Felix sat frozen in his seat, his eyes burning from not blinking as they stayed locked on the monitor. The impossible ship had just… flashed back. Not with lamps or navigation lights—the entire craft had pulsed, a brilliant, electric blue.

  Two short pulses, one long.

  A perfect repeat of his signal. His fingers hovered over the console trembling with excitement. An intentional response.

  Amy broke the silence first. “Well, that’s different.”

  Felix exhaled sharply, his voice tight. “Did… did they just flash the whole ship at us?”

  Amy’s tone carried a trace of confusion. “Technically, I think the energy field around the ship flashed. But yes.”

  Felix ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking to the sensor readings. The alien ship wasn’t moving. No course correction, no thrusters. It just continued to drift.

  “It’s not automated,” Felix muttered. “If it were a drone, the response would’ve been... instant.”

  He glanced at the timestamp. “That took them almost an hour to respond.” Felix adjusted the scan parameters, his fingers tight on the controls. “What about their power signature? Anything new?”

  Amy’s response was slow. “It’s inconsistent.”

  Felix’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

  Amy’s voice carried something he wasn’t used to—uncertainty. “Meaning, Felix... I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at.”

  His jaw tightened. Amy sounded irritated, and he immediately felt guilty for pushing her. She was a NavCom, after all and this wasn’t what she was designed for. Still she seemed just as intrigued by this mystery as he was.

  The power signature from the alien vessel fluctuated in odd and inconsistent patterns, like it was pulsing in layers—as though it had multiple energy sources overlapping but all out of sync. It didn’t behave like anything you would expect on a ship. Reactor output. Plasma emissions. Thruster signatures. No consistent heat source. No engine pattern. Even the most alien of designs tended to follow some sort of familiar pattern. This was something completely different.

  Felix broke the silence.

  “Alright. Let’s try another pattern.” His fingers flew across the console, setting the external lights to a new sequence:

  Short. Long. Short. Short. Long. Long.

  The alien ship’s reply was immediate this time. A perfect echo of the pattern.

  Felix felt his pulse pounding in his ears. His voice came out low. “Well, we know they’re listening.”

  Amy’s voice was unusually soft. “Felix… there is clearly someone, or something, manning that craft. But how do we communicate beyond just flashing them?”

  Felix smirked. “And you call me immature.” he teased.

  Amy’s voice was flat as she replied. “Can you install servos on my sensors so I can roll my eyes at you?”

  He chuckled for a moment and then composed himself, eyes locked on the pulsing blue shape. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Felix’s fingers danced over the controls. “Visible light is just a band of non-ionizing radiation, a slice of the electromagnetic spectrum.” He paused, his voice tightening with excitement. “What if we try another band—like radio waves?”

  Amy was silent for a fraction of a second. Then her voice carried a note of growing excitement.

  “If they can receive and transmit on the radio, maybe we can get them to communicate with something more complex than pulses.”

  Felix gave a tight nod. “Exactly.”

  “Got it. Transmitting the previous pattern using radio pulses.” Amy’s synthetic voice seemed almost eager and laced with a smile this time.

  “Transmitting now.”

  SHHK, SHHHHHK, SHHK, SHHK, SHHHHHK, SHHHHHK

  Then they waited. It has taken nearly an hour for the other craft to respond to flashing lights, how long would it take them to sort out radio waves? Could they even detect them? Felix sat back in his chair as they waited.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ____________________________________________________________________________

  Veyrin’s voice, calm and resonant, broke the tension on the bridge. “We are receiving another signal. This one is... different.”

  Crestia’s sharply pointed ears flicked slightly at the tone. “Different how?”

  The familiar's voice was layered and rich, seeming to vibrate through the ship’s walls. “It is not in your visual spectrum. But... it follows the same pattern as before.”

  Fizz’s eyes widened. “Wait… they changed the spell?”

  Veyrin hesitated. “...I do not believe it is a spell. This pattern moves... through the ether, but not as mana. It feels... structured, but alien.”

  Crestia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying it’s magic we can’t feel, or something mechanical?”

  Skrill’s voice cut in, sharp and curious “I am unsure. Some spirits can communicate in similar ways using the invisible waves that make up the ethereal, and I believe I can send a message in reply.” Veyrin’s form flickered with understanding. “Shall I respond?”

  Fizz, her hands already flying across the console. “Yes—send back the same pattern on their wavelength, Veyrin. Echo them again.”

  In the corner, Paeris crouched, bandaging the partially healed wound on Ros’Lyn’s leg. The shimmering thread of her weakened healing magic still glowed faintly, but it wasn’t enough to close the wound. Ros'Lyn had barely spoken since their arrival, her eyes locked on the viewport at the front of the bridge.

  Paeris’s voice, lazy but laced with curiosity. “So… what exactly are they doing over there?”

  Ros’Lyn winced as he pulled the bandage tight, snapping back to the present. “Ah! Watch it!”

  Paeris cringed apologetically. “Sorry.”

  Her teeth gritted, jerked her chin toward the console. “Fizz is trying to talk to them and figure that out.”

  Paeris frowned. “And flashing lights count as talking now?”

  The gnome kept her eyes focused on her console as she replied. “Ships on the sea use lamps to signal each other across miles of water. Simple flashes—patterns—mean everything from ‘help’ to ‘hello.’ It looks like the other craft is doing something similar.” Her fingers danced across the runes of the controls. “We can’t shout across the void. So... we’re learning their language one pulse at a time.”

  Veyrin’s spoke, his voice layered with intrigue. “They are replying, though I am still not able to interpret more than an attempt to connect.” The walls of the ship vibrated softly not words, but... tones. A strange, harmonic hum, layered and oddly structured, repeating.

  Fizz’s hands flew faster across the controls. “It’s patterns again! Longer. More complex.”

  Crestia’s breath caught. “What does it mean?”

  Skrill’s ears shot up, his eyes sparking with sudden excitement. “Signal is modulated! Something inside wave!” he barked, already scrambling toward another console. “Veyrin! I fix. You play back sound when I say!”

  Skrill’s clawed fingers swept over the runes, adjusting settings with rapid, jerking motions. “Signal carrying audio patterns! Now—play it!”

  Veyrin obeyed and the air split with a harsh, crackling screech and the crew flinched, hands flying to their ears.

  Crestia shouted over the din. “Skrill! What in the hells are you doing?!”

  Skrill, barely looking up “Sorry, sorry—bad translate! I fix!” The sound cut abruptly. Skrill’s hands blurred over the console. “Better. Now, again.”

  This time there was a single, clear tone. Then a voice. Faint, distorted, but unmistakably a word. An alien word. Unintelligible, but spoken. The bridge fell utterly silent. An alien language from an alien creature in a foreign universe.

  Ros’Lyn broke the silence “Was that, a voice?” Her voice was hushed.

  Fizz, barely breathing “What... language is that?”

  Skrill’s ears twitched, his grin wide and wild. “Yes, yes, creature use electromagnetic wave to send words!” He bounced excitedly. “Real communication!”

  Crestia’s heart pounded, but her lips twitched into a grin. “Now we just need to figure out what they’re saying.”

  A voice, drawling and lightly amused, answered from behind her. “Well. That was polite of them.”

  Crestia’s head whipped around. “Paeris—?”

  “They said ‘hello.’”

  She glared at Paeris standing beside the captain’s seat, arms crossed, his expression almost bored. He was loving this. Her eyes narrowed as she questioned him. “And how in the hells would you know that?”

  Paeris pulled back his sleeve with a lazy grin revealing a complex tattoo spiraling around his wrist. Runes, elegantly interwoven and shimmering faintly. “Translation charm.” He smirked. “It saves a lot of time when you meet a young maiden from... foreign realms.”

  Crestia stared, her expression half disbelief, half exasperation. “You... smug, ridiculous...”

  Ros’Lyn, muttered through her teeth “I hate when he’s useful.”

  Paeris gave an irritatingly casual smirk. “Well... now what?”

  Crestia’s grin returned, sharp and determined. “Now?” She cracked her knuckles. “We say hello back.”