The Tartarusios drifted in the silent abyss, its hull scarred and bruised from the Altea battle. The faint hum of the engines echoed through the command deck, the only sound in a room heavy with tension. The crew had gathered around the central holo-table, the flickering blue light casting tired shadows across their faces.
Oscar slammed his fist against the console, his voice cutting through the silence."Damn it! A bounty—placed by the Emperor himself! We just turned into a moving target. Those imperial dogs never quit."
Halley leaned against the railing, arms crossed, her sharp green hair glinting under the dim lights. "Don't lose your cool, Oscar. We need to make it to base. Supplies are low, and half the ship's systems are still bleeding power. We can't fix that out here."
Oscar shot her a glare, his voice rough with exhaustion. "You think I don't know that, Halley? Even if we jump three times back-to-back, we won't make Antia in two weeks. The Empire will catch us before we even restock."
The room fell silent again—until the door hissed open. Bjorn stepped in, clutching a tablet close to his chest, his glasses catching the faint light. He placed it on the table and tapped the screen. A rotating hologram appeared—a massive, ancient ring suspended in space, its surface fractured and covered in strange runes.
"Captain," Bjorn began, his tone careful but alive with excitement, "I think I have an idea."
Oscar frowned. "If it's another one of your ancient theories, Bjorn, we don't have time for—"
"Just hear me out," Bjorn interrupted, enlarging the hologram. "This is the Baraka Ring. It predates most of recorded galactic history—old, decaying, but still intact. Recently, I came across an ancient Barakan text. It took me months to translate, but it mentions something called Spatials—devices capable of instantaneous travel across the universe."
The crew leaned in, the hum of the ship suddenly seeming distant.
Bjorn continued, his eyes glinting with the thrill of discovery. "The text doesn't explain how they worked, but if the translation's correct, these rings weren't monuments—they were gateways. The coordinates place one just five hundred light-years from here. One jump, and we could be at its edge. If there's even a chance it still functions, it could get us clear of Imperial reach."
Oscar's brow furrowed as he studied the projection. "I've heard of the Baraka Rings, but I thought they were myths—old stories to scare recruits. If what you're saying is true, why hasn't the Empire taken them already?"
Bjorn adjusted his glasses, his voice dropping lower.
When the first exploration fleets were sent, centuries ago, they vanished without a trace. No signal, no debris—only a faint distortion in the surrounding void, as though reality itself had been torn apart. The Empire, proud and unyielding, sent more—armadas to tame the unknown. And yet, every time the Rings awakened, ships disappeared into the black, as if swallowed whole by the silence of the abyss.
The Imperial Archives spoke of strange energy readings—patterns that defied logic and mathematics. Some claimed the Rings were not mere machines but living gateways, relics of beings older than the Empire itself. Others, more superstitious, called them the mouths of gods, warning that to claim them was to trespass upon the domain of creation.
The Baraka weren't just advanced—they were gods compared to us. They ruled over half the known universe long before the Terrian Empire was born. Their technology was millennia ahead of anything we've built. And then—"
He paused, his reflection flickering in the hologram.
"—then they vanished."
The crew exchanged uneasy glances.
Bjorn leaned forward, his fingers splayed over the glowing table. "There's a legend… they say when the Baraka reached the center of the universe, they found something—something divine. A hand descended from the void, a single finger wreathed in celestial fire. It struck their worlds one by one, until nothing remained but ash and silence. Whole planets shattered. Empires burned. Those who survived abandoned their lust for conquest and turned to worship what destroyed them—the Hand of God."
Silence fell once more. Only the low hum of the engines filled the room.
Oscar looked at the hologram again, the enormous ring spinning slowly like the eye of some ancient god. "So that's what wiped them out," he muttered. "And now we're heading straight for the ruins they left behind."
Halley smirked faintly. "Well, Captain… you always said you wanted to make history."
Bjorn's voice was steady, but there was a tremor in it. "Let's just hope we don't repeat it."
The Tartarusios drifted onward into the dark, the forgotten light of the Baraka Ring waiting somewhere ahead—like a sleeping god's eye, waiting to open once more.