Magnus 10 Now

My blood went cold. Ten thousand years. That was before human writing. Before cities. Something on Magnus 10 had been whispering since Earth’s Stone Age.

But for the Consortium, Magnus 10 was the last chance. Its mantle was laced with astralidium, the fuel of faster-than-light travel. Without it, humanity was grounded, fated to wither in its own solar system.

Non-natural. That word sat in my gut like a stone. Magnus 10 was supposed to be dead—a molten, metal-cored brute with no history of life. But something down there was twisting the magnetic field into patterns.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Magnus 11. Last of his line.

“Oracle,” I choked out. “Emergency ascent. Cut the drill. Now.”