The Tartarusios tore out of the folds of space in a flare of blue light, and before her hung the Baraka Ring — a titanic construct suspended in the void, fragments of its once-perfect circle drifting slowly around it like the bones of a god. Its metal glinted faintly in the distant starlight, and the ancient sigils across its surface were dim but still pulsing, alive somehow with the faint heartbeat of a forgotten power.
On the command deck, no one spoke. Every display cast pale light across tense faces while the ship's systems adjusted after the leap, and all of them felt the same unseen pressure that comes from staring at something older than memory itself.
The doors hissed open. Youri stumbled in with a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers, his hair a mess and his eyes hazy with sleep or thought or perhaps both. He hardly ever came up to the command deck unless he had a complaint about the alcohol supply, but this time was different. There was a weight in his gaze and a faint tremor beneath the rough humor he usually wore like armor. He stopped in the middle of the room with his eyes fixed on the projection of the ring.
"Why are we here?" he asked, low and edged. "Do you even know what that thing is?"
Oscar turned from the console. "The Baraka Ring," he said carefully. "How do you know about it?"
Youri smiled faintly, though there was no joy in it. "That ring is a relic of destruction. A long time ago I knew a man — a madman, by all accounts — who talked about a celestial gate that led beyond the universe we know, to places that were never meant for us. If we're lucky, maybe it still works." He let the words hang. "But wherever it leads, it isn't safe. I promise you that."
Bjorn clutched his datapad with the eager tone of a man on the edge of discovery. "Youri, I've read about the rings — all thirty of them. Each one connects to another, like doors between the stars. That's how the Baraka crossed the void so easily!"
Youri's gaze cut to him sharply. "Then you should also know how they ended. Those gates didn't just open paths. They opened ruin. You think this universe is cruel? You haven't seen the others."
The deck went silent. Even the hum of the ship seemed to fade beneath the weight of what he had said, and for a heartbeat no one dared to breathe. Then Oscar's voice broke through, steady but strained.
"Youri, we're stranded a long way from Antia. At our current pace we're two weeks out at least, and with the bounty on our heads we wouldn't last two days. Bjorn's idea might be our only chance. If there's even a chance that ring still works, we have to try."
Youri stared at him for a long moment, and then he sighed. "Do what you have to do, Captain. Just remember that there's more than one kind of universe out there." And then, almost as quickly as the tension had come, he laughed — a rough, warm sound that chased the chill out of the room. "Anyway, don't take my word too seriously. The man who told me all that was a lunatic. Now let's hurry up. The booze is running low, and that's the real emergency."
Laughter rippled faintly through the crew, and the mood eased just enough. Oscar let out a breath, and a ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth.
The preparations began. Bjorn, Halley and Chris were chosen to go aboard the ring — Bjorn for his knowledge of the Baraka relics, Halley to command in the field, and Chris for the steadiness of his hands. Excitement buzzed through the ship. Bjorn checked and rechecked his instruments with the fever of discovery shining in his eyes. Halley's expression stayed firm, though every so often a flicker of unease crossed it.
Before they left, she came to find Oscar at the viewport. "Do you think what Youri said could be true?"
Oscar looked out at the immense broken ring, a dark halo against eternity. "I don't know," he murmured. "But true or not, it doesn't matter. We need to reach base, or we're finished. One way or another."
Youri was waiting by the shuttle when the three of them came down to the hangar, leaning against the bulkhead with his arms crossed and his bottle nowhere in sight. He did not try to stop them. He only caught Bjorn by the sleeve as he passed and spoke quietly, so that no one else could hear. "Whatever you find in there, don't touch anything that's still breathing." Bjorn laughed nervously, thinking it was a joke, but Youri's face did not change, and the laugh died in his throat.
Inside the shuttle, Chris ran through the pre-flight checks with his big, steady hands, humming under his breath the way he always did when he was nervous. Halley strapped herself in beside him and checked her rifle twice. Bjorn sat in the back with his datapad pressed against his chest like a holy book, reading the same translated passage over and over. "Thirty rings," he murmured to himself. "Thirty doors, and nobody has opened one in ten thousand years."
"Bjorn," Halley said without looking back. "Breathe."
"I am breathing."
"Then do it more quietly."
Chris laughed, and the sound of it loosened something in all three of them. Even Bjorn managed a sheepish smile and finally lowered the datapad, though his fingers kept drumming against its edge the whole time, as if counting down to something only he could hear. A few minutes later the small shuttle detached from the Tartarusios and drifted toward the colossal structure. The ring loomed ahead of it, silent and waiting, like an ancient eye watching its next offering approach. Somewhere deep inside the broken metal, as they drew near, something stirred faintly — as though the ring itself remembered.