Jérémy Chapi:
The communication had just cut off.
Pavel and I remained frozen, our eyes locked on the screens that were still faintly flickering. On the main display, red letters glowed: Signal lost – connection interrupted.
An oppressive silence settled inside the cockpit. The Ariadne's Thread—that fragile link guiding me back to her—had gone dark. With it, a part of me seemed to collapse. I buried my face in my hands, trying to shut out the world for a few seconds, to steady my breathing. Fatigue weighed heavily on my shoulders, and my conversation with my daughter replayed endlessly in my mind.
The vast emptiness of space before me—endless and indifferent—only deepened my sense of isolation. I was suspended in a black ocean, far from everything, far from her, powerless. How had it come to this? What had happened on Earth for everything to spiral so violently out of control? A sigh escaped me, thick with sorrow and anger. Everything we had built… it was all gone now.
Beside me, Pavel remained silent, respecting my need for stillness. Perhaps he, too, felt the weight of what had just happened. I dragged my hands down my face and pushed my hair back mechanically—a futile gesture, as if I could somehow regain control.
"Were you able to talk to your daughter?" Pavel's voice finally broke the silence—soft, but filled with concern.
"Yes," I replied after a pause. "Thank you for keeping the live audience distracted."
"It's nothing. I used to do that on the Station too—it helps me relax." Pavel gave an awkward smile before turning serious again. "But… did things work out for her?"
I let my hand fall to my forehead, pressing my thumb against my temple in a useless attempt to ease the pressure building inside my skull. "No. I don't think so. The authorities want to seize our technology—at any cost."
Pavel's eyes widened slightly, his expression hardening. "Then… she's going to fall into their hands?"
"No," I answered, more sharply than I intended. "I guarantee you that won't happen. She would rather sacrifice herself than let them take everything…"
Pavel's face darkened at my words.
My voice faltered, and my gaze drifted into the infinite void of space. I knew she was capable of it. And that was what was slowly killing me inside.
Pavel hesitated, searching for the right words. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't know… Are you going to be okay?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I don't have a choice…"
Pavel placed a hand on my shoulder. "Hey. If you need a minute, I can take the controls. And if you want to talk, I'm here. Don't worry. It's okay."
His hand on my shoulder felt like balm on a deep, burning wound.
It even drew a small tear from me.
"Thank you, Pavel. I will find her. I won't let anything or anyone stop me from bringing her back. But first, we have to return to Earth… and we still have a long way to go."
The stellar void, once a source of fascination, now felt like an insurmountable barrier. But I would overcome it—for her.
"I will come and get you, my daughter, no matter the cost."
It was a promise I made to myself. A promise that would haunt me.
"Sorry for ruining the mood," I muttered, feeling the weight of my own words.
"No, I understand," Pavel replied gently. "I have a daughter too, you know. She's everything to me. She was born with a cerebellar condition, so she can't move around on her own. But despite that, she's brilliant. She has an incredible will to live."
I turned my head toward him, surprised by the confession. A father speaking of his child with such pride… It reminded me how much Iris meant to me. Had I shown her enough love? Did she know—there, in the middle of chaos?
"How old is she?" I asked, my voice softer now.
"She's turning twenty-three. She recently earned her doctorate," he said with a faint smile. "The hardest part is that she can only attend classes remotely, and she doesn't have many friends. But she tells me she doesn't need them—that she meets plenty of people online… or in her dreams."
His eyes shimmered with quiet melancholy.
That was when something improbable began to take root in my mind.
"What's your daughter's name?" I asked, feigning simple curiosity, though the thought forming in my mind was far more startling.
"Elowen," he replied with a light laugh. "Her mother chose the name. I would have preferred Élodie or Émilie, but she wouldn't budge."
I smiled. "I actually think it's a very beautiful name."
Silently, my thoughts raced as the pieces began to align.
Elowen…
I knew someone by that name. Someone who had helped me immensely on another project. I had met her—or rather, our paths had intertwined—through the world of dreams.
Coincidence?
Or had I been guided here?
I let the silence linger, allowing the revelation to grow quietly within me. Fate had a strange way of weaving its threads. A promise I had made… and one I might now be able to fulfill in a way I never could have imagined—if it was indeed the same person.
"The world really is small…" I murmured, almost to myself.
Pavel glanced at me, puzzled by my tone.
As our return journey continued, a few projectiles struck violently against the metal shield at the front of the Liberty, causing the entire structure to tremble. The ship held firm, though visible distortions marred the hull.
Despite everything, we were safe—and thank goodness the cannon had worked.
When I checked the oxygen reserves, I realized we were nearing the end of what remained usable in the cabin. We would soon have to switch to our suit respirators.
At last, we could see our beautiful blue planet.
Still distant—but visible.
Clouds spiraled across its surface, here and there, a reassuring spectacle after the chaos of the past few days. And yet, at the sight of it, a strange weight settled onto my shoulders—both physical and mental.
"What do you want to do now?" Pavel asked, his voice filled with sincere curiosity.
I took a moment before answering, my eyes fixed on Earth.
"It's time to go home. We're landing at your place—in Atlantis."
"But your daughter?" Pavel asked, surprised by my decision.
"Unfortunately, this isn't the right time. The military is already there, and we'd likely be detained before we even set foot on the ground. Don't worry—I'll do what's necessary to get her back, when the time comes."
The words sounded like a promise, even though deep down I knew it was far more complicated. Of course I wanted to go to her immediately. But I would be arrested the moment I arrived.
My heart was screaming at me to go to her.
But this time, I had to listen to reason.
She was safe. I was certain of it.
"I understand," Pavel murmured into the heavy silence.
"Do you know anyone we can contact once we reach Earth to make sure we can enter Atlantis without trouble?" I asked, mentally and physically exhausted. My nerves were raw, and the pain in my left arm was the only thing keeping me awake.
"I'd say my aeronautics instructor back home probably knows the right people," he replied after a moment's thought.
"Here—take this phone. It's globally unlocked. You should be able to reach him once we enter the atmosphere. Just in case. Put your helmet back on for the final stretch," I said, handing him the device before securing my own.
We began our descent toward Earth, crossing above the Indian Ocean.
But gravity pulled harder than expected.
The hull heated dangerously, and the shield glowed bright red.
"Pavel, activate the cooling system!" I ordered, my voice betraying both fatigue and urgency.
Earth's gravity had nothing in common with Mars'.
Nor with launch conditions.
I pushed the thrusters to maximum to slow us down. The deceleration hit—gradual yet brutal—until we were finally hovering high above the ocean. The shield crackled and twisted under the violent thermal stress as it cooled.
Pavel contacted his instructor, speaking in his native language—one I didn't understand at all. While he talked, I wondered what the news was saying about everything that had happened. I no longer had access to the live feed; everything had been managed from the barn.
Still, I forced my curiosity aside.
I couldn't afford distractions.
Fatigue pressed against my eyelids.
"Jérémy, it's clear—we can go to Atlantis," Pavel announced, pulling me out of a brief haze.
All I wanted was to sleep.
But it wasn't time yet.
"Alright… I'll set our course."
I glanced at the GPS—fully operational.
I adjusted our trajectory toward Atlantis—our final destination.
Pavel kept his instructor on the line, regularly updating him on our position, while the ship slowly cut through the clouds toward the horizon.
I admired the landscape of India below us—its ancient temples and winding rivers still visible despite our altitude. We were flying high enough to avoid any trouble.
As we approached Atlantis, a fighter jet suddenly appeared on our left. I was so exhausted that I hadn't even seen it coming—Pavel had to point it out. He quickly reassured me, explaining that it belonged to his country.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I haven't had the best experiences with fighter jets lately," I admitted, a hint of unease in my voice.
"No worries. They're escorting us to a military base. My instructor said our arrival is expected," Pavel explained.
Could Iris have arranged all this?
Questions flooded my mind, but I had to conserve what little energy I had left to pilot the ship.
As we descended closer to Atlantis, Pavel proudly showed me the mountains of Nayramadlin Orgil—the very peaks displayed on his country's flag. Their summits were lightly dusted with snow, and countless lakes shimmered around them. The region seemed harsh and rugged, almost hostile to human life, with vast rocky expanses—but it possessed a raw, authentic beauty.
I noticed unusual homes embedded directly into the mountainside, built from finely cut stone and so seamlessly integrated that they nearly blended into the landscape. The wide plains, on the other hand, stretched endlessly with fields of grain as far as the eye could see.
At last, the military base appeared on the horizon.
Its runway lights were already illuminated, surrounded by large hangars. A watchtower perched against the mountainside overlooked the area, ready to guide incoming aircraft. The runway lights brightened, marking my approach path. At the far end, I could see a crowd of vehicles gathered.
Were they here to welcome us…
—or to imprison me?
I had no way of knowing.
The escorting fighters peeled away, giving us a clear path. I began the deceleration sequence and prepared for landing.
Pavel suddenly spoke up.
"You need to land where the vehicles are."
"I'm sorry, Pavel, but that's not possible. I have to do something before they get here."
I didn't really leave him a choice—I was in control.
I deliberately landed at some distance, forcing them to come to us instead.
The moment my feet touched the ground, exhaustion crushed me. I dropped to my knees, struck by a violent wave of dizziness. My head spun uncontrollably, and a torrent of water burst from my mouth.
"You've got Earth-sickness," Pavel explained as he stepped out of the Liberty and planted his foot firmly on the ground. "It happens often after time in space—even a short stay. Your body isn't used to Earth's gravity anymore. Stay by the ship and wait for medical assistance. Your head won't stop spinning anytime soon."
"I still have one more thing to do," I insisted, even though fatigue was tearing through me.
I forced myself toward the rear of the ship—sometimes crawling, sometimes bracing myself against the still-warm hull of the Liberty. Pavel, worried, stayed beside me, helping me reach the cargo compartment.
When I opened the rear hatch, Pavel stared in shock.
He had never seen what I was about to reveal.
Adamaï.
The Celestial Ring.
The very object that had made this journey possible.
I began pressing three concealed buttons on the device, initiating a precise sequence. A strange mechanical sound emerged from the engines—unusual and ominous—while the sirens of approaching vehicles grew louder.
"Stand back," I warned Pavel.
Then I pressed the hidden red button inside the compartment.
Thick smoke immediately poured from the engines—
until they burst into flames.
"Why did you do that?" Pavel asked, supporting me as I struggled to stay upright.
"I can't let this technology fall into the wrong hands," I replied weakly. "Imagine these engines mounted on missiles… They would be unstoppable."
I began unlocking the mounting system that held Adamaï in place, disconnecting it from the Liberty.
Now, in my left hand, I held what looked like a simple aluminum case—yet inside, at its core, rested the Celestial Ring, casting a faint glow that softly illuminated the ground around us.
But suddenly, my strength gave out.
I dropped to my knees, unable to support my own weight. The case nearly slipped from my grasp as my body slowly collapsed to the side.
I could hear Pavel's reassuring voice calling to me—
but I could no longer understand his words.
The last thing I saw, before darkness swallowed me whole,
were shadows gathering around us.