Chapter 11: The Arbor’s Reach

Part One: Whispers from the Void

Sunlight streamed through the Arbor's panoramic viewport, casting golden flecks across the wood-paneled walls.

The ship's core—a fusion of steel and Zogarian wood—thrummed, infused with WoodDust energy, pulsing subtly beneath Emma's fingertips as she ran final diagnostics at the console.

At forty-two, her hair carried streaks of gray, but her hazel eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction.

Months of preparation, technological breakthroughs, and sleepless nightshad brought them to this moment—the Arbor's first leap beyond the galactic neighborhood.

"Finally," she murmured, eyes locked on the vast expanse beyond the viewport.

"It's time to see what's out there—wonders, dangers, all of it."

Beside her, Chloe leaned in, strands of violet hair catching the light, her sharp gaze flicking across the holographic readouts.

At thirty-two, she had transformed from Emma's assistant into her right hand—her tech skills honed by years of hacking Zogarian signals and decoding alien transmissions.

"All green, Doc," Chloe confirmed, her lips curving into a grin. "Navigation locked. Systems steady. The Arbor is ready for the grand tour."

Around them, the crew worked with measured efficiency—scientists like Liam, engrossed in stellar cartography, and soldiers clad in organic armor enhanced with WoodDust, inspecting their gear with quiet focus.

Anticipation thrummed through the ship.

Liam looked up, excitement crackling in his voice.

"Dr. Forrest! The preliminary data from Andromeda—it's stunning! Nebulae, new stellar formations—it's a scientist's dream!"

Emma's eyes twinkled, but her tone remained steady.

"Indeed, Liam. But let's not lose ourselves in cosmic eye candy just yet. WoodDust's nature, the Zogarian mystery—that's our priority."

She tapped the console, pulling up a shimmering energy signature—the same pattern she had chased since the war.

Then—a sharp chime cut through the bridge, insistent.

Chloe's grin faded. She turned to her console, brow furrowing.

"Incoming long-range signal, Doc."

Emma's focus snapped to her, the momentary warmth replaced by precision.

"Beyond the rim?" she murmured, leaning closer. "That wasn't in our parameters. Source?"

Static flickered across the main display.

Maya—fortyish, pragmatic—adjusted her glasses, studying the distortion.

"It's faint, but patterned. Could be a distress call.

Emma's jaw tightened.

"A distress call from that far out?"

She hesitated—but only for a breath.

Then, decisiveness took over.

"We can't ignore it."

Chloe's fingers hovered over the controls, her usual practicality surfacing.

"Doc… this will add weeks—maybe months—to our timeline."

Emma met her sharp gaze, unwavering.

"I know. But if someone needs help, we go."

"That's what we do."

Chloe sighed, but nodded. "Acknowledged."

Her fingers flew over the console, punching in new coordinates.

The Arbor's engines hummed louder, shifting trajectory toward the unknown.

Emma turned back to the viewport.

Stars stretched into streaks of light, their course locked.

Inside her quarters, her father's journal rested on her desk, its cryptic notes whispering like a map to something larger.

And Emma couldn't shake the feeling—whatever waited ahead was tied to the green.

To everything she had fought for.