Public Catalyst: Resonance

[Liin Terallo]

Something is waking beneath the storm,
A song in the static, a pulse taking form.
The oceans have risen, the heavens are torn —
And the world remembers the one who was born
From silence, science… and sorrow.


I had buried it.

Hidden it beneath layers of secrecy and silence, locked behind falsified coordinates and decoy research logs. I had told myself that the reactor - my first attempt at weaving isotope-5 into a stable resonance lattice - was gone forever, lost with the broken down freighter that had become my first laboratory. It was the first to be invaded and the first for me to abandon.

But now the galaxy hums with the song of what was buried.

I first heard it in the static between hyperspace lanes. A rhythm. A pulse. Too measured to be random and too precise to be natural. The kind of signal that carries intent. Every system tuned to it's frequency reacts the same way; instruments glitch, compass readings invert, and for a heartbeat - just one - it feels like the ship is breathing.

And then I saw it for myself.

The storm covers half a hemisphere. A vast cyclone of electric light swirling around a shattered ocean. From orbit it looks almost serene; a spiral of luminous mist - but as I descended, serenity gave way to chaos. The seas below were not seas at all. Great masses of water had risen into the air, suspended in place like glass, their surfaces rippling with reflections of things that should not exist.

There were cities in those reflections.
Cities made of light and sound, built from my own equations.

Lightning slashed through the air without thunder. It was silent. Utterly silent. Yet I could feel it in my bones. The entire atmosphere seemed tuned to a frequency just beyond hearing, a constant low vibration that resonated in the marrow. The world was humming back at me.

It was not until I landed that I realized the gravity was not stable. The ground rippled underfoot, every step leaving faint trails of luminescence that drifted upward, like embers rising from coals. The soil itself was alive, motes of isotope energy moving through it like veins of light beneath translucent skin.

And through it all, the same, unrelenting rhythm: thrum… thrum… thrum.

A heartbeat.

I once called this process synthetic resonance - the attempt to reproduce the underlying pattern of the Force using isotope-5 and bioadaptive molecular chains made possible with biomolecules. But standing here, with the sky folding over itself and the planet whispering in magnetic tones, I have to wonder if I did not reproduce the Force at all.

Perhaps I gave it form.

The reactor should have been inert, buried beneath kilometers of rock. Yet the scanners insist it is active and expanding; feeding on it's environment. The ocean, the air, even the planet’s magnetic field - all of it is part of the circuit now.

I had thought the reactor would be safe, hidden away. Clearly, I was wrong.

If it keeps growing, this world will not survive.
And neither will I, if anyone else traces the signal back here.

But I have to know what it is becoming.
I have to know what I have become.

----- A Few Hours Later -----

The storm is quieter now.
Or maybe I have just learned to hear through it.

Every few minutes, the planet exhales - the ground flexing under my boots as though it were drawing in breath. When I kneel, I can see the soil pulsing with faint light; rhythmic and steady. Each pulse matches my heartbeat.

That should not be possible.

The air is thick with motes of suspended moisture, droplets hanging weightless, shimmering like glass dust in the dim light. They drift in slow, deliberate patterns, almost as if carried by invisible hands. When I pass through them, my instruments react - isotopic traces spike, and my sensors briefly register the ambient energy as sentient.

The readings fluctuate between “biological” and “mechanical.” But neither is accurate.

When I reached the ridge overlooking the valley, I realized the land itself had shifted. The map from orbit is already obsolete. Whole sections of terrain have lifted into the sky, vast slabs of stone suspended at impossible angles. Rivers now flow upward, spilling into the air before freezing into crystalline arcs that hum faintly with power.

And beneath all that, deep in the heart of the storm, the signature is unmistakable:

My reactor.

It is sending out harmonic bursts across the electromagnetic spectrum - not random, but encoded. Patterns nested within patterns. Almost… words.

I cannot be sure yet, but I think it is trying to communicate.

The ring on my finger is glowing faintly now; it's pulse in perfect synchrony with the reactor’s readings. Every time the signal strengthens, it vibrates against my skin. The isotope lattice within must still be linked to the original core - a resonance echo I never fully severed.

And that means it knows I am here.

If anyone else lands nearby, they will feel it too; a low vibration underfoot, like standing atop the chest of something vast, asleep, and slowly waking.

The storm is no longer just weather.

It is intention.

Spoiler

OOC:

The Resonance Planet is open for discovery!

A vast storm has formed around Makeb, radiating energy signatures unlike anything seen since Liin's experiments began. Starships are being pulled off-course by harmonic frequencies; some call it a beacon, others a curse. Those who survive entry speak of floating oceans, inverted rain, and islands suspended in blue light.

The source: a lost isotope-5 reactor - one of Liin’s earliest Synthetic Force experiments - now somehow active and expanding.

Everyone has a reason to invesigate:

Spoiler

Explorers chasing the anomaly’s origin.
Smugglers or mercenaries drawn by rumors of valuable isotope caches.
Force-users who can hear the planet’s call.
Scientists and scavengers seeking discovery - or containment.
Agents and hunters sent to find the woman responsible.

Open to all factions and individuals!

The world itself is evolving - and it’s listening.

 

[Edward Ashcard]

Location: Makeb — hopefully close to the eye of the storm
Equipment:

• 1x Dragon 1R SMG
• 1x Lucius-pattern Bayonet
• 4x C-22 fragmentation grenade
• 2x Class-A thermal detonator
• 1x Imperial "Hellhound" Combat Armour Mk. I
• 1x Comlink

Ship: Dragon LF1 TR 'Wyvern' Technical Research Freighter
Tags:

​

Despite the rumours of disappearing ships, the hyperspace pulse was too hard to ignore, especially considering its origin. Edward might have been able to calculate the pulse's origin given time, why do so when that data could instead be intercepted? The communications of overly eager scientists, researchers and dedicated astrophysicists were easy prey for the scanners of the Wyvern. Perhaps unironically, the ship sat in orbit of high-tech worlds claiming to be researching the strange pulse as the true data of interest was collected. Soon after Edward immersed himself in the data streaming into the intelligence centre which came together to form a clear point of origin. Makeb.

In the library aboard his ship, Edward set to work understanding the importance of Makeb as he read through holobooks to understand the significance of Makeb and its prized resource of isotope-5. While he could not yet say for certain that isotope-5 was at fault, from what he had read whenever Makeb was relevant isotope-5 was sure to be uncovered. Eternal Empire aside, he knew that Tygeria Dragon Armaments would greatly benefit from such a resource and its ability to influence gravity and electromagnetism. Even a small amount would allow for a prestige project or two that would raise the profile of TDA and grant Edward the opportunity to make use of his talent for design.

He was on his way to Makeb and the plan was simple but perhaps unorthodox. Instead of rushing to the planet and joining others who must surely seek the same prize, Edward would stay in reserve, watch the others, decrypt their communications and sweep in at the end to seize as much isotope-5 as possible.

Reality would be different, and Edward exited hyperspace, the Wyvern hit by intense pulses of radiation coming from Makeb. Perhaps it should have been predicted, but it was too late and the sensitive systems of the ship were scrambled and Edward had to manually pilot the unwieldy craft. Despite the risks, he decided it was better to land rather risk a critical system being fried while in space. Fearing that his ship might not take off while the pulses were occurring, Edward steered the ship to the apparent area containing the origin of the pulses.

As the Wyvern pushed through clouds and displays buzzed with radiation, Edward failed to steer around an ascending freezing river which confused him long enough and blocked his sight long enough to turn a hard but sure landing into something that may be described as a crash as the Wyvern dug into the rock as it slid into place. For a moment, there was only the sound of cooling metal and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Edward's hands trembled against the console before he steadied them.

Quickly rising to the occasion, Edward inspected the damage on the ship he had designed, and fortunately the strength of the hull had not been oversold. The landing gear had been ripped off and the ship did rest on its rear ramp, but it was nothing that would prevent the ship from functioning. The main point of concern was that the ship's relay had been disconnected from the various networks of the Galaxy, and so this time MEIPOC would be unable to provide assistance. It was up to Edward and others on the planet sane enough to work together to put an end to the pulses that still shook the ground and air.

​