My father would have called it a distraction. A foolish emotional indulgence that compromised rational decision-making. He'd devoted his entire life to architectural perfection,never allowing personal attachments to interfere with his work. His designs were studied across Garmuth'e precisely because he'd eliminated all variables except pure structural and aesthetic excellence.
He'd also died alone in his office, surrounded by blueprints for buildings he'd never see completed, mourned by professional colleagues but loved by no one.
I'd always told myself that was acceptable. That work was enough. That designing spaces for others to experience connection was sufficient even if I never experienced it myself.
Standing in my office at 2347 hours, staring at sketches that proved collaboration could be more powerful than solitary genius, I wondered if I'd been wrong about more than just residential pod configurations.
The notification chime pulled me from that uncomfortable introspection. A priority message from Captain Theron, flagged urgent.
I opened it immediately, grateful for the distraction from thoughts I wasn't ready to process.
"All department heads report to the bridge. We've detected an anomaly in Sector Seven, a massive energy signature, unknown origin. This is not a drill."
The words scrolled across my display, professional and clipped. But I'd served under Captain Theron long enough to recognize when he was concerned. Sector Seven was less than two light-years from our current position. Close enough to be our problem.
I saved my work automatically, the expansion project files backing up to multiple redundant systems. Whatever this anomaly was, it would likely delay our timeline. Possibly compromise the entire construction schedule if it turned out to be hostile.
Four months to design and build habitation for sixteen thousand beings. Four months that might have just become significantly more complicated.
I headed for the bridge, my mind already shifting from residential spaces to crisis management protocols. This was familiar territory, emergency response, rapid assessment, tactical problem-solving under pressure. This I understood.
Unlike the human architect who'd spent three hours showing me everything I'd been missing, both in my designs and possibly in my life.
The bridge was fully staffed when I arrived, every department head present. Captain Theron stood at the central command station, his cybernetic eye focused on the main viewscreen. The anomaly was visible even at this distance as a massive fluctuation in space-time that looked wrong in ways my brain struggled to categorize.
"Report," Theron commanded as I took my station.
Kex'tar was already pulling up sensor data, his fingers moving across the controls with practiced efficiency. "Energy signature consistent with a Class Seven spatial distortion. Similar to wormhole formations, but the configuration is wrong. Too stable. Too... organized."
"Organized how?" Er'dox asked from the engineering station. Dana stood beside him, her expression professionally focused despite her exhaustion. She'd been running diagnostics on the primary systems all shift. I made a mental note to coordinate with her about the expansion project's power requirements once this crisis resolved.
"Like it's being maintained," Kex'tar said slowly. "Wormholes are naturally chaotic. This has structure."
I pulled up my own analysis, running the readings through spatial configuration algorithms. Kex'tar was correct, the energydistribution followed patterns that suggested intentional design rather than random cosmic phenomena.
"Could it be artificial?" I asked.
"That would require technology beyond anything in our databases," Vaxon rumbled from security. The massive Zandovian looked even more imposing than usual, his tactical markings glowing faintly as he processed threat assessments. "No known species has that capability."
"Then we're dealing with an unknown species," Theron said grimly. "Which means we proceed with extreme caution. All hands to stations. Raise shields. Prepare for potential first contact scenarios."
The bridge shifted into high alert, every crew member moving with practiced precision. I monitored structural integrity readouts, ensuring Mothership's hull could withstand whatever this anomaly might throw at us.
And tried not to think about Jalina, probably asleep in her quarters, unaware that our carefully planned expansion project timeline was about to become infinitely more complicated.
Assuming we survived whatever was waiting for us in Sector Seven.
The anomaly pulsed on the viewscreen, its energy signature spiking in ways that made my spatial intuition scream warnings. Whatever this was, it wasn't natural.
And it was getting stronger.
"All departments, maintain readiness," Captain Theron ordered. "We're going in."
Chapter 5
Jalina
The charcoal smudged across my palm as I sketched the courtyard's revised water feature, and I didn't bother wiping it clean. Three weeks into this project and I'd given up trying to stay pristine around Zor'go, the man generated enough holographic blueprints in an hour to paper over half of Garmuth'e, and I needed my hands free to translate his mathematical perfection into something beings would actually want to live in.
