The glow of the Navigation Center filled the room with a pale, ethereal light, casting flickering shadows along the walls. For a long moment, no one moved. The soft hum of the table echoed through the control bridge, breaking the silence that had once felt eternal. Mikkel stood over the desk, his hands trembling slightly as he prepared to engage the system. This was it. After all these years, they were finally about to uncover the truth.
Mikkel took a slow breath, then clicked on the panel. Instantly, the sides of the table came to life, projecting beams of light upward. Above the table, a three-dimensional hologram began to form—a swirling, vibrant image of the entire planet.
The hologram flickered briefly before stabilizing, revealing the vast expanse of the world in incredible detail. Mountain ranges, oceans, valleys—it was all there, spinning gently in the air above them. Bjorn and Arne staggered backward, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had seen electricity only a few times in their lives, but this—this was beyond anything they could have imagined. It was as if the world itself had been brought into the room with them, a living, breathing thing.
Arne's voice was barely a whisper. "Is… is that the sound of a ship?"
Mikkel let out a quiet laugh, his expression softening as he glanced at the awe-stricken men beside him. "No, it's not a ship," he explained, his voice filled with wonder despite himself. "It's a holographic map—a projection of the planet."
Bjorn and Arne stared at the hologram, their minds struggling to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what they were seeing. They had heard stories of the world outside, of the cities and lands that existed beyond the frozen mountains where Altera had crashed. Lars had taught them what he could, believing that even in the harshest conditions, basic knowledge of the world's geography and culture was essential. But seeing it with their own eyes… it was overwhelming.
Slowly, as if afraid the image might vanish, they stepped closer to the table. The hologram cast a faint blue glow on their faces, and for a brief moment, they felt like children again—curious, wide-eyed, and filled with wonder at the mysteries of the world.
Mikkel's eyes, however, were focused. He moved his hand over the hologram, guiding the display until two points on the map began to pulse with light. One was glowing a bright blue, and the other—a deep, ominous red.
"I can't believe it," Mikkel muttered, his voice trembling with emotion. He pointed to the red dot. "This… this place right here… it's Bristol Capital. A city. A place where humans still live. It exists."
Before Mikkel could finish, Bjorn cut him off, his voice sharp with disbelief. "How can you be sure? How do you know it's still there?"
Mikkel turned to Bjorn, his expression deadly serious. There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. "This machine works by locating signals of the same wavelength. If there is still a machine, like this one, strong enough to emit a signal all the way here"—he pointed to the bright blue dot, glowing faintly on the map—"then that means Bristol is still standing. And there are people there. Hundreds of thousands of them, maybe more."
For a moment, the weight of Mikkel's words hung heavy in the air. Bjorn and Arne stared at the glowing map, their hearts pounding in their chests. They had spent years trapped in the frozen mountains, surrounded by death and silence, with no hope of ever finding life outside their small, crumbling world. And now, standing before them was the proof. The possibility that they were not alone—that somewhere out there, humans had survived.
Mikkel's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor. His hands pressed against his face as the overwhelming emotion finally broke through the stoic mask he had worn for so long. Tears streamed down his cheeks, glistening in the pale blue light of the hologram. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs, but there was no sadness in his cries—only pure, unfiltered relief.
"We found it, Lars," he whispered, his voice trembling. "A way to save everyone." He spoke to the ghost of his old friend, the one who had guided him through the darkest years of his life. Even in death, Lars had been his compass, his north star. And now, in this moment of triumph, Mikkel's heart ached with the wish that his friend could see it—could feel the hope that now coursed through his veins.
Bjorn and Arne stood frozen for a moment, their eyes locked on Mikkel, before the weight of what had just happened fully hit them. They turned to each other, and without thinking, they let out a scream of relief—raw, primal, and filled with years of pent-up fear and desperation. The two men embraced, hugging each other tightly, their bodies shaking with the release of everything they had been holding inside.
"This is it," Bjorn said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is our way out."
But the celebration was short-lived.
The hologram above the table began to flicker, the image of the planet wavering as the power in the room faltered. The blue and red dots blinked in and out of existence, and the hum of the navigation center grew weaker with every passing second.
Mikkel's head snapped up, the joy in his eyes immediately replaced with urgency. The battery he had used to power the control panel was draining fast—it wouldn't last much longer.
"Damn it," Mikkel cursed under his breath as he scrambled to his feet. He reached into his bag, pulling out a small, rectangular device. It was a GPS, a portable device that could store data for navigation. Without hesitation, Mikkel pressed the device against the control panel, attaching it to the system.
The room flickered again, the lights dimming further. There wasn't much time.
Mikkel's fingers moved quickly over the panel, pressing a button labeled Download Data. A small progress bar appeared on the screen, ticking slowly forward as the GPS began to pull the information from the navigation center. Each second felt like an eternity as the battery continued to drain, the hum of the system growing quieter and quieter.
"Come on," Mikkel muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on the screen. The bar moved painfully slow, the flickering lights casting deep shadows across the room.
Finally, with a soft beep, the download completed. The GPS device in Mikkel's hand blinked, signaling that the data had been saved. At the exact same moment, the lights in the room dimmed completely, and the hologram above the table vanished, plunging them back into darkness.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Mikkel stood there, the GPS clutched tightly in his hand, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. For a moment, no one spoke. The darkness pressed in around them, but for the first time in years, it didn't feel suffocating. It felt like freedom.
"We did it," Mikkel whispered, his voice barely audible in the pitch black. "We have the coordinates."
Bjorn and Arne stood by his side, their eyes wide with hope and disbelief. This wasn't just a map. This wasn't just information. This was their way out. Their way to find civilization again. To escape the cold, dying remnants of Altera.
Bjorn raised his voice, each word deliberate and slow, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily against the air. "Mikkel, you will answer all of my questions now. Okay?"
Mikkel straightened, wiping the remnants of his tears from his face, and nodded. "I'll try," he said, his tone steady but wary. He knew where this was going, and he knew that the answers might not bring comfort.
Bjorn's eyes never left Mikkel's. "First... Why did Altera take off? And how did it crash?"
The question hung in the air, thick with the tension of years of confusion and pent-up frustration. Arne, standing silently beside Bjorn, watched Mikkel closely. Mikkel didn't answer immediately; instead, he took a deep breath, his gaze falling to the floor as he gathered his thoughts, choosing each word with care.
"When Altera took off," Mikkel began, his voice low and cautious, "I was so young... I barely knew how to speak coherently. I was just a child." He paused, looking up at Bjorn and Arne, gauging their reactions. "The only thing I know for certain is that there was some kind of... deadly being. Its name, its nature... I don't remember. What I do know is that it hunted humans. It killed us. Altera didn't take off to explore space, like some grand mission. We fled. We were running. From what exactly, I don't know."
The room seemed to hold its breath. Bjorn's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. Mikkel's voice grew quieter, more reflective. "As for why Altera crashed... that's as much a mystery to me as it is to you. Maybe something went wrong with the ship, or maybe something caused it to fall. But I swear to you, I don't have that answer."
Bjorn's brow furrowed, but before he could speak, Arne gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's a good enough answer for now," Arne said softly, his tone calm, though his eyes held a depth of unspoken concern.
Bjorn nodded, reluctantly accepting the response. His mind was already racing to the next question. "Second," he continued, his voice hardening again, "Why is the name Bristol Capital so important to you and Lars?"
Mikkel's expression shifted—what had been a face marked with fatigue now held something darker. A grim, almost haunted look spread across his features. "Bristol," Mikkel began, his voice tinged with a mix of longing and sorrow, "is a place where, once, humanity thrived. Imagine... hundreds of thousands of people, all living in one place, without worrying about food, water, or a place to sleep. That was Bristol. A city where humans lived in harmony with each other, where survival wasn't a constant fight."
Bjorn cut him off before he could continue. "Doesn't that contradict what you just said? About escaping from deadly creatures?"
Mikkel didn't flinch. "It does. But here's what I know for sure: not everyone from Bristol escaped on Altera. Some were left behind. Maybe they found a way to survive. Maybe they discovered something—something that helped them fight back against those creatures."
For the first time, there was a flicker of hope in Mikkel's voice, but it was tempered by the hard reality that had defined his life on Altera. Bjorn studied him carefully, trying to detect any hint of deception or wishful thinking, but Mikkel's grim sincerity seemed unshakable.
Bjorn, finally satisfied with the answer, nodded. "Good enough."
Then came the third and final question, the one that had been gnawing at Bjorn's mind since the moment they'd seen the map. "Do you propose we go out into that cold, harsh world in search of this place?"
Mikkel took his time with this one. He lowered his head, staring at the now-dark navigation panel. The weight of the question was enormous, and he knew what it would mean for all of them—for everyone back in the village. Finally, he spoke, his voice resolute but somber.
"Food from your last hunt is enough to feed us for a month," Mikkel said, his tone steady and pragmatic. "And the leftovers we have stored can keep us going for another week. That's enough time for us to pack everything we need and leave."
Bjorn and Arne exchanged a look, the gravity of what Mikkel was proposing settling over them. "So, yes," Mikkel continued, his voice firm. "I propose we leave. We go and find Bristol."
Bjorn's reply was simple, but there was a finality in his voice. "Good."
Arne, who had been quiet through much of the exchange, nodded in agreement. "Let's start the journey back. Our lives won't last much longer if we stay. And everyone back home... they must be worried."
Mikkel nodded in agreement. But as they began to turn and prepare for the long crawl back through the suffocating tunnels of Altera, Bjorn stopped. His body tensed, and he turned back to face Mikkel, his expression darkening. The excitement and hope of their discovery were already fading, replaced by the tension that had been bubbling beneath the surface all along.
"Don't think me and Arne forgot what you and Lars did," Bjorn said, his voice cold. His words cut through the room like a blade. "How you cannibalized others. How you kept these secrets from us for so long."
Mikkel froze. His face hardened, the warmth of their shared relief draining away. The air between them grew tense, the camaraderie of the last few hours evaporating. Bjorn's eyes were hard, filled with the weight of betrayal that had been simmering beneath the surface for years.
"I have many more questions," Bjorn continued, his voice edged with barely contained anger. "But they aren't a priority right now."
Mikkel's eyes softened, a flicker of regret crossing his face. He knew this moment was coming, and he had been dreading it. He took a slow breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own guilt. "I'm sorry," Mikkel said, his voice quiet but steady. "For everything. I only want what's best for the people who are still alive. I've made mistakes, I know that. But I promise you, I will give you all the answers you want."
Bjorn stared at him for a long moment, his fists clenched at his sides. Arne shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room almost unbearable. But there was nothing more to say—not now.
"We'll deal with that later," Bjorn said finally, his voice low and cold. "We'll deal with that later."
The three men stood in the dim light of the control bridge, the echoes of their confrontation lingering in the air. The hope of their discovery—of Bristol, of a way out—still hung above them, but it was clouded now, tainted by the past.
Without another word, they turned and began to make their way back to the suffocating tunnels, the weight of what lay ahead pulling them forward. But the idea of their shared past would follow them too, as heavy and cold as the ship that had trapped them.