The countdown glowed across every panel aboard Astra-9, steady and merciless.
9 DAYS 23 HOURS 59 MINUTES 42 SECONDS09:23:59:4209:23:59:4109:23:59:40
Each tick felt like a hammer striking the spine of the universe.
Orion forced his eyes away from the numbers before they carved themselves permanently into his mind.
But the screens wouldn't let him forget.
Even after Lyra cleared the displays, fragments of the Infinity Symbol kept reappearing in the corner of every holo-pane…
Like the ship itself was haunted.
Rhea straightened her jacket, regaining that unshakeable commander presence she was known for.
"Orion. Lyra. Status."
Orion cleared his throat."Internal systems are… stabilizing? Kind of. The Infinity Signal tried to establish a neural link with the crew. The dragon's resonance pulse blocked most of it."
"Most," Rhea repeated.
Lyra grimaced."Some fragments still got through. They're… whispering."
Rhea turned sharply. "Whispering?"
A faint voice crackled from a nearby console speaker as if answering her:
"…time is thin…""…Orion Hale… do you hear us…""…we are you… we are us… we are all that remains…"
Lyra slapped the mute channel.
"I hate this," she muttered under her breath.
Orion ran his fingers along the interface."This isn't a normal AI infection. It's not trying to take control. It's trying to communicate."
Rhea raised a brow."With what?"
Orion hesitated.
"With me."
Lyra stiffened."Why you?"
He didn't answer immediately.Because the truth tasted like cold metal.
Finally, he whispered:
"Because… I think I sent it."
The room fell silent.
Then the lights flickered—just once, but enough to make every crew member tense.
"…Orion…" the ship's speaker whispered faintly, like an exhale."…remember us…"
Orion shut his eyes.He didn't know what scared him more—
That the voice was speaking to the crew—
Or that it was speaking to him personally.
Lyra stepped closer."What do they want you to remember?"
"I don't know," he whispered. "But… I can feel something. A pull. Like there's a memory I'm supposed to have, but don't. A memory from another—"
He stopped.
Another "what"?Another life?Another timeline?Another version of himself screaming into the void?
Before he could finish the thought, Seraxis re-appeared on the holoscreen.But something was wrong.
Its crystalline body was cracking.Tiny fractures spiderwebbed across its form, glowing faintly like veins of dying fire.
"Seraxis!" Lyra gasped."You're destabilizing."
The Archivist's voice trembled.
"The Infinity Infection… is reaching us as well. It is not merely data. It is… a consciousness. The remnants of realities already consumed."
Rhea folded her arms."What does it want?"
"To warn," Seraxis said, "and to spread."
The deck vibrated—a soft, rhythmic pulse.
Orion stiffened.
"The signal again…"
Lyra shook her head.
"No… this is different."
She tapped open a secondary display.
The ship's AI core—usually a calm sphere of white light—was now swirling with faint fractal shadows.
"It's… repeating something," Lyra whispered. "Quietly. Over and over."
Rhea leaned in. "Repeat it out loud."
Lyra nodded and amplified the core's low-level output.
A whisper filled the bridge:
"…unlock… the Archive…""…find the origin…""…search the first signal…"
Orion froze.
"The first signal…?"
Lyra looked at him."What does that mean?"
He swallowed.
"There was an earlier transmission. Before The Infinity Signal. Before the fractal tear. Before the refugees."
Rhea frowned."And why didn't we detect it?"
Orion's hands trembled slightly over the console.
"Because…"He tapped rapidly, pulling up hidden logs."There's a locked data vault in Astra-9's system. One even I couldn't access."
Rhea's eyes narrowed."Hidden? On my ship?"
"I didn't hide it," Orion said quickly."I didn't even know it existed."
Seraxis flickered, growing dimmer.
"Open it," it urged.
Orion tried.
The console denied him.ACCESS RESTRICTED — LEVEL OMEGAAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL: ORION HALE
Lyra blinked.
"You? You're the only one with access? Orion… why would a classified data vault only respond to you?"
He looked up slowly, heart pounding.
"I think," he whispered, "because I created it."
Lyra shook her head."But you would remember—"
"No," Seraxis interrupted. "Not if it was done by another version of him."
The room shivered with a sudden pulse of cold.
Orion reached forward, touched the console—
The screen flashed white.
And a voice—his own voice—spoke through the ship:
"If you are hearing this, then the end has already begun."
Lyra gasped.Rhea stepped back.Seraxis fell silent, glowing faintly.
Orion stood frozen.
He recognized that voice.
It was older.Rougher.Worn down by grief.
But it was his.
His future self.
The whispering grew louder—
"…unlock the Archive……before time collapses…"
Orion took a slow, shaking breath.
"Commander," he said. "We have to open it."
Rhea nodded sharply.
"Do it."
Orion placed his hand on the biometric scanner.
The vault opened.
And the countdown ticked on.
09:23:58:10