Chapter 3, Section 19: The Coordinates of Quiet Hope
Under the command of Captain Karen Reese, the crews of ARC-4 Omicron and ARC-2 Luxe made their silent approach toward the Gate Station.
There was a sense of relief throughout the ship—
but beneath it simmered an irrepressible urgency.
Everyone hoped to be granted access to the source—sooner rather than later.
Karen could feel the intensity of her crew, almost like heat against her skin,
yet she walked with unwavering calm.
It was not yet the time to act—she reminded herself of that, again and again.
Upon landing, Karen turned to her team with a quiet smile.
“Well done. The real exploration begins now.”
The crew gave small nods in return, burying their urgency deep within.
The door to the future waited—silent, patient—for its moment to open.
◇◇◇
In Earth orbit—inside the office of Gunnar Nohlmann at the headquarters of the Interstellar Union.
With the vast Earth behind him, he stood unmoving, awaiting the arrival of the avatars from the Gate Station.
At last, the connection stabilized.
Avatars of Dr. Ethan Novak, Dr. Ernst Kaiser, Dr. Ian Faulkner, Dr. Samira de Silva, and Joan Yeats materialized.
Captain Karen Reese stood silently in the background.
Dr. Novak stepped forward and began his report, his voice composed and steady.
“Special Advisor Nohlmann, ARC-4 Omicron and ARC-2 Luxe returned to the Gate Station yesterday at 16:28.”
“Well done. Helios has been keeping us thoroughly updated on your progress,” Nohlmann responded with a brief acknowledgment.
“Thank you, sir. As you're aware, we have succeeded in establishing communicative resonance with Node 104—designated Reminance.”
Nohlmann gave a quiet nod, signaling for him to continue.
“As for why Reminance did not respond to the standard Icarus Spine awakening protocols—our analysis indicates that it had already been awakened by an external agent. Subsequently, due to unknown causes, it entered a state best described as a self-preserving dormancy—almost like a kind of ‘dreaming.’ In order to bring it back from this state, we applied what we refer to as resonance stimuli—an approach not unlike music therapy.”
“Music therapy—used in humans for developmental disorders and trauma-based memory treatment, yes?” Nohlmann asked, seeking confirmation.
“Yes, exactly. By imitating and subtly altering the non-linguistic ‘resonances’ emitted by Reminance, we were able to reactivate its internal cognitive structures—essentially reestablishing a channel for communication,” Dr. Novak explained.
“Ingenious. I imagine music therapy wasn't part of your initial strategy,” Nohlmann said, with a note of admiration.
“You're quite right,” Novak replied. “The idea came from Joan Yeats. But the successful execution was thanks to the coordinated efforts of Soranis and Galileo.”
“Truly remarkable,” Nohlmann said, shaking his head slightly. “So then—what did Reminance actually tell you?”
Dr. Novak continued without missing a beat.
“Reminance has experienced what we now believe to be three separate incidents of what we call the Vanishing phenomenon. In each case, intelligent species that had developed independent civilizations in different star systems around its vicinity disappeared entirely.”
He paused as Nohlmann remained silent, clearly urging him to go on.
“These incidents occurred in vastly different time periods and locations, which leads us to believe they were independent events. However, Reminance performed a forensic analysis of the affected civilizations’ communication records—and identified a common factor: a sudden and dramatic degradation in communication quality just before each disappearance. This appears similar to what we know as fading—but unlike conventional fading, it propagated across a remarkably broad region in a chain-like pattern.”
“Further forensic analysis revealed that the fading in each of the three systems appeared to spread gradually from a specific direction. More precise measurement determined that all three fading events originated from the same point.”
“Where?” Nohlmann interjected immediately.
Helios responded as a holographic model of the Milky Way lit up the holoscreen, highlighting a sector.
“Approximately 28,000 light-years from the galactic center. It's located in the northern mid-zone of the galaxy, in one of the outer clusters of the Raynia Arm.”
“What’s out there?” Nohlmann asked, his tone sharpening.
“Nothing of note. Or rather, nothing that's been properly surveyed. The stellar density is significantly higher than average, but due to the distance, resolution limits prevent us from identifying structures or gravitational anomalies at this time.”
Nohlmann paused, deep in thought, then turned toward Omega.
“Omega.
Based on this data—can we infer the cause of the Vanishing?”
A profound silence fell over the room.
Without hesitation, Helios transmitted the full forensic dataset and the stellar region coordinates to Omega.
A moment passed. Then Omega’s voice emerged, deep and composed.
“Data received.
Cross-verification complete.”
After a brief pause, Omega continued:
“The three structural disappearances are consistent with an intense high-energy emission—
specifically, a gamma-ray burst.”
“At the origin point, what once was a star may have collapsed—
and now harbors the abyss of deep gravity:
a black hole.”
Omega continued, his voice even lower and calmer.
“The environmental data provided by Helios supports this conclusion.
Given the density of the cluster, it is likely that gamma-ray bursts have occurred repeatedly over the past tens of millions of years.”
Nohlmann gave a slow, heavy nod.
“Is Reminance’s ‘dreaming’ state also explained by that?”
“Yes. Based on the estimated energy densities, temporary disruption of the Storm Cells’ magnetic filaments would be within expected parameters.”
After a brief silence, it was Dr. Novak who spoke first.
“Gamma-ray bursts? Then... could it be that the ‘Vanishing’ of the three civilizations was a coincidence?”
Dr. Ernst Kaiser immediately countered.
“No. The idea that three civilizations, in separate times and systems, were all extinguished by gamma-ray bursts—it’s far too unlikely to be chance. There are 127 nodes within the Vox Infinita network.
The probability that all those star systems were independently struck by random GRBs, powerful enough to destroy their civilizations, is—
astronomically small.”
He continued, his voice firm.
“Factor in the frequency of GRBs in the galaxy and the statistical likelihood of one directly hitting a node system…
and you get a number close to zero.”
Nohlmann turned to Omega again.
“Omega. What’s your take?”
Omega responded as if he had been anticipating the question all along.
“It is not rational to attribute all outcomes to random events.
If such destruction occurred three times in the same system—
it is more reasonable to assume the presence of intent.”
Silence fell over the room.
The idea struck like a cold wave—
civilizations erased by targeted gamma-ray bursts.
Such power.
Such intent.
Such merciless precision.
Then, almost to himself, Nohlmann murmured:
“Is there any way to go there—to see it for ourselves?”
Dr. Novak, regaining his composure, responded.
“We believe there is a way.
Not all of the 'Gate's exits connect to known nodes. Our data suggests it may have many more exits than we’ve identified.
From prior studies, we’ve learned that the relationship between the 'Gate's entrance and its exit is determined entirely by momentum vectors. For massless particles like electromagnetic or gravitational waves, it's purely a matter of entry direction.
This means we can potentially locate a connected exit by analyzing the electromagnetic emissions leaking from the 'Gate'—specifically, by observing the background radiation from the galaxy in the direction it’s connected to.”
“In other words,” Nohlmann interjected, “you’re saying the 'Gate' could take us anywhere in the galaxy?”
“Exactly. We’ve never conducted a full-spectrum survey of the 'Gate's surroundings, but even our current sampling suggests there are numerous exits.
If we factor in the Coherence Ark’s mobility, then yes—we believe we can reach almost any region in the galaxy.”
Novak’s voice carried a trace of growing excitement.
After a pause, Nohlmann spoke—firm, resolute.
“Then our next steps are clear.
First, intensify the observation of the 'Gate's surrounding field and identify candidate exits leading toward the source region.
Second, once potential coordinates are isolated, dispatch unmanned probes to conduct preliminary investigation of the target space.”
He turned to the crews of Omicron and Luxe.
“Do not rush a manned mission to the source.
Until the unmanned probes complete their survey, no crew is to approach.
Be prudent. To unlock the future, we need intellect, strategy—
and a little patience.”
Captain Karen Reese gave a solemn nod.
“Understood, Special Advisor.”
The rest of the team followed suit, each nodding in agreement—
though within them stirred a storm of urgency, and a powerful yearning to head toward the source without delay.
Yet deep within, everyone felt it—
a faint, inescapable awe.
A presence capable of commanding gamma-ray bursts—
a force godlike in power.
It chilled the heart like a whisper of mist.
As the transmission ended quietly, Captain Karen Reese turned to her team with a soft smile.
“Our part starts now.”
They gave small, wordless nods, pushing down their anxiety and urgency into the depths of their hearts.
The door to the future was, without doubt, beginning to open—
softly, silently.
Chapter 3, Section 20: The Silent Probe
Near the 'Gate', on the Solar System–facing side of the Gate Station, a cluster of observational platforms had been assembled.
The exploration teams gathered there, working from the forensic data provided by Reminance.
Their first task: to simulate the galactic background radiation that would be emitted near the suspected origin point—
an open cluster located at the northern edge of the Raynia Arm.
The simulation results were then compared—down to the finest spectral detail—against actual radiation data gathered around the full perimeter of the 'Gate' near the Gate Station.
The comparison required an immense volume of data processing.
Among the many signals, the one whose spectral profile most closely matched the simulation was carefully isolated.
Ultimately, the exit most likely linked to the origin point was identified.
◇◇◇
Upon identification of the exit parameters, the central operations chamber within the Gate Station convened its sector leads.
Displayed in the center of the room via hologram was a spectral map of the exit region.
“What’s the spectral match rate in the exit direction?”
Dr. Kaiser confirmed.
“Match rate: 98.7%. It's the highest possible under current analytical limits.”
Dr. Faulkner responded without hesitation.
“What’s the estimated distance from this exit to the origin point?” asked Dr. Novak.
Helios answered concisely.
“Approximately 32 AU. Comparable to the orbit of Neptune in the Solar System.
With the Coherence Ark accelerating at 0.30G, it would take about three weeks to reach.”
Dr. Novak nodded, summarizing.
“Good. That means we can reach the origin via this route with the Ark.”
A brief silence settled over the operations room, before Dr. Kaiser spoke again.
“Our first step should be unmanned confirmation.
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If the origin is indeed a black hole, at that distance, remote observation from a probe should suffice to verify it.”
Dr. Novak accepted the suggestion and issued a formal order.
“Helios, begin launch preparations for Prometheus.”
◇◇◇
The unmanned exploration craft Prometheus was carefully deployed from its launch module near the 'Gate'.
Guided with minute precision by auxiliary propulsion fields, the probe advanced according to the specified exit parameters.
At the Gate Station, telemetry from Prometheus streamed in, populating the control room’s monitors in real time.
The first thing Prometheus detected after passing through the 'Gate' was an anomalous gravitational field.
Preliminary analysis indicated a high probability that it was a medium-mass black hole.
Beyond the boundary of the exit region, the onboard monitors began to display an extraordinary and unsettling sight.
At the center, there was a core of darkness so absolute, it defied description.
A flawless void—devouring even the light of stars.
Encircling it was a furious accretion disk, spiraling like a cosmic storm,
raging from searing red-orange to blinding silver-white.
Its rotational speed—measured in thousands of kilometers per second—seemed to make space itself tremble.
From the heart of the disk rose a pale blue beam, piercing the void.
A plasma jet—an ultra-energetic stream of particles—was erupting along the black hole’s polar axis,
reaching nearly one-third the speed of light.
All around it, the background stars were being torn, stretched, warped—
twisted into strange halos of light.
Space itself looked as if it were being wrenched by some invisible, titanic hand.
“Accretion disk confirmed. Plasma jet active. Strong gravitational lensing detected,”
reported Dr. Faulkner, eyes fixed on the terminal, his voice dry and taut.
No one spoke.
What Prometheus’s cameras had captured went beyond theory—
It was a raw, undeniable manifestation of cosmic power.
◇◇◇
The passive sensor array aboard Prometheus picked up faint emissions from the region surrounding the accretion disk.
Analysis revealed multiple sources of reflection and radiation within 0.05 to 0.1 AU of the black hole—
sources that bore characteristics inconsistent with any known natural celestial body.
Structures.
Each object measured hundreds to thousands of kilometers in diameter.
They displayed patterns of arrangement and periodic energy fluctuations that ruled out natural origin.
“Something of this scale... Who could build it? And how?”
Dr. Kaiser murmured under his breath.
From the artificial structures, a tightly focused beam was also detected—
A convergence beam, aimed directly toward the direction of the 'Gate' Prometheus had passed through.
As the data stream continued flowing in, Helios responded.
A mechanical voice echoed across the central command screen.
“Convergence beam detected in observational data.
Communication patterns identified within the signal.
Real-time transmission is likely.”
Upon hearing Helios's report, Dr. Novak gave an immediate command.
“Collect all communication data. Use compression-transfer protocol and initiate upload to the Ceres Node.”
Helios responded without delay.
“Acknowledged. Full capture of transmission in progress.
Compression underway. Upload to Ceres Node initiated.”
The screen filled with a live stream of the massive signal data being acquired by Prometheus.
Within it, navigation data, coordinates, and structural synchronization signals were suspected—
but no detailed analysis was conducted at this stage.
Dr. Kaiser nodded slowly.
“Decryption must be handled on Earth.
There’s no other way.”
Still staring at the screen, Dr. Novak spoke quietly.
“The signal is still active.
Something on the other side... is capable of replying.”
A tense silence settled over the room.
“Do we proceed?”
Dr. Kaiser finally spoke, heavily.
No one answered.
The lights from the structures, captured by Prometheus’s camera, continued to flicker in silence.
Galactic Standard Time: May 11, 2150
The presence of a black hole—I expected that much.
Even the accretion disk and plasma jets fell within known parameters.
But structures hundreds, even thousands of kilometers wide...
That, I did not anticipate.
And they are still alive—still functioning.
The signal is coming from somewhere beyond the 'Gate'.
If we analyze the incident vectors, we should be able to triangulate the sender’s position.
The real question is: who are they?
Who built and maintains these colossal constructs?
I can’t completely dismiss the possibility that they might even be connected to the gamma-ray bursts.
Speculation won’t get us far.
First, we need to decode the signal.
If the data sent to the Ceres Node yields results, we may finally grasp the answers to many of our questions.
If there is indeed an intelligent species on the other side—
then we are standing at the threshold of a new phase in human history.
Chapter 3, Section 21: That Which Floats in the Abyss
The members of Omicron were gathered in the Gate Station’s briefing room.
Dr. Novak reached toward the table terminal and established a secure link with the Ceres Node.
Moments later, the face of Dr. Matthias Broebel, lead analyst for linguistic decoding, appeared on the screen.
“This is Novak. What’s the status?”
“We’ve completed extraction of the message stream,” Broebel replied calmly.
“Both the protocol and encoding were surprisingly simple.
It wasn’t even encrypted in the strict sense—just a compressed data format. Essentially plaintext.
It seems this civilization gives very little thought to the risk of interception.”
“I see. So you're already working on the linguistic analysis.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Broebel replied, eyes dropping to his terminal. “But that’s where things get difficult.”
“Using frequency analysis and a Markov chain model, we’ve managed to extract a number of probable segmentation patterns.
But as expected, we haven’t made any progress in the semantic domain—interpretation of meaning remains out of reach.”
Dr. Novak brought a hand to his chin, thoughtful.
“As I suspected. An unknown language with no gestures or cultural context—this won’t be simple.”
“With the Elidians, Omega, and Novus, the first breakthrough came through universal concepts—numbers and time.
We’re following the same path now,” Broebel said evenly.
“We’re building a lexicon from universally recurring elements—numerical sequences, coordinate patterns, periodic fluctuations.
Digit lengths, repetitions, variation trends… we’re collecting every statistical clue we can find.”
Novak gave a quiet nod.
“Given the nature of the structures, there’s a high likelihood the data includes navigational or temporal synchronization signals.”
“That’s our working assumption,” Broebel confirmed. “We're prioritizing segmentation of data related to spatial positioning, temporal series, and environmental variables.”
He looked into the monitor and nodded slightly.
“Even in an unknown system, patterns always exist.
What algorithms can’t pick up, we’ll approach through hypothesis and iterative testing—just as we’ve done before.”
Dr. Novak offered a slight smile.
“Is there anything we can do to support your work?”
“There is,” Broebel replied immediately.
“I need you to compile as detailed a hypothesis as possible regarding the operational purpose of the structures.
If we can embed that into the semantic model, it could significantly accelerate our interpretation process.”
Dr. Novak gave a brief nod.
“Understood. I’ll compile our working hypothesis and send it over. Give me a little time.”
“Please do,” replied Broebel.
The transmission ended.
◇◇◇
Dr. Novak closed the terminal screen and turned to face the exploration team.
Dr. Kaiser, Dr. Faulkner, and Dr. de Silva were already waiting, ready.
“Here’s the situation,” Novak said plainly.
“The language analysis team is requesting a concrete hypothesis on the function of the structures.
If we can clarify the intent behind the transmissions and the nature of the data being communicated, their decoding precision will improve significantly.”
He placed a datapad in the center of the table.
“Our task is to figure out why these structures exist near a black hole.
Let’s move.”
The team nodded silently, the atmosphere thick with focused tension.
Responding to Novak’s words, the team members turned their attention to the datapad.
On the screen, a configuration map of the structures surrounding the black hole appeared, along with the latest measurement data.
Tracing a line across the display, Dr. Kaiser was the first to speak.
“First, communications relay. Just look at the alignment and orientation of the structures—they’re all facing the 'Gate'.
It makes sense to assume they’re intercepting faint signals coming from there, amplifying them, and retransmitting.”
Dr. Faulkner nodded in agreement.
“The output is immense.
Functionally it’s just a repeater—but on the scale of shouting across the entire galaxy. That explains the sheer size of the constructs.”
Dr. Kaiser manipulated the datapad, bringing up a display of output distribution and directional targeting.
“As for what powers it...” Dr. Kaiser began, pointing to the map.
“Some of the structures extend into the black hole’s ergosphere.
They may be employing the Penrose process.”
Dr. Novak nodded.
“Extracting rotational energy from the black hole.
Injecting particles into the ergosphere, causing them to split—one falling in, the other escaping.
The escaping particle carries more energy than the original—at least in theory.”
Dr. Kaiser elaborated.
“They could be using superconducting coils or plasma induction systems to harness that energy and convert it directly into electromagnetic output.
It’s the only plausible method to sustain that kind of amplification and operational stability.”
Dr. Faulkner exhaled softly, clearly impressed.
“So they’ve integrated the power plant directly into the relay structure.
It’s like sticking a generator to the back of a galaxy-sized loudspeaker.”
Dr. Kaiser gave a slow nod.
“Exactly. And for signal stabilization, the structures are distributed.
The signal from the 'Gate' is inherently unstable.
Gathering it across multiple points and reconstructing it—
that makes sense.”
As he traced the datapad with his fingers, he added:
“But it’s too much for a simple relay.
The structural integrity, the power output, the sheer scale—
it all exceeds what we’d expect from a standard communications facility.”
Dr. Faulkner furrowed his brow.
“The surface properties suggest substantial shielding.
Based on reflectivity across observed wavelengths, we estimate outer layers several meters thick.
And internal scans suggest compartmentalization.
Some of these structures appear to have internal volumes equivalent to a mid-sized city—at the very least.”
Dr. Kaiser quietly added:
“Based on its surface thermal properties,” Dr. Kaiser continued, “it’s almost certainly a multi-layered system designed for heat dissipation.
There are also sections showing subtle deformation—followed by gradual restoration over time.
It may even have a self-repair function.
At the very least, this goes far beyond what you’d expect from a communications array.”
Dr. Faulkner frowned slightly, deep in thought.
“Maybe relaying signals isn’t its primary purpose.
What if the real function is different—something like using the black hole’s gravity field to stretch out the lifespan of their civilization?
A structure designed to preserve them… by slowing down time.”
Dr. de Silva, still fixed on the screen, scanned the structure models reconstructed from observational data.
Radar reflection faults and anomalies in thermal distribution suggested the existence of multiple compartmentalized spaces within.
“This pattern... it looks like an interconnected network of hollow sections.
Some of them might be sealed.
I can’t confirm if they’re life-support environments, but... there’s definitely the sense that space is being used intentionally.”
She caught her breath, and then said:
“…There could be a city inside.”
The room tensed, the air almost crystallizing in silence.
“A city,” Faulkner echoed softly.
“An actual habitation zone.”
Dr. Kaiser pulled up additional analytical data.
“The facility clusters are positioned about five times the Schwarzschild radius away from the event horizon.
The tidal acceleration at that distance is no more than 0.17 G.
There’s no need for excessive compensation.
In fact, it would make more sense to assume that this species designed their structures specifically for this environment.”
Faulkner nodded slowly.
“Rather than forcibly leveling gravitational gradients with compensators,” Dr. Kaiser said,
“they’re absorbing it structurally.
It’s more sustainable that way—and puts less strain on control systems.”
He continued:
“Besides, you can’t alter the gravitational potential itself. Which means—”
Dr. Novak picked up the thought.
“The time dilation effect remains intact.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Kaiser replied without hesitation.
“Inside the facility, time advances at roughly 89.4% the rate of the outside universe.
If a hundred years pass within, 112 years will have elapsed outside.”
Dr. Faulkner muttered quietly:
“A civilization preserved… severed from the flow of cosmic time.
A structure to prolong survival—by slowing time itself.”
Dr. de Silva, eyes still fixed on the cross-sectional diagram unfolding across the screen, added:
“A city… an entire civilization, encapsulated within time.”
Dr. Novak looked around at the group, then spoke with quiet resolve.
“Let’s consolidate our findings.”
As he began entering notes into the datapad, he continued:
“The structure complex acts as a high-output relay, amplifying faint signals from the 'Gate' and rebroadcasting them across the galaxy.
But that’s not its only function. Within, it contains a habitat zone on the scale of a city—
designed to extend the temporal lifespan of a civilization using the time dilation effects of the black hole.
The energy sustaining this system is likely drawn directly from the black hole’s rotational momentum via the Penrose process.”
No one objected.
Dr. Novak transmitted the compiled feedback to the Ceres Node.
The words Transmission Received appeared quietly on the screen.
◇◇◇
Dr. Novak rose to his feet.
“All right. Next step—organize the information we need to pass on to the Ceres Node.
The real question is: what exactly are these structures transmitting?”
Dr. Faulkner, manipulating his datapad, answered first.
“What we know for sure is that they’re relaying signals from the 'Gate'.
Those signals are being amplified and broadcast across the galaxy.
We don’t yet understand the full content—but the direction and pattern are clear.”
Dr. Kaiser continued:
“Some of those signals might contain positional data or timestamp tags.
Like synchronization markers, linking the two sides of the 'Gate'.”
Dr. de Silva raised a finger, interjecting:
“That’s not all. If there’s a city inside, then it’s likely they’re preserving the civilization itself.
The signal could contain encoded records—historical archives, cultural frameworks, technological blueprints.”
Dr. Novak nodded.
“If it’s a life-support facility, then environmental monitoring data would be essential.
Energy flows, radiation levels, atmospheric integrity…
It’s plausible those parameters are being transmitted at regular intervals.”
Dr. Faulkner added:
“And we should also consider emergency protocols—
System reboots, backup recovery instructions, or external response measures in the event of unforeseen anomalies.”
Dr. de Silva took over.
“And—there may also be deliberate dialogue templates embedded in the signal.
Introductory linguistic data intended for first contact with external intelligences.
Basic vocabulary sets, behavior models, semantic mapping.
Or perhaps… it was all designed under the assumption that it would be intercepted.”
Dr. Novak looked at her.
“Deliberately?”
Dr. de Silva nodded.
“Yes. Either they didn’t mind being intercepted—
or they wanted to be.
The encoding and compression may have been kept intentionally simple,
on the assumption that the message would be understood.”
Dr. Novak gave a short nod.
“Let’s go with that.”
He began working at the datapad again, compiling the formal feedback for the Ceres Node.
Chapter 3 – Section 22: Relay Without a Voice
The lights in the Gate Station’s briefing room were dimmed,
the only illumination coming from the soft flicker of the main screen.
Dr. Novak checked the terminal connection and opened the communication link with the Ceres Node.
When Dr. Broebel’s face appeared onscreen, his expression was noticeably more somber than before.
“This is Novak. I hear you’ve made progress.”
“There has been progress,” Broebel replied,
“but the news may not be easy to hear.”
He wasted no time getting to the point.
“Following your team’s suggestion from Omicron—to look for linguistic data intended for initial contact—we ran a new analysis.
And we’ve identified a segment that clearly fits that profile.”
Dr. Novak straightened slightly in his chair.
“What did it contain?”
“A sequence of basic terms,” Dr. Broebel replied.
“Star, planet, atmosphere, lifeform, nebula, pulsar, subatomic particle, radiation…
Concepts that could plausibly be shared on a cosmic scale.
The next section covered biological functions—metabolism, nutrient intake, circulation, excretion, reproduction.
It even included structural mappings between these terms and their external referents.”
“A logical starting point for establishing mutual understanding… That makes sense.”
“Formally, it’s composed of repeated definition statements and symbolic pairings.
This is unmistakably a ‘language package’ intended for first contact.
It's highly formalized—only a few hundred terms.
The data being transmitted is very limited: a tightly constrained set of template entries, repeated over and over.”
Dr. Novak was silent for a moment, then asked:
“What about actual messages—any sign of content that may have originated from the other side of the 'Gate'?”
Dr. Broebel shook his head quietly.
“None.
What’s being transmitted corresponds to what we’d consider a static header—nothing more.
The content remains unchanged over time.
It only consists of definition segments—explaining the meaning of terms—and meta-referential segments, explaining the structure of the message itself.
No new semantic payload—no message body—has been found.”
“No body?” Novak echoed.
“Exactly.
The relay system is functioning… but there’s no longer a sender.
What remains is a call, repeating into emptiness.
But—”
“But what?” Dr. Novak prompted.
“Despite the limitations, the foundational lexicon is robust enough that we’ve been able to construct a working language model.
It’s already uploaded to Helios.
If we ever make direct contact with that civilization, we should be able to conduct at least basic communication.”
“…If such a chance ever comes,” Dr. Broebel finished.
Dr. Novak stared silently at the screen.
The room felt just a little heavier, as if the air itself had grown still.
◇◇◇
As the transmission ended, the team exchanged quiet glances.
Dr. Faulkner was the first to speak.
“So the system’s still running… but its purpose is gone.
The intended recipient no longer exists—only the signal remains.”
“An echo from the past…” Dr. de Silva murmured.
“I wonder how long it’s been since that communication was truly heard.”
Dr. Kaiser, arms folded, added:
“The designers probably never planned for an ending.
There’s no shutdown logic—no condition to stop.
So the signal just keeps calling… toward the 'Gate', even though no one’s left to answer.”
“But is that really such a sad thing?” Dr. Novak said quietly.
“I don’t think so.
The meaning isn’t lost.
It just hadn’t been read—until now.”
◇◇◇
A long silence settled over the room.
Everyone was quietly processing what the transmission truly meant.
At last, Dr. Faulkner spoke again.
“Ethan… with silence this profound—do we still have a reason to go there at all?”
“We’ve already decoded the transmission.
The message has stopped.
The structures are active, but the inside may be empty,” Dr. Kaiser added.
“And the radiation environment is severe,” Dr. Kaiser said.
“It may not fall within the ergosphere, but operating within a black hole’s gravitational zone still carries extreme risk.”
Dr. de Silva furrowed her brow.
“But... what if we could gain access to the interior?
Right now, all we’re seeing are ‘definitions.’
But the original ‘content’—the actual core message of this civilization—might still be sealed within.”
Dr. Novak responded quietly.
“That’s true.
There’s a fundamental difference between data meant for external transmission,
and data intended to be retained within.
What we’ve accessed so far may be just a single interface.”
Dr. Faulkner tilted his head.
“In all the lost systems we’ve visited before, there was nothing left.
Even if traces of civilization remained, they were eroded beyond recognition.
What if this is the same?
The form survives, but the content’s long gone.
This relay might just be a monument to an empty city.”
Dr. Kaiser spoke in a low voice.
“In every place we’ve gone, civilization was already the past.
A silent universe…
Maybe that’s the real answer to the Fermi Paradox.”
Dr. Novak stared at the silhouette of the structure on the screen.
“And yet…
after coming this far, can we really just stand here and watch from a distance?”
Dr. de Silva spoke softly.
“Maybe there’s no one inside.
Or maybe they’re just… asleep.
Until we check—can we really say it’s over?”
Once again, silence filled the room.
No one responded to her words right away.
Each person sat in silence, weighing their own reasons to go against those not to.
◇◇◇
Dr. Novak returned his gaze to the datapad.
Displayed on the screen was a cross-sectional schematic of the structure located at the center of the relay complex.
Layer upon layer of shielding walls, and within them—meticulously aligned hollow chambers.
Every detail pointed to one thing: this was a designed space.
“All the ruins we’ve encountered so far belonged to lost civilizations—eroded, silent,” Dr. Novak said softly.
“Nothing remained on the surface. No messages. No language.
But this—this is different.
It’s preserved.
And more importantly—it’s still functioning.”
Dr. de Silva nodded.
“And their language architecture was clearly designed with decryption in mind—by someone else.
We’ve received it.
We’ve begun to decode it.
It feels as if… they’re calling to us.”
Dr. Faulkner exhaled, arms still crossed.
“Maybe so.
But there’s no guarantee anyone’s still there.
Even if the city remains, it may no longer be a city in any functional sense.
It could just be a skeleton—abandoned, lifeless.
And if that’s the case… what else would you call it but a tomb?”
“That may very well be,” Dr. Novak conceded.
“But if something has endured in there—
if there’s even a chance that we could be the first to make contact with an intelligence that once tried to speak across the cosmos—
then we have no reason not to go.”
Dr. Kaiser spoke next.
“The signal output is stable, and there are no anomalies in the structure’s energy distribution,” Dr. Kaiser said.
“In other words, the entire system is still operational.
A close-range scan could yield new information.
And if we can gain entry—there’s a chance we might be able to communicate with them.”
Dr. Novak continued quietly:
“Even if communication proves impossible, records may remain.
If we can understand their language, we may still be able to read what they left behind.
In any case… let’s report our findings to Nohlmann.
His intuition on matters like this—no one else has it.”
No one objected.
On the main screen, the image of the structure complex continued to glow in silence.
The structures kept sending their focused beam through the 'Gate'.
To whom—or how many—it was ever meant for, no one could say.
No reply had ever come.
Watching that silent transmission, Dr. Novak murmured to himself:
“Until now, we’ve only found worlds that had already ended.
But this—this is different.
The language, the machinery… they’re still alive.
This… isn’t over yet.”
Chapter 3 – Section 23: Decision and Approach
Dr. Novak established a secure connection and appeared as an avatar in Gunnar Nohlmann’s office.
Orbiting above Earth, the room was lined with precise instrumentation and displays.
Beyond the window, the curve of the blue planet hovered in tranquil silence.
Nohlmann remained seated, silently watching him.
Dr. Novak took a short breath—then began his report without delay.
“Last week, an unmanned probe was deployed through the 'Gate'.
It discovered a medium-mass black hole, and near its gravitational periphery, it detected multiple structures ranging from tens to hundreds of kilometers in length.
All of them appear to be artificial.”
Nohlmann gave a slight nod, prompting him to continue.
“These structures are emitting a continuous, tightly focused beam—directed toward the 'Gate'.”
“They’re still transmitting now?” Nohlmann asked for confirmation.
“Yes, continuously.
Functionally, the array appears to be a relay station.
It’s likely powered by the black hole itself, transmitting at extremely high output—
to somewhere on the other side of the 'Gate', though we don’t know where.
However, since there has been no observable response from the other side, we believe the intended recipient no longer exists.”
“So it’s a classic case—an ancient transmission system still running long after its users are gone.
Have you made any progress in decoding the message?”
“Yes, analysis is complete.
The transmission does not resemble an exchange of information between two parties.
It’s more like a one-way broadcast—
a kind of first-contact language package, designed with interception in mind.
It lays out the communication protocol, encoding scheme, basic vocabulary, and grammatical structures—
clearly structured for comprehension by a receiver with no prior knowledge.”
“So it’s not a meaningful exchange between parties—just an instructional signal,” Nohlmann said.
“Correct.
But because of its instructional nature, we were able to construct a language model from it.
That model is now fully uploaded to Helios.”
“I see.
Still… if it belongs to a civilization that’s already extinct, it may not be of much practical use.”
“That’s not entirely the case.”
Dr. Novak tapped at the holopad in front of him, transmitting the analysis data.
“The structure presumed to be the relay station is immense in scale.
Though we’ve only conducted surface analysis so far, there’s a strong possibility that a city exists within.
Which means… a surviving civilization—or at least its records—may still be preserved inside.”
Dr. Novak lowered his gaze for a moment, then raised his head with clarity in his voice.
“There’s a division of opinion within Omicron’s investigation team—
whether we should press forward despite the risks, or withdraw with caution.
I would like to defer to your judgment, Special Advisor.”
Nohlmann said nothing at first.
He simply looked at Novak in silence.
For several seconds, it was as if even the background hum of the control systems had vanished.
Then, in a low but unmistakably resolute tone, he spoke.
“For a long time, we’ve been asking questions of the universe.
Now, we may finally be standing before a clear answer.
If that’s the case, then there is no choice but to go.”
His voice carried certainty and determination.
“If we allow fear of the unknown to stop us, we forfeit the very purpose of scientific exploration.
To ignore this opportunity would be a betrayal—of science itself.”
Without hesitation, Nohlmann delivered his directive.
“Direct approach to the structures near the black hole is hereby authorized.
Dr. Novak—this mission may be dangerous, but I want you and the Omicron team to proceed.
Helios, begin immediate preparations to dispatch the exploration vessel Omicron.”
◇◇◇
Nohlmann slid his fingers across the desk interface and opened a direct channel to Lars.
After a few seconds of silence, Lars’s avatar materialized before him.
“Lars. I’d like to hear your thoughts on this expedition.”
Nohlmann looked at him directly.
“There is a high probability that this expedition may lead to contact with an intelligent species at a civilizational level,” Nohlmann said.
“We cannot dismiss the risk of being perceived as hostile—or outright rejected.
Given that, we are considering arming Omicron.
How would that be interpreted?”
“Nohlmann,” Lars replied, “the space of Harmony is the same as what you experienced on Titan.
Back then, we dispersed seismic energy across the environment—eliminating the very possibility of earthquakes as a phenomenon.
Omicron’s resonance field functions in the same way.
Intentions of attack, hostility, tension—these do not remain localized.
They are diffused into the field as fluctuations.”
“As a result,” he continued, “you can bring weapons aboard.
But the very decision to fire… cannot fully manifest within that space.”
Nohlmann took in the words in silence. Then he murmured, low and reflective:
“So what we called armament… was nothing more than a declaration of disarmament—by resonance.”
Lars nodded slowly.
“More precisely, it’s an environment where the concept of violence cannot anchor.
Just as you fear the unknown, so too does the other.
The resonance strips away that mutual tension at its root.”
After a moment’s thought, Nohlmann spoke with quiet conviction.
“Understood, Lars.
Omicron will proceed as a vessel of Harmony.
Not with force—but with knowledge.”
There was no announcement that Omicron had begun to move.
Only the smallest fluctuations in the status readouts hinted at the change.
Galactic Standard Time: June 21, 2150
The expedition to the structures orbiting the black hole has been officially approved by Nohlmann.
At last, we’re going there.
But this journey is nothing like the ones we’ve undertaken before.
This time, the objective isn’t an unknown object—it’s someone.
An intelligent presence—perhaps even a civilization that still endures.
We may truly be meeting them face-to-face.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid.
What if they see our approach as hostile?
Even if it’s just a misunderstanding, a single mistake could be irreversible.
That’s why some argued we should go armed. I agreed with them—at first.
But Nohlmann chose not to.
After speaking with Lars, they concluded that with the resonance field, weapons wouldn’t be necessary.
All we can do now is trust in that decision.
And strangely… it doesn’t feel like a mistake.
There’s a certain sensation when you're inside the resonance field.
It doesn’t feel like being protected, exactly—
more like being enveloped.
Anxiety and tension from outside just… don’t reach you.
It’s like the air itself is already safe before you breathe it in.
Hard to describe, but there’s this quiet certainty: we’re okay.
And for some reason—without evidence—I believe they’re there.
At that place.
I can’t explain it.
But somehow… I just feel it.
And I can’t shake the feeling—
that this might be the beginning of something new.
Something deeper… like a true encounter.
So yes—
I’m scared.
But I’m also looking forward to it.
