The room was quiet. Only the soft hum of the holo-screens filled the air. Blue light flickered across the chamber. Arron stood at the center of a circular platform, arms crossed, watching twelve glowing files floating around him. They moved slowly in the air, spinning in place. Each one showed names, skills, mission reports, and personality data. Everything about a person, reduced to lines on a screen.
He shouldn't feel so much pressure—not after 400 failed missions.
But this time had to be different.
His eyes stopped on one file: Captain Riven Kael. A Zyreni warrior. Former tactical leader of the Orbital Corps. Loyal. Disciplined. Smart. He had survived three planetary collapses. Kael wasn't just strong—he was the kind of leader people would follow into fire.
"Because fire is probably what's waiting," Arron whispered.
He dragged Kael's file into the "Selected" section.
Next was Dr. Vema Luth. A Mera. A xenobiologist. Brilliant at finding patterns, obsessed with ancient civilizations. People had once called her crazy because she claimed to hear messages hidden in cosmic radiation. But Arron had read her secret research. She had ideas that matched the strange tech connected to the Door. She noticed things others ignored.
"She'll understand what we're walking into," he said.
Selected.
Then came Lior Sen. Descendant of the Solari-bloodline—engineered lineage from early genetic divergents. Assistant engineer, quiet, methodical. Young. Some on the committee had dismissed her. But not Arron."
And he needed calm.
Selected.
Then: Rul. A silent operative from the Kareth Union. Species: Haroun. Most of his past was a mystery. Intelligence warned that he was dangerous. Too quiet. Too secretive. But Arron remembered what happened during the 203rd mission at Shael Station. Only one person came back alive—Rul.
"He sees things no one else sees," Arron whispered. "Sometimes you need a ghost to survive."
Selected.
The files kept spinning. He chose carefully.
Haren Vos. Explosives expert. Former criminal, now a survival trainer. Tough and loyal, but only to those who gave him purpose. Arron had seen a video—Haren rescuing a teammate from a collapsing mine while his own leg broke beneath him. And he laughed through the pain.
Sera Niv. A medic. Yulani species. Calm, focused, and full of faith. She had saved twelve people during a battle while staying completely calm. When it was over, she had prayed for the dead—even their enemies. Arron didn't believe in gods, but he respected those who did.
One by one, he selected them.
Not perfect on paper. Not the safest choices.
But the right ones.
He stepped back and looked at the floating files. Twelve in total. Soldiers. Scientists. Survivors. Some were scarred. Some still had hope. None of them were ready for what waited beyond the Door.
But neither was he.
The next day, Hangar 17 was alive with quiet energy.
The Door stood at the center—huge, round, and glowing. Lights moved across its surface like slow lightning. It hummed, deep and steady, like it had a pulse of its own.
Twelve figures stood beneath it. Engineers and guards watched from the balconies above. There were no speeches, no celebrations. Just silence.
Arron walked forward slowly. He wore a dark uniform. Every step echoed in the hangar.
He stopped in front of the team. His eyes moved from one face to the next. He had chosen each of them for a reason.
"You are the first," he said. His voice was calm, clear. "This isn't a war. You're not here to fight. You're here to see. To record. To survive."
Captain Kael stepped forward. He stood tall and gave a sharp salute. "We'll give you our best."
"I don't want your best," Arron said. "I want your honesty. Out there, trust isn't a tactic—it's survival. If you can't rely on each other, you won't last."
No one laughed. Everyone understood.
Behind them, the Door gave off a deep groan. The sound felt ancient, like it came from the bones of the world.
Above them, the council watched silently. The politicians, the doubters, the powerful—they all stood still, waiting. No one could help now. It was all up to the twelve.
Lights dimmed. The Door began to glow brighter. The space inside shimmered and twisted, like the air was bending.
"It's opening," someone whispered.
Arron turned to face the team one last time. The Door's light reflected in their eyes.
"Step forward," he said.
The platform beneath them clicked and locked in place. The Door's center turned a blinding white.
Arron paused at the edge, heart heavy.
He looked back at them—his chosen twelve.
Let this be the one that returns, he thought.
A quiet wish. A silent hope.
He gave a final nod.
The Door opened.
And twelve figures walked into the light.
Then it closed.
And the chamber was quiet again.
End of Chapter 4