The Last Silver

The alarm continued to echo throughout the Imperial colony.

Red lights rotated across the walls of the command center as personnel hurried between stations.

Aurelius stood at the center of the room.

“Thirty-seven facilities.”

Arcturus nodded.

“Confirmed.”

The holographic map above the central table shifted.

Thirty-seven points disappeared.

Not exploded.

Not destroyed.

Simply gone.

Dinraal stared at the display.

“What exactly does ‘went dark’ mean?”

Arcturus enlarged one of the locations.

“We lost communications first. Then the facility’s identification beacon disappeared.”

“Destroyed?”

“We don’t know.”

Asha shook her head.

“No.”

Everyone looked at her.

She brought up another display.

“The facilities aren’t destroyed.”

Arcturus frowned.

“Then what happened?”

“They’re still there.”

Asha zoomed in.

“The structures, power systems, and defensive grids are still registering.”

Dinraal’s eyes narrowed.

“But?”

Asha looked at him.

“The people aren’t.”

Silence.

Rhiannon’s expression hardened.

“How many?”

“We don’t know.”

Aurelius’s voice was quiet.

“Estimate.”

Asha hesitated.

“Several million people were living across those thirty-seven facilities.”

Isolde’s hand tightened around Dinraal’s.

“And they’re just…”

“Gone,” Asha finished.

Tiamat stepped toward the display.

“That’s what the Ashen does.”

Aramaeis looked at her.

“You’ve seen this before?”

“Not this scale.”

Tiamat’s eyes remained fixed on the map.

“But I have seen places where entire civilizations disappeared.”

Gilgamesh crossed his arms.

“How?”

Tiamat shook her head.

“That is what we never understood.”

Dinraal looked at the map.

“Then perhaps we need to stop thinking of the Ashen as an army.”

Julius nodded.

“An army occupies territory.”

Alexander continued.

“An army destroys its enemies.”

Johanna looked toward the vanished colonies.

“This thing removes them.”

The First Weapon gave a low growl.

“Exactly.”

Everyone looked down.

The corgi was sitting beside Dinraal’s boots.

Dinraal looked down.

“You’re worried too?”

The First Weapon barked once.

Dinraal nodded.

“So am I.”

Aurelius turned toward Arcturus.

“Can we establish whether anyone survived?”

“Not from here.”

“Then send reconnaissance ships.”

Arcturus shook his head.

“We already tried.”

Aurelius looked at him.

“And?”

“The ships never came back.”

That changed everything.

Gilgamesh’s expression became grim.

“So sending more ships would accomplish what?”

“Nothing,” Aurelius said.

He looked around the room.

“We don’t send ships blindly.”

Alexander smiled faintly.

“Then we send people who can survive.”

Dinraal stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

Isolde immediately turned toward him.

“No.”

He looked at her.

“Isolde—”

“You just got back.”

“And those people didn’t.”

She stared at him.

He softened.

“I can’t ignore this.”

“I know.”

She looked down for a moment.

Then she reached for his hand.

“I’m coming with you.”

Dinraal shook his head.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re getting married.”

Isolde raised an eyebrow.

“That’s your argument?”

“I don’t want to spend our engagement worrying about whether you’re going to disappear into some Ashen-infested colony.”

She gave him a small smile.

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”

Dinraal laughed.

“Fair.”

Aurelius cleared his throat.

“Neither of you is going anywhere yet.”

They both looked at him.

“We need information first.”

Aurelius turned toward Asha.

“Can you identify what happened to the colonies?”

“Maybe.”

“Then do it.”

Asha nodded.

She began working.

Several hours later, the command center had become a temporary research station.

Asha had connected the surviving Preservation Initiative records to the colony’s central systems.

Arcturus stood beside her.

Tiamat, Aramaeis, Gilgamesh, Alexander, Julius, Johanna, Dinraal, Isolde, Rhiannon, and Aurelius watched the display.

Asha finally stopped.

“I found something.”

The map changed.

The thirty-seven vanished facilities were highlighted.

Then another pattern appeared.

Aurelius stared.

“They’re connected.”

“Yes.”

Arcturus zoomed out.

The facilities formed a rough arc.

Not random.

Asha continued.

“They were all connected to the same Preservation Initiative network.”

Aurelius frowned.

“That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Why?”

“Because the network is decentralized.”

Aurelius pointed toward the map.

“Each facility was designed to operate independently. If one was compromised, the others were supposed to remain isolated.”

Arcturus’s expression darkened.

“Unless someone changed the architecture.”

Asha nodded.

“That’s the problem.”

She brought up an old file.

“Someone created a master synchronization protocol.”

Aurelius stared at the document.

“Who?”

Asha shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

Arcturus looked at the date.

“How old is this?”

“Very.”

Aurelius stepped closer.

“Before my reign?”

“Before the current Imperial government.”

Tiamat moved toward the display.

“How old?”

Asha looked at her.

“At least several thousand years.”

Tiamat went completely still.

Aramaeis noticed.

“You recognize it.”

Tiamat didn’t answer immediately.

Then she whispered—

“I’ve seen this symbol before.”

Asha enlarged a small emblem hidden inside the file.

A silver circle surrounded by seven lines.

Dinraal stared at it.

“Mother?”

Tiamat touched the display.

“This wasn’t created by the Empire.”

Aurelius looked at her.

“Then who created it?”

Tiamat looked toward Dinraal.

“People who understood the Ashen.”

The room went silent.

Gilgamesh’s eyes narrowed.

“How?”

Tiamat shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

She looked back at the symbol.

“But whoever created this network knew the Ashen existed.”

Aurelius’s expression hardened.

“Then the Preservation Initiative isn’t simply an evacuation system.”

“No.”

Tiamat stepped away from the table.

“It was designed for this.”

The room remained silent.

Finally, Aramaeis spoke.

“Then why didn’t anyone tell us?”

Aurelius looked at him.

“Because whoever created the Initiative made sure its deepest records were hidden.”

Arcturus nodded.

“Most of the original documentation was sealed.”

“By whom?”

“We don’t know.”

Gilgamesh laughed without humor.

“Apparently civilization has been preparing for the end of the world for thousands of years.”

Alexander looked at him.

“Humans are remarkably persistent.”

Julius smiled.

“That may be the only reason we’re still here.”

Dinraal looked toward Tiamat.

“Did you know about any of this?”

“No.”

She looked at him sadly.

“If I had, I would have told you.”

“I know.”

Tiamat reached for his hand.

Dinraal squeezed it.

Aurelius watched the two of them.

Then his eyes moved toward Isolde.

She was watching Dinraal.

Not as the Last Silver.

Not as a warrior.

As the man she intended to marry.

Aurelius smiled faintly.

Even with the Ashen coming, his daughter had found something worth protecting.

Perhaps that was the point of the Preservation Initiative.

Not simply preserving bodies.

Preserving the reasons those lives mattered.

Later that evening, Dinraal found Isolde on the observation deck.

She was staring at the stars.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

Dinraal stood beside her.

“Thinking about the colonies?”

“Yes.”

He nodded.

“So am I.”

Isolde looked at him.

“Do you ever wonder what our wedding will look like?”

Dinraal smiled.

“Frequently.”

“Really?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since we decided.”

She leaned against him.

“What do you want?”

He thought for a moment.

“Something small.”

Isolde laughed.

“Small?”

“Yes.”

She smiled.

“You know my mother.”

Dinraal sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

Isolde laughed again.

“She’ll invite half the galaxy.”

“At least.”

They stood together.

Then Isolde became quiet.

“Dinraal?”

“Yes?”

“If the Ashen really is coming for everything…”

He turned toward her.

“We’ll fight it.”

“I know.”

She took his hand.

“But I don’t want our entire lives to become a war.”

Dinraal looked at their joined hands.

“Neither do I.”

“I want a home.”

He smiled.

“So do I.”

“A place where we can wake up and not immediately wonder who’s attacking us.”

“That sounds nice.”

“A place where we can have children someday.”

Dinraal froze.

Isolde smiled.

“Too soon?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

He looked toward the stars.

“I’ve spent most of my life thinking about survival.”

He turned back toward her.

“Thinking about a family feels different.”

“Different how?”

“Like something I’m allowed to hope for.”

Isolde rested her head against his shoulder.

“You are.”

Dinraal kissed the top of her head.

“Then that’s what we’re fighting for.”

“Our future.”

“Our future.”

The next morning, the war council reconvened.

Aurelius stood before the assembled leaders.

“The Preservation Initiative is no longer a contingency.”

He activated the map.

“It is now our primary defensive strategy.”

Arcturus brought up the surviving facilities.

“We have hundreds of operational sites remaining.”

Aurelius continued.

“Every one of them will be placed on emergency status.”

Rhiannon crossed her arms.

“And the thirty-seven?”

Asha answered.

“We’re going to find out what happened.”

Gilgamesh smiled.

“Finally.”

Aurelius looked around the room.

“We will not abandon those people.”

Dinraal stepped forward.

“And we won’t let the Ashen decide what gets to survive.”

Tiamat stood beside him.

“No.”

She looked at the map.

“We preserve everything we can.”

Aramaeis nodded.

“Knowledge.”

Julius added, “History.”

Alexander said, “People.”

Johanna continued, “Culture.”

Rhiannon looked toward Isolde.

“Family.”

Isolde smiled.

“And hope.”

The room became quiet.

Aurelius looked at them all.

“Then that’s our mission.”

The central display changed.

The words appeared:

IMPERIAL PRESERVATION INITIATIVE

PHASE TWO: PRESERVE, DEFEND, RECOVER

Aurelius placed his hand against the console.

“Begin.”

Across the colony, dormant systems awakened.

Ships began preparing for launch.

Archives opened.

Defensive satellites came online.

Emergency communications spread from colony to colony.

For the first time since the Ashen appeared, the galaxy was no longer merely reacting.

It was preparing.

And far beyond Imperial space, in one of the thirty-seven silent facilities, a single light suddenly flickered.

Then another.

Then another.

A monitor activated.

A message appeared.

PRESERVATION NETWORK ONLINE.

A second line appeared beneath it.

PRIMARY THREAT DETECTED.

Then, after several seconds:

ASHEN BREACH: INTERNAL.

The screen went black.

But somewhere inside the facility—

something moved.

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