She looked up at the Kaysian guardian, who nodded once. The Cfnm—Clothed Female, Naked Male—dynamic that had defined the planet's deadly trap was gone. The resonance field was down. Men could come. But only if women who had passed the test invited them.
And in the center of the vault was a control panel with a single, blinking message in the Kaysian script. Singh translated it slowly.
They spread out, weapons lowered but ready. The forest was eerily quiet—no birds, no insects, only the rustle of iridescent leaves. Then they found the first relic: a sleek, disc-shaped structure half-buried in moss. It looked like an amphitheater, with tiered seats facing a central pedestal.
That's when the hum changed.
The panel flickered. A new message appeared: "Resonance field neutralized. Welcome, Guardians. The galaxy may now come."
Vance looked at her crew. They were terrified, awed, and strangely, fiercely proud. The planet's purpose had never been genocide. It had been a filter. To find those who would not use the ultimate weapon, so they could be trusted with the ultimate gift: a planet of healing, knowledge, and second chances.
Vance was smarter. She took an all-female crew. Not for any chauvinistic reason, but because every lost ship had been crewed by men. The pattern was too clean to ignore.
Vance stared at the panel. The choice was obscene. A weapon that could end every war by ending every man. A "solution" that would turn half of all sentient life into ghosts. She thought of her own father, a gentle botanist who had taught her to love the stars. She thought of her crewmates' brothers, sons, husbands back home.
The planet was a legend among survey crews. Officially designated KOI-9482b, it was nicknamed for the only word its discoverer, Dr. Aris Kay, had screamed before his feed cut to static: "Kays!" – a garbled mix of his own name and a panicked cry. All probes sent to the surface returned with corrupted data: lush forests, impossible ruins, and readings of a stable, breathable atmosphere. Every crew that landed never returned.
The moment Vance stepped onto the soil, she felt it. A low, warm hum that vibrated through her boots. The air smelled of jasmine and rain.
It deepened, became a thrum that resonated in her bones. The pods began to glow. One by one, the suspended Kaysian females opened their eyes. They were not serene. They were ancient, calculating, and their gaze fixed on Vance with something that looked like pity.
"Christ," Chen whispered. "It's a trap. A gyno-specific ecology."