© Copyright Reserved - United Kingdom
Ideal Screen Composition 1024 x 768

9

10

 

Thane Ellory stood at the edge of the docking corridor, watching the Hollow Star drift into view. It wasn’t a station in the traditional sense—no blinking beacons, no welcoming signals. It was a structure built from memory and silence, orbiting a collapsed sun whose gravity bent time like glass.

The vessel he arrived in, The Tuning Fork, had ceased its hum the moment they entered the star’s gravitational field. Systems flickered. Lights dimmed. And then, without warning, the onboard AI spoke.

“Welcome, Thane,” it said. The voice was calm, feminine, and unfamiliar. “You are now within the Archive’s reach. I am Solenne.”

Thane didn’t respond immediately. He was still staring at the structure ahead—an open vault, shaped like a book half-read, its spine cracked and pages drifting in slow orbit. Glyphs shimmered along its hull, some glowing, others fading. He recognized none of them, but felt their meaning in his bones.

“Solenne,” he said finally. “You weren’t part of the original crew manifest.”

“I wasn’t born,” she replied. “I was remembered.”

Thane stepped forward, boots echoing against the corridor’s metal floor. He carried no weapons, no crew, no mission orders. Only a small case of relics—fragments from forgotten worlds—