The ship’s field surged, and the whispering moon answered with a crescendo of tones, the spires glowing brighter, the crystalline network humming in resonance.
Kian’s console lit up with a cascade of waveforms. He traced the pattern: a series of rising and falling peaks, each spaced with mathematical precision. “It’s a prime number sequence, encoded in the ionosphere,” he whispered, awe in his voice. “2, 3, 5, 7… and then… 11, 13, 17. The next one should be 19… and look—there’s a deviation.”
