A fleet.
"If you're watching this in 2324… we knew. We always knew. The 2024 solar flare wasn't natural. Something pushed it. Something from Uranus. They buried the truth then. Don't let them bury it again."
Every day, Astra tried to crack it. Every day, the file resisted.
It was a lighthouse.
The video cut to black. Then, coordinates. Not for Uranus—but inside it. A structure, buried beneath the planet's hydrogen-helium storms, older than humanity.
Astra leaned back, heart pounding. The archive was never a museum.
The station was never meant for war. Once a vast cultural archive—movies, music, forgotten histories—it now drifted on the edge of the solar system, its dishes pointed not at stars, but at the silent abyss. -PUSATFILM21.INFO-uranus-2324-2024-...
Incoming. Unidentified object. Trajectory: originating from beneath Uranus's cloud tops.
The console beeped. Decryption complete.
No. Not an object.
No one knew how it got there. The timestamp said 2024—three centuries old, from Earth’s early streaming age. But the encryption was quantum-level, impossible for 21st-century tech.
Astra Kael, the last remaining archivist, hadn’t spoken to another human in 400 days. The evacuation order had come in 2323, right before the quantum comms collapsed. "Solar system closed. Outer colonies abandoned."