*Date: 33,480 Third Quarter — Kepler 442-b*
The luminescent light of the newly acquired planet was breathtaking, even for Ilkay. He stood at the window of his office, watching the twin planets dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and violet that no artist could replicate. The temperatures for the last few months had been amazing, perfect for the crops they'd planted and the communities they'd built.
Calibrating old equipment to the planet's gravity had been a challenge, but the community had overcome that. Engineers had worked through sleepless nights, farmers had adapted their techniques, and children had learned to run under a sky that wasn't their own. And in a couple of months, there would be a new election. Ilkay wanted to hand over a functioning government, not a mess of problems for his successor to inherit.
So he was overlooking every report twice, making sure not to miss anything. His desk was covered in tablets and paper documents, each one representing another piece of the puzzle that was keeping their people alive.
"Altos, these numbers from Colony-1's recent harvest of fruits and vegetables seem off, don't you think?" Ilkay tapped the report with a weathered finger. "When will the agriculture ministry meeting again?"
Even though Altos was chief of security, the recent passing of Adam, their chief of staff, combined with his workaholic nature, had led him to take on some of those roles. He wasn't assigned officially, and with so little time left before the election, neither wanted to bother with the bureaucracy. Ilkay was satisfied with his work, so he didn't push for a new chief of staff.
Altos stood near the door, his posture rigid as always. "Sir, normally it was today, but the minister notified us of a new disease affecting some fields. He urgently went to check on that."
"When is it postponed to then?"
"Two days later, sir."
Ilkay sighed with a mixture of relief and worry. "Where did that disease come from? Right when I was concluding the reports." He rubbed his temples. "Anyway, is there any news?"
"Sir, I have several items, including security and economic updates."
A hasty knocking on the door interrupted their conversation.
"What is it now? Enter..." Ilkay called out, not hiding his irritation.
The door opened and Alison Strovan, only son of Ilkay, entered. His face was flushed from running, and he clutched something small in his hand.
"Ali, didn't I tell you not to bother me during office work? What is it this time?"
Alison stepped forward, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. "Father, an intergalactic courier delivered this memory socket and said it was for Ilkay's eyes only."
Ilkay's eyebrows rose. Their local internet wasn't connected to the intergalactic web. Too many rogue AIs and unimaginable horrors from far fringe experiments circulated out there. Their local communication web had been going strong for more than a thousand years, sustained purely by their own contributions. So when someone from outside their planet wanted to communicate, they had to send news via courier.
"Who is the sender?"
Alison gulped. "Gates of Entertainment." His face showed both hope and fear. Fear of news of death, and hope of his son finally getting out.
"If they opened the gates, they wouldn't just send a memory stick, right?"
"Give me that. Let's see what they're saying."
Alison passed the key to Altos. Altos gestured for the other personnel to leave the room, waiting until the door clicked shut before he carefully placed the stick into the nearest computer. He opened the media on a holographic screen.
It was the Game Designer. His whole look had changed. Now he wore a blue afro that seemed to defy gravity, his eyes were different colors, one green and one purple, and his yellow beard wasn't fitting the screen properly. The eccentricity had grown worse since their last meeting.
The Game Designer had a different look of craziness now. The craziness of someone who had lived far longer than nature intended. Over twelve hundred years of existence had carved strange patterns into his mind.
"Hello, Mr. Strovan. I don't know how to start..." Another voice cut him off, a female voice from off-screen. "Start with 'we located Realmforge's place.'"
"Yeah, yeah, don't cut me." The Designer waved his hand dismissively. "This video will delete itself after first watch, by the way. I don't want this circulating on the internet. Since it's you, I'm notifying you directly."
Alison leaned forward. "Your threats must have worked on him, Dad."
Ilkay shook his head slowly. "I don't think they did. It was just an empty emotional threat."
The Designer continued, his mismatched eyes looking directly at the camera. "Aris Orvellis is your other grandson, right? Or someone like that. We can't access your planet's database. Anyway, somehow he sent us data of his location with his name attached. Our technicians have now located the pocket universe."
Altos's knees gave out. He kneeled to the floor, sighing with relief, his eyes watering. "Aris... he's alive."
Ilkay also sighed with relief and put his hand on Altos's back, gripping his shoulder firmly. Four years of not knowing. Four years of hoping against hope.
"This doesn't mean we can open the gates and take players back," the Designer continued, "but it also doesn't mean we're completely useless. In order to talk further and strategize, I wanted to speak with you. If we're going to open the gates, we need inside help, and your grandson seems most capable. Please come to our planet once again."
He stopped, and with a flare of emotions that seemed almost genuine, added, "Without a gun, please."
The video closed and deleted itself. The holographic media player now only flashed the logo of the application, empty and silent.
Alison tapped his hand-held recording device and frowned. "I tried to record it to my mobile device, but he put some interference. It's useless."
Ilkay turned back to his table and sat heavily in his chair. "It doesn't matter. We have information, at least. Only Aris managed to reach out in four years."
Altos still knelt on the floor, his voice barely a whisper. "Aris..."
"Good job, Altos. You raised a good kid. He may be the savior of six million stranded people."
Alison's voice was hopeful. "I hope Demir was with him, keeping themselves alive."
Ilkay brushed his beard thoughtfully. "If they were together, he would have..."
"Dad..."
"Okay, okay." Ilkay raised his hands in surrender. "Until our election ends, I must be here. I will find a proper chief of staff. You and Altos should go to Gates of Entertainment and monitor the situation."
Altos wiped the emotions from his face, standing slowly. "I can't, sir. I can't leave you alone."
Ilkay's expression turned visibly angry. "Don't be an idiot. It is your son, and our society is living its richest days. Of course you will go."
Ilkay turned to his desk, picked up his phone, and called his secretary. "Send the list of chief of staff candidates again. Altos has been let go."
Altos opened his mouth to protest, but the look in Ilkay's eyes stopped him. Some arguments weren't worth having.
His kids were alive.
Nothing else mattered.