The observation deck of Eden-Five's orbital station offered a perfect view of the planet's surface, where massive agricultural elevators stretched like silver threads toward the sky. Today, instead of grain shipments and processed foods, they carried something far more precious: the modular components of the Furrow Inc. rescue ship.
"There goes the medical suite," Carlos said, watching the gleaming white section rise steadily through the atmosphere. "Six months of work on that design, and now I get to watch it disappear into space."
"At least yours looks elegant," Drew replied, pointing to the structural framework ascending on the adjacent elevator. "Mine just looks like expensive scaffolding."
Simran pressed her face against the viewport, tracking multiple sections simultaneously. "The AI coordinated rescue pods are so small compared to everything else, but they're the most complex thing in the whole build. I hope they work like the simulations suggest."
"They'll work," Cameron said with quiet confidence, his tablet displaying telemetry from each ascending module. "The integration protocols are solid. We've tested every possible failure mode."
Janet grinned, watching the propulsion section clear the atmosphere in a burst of reflected sunlight. "Look at that beauty. When all these pieces come together, we'll have built something that can do some good out there."
"The intimal cost are astronomical," Amara noted, though she couldn't quite hide her own satisfaction. "But the publicity value... every government in the sector will want their own rescue fleet once they see what this can do."
Tanya nodded along with the others' enthusiasm, making appropriate comments about launch schedules and orbital assembly procedures. The rescue prototype was indeed impressive m with the modular construction allowing rapid deployment, redundant systems ensuring operational reliability, capabilities that would improve emergency response across human space.
She just couldn't bring herself to feel excited about it.
Each module that rose toward the assembly point represented months of collaborative effort. Drew's structural innovations, Simran's AI coordination breakthroughs, Carlos's internal design. Every team member had contributed ideas that improved the final design.
It was good work. Important work. Work that would save lives.
So why did watching it feel like observing someone else's accomplishment?
"Final module should be up in three hours," Amara said, checking the elevator schedule. "Then you can start the assembly sequence."
"I'll begin pre-integration diagnostics," Simran added, already pulling up her workstation interfaces. "The AI pods need to establish basic networking before we attempt full coordination protocols."
One by one, the team dispersed to handle their various responsibilities. Tanya lingered at the viewport until she was alone, watching the last few modules disappear into the black above Eden-Five. Tomorrow would bring the assembly process, then system integration, then the maiden voyage that would either validate months of work or reveal critical flaws they'd somehow missed.
Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. Yet she had a feeling of dread or melancholy, she couldn't tell which.
Late that evening, Tanya sat alone in her dimensional workshop, holographic displays showing detailed simulations of the assembly process. Each module would dock with mathematical precision, connection points aligning within micrometers, systems integrating seamlessly. The whole sequence was choreographed like a dance, every movement calculated and verified.
"Hmm, that instruction could be more precise," she murmured, watching the simulation play out for the dozenth time. "Power coupling engages automatically, life support integration follows, then AI network initialisation."
In her corner of the workshop, Mera drifted peacefully, bioluminescent patterns shifting through gentle blues and greens as she observed the holographic display.
"Look at this, Mera," Tanya said, manipulating the projection to show the completed ship's rescue deployment sequence. "Multiple emergency pods, each capable of supporting six people for two weeks. Medical fabrication suite that can handle everything short of advanced surgery. It's going to help so many people."
Mera's patterns shifted to warmer hues—what Tanya had come to interpret as approval or contentment.
"I know Sage thinks you're just responding to emotional cues, but you understand more than that, don't you?" She leaned back in her chair, watching the alien's careful movements. "You know what these numbers mean. What the ship represents."
The bioluminescence flickered in complex patterns that almost seemed like language. Almost.
//You seem different tonight,// Sage observed, their voice carrying a note of concern. //The completion of your largest project should be cause for satisfaction.//
Tanya paused the simulation, staring at the frozen image of the rescue ship prototype. "It should be, shouldn't it? Six months of work, the most complex design I've ever attempted, a ship that will genuinely help people. I should be thrilled."
//But you are not.//
"No." She rubbed her temples, trying to articulate the feeling that had been growing for days. "When I built the Avdrulla Stela, I could feel every component coming together. The quantum enhancement, the way materials responded to my intentions. There was this sense of... connection. Like the ship was becoming real through my will as much as my engineering."
//And this ship lacks this sensation?//
"Completely." Tanya gestured at the simulation, frustration creeping into her voice. "It's excellent work. The modular design is innovative, the rescue capabilities are exactly what we need, the whole team contributed their best efforts. But it feels like... like I just followed a blueprint. Like any competent engineer could have done the same thing."
//The collaborative design process necessarily distributes creative input among multiple participants,// Sage replied after a thoughtful pause. //This may explain the absence of quantum enhancement effects.//
"Too many cooks spoiling the broth?"
//An accurate analogy. Your previous ships were expressions of individual vision guided by our partnership. This ship represents compromise and consensus, both valuable qualities for practical engineering, but perhaps incompatible with the deeper resonances you have learned to expect.//
Tanya nodded slowly. That made sense, even if it didn't make her feel better. "So I'm spoiled. I've gotten used to building ships that feel alive, and now conventional engineering seems flat by comparison."
//You have experienced a deeper connection to your craft. It is natural that standard approaches would feel limiting.//
"Great. So either I work alone and build marvels that nobody else understands, or I collaborate and create competent mediocrity." She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "What a choice."
//Perhaps there is a third option,// Sage said carefully. //But it would require—//
Mera suddenly contracted, her usual graceful movements becoming sharp and agitated. The bioluminescence shifted to rapid pulses of amber and red, colors Tanya had never seen from her before.
"Mera? What's wrong?" Tanya moved closer, keeping her voice calm despite her sudden alarm. "Are you hurt?"
The organism's distress intensified, patterns becoming almost chaotic. In the corner of her vision, Tanya saw the workshop's dimensional sensors registering anomalous readings.
"Sage, what's happening?"
//Dimensional disturbance detected,// they replied, their voice carrying an edge she'd rarely heard. //Significant perturbation in the dimension that the workshop resides in. The readings are unlike anything in my knowledge, maybe if I had full access.//
"Is it dangerous?"
//Unknown. Mera appears to be responding to phenomena beyond our normal sensory range. Her species seems to be more sensitive to dimensional shifts then even the workshop sensors.//
Tanya reached out carefully, letting her fingers brush against Mera container. "It's okay," she whispered. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out."
Gradually, Mera's patterns began to settle, though they remained more agitated than normal. The dimensional readings faded, but an undercurrent of unease remained.
"Can you track the source?" Tanya asked.
//Negative. The disturbance appears to be propagating through dimensions from an untraceable location.//
There was something in Sage's tone—a carefully controlled uncertainty that worried her more than their words. Whatever this was, it had Sage genuinely concerned.
"Should I alert the others?"
//Not immediately. But I recommend enhanced security protocols. This event suggests phenomena beyond our current understanding. It may not have anything to do with us. We are just able to sense it//
Tanya looked at Mera, whose bioluminescence had returned to more normal patterns but still carried traces of agitation. The alien organism had been peaceful and curious since taking up residence in the workshop. Seeing her distressed felt like a warning she couldn't quite interpret.
"You think someone's watching us, don't you?" she said quietly.
//Observation. If we could detect the reading, there is a high probability that our location has been detected.//
Tanya had known this moment would come eventually, since she had been gifted the Genesis. Something capable of causing issues in a dimension used by the Gardeners was likely related to the Gardeners themselves and she did not want to underestimate what they were capable of.
"How long do we have?"
//Unknown. But I suggest you prepare the team for the possibility that Eden-Five may not remain safe much longer.//
Tanya nodded, turning back to her simulations with renewed focus. The prototype might not have felt like her previous ships, but it was about to become very important indeed.
If it was going to be their last project on Eden-Five, she was going to make sure it was perfect.
Three days later, the dimensional disturbance readings had repeated themselves multiple times, becoming routine background noise, though Mera continued to show occasional signs of agitation. There was nothing Tanya could do until she knew more.
The assembly process had gone flawlessly, with every module docking precisely, every system integrating without incident. The prototype hung complete in Eden-Five's orbital space, ready for its maiden voyage.
"She's gorgeous," Simran said from the test control center, her eyes bright with satisfaction as she ran final diagnostics on the AI coordination systems. "All pods reporting green across the board. The emergent coordination algorithms are actually performing better than the simulations predicted."
"Structural integrity is perfect," Drew added, monitoring stress readings as the ship's control systems put her through gentle orientation changes. "The modular connections are handling dynamic loads better than our most optimistic projections."
Carlos nodded approvingly from his position at the medical systems console. "Life support redundancies are operational. We could support three hundred people for six weeks if necessary, and that's with full medical fabrication running continuously."
Tanya watched from the primary observation station, feeling that same strange disconnection. The ship was performing flawlessly, actually better than flawlessly. It was exactly what they'd designed it to be.
So why did she feel like she was waiting for something more?
She had been feeling uneasy for days now, ever since Mera's first reaction to the dimensional disturbance. Sage had been unusually quiet, offering technical commentary when asked but little of their normal educational observations. Even the workshop felt different, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly how. She suspected Sage knew more or was busy trying to discover more.
Amara stood nearby, monitoring communications and coordinating with the test flight crew. She'd been handling the logistics with her usual efficient competence, but Tanya noticed her tablet buzzing more frequently than normal. Corporate communications, probably, investors wanting updates, suppliers requesting confirmation of orders, the usual business noise that Amara filtered so Tanya could focus on the technical work.
But when the tablet buzzed again, something in the sound made Tanya look up. It was different somehow—shorter pulse pattern, higher priority tone.
Amara's face went completely still as she read the message. Not blank, not surprised—controlled. The expression of someone receiving exactly the kind of news she'd been dreading.
Then she looked up, caught Tanya watching, and her business smile snapped into place like armor. "Harvest season's starting early this year," she said casually, loud enough for the others to hear. "The weather patterns are looking favorable for an early collection."
The code phrase. Harvest time—the evacuation signal. Everything was about to go very, very wrong.
"That's... good news," Tanya managed, fighting to keep her voice level. "Productive seasons are always welcome."
Around them, Simran, Drew, and Carlos continued their monitoring, unaware that the careful world they'd been building was about to collapse. The prototype continued its gentle test manoeuvres, systems performing exactly as designed.
But Tanya's mind was already racing ahead to the evacuation protocols Red and Amara had insisted on, to her parents and extended family's stubborn refusal to leave Eden-Five, to the elaborate plans she'd been promised but never fully briefed on. Plans that apparently involved faking deaths and changing identities, measures that had seemed paranoid just days ago. But she now hoped it would help protect them in whatever was coming next.
She turned to address the team, knowing that what she said next would change everything for the three newest members of their group. But before she could speak, Janet was already moving with the kind of focused urgency that meant she'd caught Amara's signal too.
"Cameron," Janet said quietly, "we need to begin immediate data backup and equipment securing protocols."
Cameron nodded once, his face going professionally blank. "Understood. Priority Alpha procedures?"
"Priority Alpha," Amara confirmed.
The three experienced team members began moving with sudden, coordinated efficiency. Simran, Drew, and Carlos looked around in growing confusion as their colleagues abandoned the test monitoring to focus on tasks that hadn't been on any schedule.
"What's Priority Alpha?" Drew asked, rising from his console. "The test is still running—we're getting critical performance data—"
"The test data is being recorded," Cameron said, his hands flying over a portable data terminal. "Primary concern is now asset protection and data security."
"Asset protection from what?" Carlos demanded. "What aren't you telling us?"
Tanya met his eyes, seeing the moment when confused curiosity became real alarm. These people had joined her team believing they were part of a legitimate aerospace company. They'd worked for months on a rescue ship prototype, building something beautiful and functional and important.
Now they were about to learn that their brilliant, innovative boss was a fugitive from Imperial Intelligence, and their workplace was about to become a very dangerous place to be. That is what Harvest season meant.
Red and Amara had developed dozens of coded warnings for different threat levels, but this particular phrase had only one meaning: Imperial forces were actively moving to capture or eliminate her, and they had hours, not days, to execute their escape plan.
"There are some things about our situation that we haven't shared," Tanya said carefully. "Security concerns that we hoped wouldn't become relevant. But we've just received word that hostile forces may be moving against us."
"Hostile forces?" Simran's voice went up an octave. "What kind of hostile forces? This is an agricultural world—what could possibly—"
She stopped as the observation deck's massive viewport revealed something that shouldn't have been there: a ship emerging from the vortex at the edge of visual range, its form unmistakably military.
Imperial Navy. A scout ship making a direct line for the orbital station.
"That kind of hostile force," Janet said grimly, watching as the ship began moving toward Eden-Five.
Amara cursed under her breath. The plan had relied on having more time to prepare. This was too quick, no plan could work in this situation.
Drew stared at the approaching vessel, his face pale. "They're here for us. For the prototype. That's why you built it so far from civilised space—you knew this would happen."
"Not for this prototype. I don't know why they are here." Tanya said honestly. "But we suspected this would happen one day; we had contingencies."
"What kind of contingencies?" Carlos asked, though his tone suggested he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
//Tanya,// Sage's voice cut through her thoughts with unusual urgency. //I am taking control of the prototype.//
"What? you can't—"
On the displays, the prototype suddenly came alive. Without human input, it began launching its rescue pods in rapid succession, the units dispersing in a complex pattern that looked almost like an attack formation.
//The Imperial scout possesses advanced scanning equipment. I am creating a diversion.//
The rescue pods swarmed the scout ship, not attacking but overwhelming its sensors with dozens of targets moving in unpredictable patterns. Some pods released their emergency beacon signals, and others deployed reflective chaff designed to confuse sensors. The scout ship found itself surrounded by what appeared to be a coordinated defensive screen.
"Brilliant," Cameron breathed, watching the tactical display. "They can't get clear sensor readings through all that interference."
//This will buy us approximately twelve minutes before they adapt.// Sage announced. //Initiating next phase.//
That's when the viewport shimmered, revealing something that made all of them step backward in shock. Where empty space had been moments before, a ship was materialising out of the vortex space. The Genesis.
"How?" Tanya whispered, staring at the massive vessel. "It was supposed to be hidden—"
//I left a small portion of my consciousness aboard the Genesis to monitor it last time were there,// Sage explained. //When the dimensional disturbance began, I moved Genesis closer to Eden-Five and maintained minimal stealth protocols. The current emergency justifies full exposure.//
The three newest team members—Simran, Drew, and Carlos—stood frozen as they processed what they were seeing. An advanced warship appeared out of nowhere, rescue pods performing impossible manoeuvres without pilots and the military was after their boss.
"You have a choice," Tanya said, turning to face them. "Stay here on Eden-Five and pretend you never saw any of this, or come with us and become part of something that will change your understanding of everything."
Drew's hands shook as he gripped the observation rail. "That ship... it's alien technology, is it?"
"Yes and No," Janet replied. "And we need to move. Now."
Carlos stared at the Genesis with the expression of someone watching their worldview collapse in real time.
"Come on, Snap out of it," Amara said briskly, already gathering essential tablets. "But further discussions will have to wait. We have about eight minutes before that scout ship burns through Sage's interference."
Simran looked between the Imperial vessel and the impossible hip, her face cycling through fear, wonder, and sudden determination.
She headed for the exit without saying a word.
Drew hesitated longer, staring at the Genesis. "My parents are going to think I died in some kind of accident, aren't they?"
"The alternative is dying in a very real Imperial interrogation," Cameron said gently. "Red's people will make sure your family believes you're safe, even if they can't know where."
One by one, they moved toward the docking bay where their shuttle waited to take them to Genesis. Even Drew, despite his uncertainty, couldn't resist the pull of engineering marvels that redefined the possible.
As they boarded Genesis, Tanya felt the familiar sensation of stepping into advanced architecture. The corridors pulsed with rhythm, bioluminescent strips responding to their presence. For the three newcomers, it was like entering an alien cathedral. The crabs even came to see them aboard.
//Beginning atmospheric entry,// Sage announced to Tanya, as Genesis dove toward Eden-Five's surface with impossible grace.
Through the viewports, Tanya watched her homeworld grow larger, knowing she was witnessing something that would become Eden-Five legend for generations. The Genesis moved through the atmosphere like it was born for it, its hull rippling with energy patterns that left luminous trails in the sky.
//Collecting workshop and essential resources,// Sage reported as they approached the surface installations. //Red and his family are being retrieved via dimensional displacement.//
The process was surreal to watch. Equipment simply vanished from the surface facilities, appearing moments later in Genesis's cargo bays. The workshop folded in on itself, compressing impossible volumes into manageable storage before opening again into its normal location aboard the Genesis. Red, his wife, and their children materialised in the living quarters, looking slightly disoriented but unharmed.
//Ascent beginning,// Sage announced. //Imperial reinforcements detected at system edge.//
As they climbed back toward space, Tanya saw the truth of their situation through the sensors. Not just one scout ship but an entire battle fleet was emerging from the vortex, their formation was precise, but the ships themselves seemed damaged, and it limited their performance, which was a benefit to them.
They were too late and too slow.
Genesis slipped into vortex space just as the Imperial forces began their sensor sweeps, disappearing into dimensions where conventional pursuit couldn't follow.
In the sudden quiet of dimensional transit, Drew finally found his voice. "We're really doing this. We're really running from the Empire in this thing?" her waved his arms around the room.
"Welcome to our world," Janet said with a grin. "Try not to think too hard about it. It makes your head hurt."