The Past, Rewired

[Soban]

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As Derius packed up, Donagan gently set the original databank he’d extracted on the desk.

“Looks like it survived the surge—nothin’ triggered, thankfully. Just… dinnae forget it, will ye?”

After a quick rummage through his many pockets, he produced a slim datapad with a holographic projector. The moment it touched the table, a shimmering Kepler star-chart flickered into view.

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Spoiler

Spoiler

Below are the coordinates for navigating the dark matter storm:

1. -37832, 47, 10886
2. -26584, 69, -2609
3. -22253, 45, -17650
4. -21360, 37, -17732
5. -24013 33 -28332
6. -32499, -13, -32852
7. 7857, -1719, 12859
8. 17089, -8619, 4982
9. 24812, -2130, -420

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“Ye’ll need this tae find Grey. Should be up-ta-date, but keep yer eyes peeled—the storms out there are capricious beasts.”

He returned to the console, keying in commands while offering last-minute advice.

“I reckon ye can find yer way back tae the ship. I’ve already pinged the staff—they’ll load the extra modules ye might need at Ames. And as for her, aye, I do recommend an armour fit-out.”

Meeting Derius’s gaze, his voice dropped to a stern hush.

“The dark-matter storm’s deadly—we lost good men there, includin’ her faither. Kappa radiation looks tame beside what Kepler’s sufferin’.”

He paused, remembering the battered hulls that had limped home.

“So dinnae expect pleasantries—she’s up to her neck in work, an’ her mind’s pulled across half a dozen projects. Just keep clear o’ the airlocks: when she’s focused, her tongue could slice reinforced steel.”

Another keystroke set the cluster humming more loudly.

“While ye’re en-route to Kepler, I’ll begin the decryption an’ send updates. If ye uncover anything, she’ll relay it back, an’ I’ll upload it—best tae harness every bit o’ compute we’ve got. Besides, it serves as a tidy backup.”

Donagan glanced at him one last time as he reached the doorway, muttering a burst of near-incomprehensible Gaelic well-wishes—something between good luck and safe travels. The journey to Kepler was neither short nor gentle, and the man would need every scrap of fortune he could muster.