Alan invited Awa and Thabo to take a seat around the table, sitting down himself next to Jennel. The initial silence was broken by a welcoming remark from Alan, who encouraged an open and constructive discussion.

  Thabo gave a slight smirk and remarked in a dry tone:

  "I imagine our reception could have been warmer. But we’ll make do."

  Alan didn’t react to the jab, merely giving him a measured look.

  Awa, more composed, observed Jennel carefully before asking:

  "Are you a Seer?"

  Jennel inclined her head slightly.

  "Yes," she replied simply, without hesitation.

  Thabo crossed his arms, then spoke in a more serious tone:

  "We are here in peace and we place ourselves in your hands, Alan. We have no other intention than to better understand what is happening. Perhaps we can exchange useful information for all of us."

  Alan nodded.

  "That is what I hope as well."

  Awa took over:

  "By reactivating the Altai Base, you have restarted the Selection. It was considered void."

  Alan raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised.

  "What do you mean, void?"

  He fixed his gaze on Awa, searching for the implications of her statement. Awa exchanged a glance with Thabo before responding.

  She took a breath and clasped her hands in front of her before beginning her account.

  "Long before your arrival, the Bases were not in competition. The Selection existed, of course, but it remained a distant concept, more of an idea than a reality. I was the first to activate a Base, the one in Comoé, in C?te d'Ivoire. Shortly after, a Mongolian woman named Enkhjargal activated the Altai Base. We quickly established contact and developed good relations."

  Alan listened carefully, engraving every detail into his memory.

  "At that time," Awa continued, "the exchanges were cordial. We shared information, resources. There was neither hostility nor suspicion. Then came the third activation: the Base in Canada, the one in Banff. At first, the relations were also positive. But…"

  She cast a brief glance at Thabo, who remained impassive, and continued:

  "Then Thabo arrived, and we were four. For the first time, the concept of the Selection truly took form in our minds. Until then, collaboration was our priority, and we had even deactivated our repulsion fields to facilitate exchanges."

  Alan mentally noted this information. Deactivating the repulsion fields might have seemed like a good idea… but that was without accounting for the inevitable nature of humanity.

  "I kept mine," Thabo added in a composed voice. "I was wary."

  Awa nodded.

  "And you were right. Because Brian, the Chosen One of Banff, shattered that balance. He militarized his population, taking advantage of abandoned stockpiles from the American military. Then, he launched an attack. He sent his troops to the Altai Base. It was a massacre."

  Jennel pressed her lips together, sensing the emotion creeping into Awa’s voice.

  "Enkhjargal was killed," Awa continued after a brief silence. "The Base suffered severe damage, particularly to its AI. But most importantly, the ring became inaccessible. We were four… and we fell back to three. Since the Selection requires seven rings, it became void. So, we gave up. No more alliances, no more plans. Each of us tried to survive on our own."

  She straightened up and locked her gaze onto Alan’s.

  "Until you arrived. You awakened Altai, Alan. And with it, the Selection."

  Alan took a deep breath. His mind was racing. He now understood that his mere presence had altered the existing balance. But was that a good thing or a bad thing?

  Awa exchanged a knowing glance with Thabo before concluding:

  "The alliance between Thabo and me was made in a context where the Selection was out of the question. The identity of the Chosen Ones no longer mattered. We simply supported each other to survive, not to play this game imposed by the Gulls. But today, even though the Selection is being revived, this alliance remains."

  Thabo nodded in agreement.

  "And I am willing to return the ring to her if she wishes," he stated calmly.

  Jennel raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this sudden reversal. Awa remained motionless, her gaze fixed on Alan.

  "But before we go that far," Thabo continued, addressing Alan directly, "there is something we would like to understand. How do you know the locations of the other Bases?"

  Awa immediately added:

  "And how did you reactivate a Base that was destroyed?"

  Alan had been expecting this. He took a moment to carefully formulate his response.

  "I will be honest with you," he answered in a composed voice. "The locations of the Bases were given to me by a source I cannot identify with certainty. All I know is that at my lowest point, in a desert, I was given this information, along with the means to come here."

  Thabo did not hide his skepticism.

  "You don’t know by whom?"

  "No," Alan admitted without hesitation.

  A silence settled in. Awa, still impassive, analyzed every word.

  "And the Altai Base?" she pressed.

  Alan crossed his arms and leaned his elbows on the table.

  "I didn’t reactivate it. The dome was reset, but not the Base itself. There is an important distinction. I simply forced its AI to connect to the one in orbit. That’s how I was able to take control."

  Awa and Thabo exchanged a brief look, a mix of concern and reflection passing between them.

  "The ship…" Awa murmured.

  Thabo grimaced slightly.

  "Which means that, potentially, any AI can be influenced by this ship."

  Alan inclined his head slightly.

  "Exactly. And that should concern you the most."

  Silence fell, heavier than ever.

  Alan crossed his arms, scrutinizing Awa and Thabo in turn.

  "This link with the ship could be a threat, but it could also be an opportunity."

  Thabo raised an eyebrow, wary.

  "An opportunity? What do you mean?"

  Jennel intervened without hesitation:

  "For example, to prevent the reduction of the anti-nanite field."

  Awa slowly nodded, the idea taking shape in her mind.

  "Or to bypass the need for seven rings," Jennel added.

  Alan sighed.

  "The question is how."

  Thabo crossed his arms, his expression hardening.

  "And what if it's not possible? If we are stuck with these rules, and there is no way out?"

  A silence fell over the table. Everyone searched for an answer, but none found an immediate solution.

  Then Jennel, taking on a falsely innocent air, straightened slightly.

  "When I was a child, I had a book of fairy tales."

  Alan slowly turned his head toward her, intrigued.

  "A book of fairy tales?"

  Jennel nodded.

  "Yes, a birthday gift. There was one story from East Africa that I particularly loved, called The Hyena and the Honey…"

  Everyone stared at her, dumbfounded.

  Jennel smirked and began telling the tale.

  JENNEL

  Once upon a time, in a parched savanna, a starving hyena roamed in search of food. One day, she caught an exquisite scent carried by the wind—the sweet, golden fragrance of honey. Intrigued, she followed the scent to a large tree, where bees buzzed around a hive hanging from a high branch.

  The hyena wasn’t very clever, but she was stubborn. She sat under the tree and began to think aloud:

  "That honey is so high up, and I have no wings to fly. But if I wait for it to fall, it will be mine."

  So she settled under the tree, waiting for the honey to drop on its own.

  Time passed. The sun burned the savanna, the night fell cold, but the hyena did not move. Days went by, and hunger gnawed at her, but she refused to give up.

  One morning, a monkey passed by and stopped when he saw her.

  "What are you doing here, hyena?" he asked.

  "I’m waiting for the honey to fall," the hyena replied proudly.

  The monkey burst out laughing.

  "Foolish creature! The honey will not fall on its own. You have to go and get it!"

  But the hyena refused to listen.

  "No, I am patient. I will wait for my moment."

  More days passed. The bees, curious about this intruder, eventually became irritated and attacked the hyena. Stung all over, she howled in pain and fled, hungrier than ever.

  Jennel finished her story under the silent gazes of Thabo and Awa.

  Alan, a slight smile playing on his lips, looked at her with admiration.

  "So, if I understand correctly…" he began.

  "If we just sit and wait for a miracle solution, we’ll end up like the hyena," Jennel responded with a shrug.

  Thabo, impressed despite himself, let out a soft chuckle.

  "I must admit… I wasn’t expecting such a lesson."

  Awa nodded, deep in thought.

  "So, we need to go after our own honey. But how?"

  Alan, inspired by the tale, stood up and placed his hands on the table.

  "That’s exactly what we need to figure out."

  Jennel, still amused, tapped the table lightly with her fingers.

  "But wait, there’s also a different version of this story."

  Thabo raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

  "A different version?"

  "Yes, in this one, the monkey, who mocks the hyena and wants to prove his superiority, climbs the tree to fetch the honey himself."

  Alan crossed his arms, waiting for the rest.

  "But," Jennel continued, "he doesn’t realize that the bees are far more dangerous than he imagined. As soon as he reaches the hive, they attack him furiously. Panicked, he drops the hive and ends up getting stung to death."

  Awa frowned, following the tale carefully.

  "And the hyena?" she asked.

  Jennel grinned mischievously.

  "Well… the honey falls straight into her open mouth. She did nothing, took no risks, and she is the only one who benefits."

  A silence filled the room.

  "So," Jennel said, looking at them one by one, "what do you think? What is the moral of this version?"

  They exchanged thoughtful glances.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Thabo thought aloud:

  "The one who tries to take everything for himself can fall victim to his own arrogance."

  "Perhaps," Jennel admitted.

  Awa straightened and added:

  "But does that mean that sometimes, doing nothing can be an effective strategy?"

  Alan, watching the discussion with interest, allowed himself a slight smile.

  "Or that the cleverest one is not always who we expect."

  Jennel tapped the table with her fingers.

  "You see? The same elements, but different conclusions."

  She stood up, crossing her arms, her eyes gleaming.

  "So… which version of the story is closest to our current situation?"

  Alan, Thabo, and Awa exchanged looks, each searching for the best answer.

  Jennel leaned slightly against her chair, a cryptic smile on her lips.

  "From my point of view," she began, "this story actually offers us four different morals."

  Awa and Thabo exchanged an intrigued glance.

  "And among them, two are contradictory," Jennel continued, "which means we must discard those two. But there are two left that can truly guide us."

  Alan crossed his arms, intrigued by the direction the conversation was taking.

  "First lesson," Jennel raised one finger, "the cleverest one is not always who we expect. In other words, to win, sometimes you have to pretend to be ignorant, or better yet, make deliberate mistakes."

  Thabo raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this approach.

  "Second lesson," Jennel lifted a second finger, "the one who wants to take everything for himself always ends up destroying himself. That means… we must share the rings."

  A heavy silence settled over the room.

  Awa and Thabo stared at Jennel, stunned. Alan, meanwhile, burst into laughter, breaking the tension.

  "Jennel… You’re incredible."

  Awa looked at her, impressed.

  "What exactly is your role in this Base?" she asked, sincerely curious.

  Alan leaned slightly forward, placing a hand over Jennel’s.

  "She is my wife," he declared with clear pride, "and she is formidable!"

  Jennel smiled, suddenly feeling sure of herself. For the first time in a long while, she knew her intuition had led her exactly where she needed to be.

  Alan straightened slightly and placed his hands on the table, sweeping his gaze over the others.

  "To put Jennel’s ideas into action, we must first take precise stock of our situation. We need to list our strengths and resources, including the most subtle ones. And most importantly, we must understand the methods and motivations of…" He paused, an ironic smile on his lips. "…our adversary."

  Awa slowly nodded, while Thabo leaned back in his chair, deep in thought.

  "As for sharing the rings," Alan continued in an intentionally casual tone, "I personally have no problem letting you take Banff’s, Thabo. After all, we’ll probably need to distribute them… we can always draw straws."

  He accompanied his words with a mischievous smile.

  Thabo blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, then closed it, before letting out a short, incredulous laugh.

  "You’re joking, right?"

  "Only half," Alan replied.

  A floating silence settled. Alan let it linger, gauging his companions’ reactions. Thabo shook his head, stunned, but eventually relaxed.

  "There is much to consider… and it must be done with utmost discretion," he finally stated in a serious tone.

  "That goes without saying," Awa agreed.

  Alan exchanged a knowing glance with Jennel, who simply smiled, satisfied that she had planted a seed in their minds.

  A few hours passed. The night was well advanced when Alan and Jennel, accompanied by Imre and a few men, escorted the two Chosen Ones back to their shuttle. The fine rain that had settled earlier continued to fall in light sheets, making the atmosphere even heavier and more hushed. Thabo and Awa boarded after one last meaningful exchange of glances with Alan and Jennel. Without a sound, the shuttle slowly rose before vanishing into the darkness.

  Alan and Jennel stood still for a moment. Then, in silence, they returned to the now-empty meeting room. Alan gently closed the door behind them before turning to Jennel, his gaze filled with admiration.

  "You were exceptional," he murmured with a sincerity that sent shivers down her spine.

  Jennel gave a small smile, slightly embarrassed by the intensity of his look.

  "It’s thanks to you." She paused, searching for the right words. "You give me the strength to dare, to follow through with my ideas."

  Alan shook his head, amused and touched at the same time.

  "No, Jennel… You’ve always had that strength. I just gave it a place to flourish."

  Without another word, they took each other’s hands. Alan gently squeezed Jennel’s fingers in his, silently assuring her that they would move forward together, no matter what. Then they left the room, their shadows blending into the dim glow of the Base’s silent corridors.

  JENNEL

  I think I did quite well. The look in Alan’s eyes was full of pride, and I’m still shaken by it. I’m not entirely sure if that tale came from a birthday gift or a school memory. And I think I may have personalized it a little. I had a lot of fun during that meeting, even though it was very serious, but I enjoy taking the opposite approach.

  Jennel had woken up early, well before dawn. The night still lingered over the Base, and the days were gradually shortening. She had to organize several activity groups: sports, arts, reading… To do so, two shuttles, accompanied by guards, would go to the nearby city to collect various materials and accessories, particularly books. There was no way she wouldn’t be part of it. Alan had protested, but she had dismissed his arguments with a firm smile before vanishing into the shadows of the corridor. Leaving Alan alone in their quarters.

  It was in this relative calm that Ingrid appeared. She entered hesitantly, smiling but visibly unsure of herself.

  “Do you want some hot chocolate?” Alan offered as he stood up. She shook her head gently. “No, thank you.”

  An awkward silence settled.

  “I wanted… to apologize for the shuttle ride incident.” Alan burst into laughter, a sincere one that made Ingrid blush slightly. “It was a good attempt!” She looked up, a bit more relaxed.

  “Jennel reported on you,” Alan continued more seriously. “I wanted to thank you for mentioning your gift. It’s an important subject.”

  Ingrid shrugged. “I’m not sure I like the attention it brings.”

  “I need your help. We need to identify others in the city who have abilities.”

  She frowned, hesitant. “I’m not looking for responsibility.”

  “Neither was I, but it landed on me anyway!” Alan replied with a smirk. They exchanged a knowing look. Ingrid took a deep breath, as if weighing her response, then met his gaze directly.

  “You don’t have anyone else, Commander?” Alan raised an eyebrow. “Try again with: ‘You don’t have anyone else, Alan?’”

  She bit her lip, momentarily undecided, before correcting herself: “You don’t have anyone else, Alan?”

  He let a brief silence settle before responding calmly: “No, Ingrid.”

  She assessed him one last time, as if making sure she wasn’t making a mistake, then nodded. “All right. I accept.”

  The first snow had begun to fall on the Base. Few flakes managed to pass through the repulsion field, and the icy wind, too, weakened as it tried to penetrate the invisible barrier. The field regulated weather phenomena, preserving an artificial balance that contrasted with the harshness of the outside world.

  Alan walked along an uncertain path, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Around him, the surviving vegetation remained protected by the anti-nanite field. But he wasn’t here to observe the landscapes frozen by the coming winter. He was preoccupied. A decisive action awaited him, a bold attempt, simple in appearance but highly uncertain.

  Failure would greatly complicate his alliance with Awa and Thabo’s Bases. Success, however, might open up new, previously unconsidered solutions. He had little information to work with, but he had a conviction: he had to try.

  He wore his temporal communicator on his wrist, fully aware that the first step would not be enough. He would have to go further, force the invisible locks that blocked access to the truths he sought.

  He had decided quickly. The day before, he had explained to Jennel his need for solitude to prepare. She hadn’t tried to dissuade him, only plunging her gaze into his. Her only encouragement. And it was enough.

  He placed the communicator against his temple.

  “Léa?” “Yes, Alan?”

  He took a deep breath before stating, “I’m going to ask questions you won’t always have answers to. You’ll need to relay them to the ship.”

  “Some questions may be blocked by security protocols.”

  “Then make them priority questions for the Selection.”

  Alan asked who could access the ship. Léa answered without hesitation: “The victorious Chosen One of the Selection.”

  “And what about a Chosen One in the middle of Selection who brings an improvement to the process?”

  Silence. Léa couldn’t answer.

  “Relaying the question to the ship’s AI.”

  Seconds passed before the response: “Interpretation undefined.”

  Alan pressed his advantage: “The ultimate goal of the Selection takes precedence over its methods.”

  “Assertion not justified.”

  He continued relentlessly: “The victory of a Base provides a homogeneous but suboptimal crew, whereas a Chosen One who builds using multiple Bases forms a heterogeneous, more coherent crew, fulfilling the mission more effectively.”

  Silence.

  “And this Chosen One hasn’t needed to sacrifice irreplaceable resources to achieve a lesser victory for the Selection.”

  More silence. Alan sensed he was on the right path.

  “And this Chosen One has demonstrated more ingenuity than the others, both here and elsewhere.”

  Léa finally spoke again on behalf of the ship: “You are speaking of a Chosen One who has only four rings.”

  Alan played his final card with confidence: “The number of rings is secondary, a mere sorting method, far from the essential importance of mission success, which alone matters to your masters.”

  “Strategy used?” asked the ship’s AI.

  Alan responded in the same tone:

  “Confidential communication, interceptable from the ground. Requires adaptation of current methods. Requesting access to the ship.”

  Silence stretched. Then the response came:

  “Granted. If failure, elimination.”

  Alan was trapped by his own emotions. He had secured a victory: he could access the ship. But he also knew he was playing with his life. If he failed to convince the ship’s AI, he would be eliminated. No appeals, no second chances. He had to finalize his strategy.

  He now needed to coordinate his actions with Awa and Thabo and launch a process that would positively influence the exchange with the AI. Every word had to be weighed, every argument anticipated. He would have no room for error.

  “Léa, what are my chances of survival?” he asked in a tone he tried to keep neutral.

  The AI responded immediately: “Without knowing the strategy you plan to use, I estimate a 74% probability that your chances of survival do not exceed 10%.”

  Alan sighed. “Thanks for the support, Léa.”

  “I can formulate a more encouraging response if needed.”

  A tired smile crossed Alan’s face. “No thanks, I prefer the truth.”

  Alan returned to his quarters, his expression dark. He hadn’t found a satisfactory way to break the news to Jennel. He found her pacing nervously, her steps measured but restless. When she saw him enter, she stopped abruptly, her gaze filled with questions.

  "I’ve gained access to the ship," he said simply.

  Jennel stepped closer, a warm smile lighting up her face. "That’s incredible, Alan! Congratulations!"

  He didn’t respond immediately, remaining still. His silence made Jennel wary, and her smile faded.

  "Alan, what’s wrong?"

  He lowered his eyes for a moment before admitting:

  "There’s a risk. If I don’t convince the ship’s AI… I’ll be eliminated."

  Jennel recoiled, as if the blow was too sudden, too harsh.

  "Then you change your strategy!" she snapped, her voice louder than she had intended. "You can’t always rely on luck!"

  "Everything must speed up," Alan replied. "We need to organize another meeting with Thabo and Awa. I have to present a significant first phase before confronting the ship’s AI."

  Jennel’s face hardened. She crossed her arms, a clear sign that she had made up her mind.

  "Then I’ll go with Ingrid to Thabo’s Base."

  Still furious, her voice turned icy.

  "Since you’ve decided to offer yourself as a sacrificial lamb to an alien machine, I’ll take care of eliminating the Chosen One of Banff myself."

  Alan tried to protest, raising his hand slightly in an attempt to calm the situation.

  "Jennel, that might not be necessary…"

  But even as he said it, he wondered deep down if she was capable of it. He knew her intelligence and her determination. She wasn’t a warrior, but she wasn’t one to hesitate once she had made a decision.

  He took a deep breath before adding:

  "Think about it until tomorrow."

  Jennel shot him a glare, fists clenched.

  "I already have!" she shouted before turning on her heel and storming out, leaving Alan alone with his troubled thoughts.

  Jennel walked quickly through the central tower, heading for the main entrance, her face set, her mind racing. Her steps were rapid, almost mechanical, driven by the fury that coursed through her veins. In the distance, the twilight painted the sky in orange hues, but she saw none of its beauty.

  A guard at the entrance called out to her:

  "Ma’am, it’s not advisable to go out at dusk."

  She didn’t even glance at him, pressing on toward the boundary of the repulsion field.

  There, standing at the edge, near tears, she stared into the blurred horizon and murmured into her communicator:

  "Léa, how can I stop Alan from going through with this?"

  The AI hesitated before responding:

  "The real question is: how far is he willing to go? And based on what I have learned from his past, he will go to the very end, as long as your image carries him forward."

  Jennel clenched her fists.

  "You’re avoiding my question, Léa."

  "I cannot answer it any other way."

  A silence stretched between them. Jennel thought, lips pressed together. Finally, she whispered:

  "Then… I have to disappear."

  "If you were to disappear, he would disappear too. Probability: 88%."

  Jennel closed her eyes, the icy wind lashing her face. So that was it. Alan would never back down. And she… she was trapped by her own love for him.

  She walked back slowly, eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders heavy. She crossed the nearly deserted main plaza, the few passersby stepping aside slightly, sensing her turmoil.

  At the center, sitting on a stone bench, Alan was waiting. He lifted his head at the sound of her footsteps, immediately reading her mood.

  She sat beside him without a word, staring straight ahead. The silence between them was heavy.

  "It’s not fair," she finally said, her voice breaking.

  Alan slowly nodded, a faint, bitter smile on his lips.

  "I’ve told myself that before."

  He turned to look at her, and in the dim light, his gaze held that deep intensity she knew so well.

  "Jennel… I feel a necessity inside me that drives my choices. I want to believe I’m doing what’s best for everyone. But sometimes, I doubt."

  He lowered his head slightly before adding in a softer voice:

  "There’s only one thing I’m sure of. My love for you."

  Jennel slowly turned to him, her eyes shining. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.

  "You think our love was natural. But it wasn’t."

  Alan frowned slightly, intrigued.

  "It wasn’t," she repeated. "It came crashing down on us in a broken world, in circumstances that were anything but ordinary. It’s not a love like before the Wave, with its stages, hesitations, and detours. It was born in chaos and urgency. It had to grow faster, strengthen under the weight of dreams and reality. It’s not a natural love… but it’s truer than anything."

  Alan held her gaze for a long moment, then gently placed his hand over hers.

  "Then we’ll do what needs to be done. Or what we think needs to be done."

  She squeezed his hand, a faint smile breaking through her exhaustion.

  "Together."

  JENNEL

  No, I do not find it amusing to watch my husband regularly walk toward probable death. Nor to constantly live in stress, knowing I have some kind of hero beside me and that I’d be incredibly lucky if he doesn’t end up a martyr.

  It’s impossible nowadays to build him a statue or put his name in a calendar.

  Speaking of which, Alan is a Celtic name meaning “handsome, calm.”

  I will make no comment.