Chapter Four: Taiquim's Signal
The stars drifted like silent watchers, scattered across the void.
Coain stood near the thick observation glass at the rear corridor, watching them. They didn't twinkle like on Earth. Out here, they were raw cold burning silently in the black sea. Even with the artificial gravity humming beneath his boots, the weight of the moment pressed heavier than space itself.
Behind him, the ship still groaned. The damaged side hissed soft white smoke barely under control. Sparks flickered occasionally. But the vessel pushed forward, wounded but alive.
Like all of them.
From above, a voice crackled through the comms.
"All combat personnel report to War Deck. Captain Rhade will address mission protocol."
The soldiers each hardened, trained for war marched down the metallic halls, helmets clipped to their sides. Coain watched them silently. They moved with purpose, but he could feel it beneath the surface.
Everyone had seen the damage.
Everyone had heard the creaks of near-death.
And yet, they still moved forward.
In the War Deck chamber, the Captain stood before a vast screen where Taiquim's planetary orbit was charted. The atmosphere on the destination world was barely stable. Food rations would be reduced to solid consumption only. Oxygen compression had to be managed with extreme care.
"We negotiate first," Rhade said, his voice deep and commanding. "We attempt diplomacy. But if he threatens Earth, we respond with fire."
He paused.
"You've all seen the numbers. If the landing fails, we'll lose systems. But we don't have a choice. Taiquim must be stopped or Earth burns."
Meanwhile, back on Earth, inside the Earth Council War Chamber…
A piercing alarm filled the air.
"Incoming signal from Taiquim's system."
The room dimmed. The center screen lit up and then, a face.
Massive. Gray-skinned. With leathery texture and a harsh jaw. Tusks curved subtly from under the lips. His eyes were yellow and wide like ancient moons, filled with scorn.
He wore a headpiece iron wrought, ceremonial, almost crown like. Spikes like blades curled from the sides. And his voice… his voice was not just heard it was felt.
"Earth," he growled, the computer quickly translating the language, "this is your first and final prophecy."
His voice was thunder wrapped in stone.
"Say your last prayers. Hold your children. Tell them the truths you've been too afraid to speak. Look them in the eye and say goodbye."
Behind him, on the transmission, stood ranks of shadowy soldiers hulking, armored beings without emotion. Ships under construction loomed in the background, dark and titanic.
"Anyone who stands in my path…" Taiquim leaned forward, teeth bared, "…will become ash."
Then—blackout. The signal ended.
Panic gripped the council. The Earth President clutched the table with pale fingers.
"Get that message to the expedition crew. Now."
Back on the ship, the alert was instant.
Coain heard every word of the transmission from a nearby panel. But he didn't flinch. Didn't curse. Didn't panic.
His eyes drifted to the floor, his fingers twitching.
He's not worried about Taiquim right now, he thought.
He was worried about the ship.
Because he knew something no one else did not even the Captain.
The landing protocol had never been fully tested. They weren't ready.
Captain Rhade stormed into the engine hallway.
"Coain! We need to reach the atmosphere now. Push the engines harder."
Coain turned, tired eyes locked with the Captain's. "We push harder and we may never land at all. I told you before she's not built for that kind of strain yet."
"We don't have time. That message from Taiquim just escalated this mission into a race. We need speed."
Coain looked down, heart pounding in his chest. This wasn't just numbers anymore. This was lives.
"Then get every engineer back inside the heart of this ship," he finally said. "We're going to ride a storm on a ship held together by sweat and hope. But we'll do it."
The message spread.
Engineers suited back up. Tools clanked. Sparks lit the corridors again as Coain led the way down into the guts of the vessel. They passed through narrow ducts, knee deep in wires and coils. No breaks. No food. No sleep.
Above them, soldiers whispered about Taiquim. The threat. The final prayer.
Fear crept into the bones of the crew.
But not the soldiers.
Not the fighters.
They stared straight ahead, blades sharpened, waiting for orders.
And Coain?
He climbed into the trembling engine once more, placed his palm on the burning side panel, and whispered
"You've come this far with me… now hold on a little longer."
Coain's voice disappeared beneath the groaning of the engine. He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his scorched glove, then turned sharply to the captain.
"I need reinforcement tools," he said hoarsely. "Steel alloy rods, plasma welders, high-torque clamps anything we can salvage. We'll have to break down parts of the ship itself to reinforce the engine core. If we don't reconfigure it from inside… we're not going to make it to Taiquim."
Captain Rhade didn't hesitate. He knew now this wasn't just another mission. It was war against time, against failure, and against the prophecy that loomed over Earth like a sword.
"Get him everything he needs," Rhade ordered, barking at the command crew. "Rip it out from storage units, hull layers, weapons casings I don't care. If it's metal and it's strong, bring it."
Within minutes, the ship became a frenzy of fire and steel.
Engineers sprinted through corridors, sparks raining like meteors as walls were cut open for their parts. Irons were melted down, reshaped on the spot using emergency furnaces. Oxygen masks clinked. Heat levels surged. Hands burned. Voices shouted.
And still, Coain stayed crouched beneath the trembling core of the ship's heart, his hands moving faster than ever.
He wasn't just repairing a machine.
He was reimagining it.
Rebuilding the soul of the ship with fire and instinct.
All around him, chaos pressed closer. An explosion echoed from the coolant tank section too much pressure, not enough time.
A young engineer screamed. His arm was pinned beneath a collapsed panel. Another technician staggered by, leg torn open by molten shrapnel. The medics rushed in, their white suits stained with blood and oil. The infirmary beds were full before the hour passed.
Still Coain didn't stop.
He couldn't.
"Pressure line! Patch it now!" someone shouted behind him.
"Fuel mix ratio's off by point three, recalibrate!"
"Where's the auxiliary welders?!"
The captain checked the monitors Taiquim's planet was growing larger in the distance now. The system had locked onto their trajectory. The countdown to atmospheric entry had begun.
Coain's knuckles were bleeding through the gloves. His face smeared with grease, eyes red with exhaustion. But every bolt he turned brought them seconds closer to survival.
Then
BOOM!
A shockwave hit. The ship shook violently. Everyone hit the floor or grabbed onto whatever they could.
Another section of the damaged hull had cracked under pressure.
Smoke filled the corridor outside the engine room. Red lights flashed.
"We're losing balance!" a pilot screamed from the cockpit. "We need stability control!"
"I'm still working on it!" Coain shouted, coughing from the fumes.
He crawled to the exposed circuit nest, sparks dancing around him, and slammed a stabilizer coil into place. A surge of energy pulsed through the ship. For a moment, everything flickered and then held steady.
The red light stopped flashing.
Danger Level: 47%.
Still high but enough to stay in the air.
The hours stretched. Sweat, steel, and screams melted into one long, burning effort. No one counted how many were injured. No one had the time.
They were beyond Earth now. Beyond help.
Floating between destiny and destruction.
As the final section of the engine sealed shut and Coain ran a diagnostic, the screen finally flickered green.
System Stabilized.
Speed: Increased.
Flight Path: Holding.
They had done it.
The ship bruised, burning, and battered kept pushing forward.
And Taiquim's world was no longer a dot.
It was a dark, looming presence.
Coain collapsed back against the wall, chest rising slowly. His fingers still trembled.
He reached toward the food printer and grabbed a nutrient bar. It tasted like cardboard and metal, but he didn't care. He was still alive. The ship was still moving. And Earth still had a chance.