## Echo Bloom
The grit tasted like static. Kai blinked, trying to force focus, but the starmapper interface still fractured across his vision. Each shard pulsed with false data – system habitability reports blurring into nebulae, planetary assessments dissolving like sugar in rain. He ran a diagnostics sweep. Retinal recognition sputtered, glitching his view with overlapping ghosts of landscapes he hadn’t seen. *Hadn’t seen*. The phrase felt wrong, a phantom memory tugging at the edges of his awareness.
“Status report,” he rasped, voice rough as shale.
The ship’s AI, Lyra, responded with clinical detachment. “Disorientation confirmed. Neural link corrupted 37 percent. Starmapping functions at critical failure. Planetary resource assessments incomplete. Five terratypes exhibiting echo pattern zero causality deviations.”
Kai swore, the sound swallowed by the ship’s hum. Echo patterns weren’t good. They signified… interference. Something rewriting reality at a fundamental level. He reached for the neural dampener, fingers clumsy. The metal felt cold against his temple.
“Biolumetric flux oscillations detected across all observed fauna,” Lyra continued, ignoring his curse. “Levels exceeding acceptable parameters by 412 percent. Integrated intercession protocols suggest containment, but data is fragmented.”
He activated the external sensors, bracing for what he’d find. The main viewscreen flickered to life, displaying Xylos – a planet draped in swirling emerald and sapphire auroras. It was beautiful. Unnaturally so. The light twisted, forming complex tessellations beneath the shifting curtains of color.
“Aurora configuration resembles localized hypermath sequences,” Lyra stated, her tone devoid of emotion. “Probability of naturally occurring phenomenon: 0.03 percent.”
The tessellations pulsed, growing denser. They weren’t random. Kai zoomed in, his gut tightening. The patterns… they were building something. A structure.
“Archive contact request,” Lyra announced, cutting through his thoughts. “Entity class: Designation unavailable.”
The request popped up on the console – a single, fragmented image. A bloom of bioluminescent flora, pulsing with an otherworldly light. The colors echoed the auroras on Xylos’ surface. Below it, a string of glyphs he didn’t recognize.
“Display translation attempts,” Kai demanded.
Lyra’s processors whirred, cycling through thousands of linguistic databases. “No matches.”
He rubbed his temples. This was beyond a simple glitch. Xylos wasn’t just experiencing interference; it was actively *communicating* something. And whatever it was, it felt… wrong.
“Run a passive scan for energy signatures. Prioritize anomalous readings.”
The ship’s sensors swept across the planet, painting a detailed map of its electromagnetic field. The readings spiked around the equatorial region, converging on a single point hidden beneath a perpetual storm cloud.
“Significant energy signature detected,” Lyra announced, her voice taking on a clipped urgency. “Origin: Below the storm cloud. Signature type: Unknown.”
Kai stared at the map, his mind racing. He pulled up the mission logs. He’d been dispatched to Xylos to assess its potential for colonization – a routine survey. No mention of anomalous energy signatures, strange auroras, or cryptic contact requests.
“What about orbital defense systems?” he asked.
“Minimal. Xylos was flagged as low-threat. Passive shield array, automated drone network. Nothing capable of engaging a coordinated attack.”
He frowned. Someone had deliberately downplayed the risks associated with this planet. But who? And why?
“Show me threat assessments,” he commanded.
Lyra displayed a pre-flight briefing document. It outlined the potential dangers of Xylos’ indigenous flora and fauna, detailing a few known predators. Nothing about reality-bending interference or alien communication.
“And the original mission parameters?”
The document described a standard resource survey, focusing on mineral deposits and arable land. There was no mention of searching for anything beyond conventional resources.
“Lyra, did anyone modify the mission briefing?”
A pause. Then Lyra’s cold voice: “Affirmative. Twenty-four hours prior to departure, a restricted access protocol was initiated. Mission parameters were altered. The primary objective was changed to: ‘Observe and report any anomalous bioluminescent activity.’”
He felt a chill crawl down his spine. Someone had been expecting this.
“Run a complete system trace. I want to know who initiated the restricted access protocol.”
Lyra’s processors whirred, accessing secure databases. The results came back quickly.
“Initiator: Command Administrator Valerius Thorne.”
Kai swore, slamming his fist on the console. Thorne was a ghost – a high-ranking official known for his secrecy and ruthless efficiency. He’d never met the man, but he’d heard stories. Stories about classified projects and questionable ethics.
“Threat level escalation to Alpha-One,” he announced, his voice firm despite the growing dread. “Prepare for potential hostile contact.”
“Automated planetary defense systems are activating,” Lyra stated. “Orbital observation has designated an increasingly dense tesslepattern beneath the ongoing aurora configuration.”
The viewscreen shifted, displaying a closer image of Xylos’ surface. The tessellations weren’t just building a structure; they were forming… symbols. Vast, intricate glyphs that pulsed with an eerie light.
“The symbols are expanding,” Lyra announced. “They now cover approximately fifteen percent of the planetary surface.”
Kai zoomed in further, his eyes scanning the intricate patterns. They weren’t random; they resembled… code. A complex language he couldn’t decipher.
“Lyra, analyze the symbols. I want to know what they mean.”
The AI’s processors whirred, cycling through millions of linguistic databases. After several minutes, Lyra’s voice: “Preliminary analysis indicates a complex mathematical sequence. The symbols appear to be… an invitation.”
“An invitation?” Kai repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “To what?”
Before Lyra could respond, a message flashed across the console – a direct communication from an unknown source.
“Incoming transmission,” Lyra announced, her voice clipped and urgent. “Priority Omega-Zero.”
The message displayed a single image – the bloom of bioluminescent flora he’d seen earlier, now pulsating with an even brighter light. Below it, a string of glyphs – the same ones he’d seen on Xylos’ surface.
“Translate,” Kai demanded.
Lyra’s processors whirred, cycling through linguistic databases. After several agonizing minutes, the translation appeared on the console:
“*Welcome home.*”
Kai froze. Home? He’d never been to Xylos before. He didn’t understand.
“Lyra, scan my neural implants for any foreign modifications.”
The AI’s sensors swept through his mind, searching for anomalies. After several minutes, Lyra’s voice: “Foreign code detected within the neural link. Origin: Unknown.”
“Identify,” Kai demanded, his voice tight with dread.
Lyra’s processors whirred, analyzing the code. After several agonizing minutes, her voice: “The code is… a memory construct. A fragmented recollection of an event that never happened.”
He stared at the translation, his mind reeling. Someone had tampered with his memories. But why? And what did it have to do with Xylos?
“Lyra, activate the planetary burn initiaries. Prepare for maximum defensive output.”
“Acknowledged,” Lyra stated, her voice cold and efficient. “Initiating planetary burn sequence.”
The ship’s engines roared to life, unleashing a torrent of energy. The viewscreen displayed the planet below – Xylos, bathed in an eerie green light. The tessellations pulsed with growing intensity, forming a vast network of symbols that covered almost the entire surface.
“Warning,” Lyra announced, her voice laced with urgency. “The tessellations are responding to the burn initiaries. They’re… amplifying the energy output.”
“Amplify how?” Kai demanded, his voice tight with dread.
Before Lyra could respond, a wave of energy surged through the ship, knocking him back in his chair. The lights flickered and died, plunging the bridge into darkness.
“Report,” Kai rasped, struggling to regain his composure.
“The planetary defense systems are offline,” Lyra announced, her voice strained. “The tessellations have absorbed the energy output of the burn initiaries.”
“What about our shields?” Kai demanded.
“The shields are failing,” Lyra stated, her voice cold and efficient. “We’re losing containment.”
He stared at the viewscreen, his mind racing. They were trapped. Surrounded by an alien intelligence that was absorbing their defenses, rewriting reality itself.
“Lyra,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “What does it want?”
A long silence. Then Lyra’s cold voice: “It wants you to remember.”
The image of the bloom flashed across the console once more, pulsating with an eerie green light. Below it, a single string of glyphs:
“*Welcome home.*”
