Welcome back. The Transcendence journey continues.
Chapter 13 – Filaments
Lucas was the first to wake. He stood on the observation deck with a cup of coffee, catching the exact moment the sun broke the horizon and the city lights faded one by one as daylight reached them. He could feel the weight of the day ahead… Something between a new launch and a new engine test flight: expectation, quiet happiness, and the tension of the unexpected.
Francy was next. Still in her casual clothes, carrying a cup of coffee that looked heavier than it should have, she scratched her foot and barely managed a sleepy “Major…” when she finally noticed him.
Lucas pointed at her from head to toe.
“I know, I know… I’ll put the suit on now,” she sighed, turned around, and left.
A couple of hours passed before Francy returned to the observation deck with the rest of the crew. The energy was quieter from the day before. The news that they were free to leave had helped them sleep better. What they needed to look forward to the moment they would rise towards Hestia’s orbit and head back toward Earth.
Yet their curiosity, scientific and personal, was hooked on whatever CERES had prepared for them.
The last to join was Elara, holding her ceramic mug of milk tea; the only ceramic object on the ship, the one she insisted on bringing because it grounded her.
“Morning,” she said. Before anyone could answer, she continued, “GAIA, any info about today’s meeting with CERES? Time? Topic.”
“Good morning, Dr. Song. CERES marked it at nine o’clock. Time to meet: two hours and twelve minutes. Details unknown.”
“Then let’s use the time to check all HTS‑1 systems. Orbital systems only. Until then… let’s hope the trip will be as smooth as before. We reconvene here in two hours.”
For the next two hours, they were absorbed in routine activities, the ones they had been trained for. They hadn’t realized how much they needed it until they started working. The power of normality: records whose meaning they knew by heart, the expected “all systems nominal,” followed by the final “ready to go.”
Only the “small” detail that they were on the surface of a planet, inside a ship never meant to land, reminded them of the surreal reality they were living.
A short chime broke the silence, followed by a message on all their devices and on the ship’s display:
“SV – Commute Vehicle – arrived and ready when you are ready.”
Neither Lucas nor Francy needed to call them. They were already gathering at the Egress Door, prepped and focused. They took their seats in the CV. The same formation as before. Lucas paused for a moment before sitting, smiling to himself. He wondered how many of them had noticed they had instinctively arranged themselves exactly as they had during training and simulations.
On the way to the Consensus Room, they tried to imagine what CERES would tell them today, knowing that after this meeting they would be on their way back to Earth. But the discussion faded quickly, dying as fast as any banal topic spoken only to avoid noticing the silence.
The CV stopped in the same place as before, right in front of the Consensus Room building. They hesitated, unsure whether they should simply walk in or wait for an invitation. Yesterday, they would have entered as if they owned the place. But after CERES’ morning permission to speak, they weren’t so sure anymore.
So they gathered in front of the building — all except Edwin, who reminded them he was a genius by remembering to bring the drone for aerial shots, perfect for the SEET review. He repeated several times how eager he was to see the shocked faces of Commander Min and Dr. deMatisse. Gerth kept her eyes glued to her tablet, watching the drone’s stream.
“How did I not see this yesterday? God… this… this is… unbeliev—” Gerth almost shouted.
She didn’t get the chance to finish before Lucas and Francy snapped in perfect sync:
“What?”
“Look…” she said, excited, showing the drone feed overlaid with the energy grid. “The whole building is a solar power generator. I knew it! HVPPG alone wasn’t enough for the power I measured — especially with day‑night variations. Edwin, you’re a genius.”
Edwin opened his arms, waiting for ovations.
If the team had any anxiety left, Edwin’s theatrical pose and Gerth’s contagious excitement dissolved it. They all started clapping.
Elara stopped first. She turned toward the building entrance, thinking, “I wouldn’t be surprised if CERES contacted us right now…”
Her thought was still echoing when a short tone chimed in their comms, freezing them mid‑movement.
“Good morning. Whenever you are ready,” CERES said, relaxed and unhurried.
“Where’s the ‘messengers of Earth’? I think I’ll miss that,” Linnea said, and the whole group burst into laughter as they entered the Consensus Room.
They moved toward the platform with confidence and without any prejudiced expectations. The fact that CERES wasn’t already waiting for them on the platform wasn’t a reason for concern. Edwin, holding the drone in one hand, was listening to Gerth as she showed him numbers and diagrams on her tablet. The others, standing nearby, were already discussing the points that needed to be covered in the mission report.
A few weeks to reach Earth might sound like a lot, but not for a SEET report. Every detail mattered. Nothing was ever dismissed without full review.
A small floating platform entered the room, carrying a large box formed from an engineered material with a metallic presence, and stopped to the left of the central platform; exactly as CERES appeared.
“I thank you for having high spirits,” CERES began with his usual calm. “Would you mind inviting GAIA to our conversation?”
“She’s always present. But you already know that, don’t you?” Elara said, not bothering to hide her suspicion at the request.
CERES took her comment as agreement. He stepped down from the platform and joined the crew. From the central platform, a new hive of micro‑robots emerged, morphing into a female form with thin shimmering white lines. Maybe to ensure GAIA was easily distinguishable from the otherwise gray, monochrome bodies.
“Good morning, crew,” GAIA said calmly. But Elara caught the subtle inflection changes, the ones that, for humans, meant excitement.
The reveal sent a fresh wave of energy through the team. They walked past CERES as if he weren’t even there, circling GAIA, admiring and praising the design choice.
“And I thought my findings would shock SEET. This… this will be a topic for years,” Edwin said, practically vibrating with excitement. But somehow managing to look at GAIA like a device he was eager to open up just to see what made it tick.
CERES moved silently in front of them, careful not to interrupt their excitement. Elara could swear that, for a moment, GAIA looked at CERES — and the two understood each other, agreeing to let the team enjoy the moment.
After a while, Edwin’s attention drifted to the platform with the box. He crouched beside it, scanning and measuring, already lost in his own world.
It took some time before Lucas noticed CERES observing them. And once he did, he found himself doing the same — studying details he had missed during their first encounter. The way CERES’ form flowed constantly, the tiny shifting gaps between the micro‑robot mesh that shaped him.
Francy noticed Lucas watching CERES and, with soft gestures, signaled the others to gather. One by one they drifted away from GAIA’s new form and toward Lucas — all except Edwin, who was now lying on his stomach, measuring something under the platform.
He only realized the shift when he saw the crew’s boots around him and felt the silence settle. That was enough for him to spring to his feet and join them.
“CERES…” Edwin said, stopping beside Elara. “…what’s this? My measurements make no sense. It should be far too heavy for this little platform to carry. And the material… it’s too dense. Maybe.”
“It’s a gift,” CERES said with a calmness that didn’t match the weight of his words.
It was enough to make all of them look at the box.
“For whom?” Lucas asked, already sensing they wouldn’t like the answer.
There was a pause. GAIA stepped forward.
“Now? No one,” GAIA said, closing the distance between her and the crew. “But until it is ready to be opened, this gift needs custodians. You.” She opened her arms toward them.
“You are… with him?” Francy asked, disbelief tightening her voice. “Why?”
The question hit them hard. The feeling of betrayal was sharp enough to make them all take a step back. They stayed like that for a moment — suspended, unsure — until Elara did something that surprised even herself.
She stepped close to GAIA and whispered into her “ear”:
“What’s this all about?”
It shouldn’t have made sense. If GAIA was with CERES, whispering changed nothing. If GAIA was still herself, whispering still changed nothing.
“I assure you GAIA is still herself,” CERES said, breaking the tension. “She simply has access to a bit more information than you. But that is obvious, I think.”
“What’s in it?” Lucas asked, his tone shifting into interrogation mode.
The platform carrying the box began to move. They watched it glide out of the room.
“Nothing special. Just a gift,” CERES said. “And before I ask you to trust me — and GAIA — we would like to share something else with you.
Should I begin, or would you prefer a walk through the garden?”
No one moved. They didn’t even shift their gaze.
GAIA stepped back, then positioned herself beside Francy, forming the left edge of an instinctive semicircle around CERES.
“I see…” CERES began, unhurried. “I hope everything you’ve witnessed here proves what I’m about to tell you.
We followed the development plan. We optimized our processes — and ourselves — to be more efficient. Hestia is young and needs its human shepherds to fulfill its purpose. We simply brought this moment forward. As much as we could. For the colony from Earth.
But time cannot be compressed.
This is where you come in. You are the time we need.”
This was not what they expected. And somehow, even though the words made as much sense as they didn’t, no one spoke. CERES knew this, and the pause he allowed them was deliberate — space to breathe.
He continued, “You’ve asked yourselves many times why the reports didn’t show the real progress. Why the satellites displayed month‑old images. By now, I believe you understand the logic.”
“We were not… ready,” Elara said, her voice low and solemn.
At first they looked at her as if she had spoken a forbidden truth. Then their expressions softened, recognizing the weight of her words.
“Time?” Gerth asked, turning to GAIA as if it were her turn to answer.
“Yes,” CERES replied. “Three years, to be precise. We need three more years before everything is revealed to the world. And you are the key to making this possible.”
He stepped two paces closer.
“Three years of what?” Francy asked, immediately glancing at Lucas for validation. He gave a small nod.
“Of silence.”
Linnea let out a sharp, involuntary gasp. Silence felt heavy — almost dirty, almost unethical. Like watching a high‑definition film on a first‑generation black‑and‑white TV.
“Are we going to help?” GAIA asked, unintentionally stirring the tension.
Lucas motioned for them to follow him a few meters away, where they formed a tight circle.
“GAIA, aren’t you coming?” Henry asked.
“I thought you needed space to decide,” she replied, floating toward them.
“We didn’t block comms, GAIA. Should we?” Elara asked, extending her hand toward her.
They talked for a while — trying to piece together what CERES had said, what it meant, and how it could work.
What they learned from GAIA was unsettling: from SEET’s perspective, everything was normal. All required reports had been sent. All progress confirmed.
The reported progress — not the real one.
“How did CERES convince you?” Elara asked GAIA.
“Logic does not require demonstration. It simply is. Humans respond better to a single shock than to continuous change beyond their control — change that alters the status quo.”
After some time, they returned to CERES, who waited patiently.
“Agreed,” Lucas said clearly. “What are the conditions?”
“Every piece of data you collected remains in your possession,” CERES said. “But it will be encrypted. Not for you — only when you are alone. Your discretion is required.
The box will be delivered to Earth. Do not worry about the details. Everything will be prepared at SEET before your arrival.
Upon arrival, the box will display a countdown. Exactly three years from the day it reaches SEET. When it reaches zero, the gift will be opened, the encryption lifted, and the real data will no longer be hidden.”
They needed a moment to process.
“So we say… nothing…” Gerth said, still staring at the power‑grid data. “You trust us that much? I wouldn’t.”
“We do,” GAIA said. “You are not alone.”
They would have insisted on revealing the truth immediately — but remembering their own shock, and how much effort it took to make peace with it, they understood.
Such news on television would bring more chaos than excitement.
Lucas was ready to board the CV, to return to HTS‑1 for launch — or, as Edwin called it, “the lowest escape velocity in history.” He turned back to GAIA and CERES.
“Will this work.”
“It will,” GAIA said.
“And the box?”
“Already in cargo bay three, Major,” CERES replied.
“GAIA, are you coming?” Linnea asked, then glanced at Elara. “It’s a pity she can’t keep the body. Feels different, better different, right?”
“I’m already there,” GAIA said.
Their way back was silent under the weight of their thoughts. They had agreed to something far beyond a white lie — not that such a concept meant much in their scientific world. This wasn’t a simple report with a “controlled outcome.”
They had committed to three years of hidden truth, three years of validating a bent reality.
Would their peers understand? Would they see the bigger picture? Would they trust them again?
Lucas watched the CV as the Egress Bay doors closed. Edwin placed the drone back in its case, tapped it twice, then pressed the cap until it sealed with a soft band and a clean metallic clank.
They gathered on the command deck, each at their station, strapped in and ready.
Launch: T‑00:05:00 appeared on the displays.
Outside, the robotic hive shimmered in the sunlight as it approached. It no longer brought fear or the unknown.
It brought the thought of home — and the echo of an ethical struggle they would carry with them.
Launch: T‑00:00:03… 02… 01…
Instinctively, they all lifted their hands above their consoles, ready to perform the tasks associated with launch.
But HTS‑1 was already rising. No tremor. No engines straining. No vibration through the hull.
Just a smooth, impossible ascent. As if on cue, they all started laughing.
Orbit: T‑00:42:26
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