“Science is a way of thinking much more than it is a body of knowledge.”

  — Carl Sagan, Cosmos

  Four Years Ago.

  The discovery was a twist of fate—cruel and absolute.

  Whether it had ridden the gravity of a distant star for days or withstood eons in that spot, no one could say. It measured about 30 tars. A golden disc, reflecting the noon light atop a dry sand dune.

  Rilke was an astronomer. He had been scouring the remote desert, not for artifacts, but for silence. He was looking for a place where the crust was stable and the atmosphere transparent—the perfect spot for an observatory.

  The Makim Desert of Trusen.

  It was an ancient geological formation. The bedrock was thick, meaning no Hemolysis Points—those geothermal vents that spewed energy—and absolutely zero seismic activity. The humidity was low, offering the clearest view of the sky on all of Garen. To build a giant optical telescope here was Rilke’s lifelong dream.

  But on that day, instead of a telescope, he found an object that would alter his life and the fate of his entire planet.

  It lay in a wasteland, tens of pertars away from the nearest main road. A place no ordinary person would ever visit. If anyone other than an astronomer had found it, this unknown disc would have been tossed into a furnace and melted down into cheap jewelry.

  But Rilke was drawn to it. A strange sense of alienation, a dissonance he couldn't explain, compelled him. He wrapped the disc in the cleanest cloth he had and brought it back to his lab.

  The inspection results were baffling.

  One side of the disc was etched with the image of a grotesquely alien lifeform. Its ears were small and round, as if degenerated. Its limbs were abnormally short. There were two figures, suggesting a species differentiated by gender. The surface was pure gold, but the weight suggested a different core material. Surrounding these figures were symbols and circular diagrams that defied interpretation.

  Rilke examined the back. Apart from deep grooves that seemed to be part of a casing mechanism, there was no way to decipher the symbols.

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  However, one diagram in the bottom right corner was unmistakable.

  Two hydrogen atoms, combined.

  Convinced this was a message from an extraterrestrial civilization, Rilke pushed for a further search of the area.

  In the end, he recovered shards of an aluminum casing that had protected the disc, along with a second disc. This second one bore no images. However, when light hit it at a certain angle, strange interference patterns reflected back. Microscopic grooves, invisible to the naked eye, were carved into it with deliberate precision.

  He had no method, no idea how to interpret it. Desperate, he took the object to a mathematician he collaborated with.

  "So," Arhen turned the disc over in his hands. "You're saying this came from another planet?"

  "At the very least, it's not from Trusen," Rilke replied, spreading the aluminum fragments on the table. "The casing makes that certain."

  "Could be Alliance encryption."

  Arhen placed the back of the disc under a microscope.

  "Shouldn't we report this to the military first?"

  "We will. But we need to know what we're handing over."

  Under the microscope, the nature of the interference patterns revealed itself. Patterns made of dashes and dots.

  "We need a mathematical analysis to see if there's a rule to this."

  "That is why I came to you," Rilke said. "I know observation, but I'm weak with numbers."

  Arhen carefully began to transcribe the patterns one by one.

  "It's a disc... so they must have recorded it while rotating. No civilization capable of sending this to another planet would be stupid enough to record it radially."

  "How long will it take?"

  Arhen stopped his hand and looked up at Rilke.

  "No idea. If this isn't a language, we have no reference for comparison. The sheer amount of information means just extracting the code could take months. Statistical analysis and interpretation? That’s a whole other problem."

  Rilke felt a surge of impatience.

  This was a monumental discovery for astronomy. It was comparable to Anisette Swan calculating Garen's tidal forces, or Gali Elio mapping the orbits of Alisor—the central sun—and the moon, Luna.

  But mere discovery wasn't enough. If this disc came from a civilization more advanced than Trusen, more advanced than Garen itself, it could hold the key to understanding the universe.

  "We’re going to need massive manpower and time."

  Rilke hesitated. This wasn't something for a joint academic study; it required the government. But involving them came with the fear that his discovery would be buried.

  "Rilke, wake up," Arhen snapped, cutting through his thoughts. "This isn't a job for the two of us and a few grad students."

  A few months later, the Makim Desert was swarming with soldiers.

  A thorough sweep was conducted within a 10-pertar radius of where Rilke had found the first disc. Their objective: find more.

  Judging by the strength of the casing, it was estimated to have shattered just before impact, likely upon entering the atmosphere. Since they didn't know when it had fallen, they dug up the very sands, sifting through everything.

  They didn't know how many discs had originally been in the casing. But they succeeded in recovering about a hundred of them. Along with several fragments of the carrier vehicle itself.