Earth, AD 2049
NASA Headquarters
“Sir! An unidentified object has appeared above the Genesis experimental site!”
“What?! That’s impossible! The center of Genesis is a black hole!”
500 kilometers west of the Genesis site — Town B
“From where we are now, you can see behind me that an unidentified flying object has suddenly appeared above the former Genesis laboratory. Even at this distance, we can still sense its immense presence. So far, no department has issued an official statement regarding the object, but it is confirmed that large numbers of military forces are converging on its location. Where exactly did this spacecraft come from…?”
“Interesting.”
The Teleopean captain, visiting Earth for the first time, stared with keen interest at the massive screen filled with converging military helicopters, jeeps, and tanks, murmuring softly to himself.
This planet was even more suitable for nurturing life than his homeworld.
Perhaps—
Seeing Chen.Xing.Chen staring intently at the screen, a sense of unease spread through Yan Qing’s chest. He stepped forward, stopping beside the command seat.
“Will you honor what you said,” Yan Qing asked quietly,“and agree to leave Earth peacefully?”
Golden eyes turned toward the scientist, but the alien commander chose silence.
The rest of the command room watched the two of them. No one spoke.
The two figures on the command platform faced each other—until suddenly Yan Qing seized Chen.Xing.Chen by the collar. His muscles were taut, his hands trembling slightly, just like his suppressed voice.
“Chen.Xing.Chen!”
His usually steady tone wavered. Only now did Yan Qing truly feel despair.
He had been na?ve—believing the other would keep their agreement.
After a long moment, his strength gave out. He released Chen.Xing.Chen, lowered his head, and covered his face with one hand, letting out a dry, self-mocking laugh.
Then—
A slightly cool finger gently lifted his chin, applying just enough pressure to force Yan Qing to raise his face and meet the gaze of its owner.
That handsome face always seemed to wear a smile—like a mask, flawless and practiced.Yet for some reason, Yan Qing saw something different in those golden pupils.
Not coldness.Not cruelty.
But a faint, unmistakable warmth.
“You helped us escape our apocalypse,” Chen.Xing.Chen said softly.“I will honor our agreement.”
Yan Qing stared at him in disbelief. He had been certain the alien would ignore the terms and launch an assault on human civilization.
Then, the alien captain leaned forward and rested his forehead gently against Yan Qing’s.
The sensation was like an electric current, shooting along Yan Qing’s sympathetic nerves and straight into his brain.
All Yan Qing could do—was be stunned.
The other Teleopeans present were equally shocked.
“What the hell is he doing?” Aiden muttered, utterly baffled. The two of them had been acting strangely ever since, and he just wanted to go home.
Sam didn’t understand either and shook his head.
Lieutenant Lanice and Joe, however, seemed to grasp something incredible, both falling into thoughtful silence.
“However,” Chen.Xing.Chen said, his beautifully shaped lips curving into a radiant smile as he pulled back slightly, gazing deeply into those black eyes,“I will return.”
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“I’ll come back—to see you.”
NASA Headquarters
“What’s the situation now?”
The question echoed across the command floor—and went unanswered.
Rows of analysts stood frozen behind their consoles, eyes locked on the wall of screens dominating the room. Satellite feeds, infrared overlays, gravitational models, and raw telemetry stacked over one another in a chaotic mosaic of data.
At the center of every display hovered the same image.
A spacecraft.
It was enormous.
Its elongated, spindle-shaped hull hung motionless above the Genesis site, bristling with countless triangular protrusions that caught and bent light at unnatural angles. The geometry was unsettling—too precise to be organic, too alien to be human.
“Bring up infrared,” someone ordered.
The image shifted.
Heat signatures bloomed across the craft’s interior. Numbers climbed—then kept climbing.
“Internal energy fluctuations are escalating,” a technician said, voice tight. “Sir… the output is approaching stellar-scale equivalence.”
“That’s impossible,” another analyst snapped. “Anything carrying that much energy should be tearing itself apart.”
“And yet,” the technician replied, eyes fixed on the screen, “the structure is completely stable.”
The room went quiet.
—This was not human technology.
A new feed forced its way onto the screen.
LIVE — GLOBAL NEWS NETWORK
“We are receiving unconfirmed reports of an unidentified craft hovering above the former Genesis experimental site. Military assets are converging rapidly, and sources suggest first-contact defense protocols may be under consideration—”
“Who authorized this broadcast?” the director demanded.
“No one did, sir,” an aide replied. “They’re pulling civilian satellite data. Too many independent feeds.”
Another screen lit up.
LIVE — TOWN B, ON SITE
Helicopters circled overhead, rotors chopping frantically. Armored vehicles flooded the exclusion zone. Tanks formed defensive lines along the perimeter.
A reporter shouted over the noise.
“I’ve never seen mobilization like this outside of wartime. We’re being ordered to evacuate immediately—”
“Cut that feed,” the director snapped.
“We’re trying,” a communications officer said. “They’re rebroadcasting faster than we can shut them down.”
“Jam the signal.”
“We are jamming it. They’re routing around us.”
The director swore under his breath.
“Sir,” a military liaison cut in, “NORAD is requesting confirmation. They want to know if this qualifies as an invasion scenario.”
“Invasion?” someone scoffed weakly. “It hasn’t fired a shot.”
“Sir,” the liaison replied grimly, “Alien Invasion Protocol Alpha doesn’t require hostile action. Presence alone is sufficient.”
A beat of silence.
“Alpha?” the director repeated.
“Yes, sir. Unknown extraterrestrial craft. Unmatched energy signature. No communication.”
As if on cue, the alarms deepened—no longer passive alerts, but hard warnings.
“Gravitational readings just changed!” a physicist shouted. “The residual Genesis field—it’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Completely collapsed. At the exact moment the object appeared.”
A stunned hush swept the room.
Genesis—a black hole—had vanished.
The impossible stacked neatly atop the impossible.
“Sir!” another technician yelled. “The craft is showing abnormal energy activity!”
“Define abnormal.”
“Energy output is spiking across all bands—electromagnetic, gravitational, quantum. We can’t classify it. It’s—”
He swallowed.
“—it’s like it’s preparing to do something.”
“Put all feeds front and center,” the director ordered. “I want eyes on this.”
Across the world, the same image filled screens.
Living rooms.Phones.Emergency broadcasts hastily interrupted mid-sentence.
“—repeat, this is not a drill—”
The government tried to pull the plug.
Signals dropped. Screens went dark.
Then—almost instantly—mirrors appeared. Private satellites. Amateur observatories. Leaked military optics.
The image came back.
The spacecraft moved.
Slowly at first—almost deliberately—rising several meters above the ground. Dust spiraled upward beneath it, caught in a sudden, unnatural lift.
“It’s ascending,” someone whispered.
Weapons systems came online automatically.
Targeting reticles bloomed across the display.
“Sir, missile batteries are locking on!”
“Hold fire!” the director barked. “No engagement without authorization!”
For a single, suspended heartbeat, the craft hovered.
Then—
it vanished.
No flash.No shockwave.No sound.
One frame it was there.
The next—
empty sky.
Every feed froze.
Then dissolved into static.
“…Confirm loss of target,” the director said slowly.
“Target gone.”“No residual signature.”“All sensors negative.”
A short, hysterical laugh broke the silence.
“It just… left.”
On screens that had not yet gone dark, anchors struggled to regain composure.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are receiving reports that the unidentified craft has disappeared. At this time, no government agency can explain how—or where—it went.”
The director sank into his chair as the alarms died down, one by one.
The world exhaled.
And somewhere far beyond human reach, something ancient and deliberate slipped quietly out of view.
