Within the starport of a bustling space station orbiting a distant star system, countless species from across the cosmos moved in a constant, flowing rhythm, their presence turning the massive terminal into something almost alive.
Some bore humanoid forms, walking upright with familiar silhouettes that would not seem out of place on any ordinary world. Others, however, carried features far removed from anything human, additional limbs, shifting textures, bioluminescent skin, or anatomies that seemed to defy symmetry altogether. And yet, despite these vast differences, all of them moved with the same quiet intent, tending to their own affairs, bound together by the shared understanding of transit, purpose, and destination.
It was orderly.
And yet, every so often, heads would turn.
Some subtly, others without restraint.
Their attention drawn, almost instinctively, toward a particular group stationed within one section of the starport.
An entourage.
At its center stood a single woman, surrounded at all times, her presence carefully maintained within a perimeter that none dared to cross. Security personnel formed a loose but coherent barrier around her, their movements steady and their gazes sharp, ensuring that distance was respected even in a place as crowded as this.
Still, distance did little to stop the stares.
Because it was impossible not to look.
A few moments passed before another woman slipped through the perimeter, approaching the center of the group with hurried steps, her breathing slightly uneven from the rush. She was dressed in a well-fitted suit, practical yet refined, an earpiece resting against her ear and a pair of glasses framing her focused expression.
She came to a stop beside the woman at the center.
"Sorry for the wait, Miss Robin," she said, still catching her breath. "There was a bit of trouble, but it's been handled. We can depart now. Even with the delay, we should still reach Kasbelina-VIII within forty-eight system hours."
At her side, Robin turned her head slightly, her gaze lingering on her assistant for a brief moment before softening into a gentle smile.
Her pastel bluish-violet hair flowed down to her waist, its soft hue catching the ambient light of the station in a way that made it seem almost ethereal. Her white outfit, tailored yet relaxed, carried an understated elegance that complemented rather than overshadowed her natural presence. But what truly set her apart were the details that could not be mistaken, the delicate wings resting just behind her ears, and the faintly glowing halo that hovered above her head, steady and serene. It was the common characteristic of the Halovian race.
Together with her calm green eyes and the quiet warmth in her expression, it created a presence that was, quite simply, unforgettable.
"I see," she replied softly, her voice carrying a gentle cadence that seemed to linger even after she spoke. "Thank you."
Across countless worlds, that voice was known.
Robin, the songstress whose music reached beyond language and species, whose songs carried emotions that many could not even put into words themselves. Whether uplifting or painfully intimate, her voice had a way of resonating, of threading itself into the hearts of those who listened, leaving behind something that stayed long after the melody had ended.
Standing within her circle of protection, she hummed quietly to herself, as if turning over a thought that had yet to fully form. Then, after a brief pause, she glanced once more at her assistant.
"The trouble you mentioned earlier…" she began, her tone still light, though touched with curiosity. "It wasn't anything serious, was it?"
Her assistant hesitated.
Only for a moment, but long enough to be noticed.
"It's… somewhat serious," she admitted with a small sigh. "But it's already being handled. There's no need for you to worry, Miss Robin. We'll be leaving soon anyway."
Robin's smile shifted, just slightly, not disappearing, but gaining a faint edge of insistence.
"Come on," she said gently. "If it's nothing for me to worry about, then there shouldn't be a problem telling me, right?"
The assistant pressed her lips together, clearly weighing her options, before eventually relenting.
"…Alright. I'll tell you."
Another pause followed, longer this time, as if even putting it into words required a moment of adjustment.
"The starport just received a tip," she said finally. "There's a possibility that a Stellaron is about to ignite on a nearby planet."
For a brief moment, Robin's expression stilled.
Surprise flickered across her face, quickly giving way to something far more uneasy.
"A Stellaron…?" she repeated quietly. "Have the central authorities already responded?"
Her reaction was far from unusual.
A Stellaron was not something anyone could hear about lightly.
Known across countless systems as the Cancer of All Worlds, it was a malignant anomaly, a force that corrupted and unraveled entire civilizations from within. Where it appeared, destruction followed, slow at first, then all at once. Entire planets had fallen to it, their histories erased, their people reduced to nothing more than echoes.
Many believed it to be tied to the very concept of Destruction itself, that wherever a Stellaron took root, something far worse was never far behind.
Her assistant nodded, her own expression tightening.
"They've already deployed forces to investigate and contain it, if it turns out to be real."
Robin's gaze drifted slightly, her thoughts turning inward.
"For something like that to appear so suddenly…" she murmured. "Could it have been placed there?"
Her assistant gave a small, uncertain shrug.
"It's hard to say. It might have been dormant all this time and only activated now. Or maybe someone brought it there intentionally. There are too many possibilities."
She then allowed herself a faint, reassuring smile.
"But what matters right now is that we leave. A Stellaron isn't something you stay near if you have the choice."
Robin fell silent.
For a few seconds, the noise of the starport seemed distant, muffled beneath the weight of her thoughts. A subtle frown tugged at her lips, not out of fear for herself, but for those who might already be caught within the reach of something they could not escape.
Then, slowly, she exhaled.
"You're right," she said quietly. "All we can do is hope that those handling it return safely… and that no one else gets hurt."
"I'm sure they will," her assistant replied, though there was a hint of uncertainty beneath the reassurance.
She turned slightly, gesturing toward the docking area in the distance.
"It's time. Shall we?"
Robin nodded, her smile returning, though softer now, touched with lingering concern.
"Alright. Let's go."
With that, the group began to move.
Security tightened their formation as they walked, maintaining a careful distance between Robin and the surrounding crowd. Fans gathered along the sides, some calling out her name, others simply watching in quiet awe. From time to time, she would raise a hand and wave, her smile gentle, practiced, but never insincere.
It was in the middle of this that something caught her attention.
Just for a moment.
At the very edge of her vision, beyond the clusters of admirers and the controlled movement of her entourage, a figure passed through the crowd, moving in the opposite direction.
He stood out immediately.
Not because he drew attention, but because he didn't belong.
His steps were uneven yet determined, his posture carrying a strange mix of urgency and disorientation, as though he were both searching for something and trying to escape it at the same time. His appearance only made it more striking, his clothes worn and stained, his cloak marked with an unfamiliar insignia, his body bearing soot and scars that told of something far removed from the controlled environment of a space station.
And then there was his arm.
Mechanical.
Not polished like commercial augmentations, but something rougher, more utilitarian. Something that looked built, not bought.
For a brief instant, their paths nearly aligned.
Then he was gone, swallowed by the moving crowd as if he had never been there at all.
Robin's gaze lingered in that direction for a second longer than necessary.
He looked… tired.
The thought came unbidden.
Though even as it formed, another followed close behind.
Suspicion.
She shook her head lightly, almost chiding herself.
No… don't assume things.
He's probably just… going through something.
With a quiet sigh, she let the moment pass, her expression smoothing once more into that familiar gentle smile as she continued walking, acknowledging the people around her.
Unaware that not far behind her entourage, another group had begun to follow.