The room was dim except for the soft blue glow of data screens. Air filters hummed in the background, steady and rhythmic.
Around the central table, officers and engineers studied a flickering map projection a line tracing the Horizon's last signal before vanishing.
Captain Shepard stood with his arms folded, eyes fixed on the dead trace.
"Two hours since the last ping," said Lieutenant Harris, the communications officer.
"No response from Horizon. Could be the range… or interference."
Shepard leaned closer. "Interference from what?"
"Terrain, most likely," Harris said, tapping the map.
Commander Lin scrolled through the logs on her tablet, brow furrowed. "We've tried every frequency band. Even emergency channels are dead."
The captain didn't say anything for a while. The room felt smaller than usual, quiet but heavy with unspoken worry.
The Horizon had successfully reached the mainland, docked at a foreign port two hours ago. But now, in silence.
Finally, Shepard spoke. "Keep recording every attempt. If there's even a fragment of a response, I want it flagged."
"Yes, sir," Harris replied.
The low sound of data terminals filled the pause. an uneasy calm of professionals running out of answers.
"Alright," Shepard said, straightening up. "We're not sitting idle. Solutions. Let's hear them."
The officers exchanged glances before speaking up.
"Short-range drone relays," Harris suggested first.
"Chain them in intervals to extend the link."
Lin shook her head immediately.
"Too short. Even if we line up every drone we have, they'll fall short by at least a hundred kilometers."
An engineer at the corner of the table raised his hand.
"What about weather balloons carrying transmitters? It worked for old field comms."
Lin frowned.
"Too unstable. Wind currents at that altitude would tear them off course in minutes."
The room went quiet again.
Everyone knew the issue wasn't just distance, it was environment.
The atmosphere here didn't behave like Earth's. The upper layer was thick, unpredictable, and heavy with unknown particles that distorted long-range frequencies.
The Horizon could send line-of-sight signals, but beyond that, they were blind
.
Then Chief Engineer Darrow spoke from his station near the back.
"There's one way we might bridge the gap," he said slowly.
"Not ideal, but it could work."
Shepard turned to him.
"I'm listening."
Darrow slid a projection file to the table, a missile cross-section schematic.
"We can use one of Titan's ICBMs."
The table went silent.
"You want to launch a ballistic missile?" Lin asked sharply.
"Not as a weapon," Darrow clarified. "As a carrier. Strip the warhead, replace it with a compact communications payload.
If we get it high enough, it can serve as a relay between the fleet and Horizon."
There was a long pause. The idea hung in the air like something both brilliant and insane.
Harris spoke first. "Sir, that's… that's not protocol."
"No," Shepard said, eyes still on the schematic.
"But neither is this world."
The officers gathered closer, speaking over one another, cautious but curious.
Commander Lin pointed at the diagram. "That missile's designed for guided impact, not stable orbit. You'd have to rewrite its entire flight program."
Darrow nodded.
"We can. The guidance software is modular. Replace the warhead's detonation command with trajectory control and a signal stabilization."
The logistics officer leaned in.
"And what about load balance? You're swapping a dense payload for lightweight equipment. That'll affect its center of gravity."
"True," Darrow said.
"We'll add ballast using spare plating from Helix's maintenance stock. It doesn't need to be perfect — just stable enough to hold a signal node in the upper atmosphere."
Lin crossed her arms.
"You're assuming it won't disintegrate on launch."
"It won't," Darrow replied confidently.
"We can reinforce the outer casing with carbon mesh from Titan's maintenance stores. It'll hold."
A voice from the far end added, "Titan would have to surface to fire. That's exposure time."
Shepard looked at the holographic layout of the fleet.
"We'll have Helix on standby to help with launch stabilization. Titan surfaces, loads the modified missile, Helix secures the firing tube."
Harris muttered, "And anyone watching from the mainland will see it."
"Then they'll see a light in the sky," Shepard said evenly.
"Better that than losing contact."
The officers exchanged quiet looks. The logic was sound. Risky, but sound.
Shepard stared at the projection for a long moment, the glowing schematic, the calculations, the endless data lines.
They were stranded in a world that didn't have radios, satellites, or even electricity. Every piece of contact they had was built on what little tech survived entry.
He finally straightened, his voice steady. "Do it."
"Sir?" Lin asked, wanting confirmation.
"Strip the warhead, build the module, and prep Titan for launch. We'll call it Operation Skylink."
The order spread fast. Within minutes, the decks of the Resolute and Helix came alive with movement.
Engineers pulled wiring harnesses, sealed modules, and assembled the compact transmitter core.
Crew members from Titan coordinated over encrypted channels, their calm, clipped voices echoing over comms.
Shepard stood at the command table and watched it all unfold, a plan built out of scraps, discipline, and necessity.
The hangar transformed into an improvised workshop. Sparks flashed as engineers welded carbon frames and reinforced plates. In the center of the room, the stripped missile casing lay open like a metal shell.
Inside, a small relay core pulsed with test signals, the heart of the entire operation.
"Telemetry core installed," reported a technician.
"Thermal shielding secured."
"Seal it up," Darrow said, tightening his gloves.
"It doesn't have to be perfect, just airtight."
Aboard Titan, the submarine crew prepared the launch tube. The missile was guided carefully into place using Helix's heavy-duty mechanical arms.
Hydraulic clamps hissed as the casing slid into the chamber.
"Titan reports ready for synchronization," Lin announced over comms.
"Copy that," Shepard replied. "All vessels lock tracking on Titan's trajectory. This is our window."
On his screen, three ships formed a perfect triangle Resolute, Titan, and Helix. In the middle, the modified missile waited.
The evening light stretched across the sea, turning the waves gold and blue. Titan surfaced fully, the water running down its black hull like molten glass.
"Fire control ready," came the voice from Titan.
"Final safety checks complete."
"Atmospheric status?" Shepard asked.
"Stable. Wind shear under margin. Pressure consistent."
He looked to Lin, who gave a single nod.
"All green, Captain."
Shepard stood still for a moment, then quietly said, "Proceed."
The countdown began.
"Five… four… three… two… one."
A deep rumble rolled through the water. The missile burst out from the launch tube with a plume of fire and vapor, cutting through the sky like a spear of light. For a few seconds, it climbed higher, the exhaust trailing a bright arc across the clouds.
Every screen on the bridge flickered with data, altitude, speed, signal strength.
Then static. Then... a tone.
"Telemetry confirmed," Harris said quickly. "We have signal bounce."
"Patch it through,"
Shepard ordered.
The sound cleared. A clean data ping Horizon's call sign.
"They're online," Harris said, breaking into a grin.
"Signal stable at eighty-five percent. We've got the link back."
For the first time in hours, Shepard allowed himself to exhale. He looked at the display, a steady green line connecting Horizon's marker on the map to the fleet.
"Good work, everyone," he said quietly.
"Maintain the relay and lock transmission. Let's keep them close."
Night settled over the sea. Inside the Resolute, the control room dimmed to low power. A soft pulse blinked on the monitor the Horizon's signal, stable and repeating.
Commander Lin approached the captain.
"Engineering says the payload should hold orbit for about two weeks before decaying."
"Two weeks," Shepard said before adding.
"Then we'll launch another one if we need to."
She nodded, then asked, "What do we call it?"
He looked at the console. "Skylink One. Keep it simple."
The crew went back to their stations. The tension that had filled the room earlier was gone, replaced by quiet focus.
Shepard stood by the viewport, watching the distant horizon. Somewhere beyond that dark line, Horizon and her crew were doing the same, working, talking, building bridges in a new world.
He muttered, almost to himself, "At least they'll know we're still here."
Far across the sea, in the port of Aderis, the night was calm. Lanterns flickered along the piers, and the tide rolled gently against wooden hulls.
Captain Reku stood near the dock, watching his crew finish maintenance.
A faint glow appeared in the sky, a thin line of fire rising far out at sea, cutting through the clouds before vanishing into the stars.
The dockworkers pointed and murmured.
"Was that a falling star?" one asked
.
Another shook his head. "No… it went up, not down."
The envoy officer beside Reku glanced skyward. "Sir, should we raise an alert?"
Reku didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the sky, the faint afterglow still lingering.
"No," he said finally. "That wasn't an attack. That was them."
"The sky fire?" the officer asked quietly.
Reku nodded once.
"A signal. Their way of speaking to the heavens."
He turned back toward the dock, the faint wind tugging at his coat.
The port slowly returned to its rhythm, sailors shouting across decks, lanterns swaying, the scent of sea salt and smoke in the air. But above it all, the faint glow on the horizon lingered a little longer, like a silent bridge between worlds.