The silence that followed the transmission was not the silence of calm—but of pressure. A stillness that throbbed like a storm preparing to break.
Trần Hoàng Nam didn't hesitate. "We need to initiate containment measures around the shard. Lock it in a quantum stasis field before the signal intensifies."
Lan moved swiftly, activating the emergency protocols on her gauntlet. Holographic panels flared to life, projecting layers of security matrices. The shard resisted at first—flaring, vibrating—but gradually, the field settled around it like a transparent cocoon.
"We've got maybe an hour," Lan said, sweat trailing down her brow. "Maybe less if that signal reaches whoever sent that message."
Nam paced the edge of the vault, staring at the crumbling walls—etched with languages they still hadn't translated, but which now pulsed with fresh light. The symbols were reacting to the shard, perhaps even the signal.
"They knew this would happen," he muttered. "Whoever built this place, they prepared for it."
Lan glanced at him. "Prepared... or warned us?"
Just then, the floor beneath them rumbled—faint, at first, then a sharp tremor that sent dust cascading from the ceiling. A klaxon sounded in the distance, echoing up from the corridor.
"Proximity alert," the base AI crackled. "Unidentified vessel approaching Sector Zero. Estimated arrival: four minutes."
Nam's blood turned cold. "They're already here."
Lan activated her comm. "Station Control, status report."
"Something's coming out of warp. Not a design we recognize. No transponder. It's... it's massive, Commander."
Nam clenched his fists. "It's not just about the shard anymore. We just became ground zero for first contact—or first conflict."
Lan locked eyes with him. "We need to make a choice. Fight or run?"
Nam didn't answer immediately. He looked at the shard, still humming inside its stasis field—calling, waiting. The data from the ancient vault was only partially decoded, but one thing was clear: This wasn't humanity's first encounter with what lay beyond G-Delta 7. It was just the first time we answered.
"Neither," Nam said at last. "We don't run. And we're not ready to fight. We listen."
Lan frowned. "You want to talk to them?"
"I want to know why they built this vault, why the signal was sent now, and what the hell they mean by 'alignment.'" He turned to her. "And I think we've got just one shot before things go cosmic."
Outside the station, space twisted.
A ship—blacker than the void itself—emerged from the ripple of folded dimensions. It made no sound, bore no lights, no insignia. But it pulsed with intent. With awareness.
Nam and Lan stood on the observation deck as the entity-ship came into view.
Lan's voice dropped to a whisper. "This isn't just an arrival. It's a reckoning."
Nam nodded slowly.
And far behind them, deep within the vault, the shard glowed with a new light—a faint golden pulse.
The alignment had begun.