking up a swirl of red grit. The beasts scatter in the wind, howling their frustration. An involuntary smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. We managed it—without violence, only wits and well-tuned illusions.
Rose, breathing hard, places the newly recovered relics on a side console. “Questions upon questions. We might be on the trail of starfarers who never encountered Homo Universalis.”
ANGI’s visage shimmers above the console. “This galaxy could hold countless societies—some advanced, some primal, each with its own arc. Are we prepared to meet them?”
Zoey’s gaze flicks from the relics to the overhead starfield. “Let’s get these relics to Juno Two”
I give a slow nod, letting my heartbeat settle. “Exactly. Let’s leave orbit and prep for the cold jump”
We ascend through thinning clouds, punching free into the silent vacuum. Far below, the copper-skinned fauna fade into distant specks. The battered starship orbits lonely and inert, awaiting a salvage we can’t fully provide. Maybe we’ll come back, or maybe we’ll press on. There is always more corridor to explore and souls we might meet.
As Iter ad Astra One breaks free from the planet’s tug, my mind drifts to the interior transformations we’ve all undergone to become Homo Universalis. The network in my head quiets momentarily, considering the implications of more starfarers.
Zoey manoeuvres into position to rejoin the celestial corridors. A final hush crosses the bridge. We each reflect on what we gained: the knowledge that yet another starfarer existed; a glimpse of savage but awe-inspiring life on a world swirling in dust and light. And, perhaps most crucially, the reaffirmation that we can solve challenges with subtlety, not domination.
“Coordinates set,” she whispers, faint excitement in her voice. “We heading back to Juno Two or deeper along the corridor?”
Rose’s gaze flicks to me. “I’d like to hand these relics off to Admiral Ivonna, see if they match any known star patterns. Then… who knows?”
ANGI nods. “One corridor leads home, another leads deeper. Either way, I trust your choices.”
I meet Zoey’s eyes. “We’ll jump to Juno Two first. They should see what we found. And if there’s a chance of tracking the occupant, we might glean how they arrived here.”
She breathes, “Understood.”
The hum of the cold jump intensifies. Space itself folds in shimmering arcs. I sense the entire Zhao Network at the cusp of this threshold, curiosity spiking even through the distance. In a final heartbeat, my mind replays all we endured on that dusty world—the alien pack circling, the adrenaline, the puzzle of an unknown starship. Then light collapses, and we leap.
Back on Juno Two
We arrive in the swirling vantage of Juno Two’s orbit, the massive station glimmering above Blue Two’s turquoise sphere. This place is testament to who we’ve become: starfarers, watchers, bridging worlds gently. I picture Admiral Ivonna waiting in the docking bay, prepared to see what relics we’ve brought. I see, too, the starlit silhouette of Earth in memory—the place we once called home, whose hardships led us to unify in the Zhao Network.
As the ship glides in, I catch Rose’s quiet grin, Zoey’s triumphant nod. ANGI’s image stands watch, luminous with calm pride. We have faced another unknown, and we have chosen caution over arrogance. If there is any measure of our readiness to be Societas Universalis, perhaps this is it: the willingness to solve immediate dangers, yet leave each planet free to remain itself.
Our airlock aligns. Machines hiss and clamp. The corridor door slides open, revealing the pristine interior of Juno Two. With the new relics in hand—and a story to share—we disembark. Admiral Ivonna greets us with relief on her face, as if she half-expected some grim outcome. We exchange weary smiles.
“We had a run-in with the local wildlife,” Zoey says, patting her dusty uniform. “Nothing we couldn’t handle with a bit of creative trickery.”
Ivonna lifts an eyebrow. “And the signal?”
Rose places the alien rod gently into Ivonna’s hands. “From a crashed starfarer. No sign of them left, but they were definitely advanced, from outside our known corridors.”
Ivonna’s gaze lingers on the artifact. “Then the galaxy might hold more travelers than we thought.” She looks at me, expression a mix of awe and acceptance. “We keep discovering new complexities, don’t we?”
I breathe a quiet chuckle. “Yes. And each time, we face the same question: are we humble enough to meet them with an open hand instead of an iron grip?”
Her hand closes around the relic. “I think we are.”