HELIUM-3

POV: Danny

“Suit checked, systems green,” the technical voice echoes through the platform speakers.

I stand on the walkway leading to the Helix-7, the flight suit heavy on my shoulders, Piotr’s watch hidden beneath my sleeve.

Launch day had finally arrived.

The team buzzes around me. Raj checking the last bits of navigation data, Alyssa adjusting the comms systems, Dr. Jun holding his biological samples.

And then I see him.

Kovac crosses the yard like a ship cutting through waves, the technicians parting to let him pass. His dress uniform is immaculate, but there’s something different today—a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

“Great Hero,” I greet, saluting.

He skips protocol and walks straight to me, lifting his hands to adjust my helmet with precise movements. His fingers are cold against the back of my neck.

“You ready?” my mentor asks, just low enough for me to hear.

More than ever, I want to say something meaningful, something worthy of the moment. But all that comes out is:

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes are red around the edges. Hangar dust, of course. Nothing more.

He glances at the watch on my wrist, the gift he gave me less than a week ago, when he called me up for this mission.

“Your son would be proud,” I murmur, unable to maintain full formality.

. . .

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

The dust that day was different—thick, green-yellow, burning in the lungs like a thousand needles.

I remember the sirens, the chaos, my mother already sick from two decades of working in the coastal factories, pushing me into the closet beneath the stairs.

“Stay here, Danny! Don’t come out until I’m back!”

She never came back.

Rescuers found me three days later, in a coma, my body covered in chemical blisters. I was declared dead upon arrival at the hospital. Until my heart started beating again on its own.

When I woke up, the world was different. Colors pulsed with new meaning—shades of red screamed danger before a glass would even shatter, blue stains marked people who would soon fall ill.

At first, I thought I was going mad. Until I saved a nurse’s life when I “saw” the ceiling collapse just before the earthquake hit.

That’s how Kovac found me, a year later, cleaning radioactive waste on the grey beaches marked unfit for swimming.

By then, I was an urban legend—the guy who came back from catastrophe with a strange... intuition. But he didn’t come like the others, praising me or offering money.

No. He brought a chessboard.

“Show me what you see, Daniel,” he said after our third game, when I kept predicting his moves with eerie precision.

And I, for the first time since the accident, told the truth.

. . .

For a moment, I think the Great Hero is going to hug me. But that’s not what happens.

“Good.” Kovac steps back, inspecting me like a general reviewing his best soldier. “Remember, Danny. You’re not just bringing Helium-3 back to Earth. You’re bringing back our future.”

His hand lands on my shoulder, the same gesture as always, but today it feels heavier.

“Make us proud, son.”

I swallow hard.

“I won’t let you down. I swear.”

That’s when I see Lena a few steps back, watching with an expression I can’t quite read—something between nostalgia and pain. Our eyes meet for a second before she abruptly turns away, calling Alyssa for a final check.

Kovac doesn’t seem to notice. Or chooses not to.

“Countdown initiated. T-minus 30,” echoes the mission control voice.

Kovac takes one last step back, his face now unreadable.

“Go make history, Commander Altan.”

And then I’m inside the Helix-7, the hatch sealing shut behind me with a hermetic hiss that sounds like a full stop.

. . .

ONE WEEK LATER

The Moon is colder than I expected.

What we were supposed to do, in theory, was simple: extract Helium-3 from the Moon, store as much as possible, and after a round of tests, bring it back to Earth. The mission would last around two months.

I was desperately happy when we started the collection. It was the first step toward a brighter future. No more nuclear energy, no more harm to nature. I’m sure my mother would be proud if she could see me now.

“First sample collected,” Dr. Jun announces over the radio, his hands carefully sealing the Helium-3 container.

I crouch beside him, lighting the area with my flashlight. The material glows with an almost ethereal blue—the same shade as Kovac’s eyes under sunlight.

“It’s more beautiful than in the simulations,” I murmur, reaching out.

Jun grabs my wrist before I can touch it.

“No. Even in a suit, direct contact is risky.”

There’s a strange sweat on his brow, visible even through his visor.

“You alright, Doctor?”

He lets go of my wrist too quickly.

“Just tired. Let’s move to the next sample.”

“Right. Still a long process ahead.”

That’s when my visor flickers.

Dark smudges dance at the edges of my vision, irregular shapes writhing like smoke. I blink, shake my head, but they persist.

“Something wrong?” Lena appears at my side, her tone as professional as ever.

“My visor… I’m seeing shadows. Weird shapes. Do you see them?”

She looks where I point, then back at my face.

“Sounds like an optical glitch. Lunar radiation can cause that. I’ll check it when we’re back at the module.”

I want to say that usually, when I see this sort of thing, it means something is wrong—but the determination in her voice makes me hesitate.

When she turns, I swear I saw her eyes linger on Dr. Jun for a split second longer than necessary.

Raj interrupts over the radio:

“EVA time’s almost up, folks. Heading back in ten.”

As we prepare to return, I notice Jun holding the Helium-3 sample with an almost feverish grip. His lips are moving, like he’s talking to someone only he can see.

“All good there, Doc?” Raj jokes, patting his shoulder.

Jun startles, nearly dropping the sample.

“Yes! Yes, just… mentally cataloging.”

Lena watches everything in silence, her fingers tapping her leg in a rhythm that seems deliberate.

One, two, three. Pause. One, two.

The same code Kovac used during training for heightened alert.

My suspicions deepen when, back at the lunar module, my visor immediately stops glitching—like the shadows never existed.

And when I look at Jun, now removing his suit with trembling hands, I notice something that makes my blood run cold:

His pupils are dilated irregularly.

And at their center, almost imperceptible—a small, glowing blue dot.

Exactly the same color as Helium-3.