There's something about the quiet moments after a big discovery that makes them feel almost unreal, like the calm before a storm you don't see coming. After weeks of intense exploration, my crew and I finally had some time to relax. The debriefings were done, the artifacts handed over to the scientists, and for the first time in months, we could just be ourselves—no suits, no protocols, no unknown dangers lurking around the corner.
We ended up at **The Blue Horizon**, a bar carved into the side of a cliff on the edge of one of Titan's massive methane lakes. The place was a favorite among the crews stationed on the moon—a place to blow off steam, swap stories, and drink something that, if you squinted hard enough, could pass for whiskey.
#### The Crew
We found a table near the large, transparent wall that gave us a stunning view of the murky lake outside. Titan's orange haze filtered through the atmosphere, casting an eerie but beautiful glow over everything.
Luca had already ordered the first round, a grin plastered on his face. "To the greatest find of the century!" he declared, raising his glass. Luca Bruni was our engineer, a wiry Italian with a knack for making anything work, even when it shouldn't. He was the kind of guy who could fix a plasma leak with nothing but duct tape and a prayer, and he had an easygoing nature that made him the heart of our little crew.
"Greatest find? Hell, it's more than that!" Siegfried Klaus, our soldier, said with his usual booming enthusiasm. Sig, as we called him, was a towering figure—a German who looked like he could bench-press the *Erebus* if he had to. Despite his imposing appearance, he was a gentle giant with a laugh that could fill a room. He'd joined the mission as security, but over time, he'd become one of us—a protector, yes, but also a friend.
"Greatest find or not, I'm just glad to be off that icy rock," Sophia grumbled, though I knew she didn't mean it. Sophia Kim, our geologist, was as sharp as they came. A no-nonsense woman from Seoul, she had a mind that could analyze complex data as easily as most people read a menu. She was practical, sometimes to a fault, but when she smiled, which wasn't often, it lit up the room.
"Don't listen to her," Dr. Helena Voronova chimed in, nudging Sophia playfully. Helena, our doctor, was the soul of our team. Russian by birth, she had a calm, steady demeanor that could soothe even the most frazzled nerves. She was the one who kept us all grounded, especially during the more intense parts of our mission. She had a dry sense of humor and a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn't.
"And here's to you, Mark," Helena added, turning to me. "For getting us through it all in one piece."
I raised my glass, trying to hide my embarrassment. I wasn't one for the spotlight, even if I was the captain. "We're a team. Couldn't have done it without any of you."
"Cheers to that," Luca said, clinking his glass against mine. "But seriously, Mark, that was some crazy stuff back there. I've been on a lot of missions, but those ruins? They're something else. You think we'll ever figure out what those artifacts are?"
"I hope so," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "Whatever they are, they're important. More than we probably realize."
#### The Alarm
We spent the next hour just talking and laughing, letting the tension of the last few weeks melt away. It was easy to forget, for a little while, the weight of what we'd found—the ancient ruins, the alien artifacts, the mysteries that still lay hidden beneath Planet X's icy surface. Here, in the warm glow of the bar, it all seemed so distant.
But the universe has a way of reminding you that peace is often fleeting.
Just as Sig was in the middle of one of his stories—a wild tale about a mission gone wrong on Europa—the bar's lights flickered, and a deep, resonant alarm echoed through the walls. We all froze, the sound cutting through our conversation like a knife. It wasn't a noise we heard often, but when we did, it meant one thing: trouble.
"What the hell?" Luca muttered, looking around as the other patrons in the bar began to react, their faces mirroring the confusion and concern I felt.
A voice came over the station's PA system, clear but urgent. "Attention all personnel. This is an emergency alert. Evacuate Titan immediately. Repeat, all personnel are to evacuate Titan immediately."
For a moment, none of us moved. It was as if the words hadn't fully registered. Then the reality of the situation hit us like a shockwave. Whatever was happening, it was serious—serious enough to order the evacuation of an entire moon.
"Let's go," I said, standing up and throwing some credits on the table. My crew followed suit, quickly draining their glasses and grabbing their gear. The bar was already in chaos, people scrambling to leave, their conversations drowned out by the blaring alarm.
As we pushed our way through the crowd, I could see the fear in people's eyes. Titan was one of the most secure places in the solar system. If we were being told to leave, something had gone horribly wrong.
"What do you think it is, Mark?" Helena asked, her voice steady despite the urgency.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But whatever it is, we need to get off this rock. Now."
We made our way to the nearest shuttle bay, the corridors filled with panicked voices and the sound of boots clattering against metal floors. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. My mind raced through possibilities—an attack, a catastrophic system failure, maybe even something to do with the artifacts we'd brought back.
But there was no time to speculate. We reached the shuttle bay, and I could see the *Erebus* prepped and ready for launch. Other ships were already lifting off, streaking towards the dark sky of Titan's upper atmosphere.
As we boarded the *Erebus* and strapped ourselves in, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far bigger than any of us had imagined. The artifacts, the ruins on Planet X—what if they had triggered something? What if we had uncovered something we weren't meant to find?
The shuttle's engines roared to life, and as we lifted off from Titan's surface, I glanced out the window at the orange-hued moon below. Whatever was happening, Titan was no longer safe. And as we hurtled away from the only home we'd known for the last few years, I couldn't help but wonder if any place in the solar system was safe anymore.
As the *Erebus* pierced the thick clouds and shot into the black void of space, one thought kept repeating in my mind, over and over:
What have we done?