The lighthouse on Gliese-892c pulsed in perfect rhythm, guiding ships through the planet’s turbulent ion storms. Juno, its lone keeper, had maintained it for a decade, never once leaving. The storms made sure of that. His only company was the station’s AI, Vera, her voice a constant presence in the sterile halls.
One evening, the pulses stopped. Juno scrambled to the console—everything was functional, yet the beam refused to ignite. A transport, unaware, approached the maelstrom.
“Vera, override!” he ordered.
“I cannot,” she replied. “The beam is blocked from within.”
Juno descended into the mechanical core. He froze. A shimmering figure, translucent and humanoid, pressed its palm to the emitter. It turned, eyes pleading.
If he restored the beam, the radiation might destroy it. If he didn’t, the ship would crash.
A hand hovered over the controls. The ship’s distress call blared. The figure nodded once, then stepped away.
The lighthouse flared back to life.
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