About the same time Chairman Hughes was ordering Mars evacuated, Jeff Calan was breaking the news of the Argus’ destruction to Russ Carlin. He knew it would hit hard. Russell was a strong man, but this—this could break him.

  Jeff took a slow breath. “We just lost contact with the Argus, Russell.”

  Russell frowned. “Are we behind Charon already?” His voice was steady, but Jeff could see the tension in his jaw.

  Jeff shook his head. “No, Russ. The Argus is gone. Destroyed.”

  The color drained from Russell’s face. “What?” He lurched forward. “Debra’s aboard.”

  Jeff met his eyes. “No,” he said quickly. “She was in hopper number three.”

  Russell’s breath caught. Hope flickered in his eyes. “And she’s safe?”

  Jeff hesitated. He hated this part. “We don’t know.”

  Russell’s hands clenched into fists. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “The hoppers were inside the sphere when Argus was attacked,” Jeff explained. “Before the AV relay went dark, we saw the hatch they cut closing—sealing itself back up. Welding itself shut.” He exhaled slowly. “Then we lost everything.”

  Russell’s shoulders slumped. “So they’re trapped.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Inside that thing?”

  Jeff nodded grimly. “Russ… the Argus never had a chance. It happened too fast. No warning. No time to escape.” He paused, jaw tightening. “The hoppers didn’t have a chance either. They were already inside when the attack happened. There was no way out.”

  Russell’s expression turned hollow. “And we’re just… leaving them?”

  “No.” Jeff pulled up a display, showing the sphere’s trajectory. His voice was grim. “It’s coming to us.”

  Russell barely glanced at the readout. His eyes were locked on the looping video from the Argus’ final moments. The hatch sealing itself. The glow at its edges. The sudden static burst as the AV relay melted into nothing.

  His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “Whoever they are… they have us beat in technology, Jeff.”

  Jeff nodded. “It would appear so.”

  Russell inhaled sharply. “The hopper launched two AV relays, didn’t it?”

  Jeff blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

  “We saw the outside relay go out,” Russell said, voice steadier now, focused. “But if the other one is still inside…” He turned sharply. “Our receivers could lock onto it, Commander. If it’s still functioning, we might be able to hear something. Know if they’re alive.”

  Jeff’s eyes flickered with renewed energy. “True. If the inside relay is still working.” But before he could act on the idea, his screen lit up with a priority transmission. His stomach sank as he read the directive. “Russ… UW Science and Security Councils are in emergency session. They want the core samples we’re carrying on Terra. Immediately.”

  Russell’s mouth tightened. His knuckles were white against the console. His rescue would have to wait.

  For now.

  “Fine.” His voice was flat. “Then let me call up everything we’ve got on the sphere.” He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening in determination. “I’m sure there’s another way out of that thing. And maybe—just maybe—we can figure out how to keep it off Mars too.”

  Jeff allowed himself a small smile. Russell had been dealt a brutal blow, but he was still fighting.

  As Terra Twin accelerated toward Earth, Russell dug into the most difficult engineering problem of his life. He re-ran the telemetry. Studied the data. Watched the last recordings over and over. Patterns. There were always patterns. And patterns could be broken.

  The sphere drank in energy like a sponge. But not all energy. Thirty percent of visible light was reflected rather than absorbed. That was a weakness.

  A properly tuned laser—one in the right spectrum—could cut through it like a knife.

  He called up the spectrograph data from the Argus’ readings. The green band of visible light—bordered between yellow and blue—was the most reflected wavelength.

  Green.

  Russell leaned back, staring at the numbers. If the sphere rejected green light…

  Then green was invisible to it.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  His pulse kicked up. Could that be it? Just as infrared and ultraviolet were invisible to human eyes, maybe green was beyond the sphere’s perception. And that meant—

  His mind raced. The sphere’s weapon, the light beam that obliterated the Argus, had contained every visible wavelength except green. That confirmed it. Green didn’t exist in its world. It couldn’t.

  Which meant—

  Their home system had to be orbiting a blue-white or red-white star. No yellow light. No green light. It had never evolved to register it.

  Russell exhaled sharply.

  That was something.

  It wasn’t a rescue plan yet. But it was something.

  And right now, it was all he had.

  As soon as Terra Twin landed, Russell immediately contacted the Science Council and took the first shuttle to Geneva to present his findings to Hopewell and Sackett. Both men listened attentively, making notes on their personal recorders. When Russell concluded, they exchanged a glance before turning back to him.

  Sackett leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “Let me get this straight. You believe the sphere ship’s defenses are designed to react to certain materials and energy signatures, meaning a ship coated in this green compound you’ve identified could bypass its detection?”

  Russell nodded. “Exactly. We discovered that the sphere’s outer membrane absorbs and repels standard hull materials, but when exposed to the organic compounds in the algae-infused resin we used for temporary repairs, the response was negligible—almost like it didn’t recognize us as a threat.”

  Hopewell frowned. “That’s a hell of an assumption to gamble lives on, Carlin.”

  Russell knew that. He knew how insane this plan sounded, how many ways it could go wrong. But he also knew who was on that ship.

  Debra.

  Her name echoed in his mind like a warning, a reminder of the stakes that no one else in this room fully understood. Debra was out there, trapped inside that sphere, her oxygen dwindling with every passing hour. He couldn’t let that be the end of her story.

  His fingers curled into fists against the table.

  “I know it’s a risk,” he admitted, forcing his voice to remain steady. “But I’m not proposing a blind approach. We’ll run tests on a probe first, send it in coated in the same material, and monitor its response. If the theory holds, we move forward.”

  Sackett exhaled sharply. “And if it doesn’t?”

  Russell met his gaze, unwavering. “Then we find another way. But time isn’t on our side. The hopper crews trapped inside that thing have, at most, ten days of life support left. If they’re alive, we have to act fast.”

  Debra. If she was still alive, she was counting on him.

  Hopewell exchanged a glance with Sackett before rubbing his temples. “Assuming your ship gets close enough, how do you propose to extract the teams?”

  Russell pulled up a schematic on the table’s holodisplay. “The sphere’s interior structure is still a mystery, but based on the energy signatures we picked up, I think it uses a layered containment field. If we can find the right frequency to disrupt it—maybe with a focused EMP pulse—we could create a breach long enough to retrieve them.”

  Sackett let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of ‘ifs,’ Carlin.”

  Not as many as the ones running through his mind. Was she injured? Was she scared? Was she still fighting, still stubbornly trying to find a way out on her own? Or was she already…?

  No. He wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t.

  Russell squared his shoulders. “It is. But it’s the best shot we have.”

  The room was silent for a long moment before Sackett leaned back in his chair. “You’ve given this more thought than I expected.”

  Hopewell sighed. “Which means we’re going to have to argue this before the councils.”

  Finally, they stood, shaking Russell’s hand. “You’ll have our support,” Hopewell said.

  Russell accepted their praise with quiet resolve but quickly hardened his expression. “I hope my findings are accurate and that the councils can put them to good use, but I have a request.”

  “You, sir, can name whatever you want,” a voice interrupted.

  Chairman Hughes entered the room, her expression sharp with interest. “I was listening in on your ship’s communications as you approached. You’ve accomplished what no one else has—identifying two key weaknesses in the sphere ship. And you did it with fewer resources, less experience, and minimal funding. Now, I want to know how.”

  “With all due respect, Madam Chairman,” Russell said, “what I want isn’t recognition. I need a ship, a place to modify her, and a crew—five members to join me and two of my colleagues. I intend to attempt a rescue mission for the two hopper crews trapped inside the sphere. If they’re still alive, they have about ten days of life support left, and time is our biggest enemy. If we fail, I want the backup plan in place—your ram ships, also camouflaged in green, waiting in Neptune’s orbit to intercept the sphere.”

  Hughes studied him for a moment before nodding. “You’ll have your ship, Mr. Carlin,” she said. “But I reserve the right to select her commander.”

  Russell had anticipated this. “Commander Calan has agreed to captain the mission—despite being overdue for his honeymoon.”

  “Absolutely not,” Hughes said firmly.

  Doubt flickered across Russell’s face.

  “This will be a military vessel, the first of its kind in sixteen hundred years,” Hughes continued. “It requires a military commander. That commander will be you, Captain Carlin.”

  Russell stiffened.

  “The Security Council has granted me emergency powers, including the authority to form a military space service,” Hughes explained. “Its purpose will be to patrol our frontiers, respond to alien threats, and assist in emergency evacuations. This afternoon, at fourteen hundred hours, Dr. Hopewell and Professor Sackett will introduce you to the Science and Security Councils. Forty minutes later, I’ll commission you. That gives us about four hours to finalize the details.”

  Russell remained silent, absorbing the weight of responsibility now resting on his shoulders.

  He’d come here to plead for a chance to save Debra. Now, he was being given an entire military force.

  “We need uniforms, insignias, and a clear distinction between officers and enlistees,” Hughes continued. “As our first officer, I’m giving you that task, Carlin. Consult with the military police commander if you need historical references—his archives are extensive.”

  Russell hesitated only for a second before straightening. If this was what it took to bring Debra home, then so be it.

  “Understood, Madam Chairman.” He turned and strode from the room, his mind already racing.