The data bled out in fragments.
Glitches. Static bursts. Corrupted lines of text.
But even broken ghosts can whisper truth.
I sat alone in the vault, the pale glow of the BABEL core flickering over my skin. My visor was wired directly into the console now, siphoning what little remained from the ancient databanks. Most files were incomplete—scrambled logs from terraforming teams, gene-test results, failed trial evaluations.
But one folder was still accessible.
LEADERSHIP CANDIDATES: TRIAL GROUP 0A.
My pulse quickened.
It was a file of names.
And failures.
0A-01: GRIFFIN, LYRAStatus: Unfit – Psychological DivergenceNotes: Rejected communal bonding. Violent tendencies increased post-imprint.
0A-02: MALLEN, VAYRStatus: Unfit – Cognitive CollapseNotes: Neural feedback failure during Trial Interface Phase II.
0A-03: TAREKStatus: Marked – Calibration IncompleteNotes: Delayed emergence. Fire-mark compatible. Awaiting Final Trial.
I stared at it.
My name.
My designation.
Project Babel hadn't just tested genes. It bred leaders. Selected them from birth or blood. Every trial, every ash-mark, every beast—they were all part of a process. A crucible. Designed to shape a single result.
And I wasn't even supposed to be activated yet.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Ka'lenna appeared at the edge of the vault, holding a bundle wrapped in leather and bone-strapped metal. She didn't speak at first—just watched me as I disconnected my visor and stood up.
"You found something," she said.
I nodded. "They were testing for leaders. Building them."
"Did it work?"
"No." I looked back at the core. "Or maybe it did. But no one lived long enough to lead."
She stepped forward, unwrapping the bundle.
Inside were three scavenged weapons—tribal spears. But she'd added something new: scavenged drone plating reforged into blade-heads, charged coil filaments running along their spines.
Primitive and precise.
"I followed your sketches," she said. "The coil-staves. Light, sharp. And if we find more power cells—"
"They'll cut through bone like glass."
She handed me one.
"You build with us now."
The next days were fire and labor.
I mapped what remained of their salvage piles—batteries, emitters, alloy scraps, even some dormant exo-frame joints scavenged from a shattered mech husk in the cliffs. Ka'lenna led the warriors, and I trained with them, slowly gaining their rhythm.
I rewired old hunter drones to run simple perimeter patrols.
Built directional noise traps using shattered comm beacons.
Reinforced their outer barriers with heat-repellent plating from my ship's wreckage.
Even the young ones helped, stitching power mesh into leather armor. What they lacked in polish, they made up for in raw will.
And slowly, I stopped being an outsider.
They stopped calling me Ashava like a warning.
Started calling me Tarek again.
One night, Ka'lenna sat beside me near the ridge, sharpening her new blade beneath the stars.
I watched her in the firelight—focused, precise, calm in a way most warriors weren't. She didn't fidget. Didn't fill silences.
And yet the quiet between us didn't feel heavy.
Just… alive.
"I read your name in their records," I said quietly.
She didn't look up. "Then you know the things they wrote are not always true."
"I know," I said. "But they didn't write your name. Not once."
At that, she did glance at me.
"I was not chosen," she said. "Not born of ash. I earned my place with blood."
"You think I didn't?"
"I think you're trying."
A pause.
Then she added, more gently:
"That's more than most."
Later, I returned to the core one last time that night.
I ran a final scan.
A new file blinked open—unlocked by my previous access:
ASH VAULT PROTOCOL // GLOBAL STATUS – RED"If the candidate survives full calibration, initiate legacy beacon. The system must endure. The species must adapt."
Secondary Directive:"If leadership fails, initiate integration."
I frowned.
Integration?
With what?
Before I could dig deeper, the interface surged—and died.
Out of power.
I stood alone in the dark vault, the hum gone, only ash and echoes left behind.
Above me, the stars pulsed faintly through the stone.
I didn't know what I was yet.
Leader? Experiment? Weapon?
But I knew one thing:
If I was the last echo of Babel's fire...I'd use it to forge something that deserved to survive.