Lost Colony, Chapter 7 Jonas's fingers conformed to the rover's controls with an eagerness that betrayed his youth. His hazel eyes darted across the landscape, a patchwork of otherworldly beauty and treachery, as the vehicle jostled over the rugged terrain. Beside him, Eli maintained a sentinel's poise, his deep blue gaze alternating sharply between the perilous path unwinding before them and the verdant flora encroaching on either side. The sporadic crackle of Orion's guidance punctuated the silence, offering navigational suggestions with clinical detachment. "Steady, Jonas," Eli murmured, his voice betraying neither doubt nor concern. "Keep your eye on that outcrop to the right." "Got it, Dad," Jonas replied, his tone light but focused, as he adjusted the rover's trajectory, skirting a jagged formation of rocks. In the rear compartment, Mara's silhouette leaned forward with an intensity that mirrored her intellectual fervor. Her skillful hands manipulated the mapping drone's interface, fine-tuning its orbit above them. The drone's display flickered under her command, images stitching together to form a digital tapestry of their surroundings. Ada, her eyes reflecting the wonder of undiscovered territories, sat close by, pointing at the screen with a child's unbridled enthusiasm. "See that canyon, Mom?" Ada's voice brimmed with excitement. "It looks like it goes on forever!" Mara glanced at the feature Ada indicated, a smile playing on her lips. "That's an excellent observation. Let's have the drone follow it a bit longer, see where it leads." Her fingers danced across the holographic controls, sending the drone gliding along the serpentine path of the canyon. With each member of the family immersed in their roles, the rover continued its journey across the alien landscape, a tiny island of life and curiosity adrift in a sea of unknowns. Jonas eased off the rover's throttle as they neared the fringe of an overgrown metropolis. Emerald tendrils of foliage unwound before their eyes, revealing the bones of a civilization long succumbed to nature's relentless embrace. Here, a tower leaned precariously, its once sharp angles softened by moss and ivy; there, a plaza lay cracked, its cobblestones hosting a triumphant array of wildflowers that burst forth in riots of color. "Look at this place," Jonas murmured, his voice low with reverence. The scanner on the dashboard pinged softly, mapping the contours of the hidden cityscape as they advanced. Eli nodded, his gaze sweeping across the panorama of history reclaimed by wilderness. "Nature doesn't just survive, it prevails," he said, his eyes tracing the way vines snaked through gaping windows and trees rooted in the hollows of forgotten homes. The landscape whispered tales of decay and growth intertwined, a silent testament to time's inexorable march. With the rover parked securely at the edge of the ruins, Eli unbuckled and opened the door, stepping out into the diffused light that filtered through the canopy overhead. He surveyed the surroundings with methodical precision, the set of his jaw firm as he ensured no remnant of the past posed a threat to his family's present. "Clear," he called back, and Mara emerged from the vehicle, Ada close behind her. Together, they stood at the threshold of antiquity, their silhouettes framed by the rover's hatch. Mara's expressive green eyes absorbed every detail of the crumbling edifices, while Ada's youthful countenance reflected both awe and curiosity at the sight of human constructs swallowed by the voracious appetite of an alien ecosystem. "Imagine the stories these walls could tell," Mara said, her voice tinged with the wonder of discovery as she stepped forward onto the fragmented remains of a thoroughfare. She reached out, fingertips brushing against the rough texture of stone marred by the passage of uncounted seasons. Ada's small hand found hers, gripping tightly as they ventured into the heart of what once pulsed with the vibrant beat of human life. Now, only the murmur of the wind through the ruins and the distant calls of unfamiliar fauna filled the air—a symphony of the planet reclaiming its dominion. Jonas joined them, his face alight with the thrill of exploration. He cast a lingering glance back at the rover, their lifeline to the stars, before turning to face the legacy of those who had once looked up from this very spot, perhaps with dreams like his own. "Let's see what secrets lie waiting," Eli suggested, his protective presence a steadfast anchor as they moved deeper into the city's embrace. Jonas led the way, his gaze tracing the linearity of an ancient promenade where fragments of a bygone era remained etched against relentless wilderness. They stepped over resilient flora that had cracked the pavement's surface, a testament to time's unforgiving march. "Look at this," Mara exclaimed, halting before a set of worn stairs carved from stone, ascending abruptly into the open air. She approached with reverence, her fingertips grazing the weathered edges. "These steps, though eroded, suggest purposeful design—meant for beings with two legs much like ours." Her green eyes, mirrors of intellectual fervor, studied the structure's remnants. "Like a stairway to heaven that lost its destination," Jonas mused, squinting up at the empty sky where the staircase concluded. "Or perhaps a metaphor for ambition, reaching for heights unattainable," Eli added, his voice low but carrying weight. Ada leaned in closer, absorbing her mother's words. "Did they climb these stairs for exercise, or was there something important at the top?" she pondered aloud, embodying the innocence of youth yet poised on the cusp of profound understanding. "Both are plausible theories, Ada," Mara responded, her nurturing tone fostering the girl's burgeoning curiosity. "It may have been a lookout point or part of a ritual. Civilizations often intertwine daily life with deeper meanings." Progressing through the city's embrace, the family encountered a wall adorned with mosaic tiles. The intricate artwork, though dulled by centuries, clung to existence as stubbornly as the vines encroaching upon its beauty. Mara extended her hand, tracing the outlines of shapes and symbols that bore resemblance to terrestrial motifs. "Remarkable," she whispered, her linguistic expertise awakening to decipher the tableau. "These images suggest that whoever crafted them perceived their world in ways similar to our own. See here, the shading and perspective?" Ada peered at the depiction of what appeared to be an avian creature in flight, its wings spread wide across fragmented tesserae. "They saw in color, like us!" she exclaimed, her discovery shining bright in her widening eyes. "Indeed," Mara confirmed, pride resonating in her voice. "This suggests shared experiences of light and shadow, form and hue. Perhaps this civilization gazed upon their sunsets with the same sense of wonder that we do." Within that moment, among echoes of ancient artistry, the family stood connected not only to each other but also to the enigmatic souls who had once imbued these walls with life's vibrant spectrum. The city, silent and watchful, seemed to approve of its new visitors, guardians of history seeking whispers of yesteryear amidst the silence. Standing sentinel in front of a crumbling building, its purpose lost to time, Mara inspected an abstract geometric statue. The daylight wove patterns across its multifaceted surface, each angle revealing a new complexity of design. Eli circled the monolith, his technician's eye assessing the intricacies of its construction. "The precision here... it's beyond what we've seen in human architecture from this era." "Could be ceremonial," Jonas suggested, his youthful imagination alight with visions of ancient rites and interstellar alignments. But Mara held a different fascination, her thoughts adrift amidst the philosophical underpinnings such artistry implied. "The aesthetic speaks to more than simple decoration," she mused. "It suggests a contemplation of form and space, perhaps even an understanding of the cosmos far deeper than mere observation." Their discourse hung suspended as they approached another remnant of the city's past—a wall inscribed with characters that time had sought to erase but could not entirely claim. "Stand back," Mara said, her voice a soft command as she stepped forward, her eyes narrowing in scholarly concentration. One by one, the symbols began to yield their secrets to her trained eye. A pattern emerged, a syntax that hummed with the vibrancy of language lost but not forgotten. Her breath hitched, her heart racing with the thrill of discovery. "By the stars," she breathed, "it's a human dialect—predating the Phoenix Wars." Jonas and Eli drew closer, their presence a silent testament to the gravity of the revelation. Here, on this distant world, lay the vestiges of their own kind, a colony severed from the chronicles of humanity, now rendered an enigma by the relentless march of time. "From before the wars..." Eli murmured, awe coloring his typically composed countenance. "Our history," Mara said, turning to face them, her green eyes alight with the magnitude of their find, "is far from complete. We know so little about the first evolution of man." “Can you translate it?” Eli asked. Mara shook her head. “There’s not enough letters remaining to know for certain, but this might have been a library.” “It’s too bad none of the books survived,” Jonas mused, looking through the doorway of the building. There was nothing left of the rest of the building, only the front wall remained, and probably wasn’t safe to stand next to. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Mara replied. “Most colonies dig tunnels to protect themselves until they fully understand the environment. We need an archeology team to excavate this city, we could be standing on top of a treasure chest of ancient relics.” “Focus, family,” Eli cautioned. “We’re not explorers, or archeologists. We’re hyperspace technicians, and we’re only here to discover what caused the hyperspace lanes to collapse, and how to fix it.” The air between them thickened with implications as profound as the void that cradled the stars above. With each glyph decoded, they delved deeper into the narrative of a civilization once vibrant, now only whispered by stone and shadow. Jonas exchanged a lingering look with his father, the discovery etching itself into their shared silence. Eli's eyes mirrored the depth of his thoughts as he considered the implications of this unearthed chapter of human history. They stood, a family bound not just by blood but by the unyielding grip of wonder, at the precipice of an epoch long buried beneath nature's relentless claim. With reverence shadowing their every move, they pressed on, the ruins beckoning them deeper into its forgotten heart. The landscape yielded to their determined strides until a partially collapsed structure barred their way. Its entrance, obscured by an entanglement of roots and debris, spoke of resilience amidst decay. Eli stepped forward, his tall frame casting a protective shadow over the rubble. With meticulous care, his calloused hands worked to clear the path, moving stones and twisted metal with practiced precision. The sun's dying light cast long shadows across his broad shoulders as he labored, revealing a silent strength in each deliberate motion. "Careful, Dad," Jonas cautioned, his voice barely above a whisper, as if too loud a sound might collapse what remained of the ancient edifice. "Says the boy leaning against a wall a breeze could knock over," Eli responded without looking up. Jonas’ eyes widened as he gently moved away from the wall. Towards the center of the city, they found a domed building that was remarkably intact. One by one, they followed Eli into the dim interior, their footsteps a staccato rhythm against the hushed echo of history. The air within was cool, laden with the scent of time's passage—mildew intertwined with the metallic tang of disuse. Light filtered in through cracks in the ceiling, creating a tapestry of illumination that danced upon the walls. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness, the shadows retreated, revealing the sanctum of a world lost to the annals of war and rebirth. The silence within spoke volumes, each particle of dust a testament to the years that had elapsed since the last human footfall. "Look at this place," Ada murmured, her young voice rich with awe. "Indeed," Mara echoed, her words painting the air with reverence. "A vault of history untouched by the chaos that must have raged outside." The family moved as one, a unit bound by discovery, driven by the insatiable human thirst for understanding. Here, amid the remnants of a civilization both familiar and alien, they would unearth secrets of a past that was, inescapably, their own. “There’s a computer here,” Jonas called out, his hand hovering above the console, hesitant as his gaze locked onto the screen that sputtered with a feeble light. The ancient computer system before him was an enigma wrapped in alloy and dust—the last whisper of a technological era that predated even the fabled Phoenix Wars. His fingers twitched, a reflection of the internal struggle between the yearning to unravel its secrets and the dread of awakening dormant codes. "I doubt it'll function," Eli remarked, his eyes inspecting the rusted interfaces around the mainframe. He leaned in, skillfully opening a side panel to reveal a tangled mess of wires and circuits that had somehow withstood the test of time. "I think this is a biometric pad," Jonas suggested. "Maybe that's how you activate it." Eli placed his hand on the dusty surface, applying gentle pressure. Nothing happened. "This computer is too old." May I try?" Jonas asked. Eli withdrew his hand and gestured for Jonas to place his hand on the device. Jonas pressed his hand against the glass, and almost immediately the lights flickered on. Eli glanced at his son with surprise. "That shouldn’t have worked." Jonas gave his father a lopsided grin. “I guess I have the magic touch.” “More likely I brushed enough dust off for it to work the second time, but keep your eyes open. If this thing works, it means someone has been here maintaining the computer.” Meanwhile, Mara crouched beside a wall laden with inscriptions, her fingers tracing the grooves of faded characters that held the key to understanding this forsaken colony's story. Her green eyes flickered with intensity; she was the linguistic alchemist, transmuting the ancient symbols into a narrative of profound significance. "Their script is derivative of a common Old Earth language, but there are nuances here that are altogether foreign," she mused aloud, her words forming the bridge between past and present. "Anything decipherable?" Eli called out from his position by the computer, his attention still divided between the potential dangers of the equipment and Mara's work. Jonas edged closer, his adolescent frame alive with anticipation, drawn irresistibly to the unfolding mystery. Ada, though silent, leaned in as well, her youthful curiosity a mirror to Jonas's own. Mara stood slowly, her posture erect, a scholar about to impart a revelation. "What’s it say, Mom?" Jonas asked. She met his gaze squarely, the weight of history palpable between them. "The Guardian of Humanity rests here until the descendants of man return." A hush fell over the group, each member processing the gravity of Mara's words. Here, in the heart of relics and ruin, lay the testament to a purpose grander than any of them had imagined—a legacy entrusted to the far-flung progeny of a world torn asunder. "Guardian of Humanity..." Jonas whispered, the phrase resonating with a sense of destiny that transcended the mere confines of the derelict structure. They were the descendants, the bearers of the torch that had been passed down through eons of silence and decay. And in that solemn moment, under the ghostly luminescence of the computer's screen, they stood not just as explorers, but as heirs to a civilization's final hope. Jonas reached out, digits trembling ever so slightly as they hovered above the decrepit keyboard. Dust motes danced in the air, disturbed by his tentative proximity. With a steadying breath, he pressed a sequence of keys, an action driven more by intuition than reason. The screen flickered, then stilled. Upon the monitor, a symbol emerged—a helix interwoven with geometric patterns, pulsating with an ethereal glow that seemed to beckon the onlookers into its mysteries. It was a sigil both alien and achingly familiar, and it resonated within the chamber like a silent peal of thunder. Beside him, Eli leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration, hands momentarily still from their usual meticulous examination of the equipment. His blue eyes widened, recognition dawning like the slow unfurling of a solar sail in deep space. "Orion," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "this is your core symbol, isn't it?" From the shadowed corner of the room, where the family's trusted AI companion had hovered in vigilant silence, came the slightest fluctuation in the ambient light. Orion's avatar showed a brief flicker, a glitch uncharacteristic of his normally fluid presence. "Yes, Eli," Orion's voice crackled, laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty. "It appears to be an exact match, but I have never been here before." Mara's hand found her mouth, a gesture to mask the astonishment etched upon her features. Her eyes, usually so warm and reassuring, reflected a tumultuous sea of questions and implications. She drew Jonas and Ada closer, her arms encircling them as if to anchor the children amidst the waves of revelation crashing over them. Ada, her wide-eyed innocence now shadowed by the gravity of the moment, clutched at the fabric of Mara's sleeve, seeking solace in the tactile comfort. "Everything we believed about Orion may not be true," Eli said, turning to face the rest of his family, "about our journey, might be intertwined with... with whatever this place represents." His protective stance belied the tempest of thoughts churning behind his steadfast gaze. The family stood enveloped in silence, each member lost in contemplation of the revelations unfolding before them. The symbol on the screen, an echo of a past long thought to have been silenced, spoke volumes of secrets yet to be uncovered, of destinies yet to be fulfilled. "Guardian of Humanity," Mara repeated, her voice a ghostly echo in the ancient chamber. "What guardianship did you hold, Orion? And what does your awakening signify for us all?" "Your Orion speaks the truth; he isn't me," a voice declared. The family turned abruptly, surprised by the sudden presence of another in the room. “Dad, that’s the wizard that was on our ship!” Jonas exclaimed. Eli moved protectively in front of his family, his hand instinctively reaching for the holster at his side. "Who are you?" The glowing, ethereal figure bowed slightly. "I apologize for intruding on your vessel. Throughout the centuries, many have come here with the intent to plunder and steal whatever they could find, and each time, the Guardian awakened to defend me. However, this time the Guardian remained dormant. I needed to understand why the Guardian didn't see you as a threat. Now, I do." "That still doesn't tell me who you are," Eli responded. “I am Orion Prime.”