Hope's Encounter in the Abyss
A piercing alarm shattered the silence.
"Dii-woo! Dii-woo! Dii-woo!"
Rhett Calder's eyes snapped open. His cryo-pod's red emergency lights bathed the chamber in an ominous glow. Instinct took over—he forced the pod open and stumbled out, muscles sluggish from decades of stasis.
"NOVA, report!"
The AI's voice, unchanged for centuries, answered immediately.
"Rhett Calder, we are under attack by an extraterrestrial civilization."
The words sent a jolt through him.
"Enemy weapon systems far exceed our defensive capabilities. Their laser weaponry is rapidly melting Hope's alloy hull."
Rhett turned to the display, his mind still catching up with reality. The timestamp read: Year 2806.
Six hundred and sixty-four years.
He had been asleep for six centuries.
Shaking off the shock, he hurried toward the cockpit—only to stop short. A figure stood at the controls.
NOVA.
Her holographic form, usually a simple projection, now resembled a white-haired commander, standing poised at the helm. It was just a projection, but something about it felt real.
His attention snapped to the main screen.
A fleet. Seven alien warships.
The lead vessel was enormous—an elliptical behemoth, like a colossal crimson-streaked seed drifting in the void. From its underbelly, thousands of white tendrils stretched outward, each crystalline and pulsating with energy.
Lances of blue laser fire streaked from the appendages, cutting through the darkness.
Another impact. The ship rocked violently.
"Can we return fire?"
Rhett barely finished his question before remembering—the Hope was never designed for combat. It had no weapons.
Unless…
"NOVA, have you developed weapon systems during my stasis?"
The AI turned to face him, her expression unreadable.
"No, Rhett Calder. Hope remains unarmed. Our technological level is not on par with the enemy's."
A pause.
"Enemy fleet located at 0.7 AU. The flagship is advancing at 625 km/s."
Another impact. A console exploded behind them. The ship shuddered under the relentless barrage.
"We have no choice," Rhett muttered. "NOVA, full power to thrusters. Change course—maximum velocity!"
If the enemy's top speed was 625 km/s, then Hope could outrun them.
The engines roared to life. The ship veered off course, accelerating. The alien fleet struggled to keep up, their lasers now missing more often than they struck.
For twenty-one days, the relentless chase continued.
Then, finally—
"Enemy fleet distance: 350 million kilometers," NOVA reported. "They have ceased pursuit, though sporadic laser fire continues."
Rhett exhaled a shaky breath. His body screamed for rest. He hadn't slept properly in three weeks.
The ship was in ruins. A full fifth of the hull had been obliterated.
"This was a mistake," he muttered. "I never thought I'd actually encounter an alien civilization, let alone an aggressive one."
He clenched his fists. That won't happen again.
"NOVA, analyze their weapons and tactical patterns."
A series of data streams filled the screen.
"Enemy civilization relies primarily on laser weaponry," NOVA confirmed. "Probability of originating from Proxima Centauri: 2.38%."
Rhett frowned. "Then where are they from?"
"Their propulsion speed is insufficient for interstellar travel. Their civilization level is estimated at early Type I, approximately 1.2 on the Kardashev scale."
"They've barely advanced in the last 769 years."
That meant only one thing.
"They're local," Rhett muttered, eyes narrowing. "This isn't an invading force… We're in their territory."
A chilling realization sank in.
Hope hadn't escaped yet.
The alarms blared again.
"Rhett Calder, incoming enemy fleet detected. Ten additional vessels."
The screen filled with incoming laser signatures.
"They were waiting for us."
Hundreds of beams rained down, turning the screen into a wall of searing white light.
"We can't keep running forever," Rhett muttered.
He turned to NOVA.
"Our civilization level—what is it now?"
NOVA hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"During your six-hundred-sixty-four-year stasis, I have continued development. Our technological classification is now 1.3."
Higher than the enemy's.
But that meant nothing without weapons.
NOVA must have anticipated his thoughts. Her projection straightened, now clad in a commanding officer's armored uniform.
"Rhett Calder, we must expand our military capacity. I suggest the production of reconnaissance units, followed by fleet construction. If necessary, we will resort to colonization, conquest, or annihilation."
Rhett considered this.
For centuries, humanity had searched the cosmos, wondering if they were alone.
Now, they had an answer.
And the first thing that answer had done—was fire upon them.
His grip tightened.
"NOVA, deploy reconnaissance drones."
The AI nodded. "Initiating production."
He watched as the first of the Peregrine scout drones launched into the void—sleek, jet-black vessels designed for stealth. They emitted no signals, no heat, nothing detectable.
If the enemy wanted war…
Then humanity would not be the hunted.
The hunt was just beginning.