Chapter 17: “The Silence of Vokar”

  The stars drifted like specks of frost outside the reinforced hull of the lead Verdalian ship. After a long and perilous journey through the Heaven Bridge and beyond, Jason Amberdunk and his fleet of 29 surviving ships had finally reached the edge of their mission's destination — Vokar-17, the capital planet of the Lilliput Star System.

  Jason stood at the central observation bay of the command deck, the towering window arching above him, offering a vast view of the world below. With him were the mission’s key officers — Captain Shin, Louis, Jigo, and Phill — all watching the serene yet unnervingly still planet rotating beneath them.

  Jason’s voice broke the silence.

  “This is Vokar-17… the capital planet of the Lilliput Star System… and one of the strongest fortresses in this quadrant. Why isn’t anyone responding?”

  Captain Shin stepped forward, tapping a sequence into the console.

  “We’ve sent seven standard clearance transmissions to their planetary control systems. No response.”

  Jigo chimed in from the communications terminal, “We tried all bands. Standard, military, and emergency. No one’s responding, Commander.”

  Jason narrowed his eyes. His voice dropped into something heavier.

  “Then try Verdalia. Priority Code Alpha.”

  “Yes, Commander.” Jigo activated the long-range quantum link, sending an encrypted transmission through the 75 light-year subspace relays straight toward Verdalia’s capital command.

  Seconds ticked into minutes. The hum of the ship’s core filled the silence. Then…

  Nothing.

  “No response from Verdalia either,” Jigo said, his voice dry. “That’s… not possible.”

  Jason stared blankly at the comms interface, then back at the orbital view of Vokar-17. The planet looked alive — its oceans gleamed under bright stars, its cloud systems moved normally, its city lights faintly visible from orbit — yet nothing spoke from the surface.

  Louis shifted uncomfortably.

  “This place is a capital planet. There should be orbital traffic, defense satellites, comm buoys, at least a single response drone. We’ve been hailing them for over an hour.”

  “Could it be a blackout?” Phill asked, doubt in his voice. “A total system crash?”

  Jason shook his head. “Then why isn’t Verdalia responding either?”

  The silence began to feel less like a mistake and more like a warning.

  “This… doesn’t add up,” Captain Shin said under his breath.

  Jason turned to his officers.

  “None of this feels natural. We crossed over thirty light-years through the Heaven Bridge, a place no empire dares to conquer. And after fighting off 80 Vir Empire ships, losing one of our own… we arrive at the center of the star system only to be greeted by silence?”

  The Heaven Bridge, a swirling corridor of collapsed dimensions and warped physics, had nearly torn their fleet apart. Jason knew firsthand: it was not a place for the weak or the lost. It was the heart of the unconquerable — a cosmic gate linking all eight quadrants of the universe. No empire had ever claimed it. Not even the Vir Empire had dared to occupy it. It was a test of fate, of will, and of survival.

  And now, after crossing it and outrunning destruction, they faced a new enemy: silence.

  Jason exhaled sharply. “Prepare recon probes. No manned landings yet. I want eyes on every city sector and transmission hub.”

  Phill began deploying the probes. “Shall we assume communications are jammed?”

  Jason didn’t answer immediately. He watched the planet rotate slowly beneath them, as if waiting for it to blink — to prove it was still alive.

  “No,” he finally said. “We assume something bigger is going on. And we get answers before we touch that surface.”

  The atmosphere inside the lead Verdalian ship was tense as the last of the orbital probes pierced through the cracked sky of Vokar-17.

  They moved like silent ghosts—coated in reflective polymer, sensors bristling with advanced optics, temperature gauges, and environmental diagnostics. With each passing minute, they slipped deeper across the planetary landscape, and with each minute, hope withered.

  Jason stood silently on the bridge, flanked by Captain Shin and Louis. The screens in front of them flickered to life, flooding the room with dusty browns and burnt yellows—the new palette of a dying world.

  “What are we looking at?” Jason asked, his voice low.

  Louis leaned forward. “Desertified landscapes. Less than 2% vegetation coverage. Atmospheric composition is stable for survival, but the drought’s been catastrophic. No major freshwater bodies remain. Minor underground aquifers are depleted.”

  Jigo, overseeing the internal energy data streams, muttered, “This planet is a shell.”

  From orbit, Vokar-17 looked harsh but intact. Now, as the probes descended and spread across the fifty autonomous countries of the planet, the truth emerged: Vokar was in collapse.

  Cracked cities stretched like scars. Skyscrapers stood half-buried in dunes, their metal skeletons exposed. Ancient solar towers lay shattered by wind and time. The roads, once pulsing with hover-traffic, were now rivers of sand.

  Each country they passed through showed variations of the same horror. Empty homes, abandoned factories, skeletal remains of what used to be powerful urban sectors. Still, in the shadows of collapsed buildings and broken bridges, there were people—thousands of them—clinging to life like dust clings to wind.

  In one country, a group of children huddled around a metal drum, burning synthetic plastic for heat. In another, an entire township lined up for their turn at an empty water rig that hadn’t pumped anything for weeks.

  The bridge crew watched in silence. Jason felt the weight growing heavier in his chest.

  But nothing prepared them for what came next.

  As the probes reached the capital country—Karnil—they discovered a storm.

  Not one of wind or sand.

  A human storm.

  From nearly 50 kilometers away, the ground was alive with movement. The probes zoomed in and began relaying thermal imaging. Tens of thousands of civilians, gaunt and desperate, were moving together in chaotic formations toward a shining target—the Grand Palace of Vokar, still visible even through dust storms.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. “Are those… protestors?”

  Captain Shin tapped on the side panel. “More like a civil war. Look closer.”

  The real-time footage revealed a front line. On one side: the starving masses. Men, women, even children carrying banners, makeshift weapons, and signs of desperation.

  On the other: armored units, rows of soldiers in Vokarian red, armed to the teeth. Plasma shields formed a faint wall, holding the wave at bay.

  Jason clenched his fists as he watched a boy hurl a rock—only to be blasted backward by a sonic burst. The army showed no intention of letting anyone past.

  “There’s fighting in at least three outer districts,” Louis added. “All of them moving toward the capital. They’ve surrounded it on all sides.”

  “And the palace?” Jason asked.

  Jigo turned to him. “Fully sealed. An energy shield dome is holding firm around it. No outgoing transmissions. No internal signals.”

  “They’ve cut themselves off,” Shin said.

  The screen zoomed into a small section of the crowd, where a woman raised a tattered flag. The emblem showed a cracked seed with dried roots beneath a blazing sun—a planet in famine.

  The screen auto-translated the text scrawled below:

  “We are your people. Feed us or fall.”

  “They’re not just rebelling,” Louis said softly. “They’re pleading.”

  Jason’s voice was quiet, but firm. “And they’re dying.”

  The crew’s silence deepened. Every officer on the bridge understood what this meant. The Lilliput Star System had once been one of the most advanced, peaceful regions in the Vokar-17 orbit. Its central planet had long stood as a symbol of political neutrality and agricultural innovation.

  Now, it was choking on its own dust.

  Jason turned to Captain Shin. “Open a secure command channel to all fleet captains. We need to reconsider our descent strategy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shin responded, fingers already flying over the console.

  “Until we understand who holds real power down there,” Jason continued, “we can’t risk landing in the middle of a warzone. But those people… if they see us as an enemy…”

  “We’ll be attacked on sight,” Phill said grimly.

  Jason gave a slow nod. “Exactly.”

  Meanwhile, one of the lead recon probes had passed into the outer perimeter of the Karnil Capital. It captured something terrifying: a long, black scar running through a refugee camp—the aftermath of a failed food riot. Bodies lay still. A few survivors scavenged whatever hadn’t been burned or looted.

  Jason watched with unblinking eyes.

  “I want contact,” he said at last. “Any faction. Civilian, military, rebellion—I don’t care. Someone has to want our help.”

  Louis turned. “What if… no one’s left to speak for them?”

  Jason paused. Then, with slow resolve, he replied:

  “Then Verdalia will speak for them. We didn’t come all this way to turn around. We’re not here for politics. We’re here for humanity.”

  The fleet’s bridge buzzed with new energy.

  Plans were revised. Probes rerouted to locate safe drop zones. Drones deployed to map underground bunkers, refugee networks, and rebellion camps. All eyes turned toward preparing a mission that now demanded not just food—but diplomacy, precision, and courage.

  Above the burning world, the Verdalian fleet stood as a fragile thread of hope.

  The conference room within the lead Verdalian ship was stark and silent, illuminated only by the cold blue of the holographic display floating in the center of the table. The murmurs of the bridge crew could be heard outside, but within this space, it was a tense atmosphere of expectation.

  Jason stood at the head of the table, his fingers tapping lightly on the console, though his mind was far away. His eyes scanned the room, meeting the gazes of each officer gathered around the table: Captain Shin, the experienced and steadfast leader of the fleet; Louis, the tech specialist and strategist; Phill, the commander of logistics; and Jigo, the brilliant muscle power. The weight of the situation bore down on them all, and Jason knew that decisions made here would ripple across the future of Verdalia.

  Jason finally broke the silence.

  “We’ve been receiving no word from Verdalia. No word from anyone. We’re on our own out here. The Vokar-17 system is in chaos, and no one even acknowledges that we’ve arrived.”

  Shin leaned forward, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “We’ve been waiting for a response from Verdalia for over five days, Commander. It’s unlike them to be this… silent. The communication blackout could mean a breakdown in the central command network. Or worse, something’s preventing them from reaching us.”

  Louis spoke up next, his brow furrowed in concern. “The people of Vokar-17 are on the edge of revolt. The drought, famine, and now these protests... It’s not just the capital. It’s all the other planets, too. The situation is getting worse by the hour.”

  Phill, ever practical, brought his hands together. “If we don’t get word from home soon, we may have to make some hard choices. If Vokar-17 has descended into this chaos, it could be that the other planets are in similar conditions.”

  Jason sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I know. We came here with one mission—to deliver aid to the people. But I never anticipated this level of unrest. They are on the verge of full-scale rebellion.”

  Shin shifted in his seat. “The thing is, Jason, we’re only a fleet of 29 ships now. We’ve already lost one. If we split the fleet into fragments, we could get food to more locations, faster. We can send out smaller convoys to distribute supplies directly to the most vulnerable areas. It could minimize the risk.”

  Jason’s gaze hardened. “And leave the rest of the population stranded with no help?”

  “We can’t save everyone,” Shin replied. “We have to make hard choices.”

  Jason shook his head. “That’s not how we work. We don’t abandon the mission. We deliver aid to everyone—no matter the cost.”

  The silence stretched out. The tension in the room was palpable, every officer aware of the stakes. Jason knew what had to be done, but Shin’s words held merit. Dividing the fleet might give them a faster chance to get food to more places. However, it would also leave them vulnerable to attacks from the growing unrest on the planet below.

  The conversation lingered, each officer aware that time was not on their side.

  Then, as if on cue, the door to the meeting room slid open with a soft hiss. A Verdalian soldier stepped into the room, his expression urgent, eyes wide with panic.

  “Sir!” the soldier exclaimed, saluting quickly before speaking again, his voice tight with worry. “We’ve been losing probes, one by one, and it’s not just atmospheric conditions or hostile forces. They’re being destroyed by something far more stealthy, something we can’t even identify.”

  Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve already lost fifteen of our probes in the last two hours, Commander. The rest are still transmitting, but they’re being wiped out before we can gather any data. We suspect it’s some kind of advanced technology, something beyond our current understanding.”

  Louis stood, rushing to a nearby console. “Have we been able to track anything on the probes’ final transmissions?”

  The soldier hesitated before answering, “It’s like they’re being wiped clean. No warning signs. No trace of who or what’s doing it.”

  Jason’s pulse quickened. “And how many probes do we have left?”

  “Five hundred, sir. Still in orbit around Vokar-17,” the soldier replied.

  Jason took a deep breath, his mind racing. “Launch the remaining probes. We need information. No matter the cost, we have to find out what’s happening down there.”

  The soldier nodded quickly and turned to leave.

  Just as the door closed, Louis turned to Jason, his expression somber. “Commander, what if this stealth technology is a sign of something even worse? Something trying to stop us from helping them?”

  Jason didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gazed at the holographic map of Vokar-17—this desert world that had been pushed to the edge of extinction. And now, they were caught in the middle of a power struggle between its people, its leaders, and their own desperate fight to deliver food, to bring hope to a dying planet.

  Then, as if pulling himself back into focus, Jason spoke. “We can’t afford to back down. The people of Vokar-17 need us. Whether it’s the king, the rebels, or whatever this stealth force is, we will make sure the food gets through.”

  At that moment, the soldier returned, his face more grave than before. “Sir… there’s something else. The civilian unrest? It’s not just limited to Vokar-17. Protests have broken out across all ten planets in the Lilliput star system. It seems the people are turning against their king.”

  Jason’s mind raced, connecting the dots. It wasn’t just famine or the drought that had brought them to this point. It was corruption, mismanagement, and perhaps a deep betrayal from their rulers.

  “The king?” Jigo muttered. “That’s not good. If it’s the entire system in rebellion…”

  Jason took a long, steady breath. “It’s more than just a rebellion. This is a crisis on a galactic scale. But we can’t ignore the people. We can’t let them be crushed in the crossfire.”

  Shin, ever pragmatic, asked, “So what’s our next move, Jason?”

  Jason’s gaze hardened. “We stay the course. We’re not leaving until we get to the heart of this. All of it. We’ll push forward with the food drops and get the people the aid they need. But at the same time, we’ll find out who or what is attacking our probes.”

  His voice grew steadier, a fire burning within him. “And if the king or whoever else wants to stop us, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  The room fell silent, the weight of Jason’s words settling over them like a heavy shroud. He was resolute, determined—not just to deliver food but to understand what was truly happening in the Lilliput Star System, to find the truth behind the famine, the protests, and now, the unknown stealth force that was attacking their technology.

  And as the Verdalian fleet hovered above the dry land of Vokar-17, the storm below was only just beginning to unfold.

  What would you do if you were him?

  Next chapter, we’ll begin to explore the factions on the ground — and introduce someone who may hold the key to unravelling this mystery. Stay tuned. And if this chapter made you feel something, leave a comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

  — Until stars speak again,