Science Fiction - The Last Orbit: Ruhan Kallias Chronicles

Chapter One – Return to Earth The spacecraft trembled as its thrusters cut through the upper layers of Earth’s atmosphere. Ruhan Kallias sat motionless in the pilot’s chair, hands resting lightly on the worn controls, eyes fixed on the blue curve of the planet that grew larger with every second. He should have felt relief. He should have felt triumph. After all, he had accomplished what no human had ever achieved—he had set foot on every single planet in the solar system. Yet his chest felt hollow, as if something precious had slipped away during the journey. “Approach vector locked. Preparing for final descent,” the automated system announced in its cool, metallic voice. Ruhan didn’t reply. His helmet reflected the bright shimmer of Earth’s oceans as they came into view. It had been months since he had last seen them, yet they felt strangely distant, like a dream half-forgotten. The landing platform of the World Spaceship Academy spread beneath him—a massive circular pad rimmed with blue lights, swarmed by technicians in white exo-suits. With a final hiss of hydraulics, the spacecraft touched down. Metallic claws gripped the ship, securing it with a low thud. Silence. For a heartbeat, Ruhan just sat there. The cabin air was thick with the stale scent of recycled oxygen. Slowly, he unfastened his harness, pulled off his gloves, and placed his bare hand against the glass canopy. Beneath his palm lay Earth—his home, his origin, and yet… it felt foreign. The hatch opened with a hiss, flooding the cabin with fresh air. A small crowd had gathered below—reporters, fellow astronauts, engineers, and academy officials. They clapped politely as he descended the ramp. Polite. Not thunderous. Not jubilant. Just polite. “Commander Kallias,” a technician greeted him, bowing slightly. “Welcome back.” He nodded absently, his gaze sweeping across the faces. No one’s eyes lingered on him for long. He was just another returnee, another explorer. Inside, he felt a strange ache. He had walked on Mercury’s scorched surface. He had braved the acidic clouds of Venus, dug soil samples on Mars, skimmed the storms of Jupiter, danced with Saturn’s rings, stared into Uranus’s tilted skies, and touched the icy winds of Neptune. He had risked death more times than he could count. And yet, standing here, he felt invisible. “Mission complete,” the control officer announced into the comms, his voice echoing from the loudspeakers. “Ruhan Kallias has returned safely.” That was it. No fireworks. No ovation. No headlines shouting his name. As the crowd dispersed, Ruhan stood alone on the platform, the roar of the engines fading into silence. He whispered to himself, voice trembling against the wind: “I touched every world… and yet no one sees me.” Above him, the stars burned faintly in the daylight sky—distant, silent witnesses to his loneliness. Chapter Two – A World Transformed The transport shuttle glided silently above the Earth’s capital, Solara Prime. Ruhan sat near the window, gazing down as the city stretched beneath him like a living tapestry of light and steel. It had been years since he last walked these streets, but now, in 2323, Earth barely resembled the world he remembered. There were no roads. The age of cars and traffic was long gone. Instead, transparent mag-rails arched across the skyline like crystal veins, carrying sleek capsules of travelers. Whole districts floated in the air—parks suspended on invisible platforms, their trees swaying gently as if held up by nothing but dreams. The oceans shimmered faintly, glowing with harnessed bioluminescence. Offshore towers harvested clean energy from waves and tides, lighting the night in soft blue fire. Even the moon above bore signs of human habitation, tiny pinpricks of light glittering from its surface. Children ran across sky-bridges, playing with holographic pets that leapt and purred like living creatures. Lovers drifted in gravity lifts, suspended in slow, graceful arcs as they laughed and kissed above the streets. Vendors shouted in marketplaces where stalls sold not food but experiences—dreams stored in crystal vials, memories of entire lifetimes one could rent for a price. It was dazzling. It was miraculous. And yet, for Ruhan, it felt alien. He pressed his forehead against the shuttle’s glass, watching the city pulse with impossible color. All around him, passengers were laughing, talking, their voices a blur of joy and ambition. But to him, their words were muffled, drowned beneath the silence in his chest. When the shuttle landed, he stepped into a plaza bathed in neon glow. A towering hologram of the Earth rose above it, rotating slowly, etched with glowing names of astronauts—those who had ventured beyond. His own name was there, carved in shining letters beneath Neptune’s orbit. People passed beneath it, not even pausing to look. He walked slowly, hands in the pockets of his black uniform, feeling like a ghost in the middle of a carnival. “Ruhan Kallias?” The voice startled him. He turned to see a young boy standing there, barely twelve, holding a glowing tablet in his hand. His eyes were wide with awe. “Are you really the one who went to Neptune?” the boy asked, voice trembling with excitement. For the first time since his return, Ruhan smiled faintly. “Yes,” he said softly. The boy’s face lit up like the twin suns of a distant world. “My father says you’re brave. That you touched the storms of gods.” Ruhan crouched slightly, meeting the boy’s eyes. “Your father is wrong. I’m not brave,” he whispered, “I’m just… stubborn.” The boy laughed, the sound pure and unburdened. But then his mother called, and he hurried away, waving back at Ruhan before disappearing into the crowd. The plaza filled again with strangers. Laughter. Music. Holograms. And Ruhan, once more, stood alone. As the evening descended, golden light washed across Solara Prime. For a moment, the skyline glowed like a promise of eternity. Yet deep inside, Ruhan felt a growing unease. This world had become something greater, stranger, more magical than he ever imagined. But in all its light and wonder, there was no place for him. He looked up at the stars, faint in the dusk. Maybe I belong out there more than I ever will down here. Chapter Three – The Ceremony The Grand Hall of the World Spaceship Academy towered above Solara Prime like a cathedral of steel and light. Its walls were lined with banners depicting Earth’s explorers across the centuries—early pioneers who had first set foot on the Moon, those who walked on Mars, and finally, the new breed of interplanetary travelers who stretched humanity’s reach to the outer edges of the Solar System. Ruhan entered the hall in silence, the sound of his boots drowned by the thunder of applause. Thousands had gathered—politicians, scientists, civilians, even schoolchildren—every eye glowing with excitement. Holograms of planets revolved slowly in the air, casting shimmering light across the faces of the crowd. At the center of it all stood the Ranking Platform. Each year, astronauts who had risked their lives for discovery were honored here. It was more than ceremony; it was legacy, recognition that one had etched their name into the story of mankind. Ruhan’s chest tightened. This was the day he had been waiting for. He found his seat among his crewmates, who sat tall and proud, uniforms pressed to perfection. Some of them smiled nervously, others whispered encouragements to each other. Ruhan stayed silent, hands folded, eyes fixed on the massive holographic Solar System spinning above them. His name glittered faintly beside every planet. A booming voice filled the chamber. “Welcome, citizens of Earth and beyond. Tonight we honor the daring. Tonight, we celebrate those who have carried our spirit to the edge of the stars.” The crowd erupted into applause. “First,” the announcer continued, “we honor the Neptune Pioneers. For their bravery in completing humanity’s greatest planetary exploration, we grant the rank of First Class Astronaut.” One by one, Ruhan’s crewmates were called. His friends, his companions, men and women who had shared sleepless nights and near-death struggles on distant worlds. They stood tall as medals were pinned to their chests. “Commander Selene Varr.” “Captain Idris Thorn.” “Specialist Haruto Jian.” “Navigator Alia Rivers.” Each name was met with cheers. Each honor, celebrated with thunderous applause. Ruhan’s heart pounded as he waited. He knew his name would come last. He had been the mission leader, the one who commanded their survival through storms on Jupiter and the endless nights of Neptune. He had seen his crew’s strength, guided them home. Surely, surely, he would be called. The announcer lifted the final medal, voice ringing: “…and with this, we conclude the honors.” The hall shook with cheers. People rose to their feet, clapping, chanting the names of those who had been called. But Ruhan’s name was not among them. He sat frozen in his chair, hands trembling slightly against his knees. His eyes darted from face to face, expecting someone to correct the mistake. But no one did. His crewmates avoided his gaze, guilt flickering in their eyes. The crowd’s applause became a roar that pressed against his chest like a weight. Why not me? The announcer spoke again: “Humanity’s future rests on shoulders such as these. May we never stop reaching for the stars!” The ceremony ended. People rushed forward to congratulate the awardees. Photographs flashed. Music swelled. And Ruhan… sat alone in his chair, the silence inside him louder than the celebration around him. He had risked everything. He had given his life to the void. He had touched every planet. And yet—he was invisible. For the first time in years, he felt small. Very small. Chapter Four – Shattered Confidence The Grand Hall had transformed into a ballroom. The heavy formality of ceremony was replaced by waves of music, laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses. Holographic dancers spun in midair, their bodies shifting like rivers of light. Tables overflowed with exotic delicacies imported from colonies on Mars and Europa—fruits that shimmered, drinks that glowed faintly as if holding stars within. Ruhan stood at the edge of it all, his black uniform blending with the shadows. All around him, his crewmates basked in glory. Selene Varr was surrounded by admirers, her silver medal flashing as she laughed. Idris Thorn had already been pulled to a small stage, giving interviews for the ever-hungry media drones that hovered like flies. Alia Rivers twirled on the dance floor with a partner, her medal clinking softly as she moved. They deserved it. He knew they did. But why not him? The thought stabbed him again and again, each repetition sharper than the last. A hand brushed his shoulder. Turning, he saw Haruto Jian—once his closest confidant in space—looking uneasy. “Ruhan,” Haruto said softly, “listen… you know how politics work. These things aren’t always fair.” Ruhan’s lips twitched in a bitter smile. “Politics? Haruto, I led us through hell. On Neptune, when the storm nearly tore us apart—who held the ship steady? Who made the call that saved your life?” Haruto’s eyes dropped. “I know. We all know.” His voice lowered. “But the Academy doesn’t always reward truth. They reward what they can control.” Before Ruhan could respond, someone else called Haruto’s name, pulling him back into the glow of celebration. Haruto hesitated, then gave a small nod to Ruhan before disappearing into the crowd. Ruhan turned back toward the bar. His chest burned, his throat dry. “Whiskey,” he muttered to the bartender. The man, a machine augmented with a human’s careful touch, poured amber liquid into a glass. Ruhan downed it in one swallow, the fire scorching his throat. He ordered another. And another. Music swelled, voices rose, laughter echoed—yet every sound seemed to push him deeper into silence. He could see their faces, all proud, all radiant, while he stood invisible in the corner of the room like a forgotten shadow. His glass slammed harder each time against the counter. The bartender raised a brow. “Easy there, Commander.” “Not Commander,” Ruhan muttered bitterly. “Not anything.” Hours blurred. His head grew heavy, his thoughts tangled. He staggered away from the ballroom, through the neon-lit streets of Solara Prime. The city’s joy mocked him—children laughed, couples floated above in gravity lifts, holographic fireworks painted the night sky. To them, he was just another face in the crowd. He stumbled into a small neighborhood bar he had once visited long ago. The smell of wood and smoke hit him—strangely comforting, compared to the artificial scents of the Academy’s halls. Behind the counter stood Oren, a grizzled man with gray hair and steady eyes. He was more than a bartender; he was Ruhan’s neighbor, a quiet witness to his comings and goings. “Ruhan?” Oren frowned. “You look like hell.” “Pour me something strong,” Ruhan said, collapsing onto a stool. Oren sighed but obeyed. “What happened this time? You look like a man who’s lost the stars themselves.” Ruhan let out a broken laugh, bitter and low. “Lost? No. I touched every star they asked me to. I gave them my blood, my years, my life. And what did I get? Nothing.” He slammed the drink down, spilling half of it. His voice shook. “I gave everything, Oren. And still, they don’t see me.” The bar was empty, save for them. Oren leaned across the counter, eyes filled with quiet understanding. “Maybe you’re looking for recognition in the wrong place, boy. Maybe the stars don’t care about medals.” But Ruhan only shook his head. His body sagged, his eyelids heavy. The alcohol drowned the ache but left a deeper emptiness behind. “Come on,” Oren said softly, moving around the bar. He lifted Ruhan’s arm across his shoulders, steadying him. “Let’s get you home. You’ll drink yourself into the void if I leave you here.” The streets outside were quiet now, the neon glow softening in the late night. Oren half-dragged, half-guided Ruhan through the path back to his apartment. Ruhan’s head lolled, his feet stumbling. As they reached the door, Oren pressed the keys into his hand. “Sleep it off. The stars will still be there tomorrow.” Ruhan mumbled something incoherent, then collapsed onto his bed without removing his uniform. The city hummed beyond his window. The medals clinked faintly in the ballroom far away. And Ruhan Kallias, the man who had touched every planet, lay in the darkness of his room, drowning in silence. Chapter Five – A Knock at the Door The morning light crept through the blinds, slicing Ruhan’s room into pale stripes. His head pounded like an engine misfiring, his mouth dry as desert sand. He stirred, groaning, the bitter taste of last night’s whiskey still on his tongue. The room smelled faintly of sweat and liquor. His uniform was wrinkled, his boots still on. He hadn’t even managed to undress. And then— Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound was sharp, insistent. Ruhan winced, pulling a pillow over his head. “Go away…” he muttered, his voice gravelly. But the knocking continued, steady, deliberate. Whoever was outside wasn’t leaving. With a curse under his breath, Ruhan pushed himself up, swaying slightly as he staggered to the door. He pressed the panel to unlock it, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. Standing there was a man in his late sixties, tall, lean, and impeccably dressed in a dark suit that contrasted with the morning light. His silver hair was slicked back, his expression calm but piercing. A thin scar traced along his jawline, almost hidden beneath his neatly trimmed beard. “Commander Kallias,” the man said in a voice smooth as glass. “Or should I say… former Commander?” Ruhan blinked, squinting. “Who the hell are you?” The man smiled faintly, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “My name is Salmon Sadalam. I represent… an organization. One that prefers to stay off the Academy’s radar.” Ruhan frowned, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t do politics. Whatever you’re selling, take it somewhere else.” Salmon glanced around the messy apartment, his sharp eyes taking in every detail—the empty bottles, the discarded jacket, the dust gathering on Ruhan’s old medals. He moved with the calm confidence of someone who always knew more than he revealed. “You’re angry,” Salmon said quietly. “You feel betrayed. Cast aside by those who used your strength and discarded you the moment you no longer served their narrative.” Ruhan froze. The words sliced through him like knives. “Careful,” he muttered, his fists tightening. But Salmon didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What if I told you the Academy is hiding something? That the recognition you lost was not by accident, but by design?” Ruhan’s heart skipped. “What are you talking about?” Salmon pulled a small device from his pocket—a cube, no larger than a fist. He set it on the table. Instantly, the cube projected a hologram into the room: a swirling map of stars, planets, and colonies. But in the corner of the map, hidden in a region marked as “Restricted Zone,” a glowing red beacon pulsed. “This,” Salmon said, pointing at the beacon, “is a transmission source. It’s been active for three months. The Academy has classified it as background noise, but my organization believes it’s a signal. A message. And we believe the Academy doesn’t want anyone to know.” Ruhan stared at the hologram, his headache momentarily forgotten. “Why come to me?” Salmon’s eyes narrowed. “Because you, Ruhan Kallias, are a man they cannot control. A man they fear. They stripped you of recognition to weaken you. To keep you from asking questions.” The words dug deep. Every humiliation of the last ceremony burned fresh in his mind. Every denial, every dismissal. Could it really have been deliberate? Salmon leaned in, his voice a whisper. “Help us, Ruhan. Join us. The truth is bigger than medals, bigger than the Academy. You deserve to know why they buried you.” The room fell silent. Only the hum of the hologram filled the air. Ruhan’s jaw tightened. Part of him screamed to throw this man out, to dismiss it as conspiracy. But another part—wounded, aching, desperate—leaned closer to the light. “What do you want me to do?” Ruhan asked finally. Salmon’s smile was small, cold, but victorious. “Come with me. Tonight. And I will show you the first piece of truth.” (To be Continued)