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8 - Departure into the Unknown (End of Book 2)

  Brian was dead. Banff Base no longer had a Chosen One. Its deactivation was therefore mandatory. However, Alan could still order Achille to maintain the anti-nanite field, as it was not affected by the process, even if the other fields were deactivated.

  Alan opened a secure channel and contacted Thabo.

  "Mission accomplished. Banff Base’s ring is now accessible."

  A silence, then Thabo’s voice rose, marked by restrained satisfaction:

  "Congratulations, Alan. That was a risky move, but you pulled it off. This symbol, this ring, will allow people to live there."

  "How do you plan to get there?" Alan asked.

  "I’ll take a small group. Better to avoid too much visibility at first. But once the ring is removed, it will only be a matter of minutes before the Base is revived."

  Alan slowly nodded.

  "Be careful. The balance there is fragile, and the calm is precarious."

  Thabo let out a deep chuckle.

  "I know. But I fully intend for us to take advantage of what you’ve imposed up there."

  Alan ended the exchange and then contacted Léa.

  "What’s the status of Mehmet’s team?"

  Léa’s synthetic voice responded almost instantly:

  "Exfiltration in progress. No serious injuries. Only a minor sprain for András, but the team is in good health."

  Alan exhaled, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders.

  "Perfect. Ensure their safe return."

  Léa confirmed, and the communication ended.

  Alan let his gaze drift for a moment into the vastness of space, visible through one of the ship’s holographic projections. Everything was falling into place.

  At Banff, despair had taken hold of the city. Deprived of its support systems, the population wavered between anger and resignation. Food supplies were dwindling, water was being rationed, and the absence of protection against the elements weighed heavily on people’s minds. In the streets, some murmured silent prayers, while others still searched for someone to blame.

  Former officers (those who hadn’t been too deeply involved in Brian’s schemes) were attempting to restore some semblance of order. They gathered scattered groups, distributed the meager resources, and tried to prevent panic from spiraling into open violence. But the balance was fragile.

  Brian’s executioner had been arrested for treason under a convenient pretext. It was a way for the former officers to channel collective frustration toward another scapegoat. Many believed he had killed Brian to distract from his own guilt in the attack on the Asian Base.

  A small, more organized group was trying to rally the population in the central square, seeking a way forward.

  Then, a rumor spread through the crowd.

  A shuttle was approaching.

  Anxiety surged immediately. Was this another catastrophe? A final punishment? Silhouettes gathered around the square, staring at the sky with apprehension.

  When the shuttle landed outside the Base, a heavy silence fell over the crowd.

  The most fearful exchanged anxious whispers, some muttering that this arrival could only mean more trouble. Others, more pragmatic, remained rigid, ready to adapt to whatever was coming.

  As the ramp lowered, revealing Thabo and his companions, a shiver ran through the assembly. An African delegation. This was not what they had expected. Dubious glances were exchanged. Some regarded Thabo with suspicion, others with a glimmer of hope, as if the arrival of an outsider carried an unexpected chance for survival.

  Thabo descended with a steady stride, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. There was no arrogance or defiance in his posture, only the calm determination of someone who knew he was treading on fragile ground. Behind him, his companions followed with the same measured serenity, reinforcing the strangeness of their presence.

  He stopped at the center of the square and slowly raised his hands to ease the palpable tension.

  "You have lost a Chosen One. I have come to offer you another."

  A heavy silence settled over the square.

  Thabo continued,

  "But I am not Brian. There will be no Selection."

  A few whispers rose in the crowd.

  "I only have two rings. My ally Alan has four. But that no longer matters. What matters is that we reactivate this Base and reclaim control over our future."

  He took a breath, then added:

  "I propose that we hold a vote. If you accept, I will take the ring and restore the Base to functionality. But the choice is yours."

  The truth was, the crowd had no choice. Without a Chosen One, they were doomed.

  The vote was swift. Thabo won by a large margin.

  Without hesitation, he walked toward the dome where the ring rested. When he grasped it, an electric hum rippled through the Base’s structure.

  The life-support systems reactivated.

  Alan walked slowly through the grand hall of the ship. His footsteps echoed faintly on the smooth floor as he addressed Achille.

  "My Alliance controls the seven rings and the seven Bases. We will form an optimal crew. The modified Selection is a success."

  He paused, then added, "I officially declare that I am assuming command of the vessel, in accordance with the mission’s objectives."

  A silence stretched. Achille took several seconds before responding. Then, at last, the AI declared:

  "Authority recognized."

  Alan took a deep breath. It was done.

  "First order: transfer control of all operational Bases to Léa."

  "Executing."

  "Second: immediately recalibrate the reduction of the anti-nanite fields to thirteen centuries."

  "Parameters adjusted."

  "Third: grant access to the ship for any shuttle under my direct authorization."

  "Authorization established."

  "Fourth: deactivate the ship’s invisibility field."

  "Field deactivated."

  "Fifth: transmit the crew evaluation parameters to Léa and prepare for their reception aboard."

  "Data transmitted."

  Alan nodded, then posed one final question:

  "Should crews be formed from members of the same Base, or should they be mixed across multiple Bases?"

  Achille responded immediately:

  "Forming crews from a single Base ensures immediate cohesion, as individuals are accustomed to working together, sharing a culture and communication style. However, it risks reinforcing biases and increasing inter-Base tensions. Conversely, mixing crews across multiple Bases fosters adaptability, a blend of skills, and greater resilience to unforeseen challenges, but it requires a longer adjustment period and carries the risk of internal conflicts if cultural differences are not properly managed."

  Alan pondered for a moment, then called Léa.

  "Send a message to Jennel. Tell her… Come."

  Jennel had been pacing in her apartment since returning from Comoé. Then she had to greet the four "commandos" of Phase 2.

  She did so with more warmth than formality, briefly shaking hands, exchanging sincere looks, especially with Ingrid and András, who were entirely out of their element (except for Ingrid, who, as a Norwegian, was less worried about the mountains than about succeeding in her role). She offered them a few words of encouragement, trying to instill some warmth despite the heavy weight of their mission. They were there because it was crucial, and because they were the only ones who could do it.

  She left them to prepare and returned, her heart colder than the night air, to her solitary refuge.

  She thought about stopping by Rose’s, but couldn’t find the motivation.

  It was Johnny and Maria who came to see her in the early morning, wanting to share some friendship over Alan’s signature hot chocolate, which only made her sink deeper. Johnny even tried a clumsy joke to lighten the mood, but it died instantly under Jennel’s worried gaze. Maria placed a gentle hand on her arm and said softly:

  "Alan is clever; he knows what he’s doing. He’ll come back."

  Johnny nodded in agreement:

  "And besides, he knows we have to celebrate my birthday!"

  This time, a fleeting smile crossed Jennel’s face, though the anxiety never left her.

  They left her later that morning, advising her to try and get some sleep. A lost cause. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Alan, the shuttles, the preparations, and the risks flooded her mind. Her heart pounded too fast, her breath came short. She would lie down, stare at the ceiling, try to calm her mind, but any thought triggered another wave of anxiety. She would sit up, pace the room, drink water, then lie back down. Without success. The waiting became torture, each minute stretching into eternity. She clenched her fists under the blanket, forcing herself to breathe slowly, but panic gnawed at her from within. She needed news, a sign, a certainty.

  By early afternoon, she went to greet the three teams of two pilots for Phase 3. They still didn’t know their exact mission. Jennel took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. She knew these men and women needed clear direction, but her own inner turmoil clouded her words.

  "What you’re about to do is crucial," she began, carefully choosing her words. "We cannot afford to fail. Every second will count. This won’t just be a reconnaissance flight, nor an ordinary mission. This will be a battle. A battle on which the future of this Base and all the others depends."

  She paused, trying to meet their eyes, then continued with more confidence:

  "I’m not asking you to be heroes, just to follow the plan and hold on. We’ve stacked the odds in our favor, but we’ll need your courage, your composure. And I know you have it in you."

  She forced herself to offer an encouraging smile, even though her heart was pounding wildly. They seemed more motivated by her determination than by her words, nodding solemnly, ready to carry out their mission.

  She watched them depart at dusk, then wandered through the Base, exhausted. She walked aimlessly, her thoughts swirling in unbearable chaos. The few people she passed greeted her kindly, their smiles tinged with sympathy, as if they sensed her distress without fully understanding it. Some paused briefly, hesitating to offer a few words of encouragement.

  "Everything will be fine, Jennel," one woman said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

  Another added: "Alan is strong. He’ll come back."

  Jennel nodded, trying to smile, but her mind remained trapped in uncertainty. She kept walking, her steps echoing through the silent pathways of the Base, alone with her anxiety.

  She managed to sleep for two hours before waking with a jolt.

  Waiting for a message from Léa, Jennel bit her lip, hesitating. Every passing second weighed on her, but part of her feared the answer. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Anxiety gripped her, almost paralyzing her. What if the response was the one she dreaded most? Her heart pounded furiously, torn between the urgency of knowing and the fear of hearing what she didn’t want to.

  By 4 PM Banff time, she couldn’t take it anymore. Her voice came out small:

  "Léa?"

  "Operation successful. Three enemy shuttles destroyed."

  A chance, a small chance that Alan was still alive. The waiting continued.

  Hour after hour. The wait stretched like a starless night, heavy and oppressive, where hope seemed to fade with each passing moment. Every minute added another shadow to her worry, as if the dark sky above the Base mirrored the fear consuming her from within.

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  Then, a magical moment:

  "Jennel, you have a message from Alan," Léa said.

  "Come."

  She remained frozen for a few seconds, then screamed:

  "Léa, I want a shuttle ready for immediate departure!"

  Alan stood in the great hall of the ship. There was no need to remove the atmosphere for an arriving shuttle—the massive entrance had its own repulsion field that retained the air. Jennel’s shuttle landed delicately, as it always did when she was piloting. She stepped out, and he opened his arms to her.

  "You nearly killed me," she said, overflowing with happiness.

  He laughed.

  "And here I thought I was the one in danger."

  "You’re a terrible person," she shot back, her eyes misty.

  "I’ll never find a girlfriend," he admitted with a smirk.

  "No chance," she concluded, throwing herself into his arms. She held him tightly, as if to make sure he was real.

  Alan ran a hand through her hair and rested his forehead against hers. "We still have work to do."

  Jennel took a deep breath and smiled through her tears. "At least we’re together."

  JENNEL

  This guy is insane, and I’m crazy about him. From the outside, we must look like a couple of lunatics.

  I’m writing this in a brand-new notebook made by the synthesizer. The other one was left behind. If I can even say that.

  I didn’t have time to look at where I had landed, let alone celebrate. I collapsed the moment Alan set me down on the Commander’s slot bed. It’s still the ship’s luxury suite: a connected desk two square meters larger than the others.

  I act proud because I slept for ten hours.

  Honestly, Alan is a case. Leyla says he’s a walking miracle. I might just start believing it.

  Jennel walked alongside Alan, her gaze lifted toward the vastness of the ship. She stopped several times, as if overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the structure.

  "It's gigantic…" she whispered, impressed.

  Alan gave a slight smile.

  "And you haven’t seen anything yet. Follow me."

  They moved through the corridors, with Alan briefly pointing out each section they passed.

  "You’ll understand better with the hypno-teaching. For now, just observe."

  Jennel nodded but couldn't help scrutinizing every detail, trying to grasp the enormity of this new reality.

  As they walked, Alan spoke again:

  "I had to negotiate with Achille to get what I wanted. Not just command… but much more."

  Jennel turned to him. "Like what?"

  "The maintenance of the anti-nanite field, the lifting of access restrictions to the ship, the revision of the Bases' degradation timeline…"

  He paused before adding:

  "And most importantly, a fundamental change in the Selection. It’s nothing like it was before. Yet it still serves the same purpose."

  Jennel studied him closely. "And does that satisfy you?"

  Alan sighed.

  "It’s still a gamble. We’re going to leave, and I don’t know what will happen to us. But one thing is certain: I’ll be part of it."

  A faint smile touched Jennel’s lips. "Me too."

  Alan held her gaze for a moment before nodding. They continued their walk until they reached the crew quarters. One crucial question remained unanswered.

  "We still need to determine how to organize the crews…" Alan murmured.

  Jennel thought for a moment.

  "You won’t have 100 members per Base. How could you get any from Australia when there probably aren’t even 100 of them left?"

  Alan crossed his arms.

  "Which means we need to start by identifying the volunteers…"

  "… then an assessment," Jennel finished. "We can’t impose a strict distribution. There will inevitably be mixed crews and others that aren’t, depending on actual numbers."

  Alan tilted his head slightly, thoughtful.

  "Yes. We’ll have no choice but to adapt."

  Jennel gave a small smile.

  "That will be our first test, won’t it? Seeing if we can build something viable…"

  She continued, looking pensive:

  "But you’ve noticed, haven’t you, that forming crews of ten only makes sense if they’re meant to fit into objects that hold at least ten people, or even function with only ten crew members."

  Alan nodded.

  "That’s obvious. But Achille remains silent on the matter."

  Jennel raised an eyebrow. "That’s worrying."

  Alan sighed slightly.

  "It’s also the price to pay to allow hundreds, maybe thousands, of humans to keep living."

  Jennel crossed her arms.

  "They might grow tired of living. Even if they’re young, on a barren world… it will weigh on them eventually."

  Alan shrugged. "We can’t do better."

  "And thousands… that’s optimistic," Jennel muttered.

  Alan nodded and changed the subject.

  "Léa now has full control over all the Bases. Their invisibility fields will be deactivated, and their repulsion fields will be reconfigured to retain only climate regulation."

  Jennel listened carefully.

  "Léa will also be tasked with gathering other wandering Survivors nearby. Two shuttles will be assigned to each Base. Léa will control them when necessary."

  Jennel frowned. "That leaves four unaccounted for."

  Alan smirked.

  "They will serve Léa… as police."

  Jennel remained silent for a moment, then murmured:

  "Do you think this system will hold for long? Considering human nature…"

  Alan crossed his arms and looked at her.

  "They’ll have to manage on their own."

  He paused before adding in a darker tone:

  "Unless we come back to restore order…"

  Jennel stopped and stared at him, intrigued.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Not sure, just a thought…" he muttered.

  Jennel was seated in one of the ship's learning chairs, immersed in a hypno-teaching session. Her face was relaxed, her gaze vacant, completely absorbed in the knowledge being implanted into her mind by the ship. Alan, standing a few steps away, was lost in thought.

  A stream of information instantly crossed Alan’s mind—a nanite-transmitted message from Achille:

  "Commander Alan, incoming communication from Léa."

  Alan acknowledged and responded in a neutral tone:

  "Transfer it."

  Léa’s calm and precise voice came through:

  "Alan, I confirm that I now have access to the candidate evaluation procedures for departure, as well as the various hypno-teachings they must acquire before integration."

  Alan raised an eyebrow. "Good. What’s the exact procedure?"

  "An initial census will be conducted in each Base through voluntary declarations made aloud in their own slot. Then, a physical, cognitive, and psychological evaluation will determine eligible candidates. This process will be quick, optimized by the analytical capacities of the AIs and the Bases’ biometric sensors, yielding results within minutes. Those who pass this stage will undergo accelerated hypno-teaching, tailored to their potential assignments."

  Alan slowly nodded. "When do you plan to announce this?"

  "I was about to make a direct intervention in all the Bases."

  Alan shook his head.

  "Wait. I want my own message delivered first. It needs to be official… and spectacular. It has to leave a mark."

  "I will await your signal," Léa confirmed before adding:

  "The composition of the crews will not depend solely on the total number of eligible candidates."

  Alan frowned. "Explain."

  "The distribution cannot be uniform. Some assignments will require specific skills that won’t be evenly spread across the Bases."

  Alan straightened, intrigued. "Give me examples."

  Léa immediately listed:

  "A specialist in quantum hyperpropulsion, an expert in hyperfield communications, another in onboard weaponry."

  Alan raised an eyebrow, responding with measured surprise:

  "This crew sounds suspiciously like that of a warship…"

  Léa replied without hesitation: "It is a combat ship crew."

  Alan had just finished his conversation with Awa and Thabo.

  Jennel stood a few steps away as he stepped onto the platform leading to the holographic transmission zone.

  A massive holographic projection flickered to life in the central square of each Base. Simultaneously, every individual felt a familiar presence intrude upon their mind: Alan’s voice merging with the inter-nanite communications.

  "Survivors, listen to me.

  I am Alan, and I speak to you from the massive ship in orbit.

  Command has been handed over to me."

  A heavy silence settled over all the Bases.

  "Today, you face a choice that will determine your future. A choice that may seem simple, but one with irreversible consequences."

  He paused briefly, then continued in a firm tone.

  "Stay. Or leave."

  Murmurs spread through the crowds in every city.

  "If you stay, here is what awaits you: your Bases will not collapse. The anti-nanite field will be maintained for thirteen centuries, and the repulsion field will serve only to preserve a viable climate. Two shuttles will be allocated to you. Lea, the only autonomous AI remaining, will ensure the proper functioning of your cities."

  He paused before continuing in a graver voice.

  "But there will be no more children. No future. Your world will be frozen in a perpetual present. You will be free, yes, but in an invisible prison: a desert planet where time itself will eventually fade away."

  Faces tensed among the audience.

  "The other option is to leave."

  A shiver ran through the crowds.

  "Those who choose to join me will embark as crew members. Our destination is uncertain. Our conditions will likely be harsh, and our fate remains unknown. We will leave under the command of the Gulls. The very beings who destroyed this world. It is not easy to admit. But we will have a chance. A small, but real, chance to break free."

  He let his gaze sweep across his audience, even though they were scattered across the planet.

  "Stay, and you will live a life without risk, but also without a future. Leave, and you will face the unknown, but with the hope of something beyond."

  Alan inclined his head slightly.

  "The places aboard the ship are limited to 600. That means 60 crews of 10 people. No matter how many volunteers step forward, a rigorous selection process will take place in each Base. Only the most capable will have the chance to leave."

  He let one final silence settle before concluding:

  "Whatever your choice, I thank you. And I wish you courage for what comes next."

  Alan slowly stepped away from the transmission platform and glanced toward Jennel. She was watching him with an amused expression.

  "What?" he asked, suddenly defensive.

  Jennel raised an eyebrow. "Clear speech, precise… and very authoritarian."

  Alan sighed. "I had to hold my ground."

  Jennel nodded. "I’ll give you that. But your speech was biased."

  Alan stopped and turned fully toward her.

  "What do you mean, biased? I did everything I could to be honest, to hide nothing. I presented both choices without embellishment."

  Jennel studied him for a moment, then said:

  "If you had to stay on Earth, would you really see your situation as a perpetual present without hope?"

  Alan opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. He thought for a moment.

  "Maybe, over time, we could gather the Survivors, find a way to coexist with the nanites… but it’s unlikely."

  Jennel crossed her arms. "And breaking free from the Gulls? That’s more likely?"

  Alan looked her in the eyes and answered sincerely:

  "No."

  A silence stretched between them. Then he shrugged.

  "But I need 600 crew members. That’s a lot."

  Jennel burst into laughter. "There’s my Alan, finally being honest!"

  Alan’s shuttle sliced through the freezing skies of the Ka?kar Mountains, soaring over snow-covered ridges and deep valleys shrouded in winter’s shadow. The high-altitude winds sent powdery snow swirling over the jagged peaks, and the biting cold seemed intent on seeping into the ship itself. Below, the landscape was a silent, white desert, streaked with frozen lakes and dying forests buried under layers of ice.

  Through the ship’s transparent panels, Alan watched as the mountains stretched beneath him like a frozen sea, their peaks piercing the winter mist in an almost unreal silence. In some areas, glaciers reflected the dim sunlight, contrasting with the dark, deep gorges where daylight barely seemed to reach.

  The Base soon came into view below, exposed, stripped of its invisibility field. Alan felt a brief pang as he saw the cold, metallic structures standing on the windswept alpine plain.

  He initiated the descent. The shuttle kicked up a cloud of icy crystals as it landed on a frozen outdoor platform. The ground, coated in a thin layer of frost, cracked slightly under his boots as he stepped down.

  A sentry on duty, caught off guard, straightened up abruptly and instinctively stood at attention. The salute was military, formal, almost automatic. Alan allowed himself a small, inward smile.

  Inside the Base, his arrival did not go unnoticed. Heads turned toward him; some calling out respectfully, others even daring to offer congratulations. The atmosphere, hesitant at first, warmed as he moved toward the central square.

  Ingrid came into view. Alan stopped, a small smile on his lips, and kissed her on both cheeks.

  "You were incredible," he murmured.

  Ingrid responded with a radiant look, pride and relief shining in her eyes.

  A little further ahead, Rose opened her arms, and Alan embraced her warmly. She whispered in his ear:

  "Good luck to both of you."

  Behind her, Maria-Luisa and Johnny watched the scene with emotion.

  "She’s got one hell of a guy," Maria remarked with a smirk.

  Johnny shrugged. "Poor thing…"

  Alan turned toward them, feigning a stern look. "And you two?"

  Johnny shot him a knowing glance. "We’re coming with you, Boss!"

  Alan sighed with a laugh. "I feared as much."

  Further ahead, Imre stood waiting, motionless. He hesitated for a moment, then straightened and declared:

  "My respects, Commander."

  Alan studied him for a moment, then asked:

  "Do you remember Kaynak?"

  Imre nodded.

  "Then I’d like you to manage this Base as well as you did Kaynak before I came along and disrupted everything."

  He gave the order:

  "Lea, I’m handing over command of this Base to Imre."

  Lea’s synthetic voice immediately confirmed:

  "Command transfer recorded. Imre is now the primary authority of this Base."

  Imre stood still for a moment, as if only now realizing the weight of this responsibility. Then, slowly, he lifted his chin and said:

  "No matter what happens to the crews departing with you, Commander, they’ll have the best to pull them through."

  Alan didn’t have time to respond: Bob and Yael were waiting outside his slot.

  "If your journey isn’t over, then neither is ours," Bob declared with a confident smile.

  Alan slowly nodded, moved by their determination. Then, he pushed open the door to his quarters. Alone, he gathered a few belongings for Jennel and himself. But there was one thing he would never leave behind.

  His hand brushed over the object hanging around his neck.

  The only memory that truly mattered.

  TO BE CONTINUED...

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