Lt. Solari Rath's Arc

Chapter 7 of 12

Solari walked away from the settlement's glow until the lights faded behind her. The scorched ground stretched flat in every direction. She needed distance from the lab, from the burned glove, from the failure that still made her hands shake. Her boots crunched on crystallized dirt as she moved toward the horizon. A rock formation rose from the flat ground ahead, taller than the settlement's walls. She'd seen it from her lab window but never walked this far. Deep black scars covered the stone surface in twisted patterns. Burns from old experiments marked where researchers had tested energy releases before safety protocols existed. She ran her fingers along the charred grooves. The stone had survived blast after blast. It still stood while those early researchers were long gone. Her hands stopped shaking as she traced the marks. The planet hadn't killed her yet, and the stone proved failure didn't mean the end. She turned back toward the settlement lights. Her burned fingertips throbbed, but the stone's scars were deeper and older. Tomorrow she'd build better gloves and try again. The rock had absorbed years of mistakes and remained. So could she. The memorial vault stood near the research wing, its glass panels reflecting the settlement's blue lights. Solari stopped in front of it and pressed her palm against the cool surface. Inside, burned journals sat next to cracked goggles and melted tools. Each piece belonged to a researcher who'd died learning what the energy could do. Their names were etched into the metal frame. She counted seven. Seven people who'd pushed too far and never came back. Her photograph of her own scorched hands hung in her lab as a reminder to stay careful, but these researchers had no second chances. They'd given everything so she could stand here with burned fingers instead of a memorial plaque. The spacecraft lounge hummed with voices when she entered. Metal walls reflected the glow from overhead panels, and researchers sat in groups around low tables. She grabbed hot coffee and sat near the window overlooking the landing pad. A senior engineer nodded at her from across the room. He'd lost a partner in the eastern wing explosion two years back. Another scientist showed her tablet to a colleague, pointing at energy flow patterns. They talked in quick bursts between bites of food. This room held everyone who'd chosen to stay despite the risks. They gathered here between shifts, shared meals, compared data, and kept working. Solari sipped her coffee and watched them. The settlement hadn't stopped after seven deaths or a dozen explosions. Every person in this room knew the danger and returned to their labs anyway. She flexed her burned fingers and felt the ache fade. Tomorrow she'd build better gloves. Tomorrow she'd try again. The researchers around her proved that staying was possible, even when the work hurt.