Once they were alone, Koros stopped and began speaking in a grave tone.

  “His condition is worrying. His memories are all over the place…”

  “It’s nothing,” Eamon replied pragmatically, trying to downplay it. “This is a normal reaction to a violent shock to the body.”

  Koros crossed his arms and leaned back against the ship’s metal wall, his gaze cold and fixed.

  “Nothing? You’re joking, right? He’s confused, disoriented, and above all, unstable. He can’t stay conscious without blacking out again!”

  “You’re exaggerating,” Eamon sighed, shaking his head. “Sure, he’s having a hard time coming out of it, but I’m telling you—it’s nothing.”

  Koros shifted his stance, his tone growing firmer.

  “Eamon, he needs medical care. Real doctors. Specialists.”

  Eamon froze, his stare suddenly sharp.

  “And what do you suggest? That we leave? Abandon the dig?”

  “Yes,” Koros answered without the slightest hesitation.

  Eamon let out an exasperated sigh, his gaze drifting for a moment into empty space.

  “Tch… So close to the goal… His condition is not that serious…”

  Koros slammed his fist against the wall.

  “We don’t know anything about the consequences! We have no idea how his condition will evolve!”

  Eamon turned toward him, defiance burning in his eyes.

  “So based on assumptions—possibly wrong ones—you want to drop everything? Just walk away?!”

  His voice rose as frustration overwhelmed him, his left arm slicing the air in a sharp, angry gesture.

  “This isn’t dropping everything, it’s being realistic! We’re in danger!”

  “The risk is something every one of us accepted by coming here!” Eamon shot back, his voice trembling with irritation.

  “We’re not prepared for this, Eamon! We have to come back better equipped!” Koros growled, raising his own voice now.

  “Come back?!” Eamon let out a bitter laugh. “There won’t be a second chance and you know it!”

  His voice cracked into a shout.

  “This is our one and only opportunity! If we leave, all of this will be lost forever! The Consortium will shut us down, bury us in red tape! We can’t let the greatest discovery of all time slip through our fingers!”

  Koros took a sharp step toward him.

  “The lives and health of every one of us are worth more than a discovery. These are our students, Eamon. You’re too blinded to see it!”

  Eamon exploded, his voice tearing through the air.

  “You don’t understand! The importance of this place, of what we’ve discovered!”

  He hammered empty space with his hand, pacing in circles like a caged animal.

  “I’m so close! This is the key! I can feel it! We can’t leave!”

  Koros stood his ground, unmoving, his gaze like stone.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice anymore. We’ve gone too far. We have no idea what kind of danger their technology represents. This is too big for us.”

  “No! That’s wrong and you know it! We have to keep going!” Eamon insisted, his breath short and ragged. His body suddenly faltered, and a coughing fit shook his frail legs.

  Koros caught him with a firm hand.

  “Eamon, calm down. Sit.”

  Zena, who had just left the room where Adam was resting, stopped dead when the heated shouts of the two archaeologists reached her. The tension had spiked; their voices echoed harshly in the narrow corridor. She understood instantly how serious things had become, but after a brief hesitation she continued on, trying to ignore the storm brewing behind her. She had a task: bring some food to Adam. Even so, her mind remained troubled by what she’d just heard.

  “Eamon… let’s spend the night here and leave tomorrow. We don’t have a choice,” Koros murmured at last, his tone calmer, more controlled.

  The old Azarien’s anger slowly faded, drained away by fatigue and the bitter taste of failure. He lowered his gaze, looking defeated.

  “Fine… If you’re declaring us beaten, then so be it… But I’m staying.”

  A faint sigh escaped Koros’s circuits, almost inaudible—like a silent disappointment. He set a firm hand on Eamon’s shoulder.

  “Rest.”

  “You know… you really scared us,” Kiran whispered later, running a worried hand over his carnivorous mouth.

  “I’m sorry… That wasn’t my intention,” Adam murmured weakly. “But I just… couldn’t help it…”

  Still lying down, his complexion was pale, almost sickly. The dark circles hollowing his eyes betrayed the brutal trial his body had been through.

  “You should sleep. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. If you need us, we’ll be in the common room. Just call, okay?”

  “Okay. Good night, Kiran.”

  “Sleep well, buddy,” the Neurorian whispered before turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

  Left alone in the dark, Adam was hit by a wave of thoughts and emotions. A dull anxiety crept into him, growing with every breath.

  Why did I do that? Why me? he repeated to himself, tears sliding silently down his cheeks.

  Am I going to die?

  The question clung to his mind like an obsession.

  He closed his eyes, trying to surrender to sleep—

  But something strange happened.

  First came a faint reddish glow, diffuse and pulsing. Then symbols emerged—at first ghostlike, almost transparent, before carving themselves into his field of vision, burning like embers on cold metal. Numbers, formulas, projected in an off-white glow edged with red, layered themselves over reality even when he opened his eyes again.

  A torrent of images and incomprehensible concepts crashed into him.

  Mathematical structures formed and unraveled in a frantic cycle. Star charts flickered into existence and disappeared in a fraction of a second. He perceived the data without being able to process it, as if some ancient memory from another age was trying to etch itself into his mind. Lines stretched, shattered, and reformed into new, elusive configurations. His mind was no longer his own—it was a slate on which an unknown force was writing at terrifying speed.

  The overload was unbearable.

  He was suffocating under the flood of information, his body shaking from the intensity of it. He wanted to close his eyes, to drive the visions away, but they overwhelmed him, relentless, inescapable.

  The first rays of sunlight eventually slipped through the porthole, cutting into the room’s shadows and casting a warm golden light that danced on the dust motes in the air. The gentle warmth brushed against Adam’s sleeping face until a brighter beam landed directly on his left eye, slowly dragging him out of his long sleep.

  He opened his eyes cautiously, letting his vision adjust to the light. His mind, less foggy than the night before, was wrapped in a strange sense of ease. The feeling of having been torn apart, violated by the chair, was… gone. When he placed a hand on the blanket over him, he guessed Zena must have put it there, likely worried by the fever that had seized him.

  With a smooth motion, he pushed the duvet aside, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and set one foot, then the other, onto the cold floor of the ship. He straightened up slowly, savoring the absence of vertigo that had tormented him the day before. His body responded better. The night had done him good.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He walked toward the door of the cabin, which slid silently into the wall, revealing the wide common room.

  There, sprawled across the central couch, Kiran slept peacefully, his light breathing occasionally punctuated by rumbling snores. Zena, on the other hand, had finally succumbed to exhaustion at the table, asleep with her head buried in her folded arms. The position looked anything but comfortable, Adam thought as he watched her.

  As he moved further into the room, he accidentally bumped into a chair with his foot. The sharp sound rang through the silence of the ship, enough to jolt everyone awake.

  “Wha—!” Kiran blurted, jerking upright at the dull thud.

  Zena shot up as well, still half-asleep. They both stared at Adam, stunned to see him standing.

  “Adam! What are you doing up? In your state, you should still be in bed!” Kiran exclaimed, now more lucid.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Adam answered softly.

  “You sure?” Zena asked, still worried. “You were in really bad shape last night.”

  “I’ve been better, that’s for sure… but honestly, I feel… way better than I expected,” Adam admitted, looking down at his hands as if to confirm he was really awake.

  “No more headaches? No vertigo?” Kiran insisted, still skeptical about the sudden recovery.

  “Just a noise in my head. Like a leftover sound.”

  “A noise? What kind of noise?” Eamon cut in abruptly as he stepped into the room, drawn by the commotion.

  Adam hesitated, caught off guard by the old doctor’s sudden entrance.

  “Uh… like tinnitus, I guess. A constant electronic ringing.”

  “That’s odd… but nothing else?” Eamon pressed, his gaze sharp as a blade.

  “No, Eamon. Just the sound. Nothing else.”

  The scientist mulled it over for a second, then made his decision:

  “Good. Meeting in the research tent in ten minutes. Understood?”

  “Uh… Sure. You’re the boss,” Adam replied, a little taken aback.

  Without another word, Eamon left the room, leaving behind a tension thick enough to touch. Adam immediately sensed that something had changed while he was unconscious… but he didn’t know what.

  He studied his companions. Their behavior told him everything. Zena lowered her eyes, while Kiran shot a cold glare in the direction Eamon had gone.

  “Did I miss something?” Adam asked, puzzled by the new atmosphere.

  Zena hesitated a moment before murmuring:

  “Just that Koros and Eamon had a big argument… a real fight.”

  “Yeah,” Kiran growled, anger roughening his voice. “That old fool would rather keep digging than save your life.”

  Adam fell silent, unable to respond. After a moment of quiet reflection, he finally said:

  “Let’s go join Eamon and Koros. No reason to make them wait.”

  The trio left the ship and headed toward the research tent, where Koros and Eamon were already waiting, standing in a heavy, loaded silence.

  “Good to see you on your feet,” the android said to Adam. He nodded in acknowledgment. He had a feeling this meeting, called by Eamon, would mark a turning point.

  “Good! You see, Adam is fine,” Eamon jumped in immediately. “We can continue our research here!”

  Koros ignored him and turned fully toward Adam.

  “How do you feel?”

  “I’m okay. No dizziness, no headaches. I’m not at a hundred percent yet, but I’m alright.”

  “You’re sure? Nothing unusual?”

  “Yes. Just the constant sound… that electronic ringing. Nothing else.”

  “I told you it was nothing. We can continue,” Eamon replied, irritation bleeding through his voice.

  “No, it’s much more serious than you think!” Kiran cut in, anger rumbling just beneath the surface. “You saw what that damned chair did to him, didn’t you?!”

  “Eamon, I agree with Kiran,” Koros added, his voice cold and measured. “What happened isn’t normal. All of this is far too risky.”

  “Oh, I see… Two against one?” Eamon sneered.

  “This isn’t about numbers, Eamon,” the android replied firmly. “It’s about facts. We can’t just sweep this incident under the rug. You know exactly what kind of irreversible consequences it could have.”

  “What happened with Li Tha? on Mars has nothing to do with this! The situation was different!” Eamon hissed.

  “Yes, it was different,” Koros replied. “But we know how it ended. Here, we are facing the unknown.”

  Zena, standing a bit away from the center of the discussion, watched with a tight chest. She could see the group splitting under the pressure of their choices. The warm atmosphere of the previous days was gone, erased and replaced by crackling tension.

  “Let’s recap,” Koros said, trying to calm things by structuring the facts. “Symptom-wise, you had nausea, headaches, a high fever, dizziness, convulsions, pain… and now, nothing.”

  Adam nodded slowly.

  “When the chair activated, what was the radiation level?”

  “No idea… No one thought to check,” Kiran admitted, clearly thrown by the question.

  “Probably low,” Eamon said. “I had a Geiger counter in my bag and it didn’t react. We would have heard it.”

  “But you’re not certain,” Koros pressed. “Because his symptoms, combined with this sudden recovery, are troubling—and strongly reminiscent of a very specific case: acute radiation syndrome.”

  Eamon scoffed, shaking his head.

  “Impossible. Nonsense, Koros.”

  Zena shivered.

  “Acute radiation syndrome? What is that?” she asked in a small, uncertain voice.

  Koros drew a slow, measured breath.

  “As the name implies, it’s linked to exposure to extremely high levels of radiation. It occurs in several phases. The first appears shortly after exposure and manifests through exactly the symptoms Adam experienced. Then comes the latent phase—an incubation period where the person seems perfectly fine.”

  He paused before continuing, his tone lower, heavier.

  “Then the third phase hits. The patient’s state suddenly worsens, and finally… the final phase. The one that ends in death.”

  A leaden silence fell at his words, broken only by the faint rippling sound of their small water basin stirred by the desert wind. Zena and Kiran exchanged terrified looks. Adam, meanwhile, lowered his head, crushed.

  Only one question hammered inside him: How much time do I have left?

  He cursed his own reckless curiosity again, regretting the moment he’d put his ass in that damned chair.

  “Impossible!” Eamon snapped, clinging to his reasoning. “We’d all be suffering the consequences of such exposure!”

  “And what makes you so sure of that?” Koros replied, icy, eyes narrowed.

  “We were right outside that room! If the radiation had been as dangerous as you suggest, we’d all have symptoms!”

  “You’re forgetting something crucial… Esthérian technology. Didn’t you mention that you were in an observation room?”

  “That’s right…” Zena murmured, concern trembling in her voice.

  “Then it’s highly probable that a containment field was in place around the chair chamber, isolating its effects from the rest of the structure. It would be a logical measure, if the place was meant for experiments,” Koros concluded, staring hard at Eamon.

  Eamon froze, realizing he’d overlooked a key point. His confidence faltered.

  Had he underestimated the danger?

  Had his own blindness condemned his student to an irreversible fate?

  “How long…?” Adam asked quietly, his gaze dark, resigned.

  Koros hesitated, as if he didn’t want to pronounce the sentence.

  “Without knowing the exact dose… A few months, maybe. A month, in the worst case. Maybe less.”

  Zena stumbled back, one hand flying to her mouth, unable to hide the terror flooding through her. Kiran, meanwhile, refused to accept it. Frozen for a second in pure denial, he shook his head and shouted, panic cracking his voice:

  “Stop trying to scare us! That’s impossible, right? There has to be a cure somewhere in the Consortium, doesn’t there?!”

  Koros didn’t waver. A few faint beeps sounded in his chest, followed by a brief crackle before he answered, cold and precise:

  “Unfortunately, no treatment exists. Radiation alters DNA on a deep level. Despite decades of research, no curative solution has been found. There are only treatments to delay the inevitable, or ease the suffering. The study of DNA is incredibly complex. Perhaps the Esthérian’s understood that as well…”

  His cold eyes settled on Eamon as he added:

  “Which would explain their use of that unknown alloy we discovered at the start of the expedition—a shield against radiation.”

  Another heavy silence fell over the group. Each of them struggled to digest this new reality, whose probability was too high to simply dismiss.

  After a moment of hesitation, it was Zena who finally broke the silence, her voice faint and trembling:

  “In that case… what do we do?”

  Koros answered with his usual, pragmatic calm:

  “For now, Adam is better. We could use this time to leave this world and get him examined by a doctor. That might buy him some time…”

  “It’s Adam’s decision, in the end,” Eamon said, cutting in, his gaze now heavy with remorse. “So… what do you choose?”

  All eyes turned toward Adam. His choice would decide not only his own fate, but that of the entire expedition.

  He closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts, weighing every possibility. When he opened them again, he stared down at his palms, as if searching for an answer written in his own skin. Then he spoke, his voice steady:

  “We continue. If I’m already lost, I’d rather learn as much as we can… And if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll find a solution.”

  A faint, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of the old archaeologist’s lips.

  It was exactly the answer he’d hoped for.

  You really are the prodigy I think you are, he murmured inwardly.

  But Zena didn’t share his satisfaction.

  “Adam, you have to see a doctor!” she protested, trying to wrap her head around his choice. “Kiran, say something! Talk some sense into him!”

  Kiran frowned, trying to read his friend’s expression.

  “You sure about this? Zena’s not wrong, you know…”

  Adam nodded without hesitation.

  “Yes. I’m sure. And Eamon isn’t entirely wrong either… If there’s an answer, it might be here. That chair did something to me. I need to know what. So we keep going.”

  Kiran let out a long sigh, then extended his left fist toward him, a tired smile on his lips.

  “Alright then… If you’re sure, I’m with you, buddy.”

  But Zena couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “That’s it? Really? You’re not going to insist more than that? And you, Koros?”

  The android tilted his head slightly.

  “If that is Adam’s choice, so be it. But this time, Eamon, I’m coming with you into that ‘temple’. Understood?”

  “Understood,” the archaeologist replied.

  Fedrus, who hadn’t spoken for a while, finally stepped forward.

  “Now that everything’s decided, we break camp in twenty minutes. Let’s resume the research.”

  The order was given.

  The expedition was not over.