Chapter One: Fate, Adrift

Deciding to stand up, I stretch as I look over the sea, and it becomes more tumultuous. Have I been reading too much history? Probably. It’s difficult not to, though, when every world’s favorite hobby tells their unique take on our history. It’s fine, but it’s a little silly. Setting out to find one of those fabled Prisms was the whole point of coming this far out into the colonies, I suppose. However, this seems like a farce. Sure, it’s well known that they’re basically random, but my calculations pointed out there should have been at least a 16% chance to find one here. I turn my eyes to the sky to ensure everything is still as it should be. It’s a stunning light show, but as beautiful as the lights may be, I avert my eyes before I end up seeing too many spots. The smell of ozone is thick.

Yep, strange stellar interaction with the atmosphere and electromagnetic shielding causing chronic auroras. There’s even the spontaneous fissures coming from the roots of the nearest Data Tree! Not that I, or anyone else, know why that happens, but sometimes, a prism appears around the strange cracking around a Data Tree. Give or take a few decades. The same can be said for the peculiar stellar events, although admittedly a little bit less frequent. Maybe half the frequency … But still! It’s the only thing anyone has ever gotten close to resembling a pattern. Although with the auroras’ light on the water, if there was one down there any of this glinting could be one. Using human eyes, enhanced or not, is a surefire way to spend all day chasing nothing, though.

Returning to my trusty steed, I climb inside the rented beach craft. I’ve never been a vehicle person, so I don’t know anything besides the basics. It hovers, floats (maybe), and has plenty of room for my equipment and myself. Thankfully, as I know I will have room to be comfortable; it’s going to take at least the next couple hours before any instrument is likely to pick something up. Settling into the captain’s chair, I kick my legs up, letting the not quite well-worn cushions take the load off my aching feet.

***

The warm sand between my toes is a reassuring feeling. I don’t know why, but something feels right about it. Walking along the beach isn’t exactly a hobby of mine, so why does it feel like I’ve been here before? The sky looks even more esoteric than before. The auroras have morphed into some kind of psychedelic experience. At the same time, the Data Tree across the sea pulses a strange green as it reaches into the lower regions of the sky. The pulsing is rhythmic and familiar but growing faster. Strange. I don’t think they’ve ever been documented doing that before. But before I can react, the sky intensifies while the sea turns to a boiling cauldron. All in reaction, seemingly, to the pulsing. I turn to run, but the beach stretches on for eternity, forever stretching to put me farther from my escape. I turn back as I see a gigantic shadow enveloping me, and I only get a glimpse of the wave before it crashes.

“Ahhh!” I screamed and then hit my head. “Dammit!” Blinking, I see a blanket curled around me as I lie back in my chair. But I can still hear the tree pulsing. This isn’t the time to be sleeping! After this, I really should take a break. But the beeping persists—the proximity monitor. Turning my eyes to it, I see a green dot on the circular pattern. Every pulse, it gets ever so closer. It can’t be! Well, it can. I wouldn’t be out in the boonies if this wasn’t likely, or as likely as it can be. Throwing the blanket off, I read the distance on the readout over the last few minutes. 700 meters. 696 meters. 671 meters. 670 meters. 667 meters. 651 meters. Hmm, very inconsistent speed. Perhaps it’s picking up on something caught adrift? Even if that were the case, it would have to be ancient tech of some kind to be picked up. Time for action.

Grabbing what gear I could shove in my bag before, I swing the door open and start off. Running as fast as this slightly cumbersome bag at my side would allow, I still don’t see any distinct object in the water. However, there is a quiet whir coming from somewhere, but who has time to pay attention to autonomous drones at a time like this?

Unfortunately, the sea is a blanket of faux iridescence, reflecting the light of the disturbance above. Fortunately, I see that the portable instrument in my hands is still tracking the location of the target. Following the display, my eyes land solidly in the water. Not the shallow part either. It’s far too deep there for it to be on the seafloor, yet the display clearly states that it’s getting closer? Is it … floating? That can’t be right. Buoyant crystalline structures slightly larger than a person? I suppose if it was lighter than the water, it’s not implausible, but all the literature I’ve read stated clearly that even the lightest Prisms weighed far too much in order to be buoyant. No one has looked inside, but nothing has suggested the ability for them to float.

Scouring the beach, I don’t see anything. The water is not disturbed in any unnatural pattern that I can see - well, beyond the general turbulence. The whirring is starting to really get on my nerves as it gets louder, but luckily that is not what I need to focus on right now. However, what I do need to focus on is apparently acting as an anomaly. Well, I suppose every prism is, by definition, an anomaly. I guess it’s best to just wait here and see how, or if, the object will make it ashore. Although, at this point, I am losing faith in the idea of it actually being what I came for. Maybe it's just another scrap of some ancient military vehicle that fell into the sea, who knows when ago. I barely notice the crunch of sand behind me until it is almost upon me. As I nearly jump out of my skin, I hear a rather annoyed voice call out to me.

“And what do you think you’re doing here!?”