The Tartarusios tore through the folds of space, emerging from its leap in a flare of blue light.Before them hung the Baraka Ring — a titanic construct suspended in the void, fragments of its once-perfect circle drifting slowly like the bones of a god. The metal surface glinted faintly under distant starlight, its ancient sigils dim but still pulsing — alive, somehow — with the faint heartbeat of forgotten power.
Inside the ship, silence dominated the command deck. Every display cast pale light across tense faces as systems adjusted from the leap. The crew spoke little — they all felt it, that unseen pressure that came from staring at something older than memory itself.
The doors hissed open.Youri stumbled in, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers, his hair unkempt, eyes hazy with sleep or thought — perhaps both. He rarely visited the command deck unless he had complaints about the lack of alcohol or boredom. But this time was different. There was a weight in his gaze, a faint tremor beneath the rough humor that usually cloaked him.
He stopped in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the holographic projection of the massive ring. "Why are we here?" he asked, voice low but edged. "Do you even know what that thing is?"
Oscar turned from the console. "The Baraka Ring," he replied, cautious. "How do you know about it, Youri?"
Youri smirked faintly, but there was no joy in it."That ring," he said slowly, "is a relic of destruction. Long ago, I knew a man — a mad one, by all accounts — who spoke of a celestial gate that led beyond the universe we know. A path to places not meant for us. If we're lucky, maybe it still works. But where it leads…" He let the words hang, eyes darkening. "...it's nowhere safe. I promise you that."
Bjorn, clutching his data pad, interjected with the eager tone of discovery, "Youri, I've read about the rings — all thirty of them. Each one connects to another, like doors through the stars. It's how the Baraka crossed the void so easily!"
Youri's gaze cut to him sharply. "Then you should also know how they ended. Those gates didn't just open paths — they opened ruin. You think this universe is cruel? You haven't seen the others."
The deck fell silent. Even the hum of the ship seemed to fade under the gravity of his words.For a heartbeat, no one dared breathe.
Then Oscar's voice broke through, steady but strained."Youri, we're stranded far from Antia. At our current pace, two weeks at least — and with the bounty on our heads, we wouldn't last two days. Bjorn's idea might be our only chance. If there's even a chance that ring still works, we have to try."
Youri stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "You do what you have to do, Captain. Just remember — there's more than one kind of universe out there."And then, almost as quickly as the tension had appeared, he laughed — a rough, warm sound that chased away the chill. "Anyway, don't take my word too seriously. The man who told me that was a lunatic. Now let's hurry up — the booze is running low. That's the real emergency."
Laughter rippled faintly through the crew, the mood easing just enough. Oscar exhaled, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
Preparation began. Bjorn, Halley, and Chris were chosen for the mission — Bjorn for his knowledge of the Baraka relics, Halley for her command in the field, and Chris for the steadiness of his hands. Excitement buzzed in the air. Bjorn's eyes gleamed with the fever of discovery as he checked his instruments; Halley's expression was firm, though a flicker of unease crossed her face.
Before departure, she approached Oscar quietly. "Do you think what Youri said could be true?"
Oscar looked out the viewport at the immense, broken ring — a dark halo against eternity."I don't know," he murmured. "But truth or not, it doesn't matter. We need to reach base, or we're finished. One way or another."
Moments later, the small shuttle detached from the Tartarusios, drifting toward the colossal structure. The ring loomed ahead, silent and waiting, like an ancient eye watching its next offering.
And as they approached, somewhere deep within the broken metal, something faintly stirred — as though the ring itself remembered.