Zoma's voice echoed through the control room, calm and sharp. Every word carried the weight of something far older than any of them could understand. Bjorn, Chris and Halley stood motionless while the truth sank in. All three of them were remembering Youri's warning — half a drunken tale and half a whisper of dread — that now stood confirmed in front of them.
Zoma's eyes glimmered faintly as the hum of the ring resonated around them. She could feel the ancient machinery stirring, a rhythm she had not sensed in eons, and when she turned to look at the three humans, she recognized the fire in their faces. It was the same fire she had once seen in her creators: the desire to cross into the unknown and touch the forbidden edges of existence. These wanderers had not come to study her world or scavenge its bones. They had come for the passage — the portal that even empires had once been afraid to open.
"If your mission is to travel to the next ring," Zoma said, her form shimmering in the dim light, "you may do so. But I must warn you. Once you pass through the gate, you will no longer be traveling through this universe. You will be crossing a corridor that links many others to this one."
Her voice was smooth, almost musical, but it pierced the air like a blade, and the crew exchanged a long look.
Halley drew a breath and kept her tone controlled. "I'm going to call our captain. We need to talk about this."
Curiosity flickered in Zoma's glowing eyes. "You have a ship out there? I can send my projection into one of your devices and come with you, if you don't mind. I'm very curious to see what this age has achieved."
Bjorn leaned close to Halley and lowered his voice. "I don't think that's a good idea. She could hijack the ship's systems in seconds."
Zoma gave him a soft, almost human smile. "Don't worry, wanderers. I have duties here — ancient ones. I have no wish to leave."
Halley straightened and met the being's eyes. "Then I can arrange a meeting with our captain. But only if you promise to let us through the gate and guide us to the ring we need."
"As long as you are ready to face the consequences," Zoma said, quiet but firm, "I can send you to any ring that still breathes."
So the decision was made. It was dangerous, but if they wanted to understand the rings, there was no one better to ask than the mind that had once governed them. As they made their way back to the shuttle, the air in the metal corridors seemed to tighten around them, and the shadows looked longer than they had on the way in. A being older than empires was about to step aboard their ship, and none of them could shake the unease that crept into their chests.
When the shuttle slid back through the hangar doors, Oscar was already waiting. Halley had briefed him on the way, and even so, the story had sounded impossible. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the craft. The moment the hatch opened, he stepped forward. "Where is it? This Zoma?"
Bjorn raised the DTI device carefully. "We need to connect her to a holographic terminal first."
They made their way toward the control room, every step seeming to echo louder than the last. As they passed the galley, Youri was leaning lazily in the doorway with a bottle in his hand. "I thought you went to the ring," he said with a faint smirk. "Why are you back so soon?"
None of them answered him; their faces said enough. Oscar turned to him instead. "You'll want to see this, Youri. Come to the control room."
The crew gathered, and the lights dimmed slightly as Bjorn connected the DTI to the main terminal. The ship's systems flickered once, then twice. A faint hum filled the air, and streams of light twisted together into a figure. Zoma stood in the center of the room, translucent and shaped from pale blue and white light. Her eyes moved slowly from one face to the next and then over every console, as though she were memorizing the ship from the inside out.
"Who is the captain of this vessel?"
Oscar stepped forward. "I am."
Zoma drifted closer and studied him thoughtfully. "You don't strike me as one who has traveled the corridors. Tell me, how did you come to possess this ship?"
His expression hardened. "Why does that matter to you?"
"Because," she said, softly but firmly, "you seem not to know what your ship truly is."
Before Oscar could ask what she meant, her gaze moved past him and settled on Youri. Her tone changed. "You. You have been through the corridors before, haven't you?"
The smirk faded from Youri's face. His expression turned distant and hollow. "I've been to a lot of places," he said quietly. "And yes. I think I passed through that corridor of yours."
"That explains much." She turned back to Oscar. "You wish to use the gate."
"That's right," Oscar said. "But first, you're going to tell us what these corridors are — and what you are."
Zoma drifted back toward the terminal and lowered herself slowly, as if taking a seat in midair. "Don't worry. I will answer your questions. But first, I have one of my own." Her eyes found Youri again, and there was a strange softness in them now. "When you entered the corridor, where did you end up?"
Youri's face went pale. He took a step closer, and the light from the terminal threw long shadows across his face. For a long moment he said nothing at all, and then the faint smirk came back to his lips, though his eyes stayed cold.
"The Banished Realm," he said. "Tartarus."
The name hit the room like a thunderclap. The lights flickered. A chill swept through the air, and though no one there understood the word, every one of them felt it — heavy, dark, ancient.
Zoma's expression darkened. "You poor, pure soul," she whispered. "So you ended up in hell after all."
The words lingered, soft as a lullaby and heavy as a judgment. Then she straightened, and her projection shimmered as she addressed all of them. "You may ask me any question you wish."
Bjorn stepped forward with his curiosity finally overpowering his fear. "Then tell us this," he said. "What is the gate? Let's start there."