Planet Ignis | Chapter 10

... always tales of extraordinary individuals.

Ryley the Sighted, from the Leev Settlement in the West, exemplified adaptability amidst hardship. Nearly deaf, he nonetheless possessed a rare gift of sight. Through exceptional observation and relentless determination, Ryley pioneered a new form of Bursting known as Perception. His crimson-grade Perception became instrumental in exploring and mapping the Hollows, uncovering valuable veins of ore and resources.

As the first to master this skill, Ryley was honored with a Longevity Chess card bearing his name, forever enshrining his legacy.

Players often strategize to leverage his unique abilities in various ways, such as...

From “The History of Longevity Chess” by Eli, the Flarewalker

Although the average temperature on Ignis exceeded one hundred degrees Celsius, there were pockets of cold at the peaks of its towering mountains. The ranges of Ignis made Earth’s Himalayas look modest; titanic formations of metal thrust through layers of atmosphere, far from the heat below.

In a cave atop the Peak of the Dragon Range, a rare sound broke the stillness: drip, drip, drip. Water, trickling from the ceiling in a steady rhythm. The freezer had been off just long enough for the ice to thaw, filling the cave with the soft hum of condensation. Then a faint gasp echoed, barely audible over the sound of water. Hitori was awake.

The cold cut through him like the first breaths of a different life. He flexed his fingers slowly, feeling his body wake in reluctant spasms. How long had it been? Each cycle felt both like a second and a century. The intervals stretched with each thaw, as Tardus’s slowed metabolism and lack of resources forced longer dormancy. He only had a short window before the ice claimed him again.

Dr. Hitori shook off the cold, focusing. Archimedes was ready, having queued data for transmission to make the most of his fleeting time. The process was overwhelming, almost brutal: all of his senses would be engaged, each carrying unique data streams.

The tactile displays warmed his palms, providing a steady, rhythmic tap. A human mind could never interpret the data directly, but here, in his Mental World, Hitori’s eidetic memory absorbed every pulse for later review.

While Archimedes transmitted his findings, Hitori shared new instructions. With his left hand, he relayed molecular blueprints for Statera—the pinnacle of his work. His right hand sent updated experiment protocols exploring ignium’s potential for faster-than-light travel.

As tactile data imprinted in his memory, he received the words of “A Study in Non-Carbon-Based Xenobiology” through his hearing. He dictated his own book at the same time, his rapid, rhythmic words recording new insights on Ignium Fission and Faster-Than-Light Travel. Archimedes would decode his spoken notes later.

A faint flicker from one of the screens caught Hitori’s attention. Despite his Mental World’s power, he typically felt unaware of his surroundings during these chaos symphonies. Yet a flashing message urged him to pay attention.

The words appeared slowly, solidifying his focus. The satellites had detected an attempted hack—from planetside. It wasn’t unusual; Ignis held many unknowns. But this time, the intrusion had broken through three layers of firewalls before being repelled.

How was that monster gaining more computing power? Frustration churned in Hitori’s chest. The Raptor shouldn’t have been able to amass the resources for this scale of attack, and it had taken every defense Hitori had built to push back the last attempt.

This assault was different. Only one explanation made sense: the Raptor had increased its capacity. Could it have accessed the other drones?

If that was true, if the Raptor had gained new resources, Hitori’s carefully laid plans were crumbling. And he might not have the luxury of another thaw to prepare.

Hitori blinked instructions to Archimedes.

“Any signs of life planetside?”
“Negative, Doctor,” appeared on the screen.

Of course not. Anything major would be in big, red letters. But something about it nagged him. What am I missing? If survivors existed and had split up as they’d discussed, they would have to communicate somehow. The Stellaris network would be their best option. Yet, neither Archimedes nor Stellaris had registered any use of the satellite grid’s communication protocols.

If I knew the Raptor might intercept any signal…how would I reach out to others?

“Perform a backlog search in Stellaris’ database,” he instructed. “Scan for patterns—don’t restrict it to protocol-based communication. Look for anything unusual. Check for signals repeating over years, something that stands out against the noise.”

Due to ignium’s reverberation properties, Stellaris constantly received noise and static, even while on Ignis’s dark side, sheltered from the Flare. Yet if there was something, Hitori thought, Stellaris would find it. Suddenly, the satellite isolated a short, organized signal. Almost dismissed as noise, it was distinctive enough to catch a memory-matching algorithm.

Then, in bold, red letters, MATCHES FOUND flashed across the screen.

Hitori’s breath caught, fingers tensing. There was hope. I’m not alone. He’d believed himself to be the last survivor, saved only by Tardus and the cold sanctuary on Ignis. But this? He felt a spark of disbelief. The Settling worked! Other settlements had made it.

Sifting through the signal, he saw each transmission was separated by years—a brilliant move. The survivors must’ve known the Raptor couldn’t store a wide-patterned signal. Unintentionally, they’d also hidden their communications from Stellaris. They had no idea he was alive.

As he analyzed the messages, they remained indecipherable—written in an unknown, compact code. Archimedes had managed to decode fragments, but more transmissions would be needed to understand it fully. Just before the last hack, he noted, was the last signal.

“Halt!” he commanded. All sensory input froze.

These could be the most critical ten minutes of his life. Time is a friend of preparation, he reminded himself. He closed his eyes, reaching into his Mind Palace for his contingency plans. Each strategy played out in his mind, calculated and weighed. If the Raptor had gained computing power, it must have reached some survivors—but not all. Otherwise, there would be no message.

With swift precision, Hitori adjusted a plan and committed to it. When he opened his eyes, his resolve was unbreakable.

Re-engaging Archimedes, he uploaded each detail, step-by-step. He had to make every second count.

Chapter 11