My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible Chapter 559 Volunteers Departing For The Base

The pre-dawn hours saw the arrival of all volunteers and observers, continuing into the early morning.

As the new day broke, the four volunteers underwent identity verification and completed the necessary consent forms before the final examination.

The concluding assessments proceeded without issue. Dr. Park conducted a final MedScan on each volunteer. Updated data appeared on the monitoring displays and was transmitted to the base. All individuals were stable for transit, with no unexpected findings.

Thomas secured the final signature and addressed Dr. Brenner, stating, "We're prepared."

Following this, boarding commenced smoothly.

The Synths had meticulously repacked everything into the floating containers and loaded them onto the platform.

Cots were folded and stored in larger containers, emitter sets were gathered and secured, and food containers were stowed. By the time the staff were ready to depart, the lounge appeared as if it had remained untouched.

Volunteers boarded alongside the staff. The platform made two descents: the first carried the staff, volunteers, and their families, while the second transported the Synths and the containers.

Upon ascending into the shuttle's cabin, clearing the underside of the craft, the volunteers gazed around with astonished eyes at the breathtaking vista before them.

The cabin was warm and immaculate, featuring seats arranged along both sides and expansive viewports extending along the full length of the walls. Staff members guided each family to their designated seats, offered assistance where needed, and indicated the call system integrated into each armrest.

Subsequently, a staff member informed them about the sleeping compartments located at the rear of the cabin, intended for volunteers in serious condition requiring a flat position during transit.

The volunteers' decision was unanimous.

Diego was the first to inquire, speaking through Marco, "Are there windows?"

Marco glanced toward the compartment door before replying to Diego, "No."

Diego signaled his refusal, "Then I'm remaining here."

The volunteer from Mexico City surveyed the compartment and plainly stated, in Spanish, that he had not journeyed this far merely to gaze at a ceiling.

His wife emitted a laugh, the first Thomas had heard from her.

The Guatemalan volunteer, Maya, had already pressed her face against the closest viewport before any mention of the compartment was made.

The Synths finalized their checks and assumed their positions. The lead Synth proceeded to the front of the cabin, passing the seated volunteers and their families, settled into the pilot's seat, and holographic displays materialized around it.

The fusion drive activated, and the shuttle ascended vertically from the tarmac, the airport receding below.

Mexico City unfolded beneath the viewports in all directions.

Ernesto's wife, a resident of the city for thirty years, placed her palm against the glass, gazing down at the familiar grid of streets, the parks, and the expressway where crowds had gathered to witness the shuttle's landing the previous day.

From this elevated perspective, it presented a sight she had never quite perceived before, simultaneously familiar and entirely novel.

"Mira," she softly urged her husband. "Look."

Ernesto slowly turned his head and observed the scene through the viewport. His hands rested folded in his lap, his body's movement restricted to his eyes and a slight turn of his neck. He contemplated the city for an extended period.

"I recognize this city," he remarked.

"I know," she responded.

"It appears different."

"Yes."

He continued to gaze until the cloud layer enveloped the view.

Maya had remained silent since they departed the airport. She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, her face directed towards the viewport, observing the sky's transformation.

Her mother, Rosa, sat beside her, one hand gently resting on Maya's arm, maintaining the familiar, light contact.

The blue sky deepened, its pale morning hue darkening through successive stages. Maya tracked each change intently, without blinking, as if averting her gaze might cause her to miss the precise moment of transition.

Upon the appearance of the stars, she emitted a small sound, overcome with awe.

Rosa observed her daughter's face. In the reflection of the viewport, she could discern Maya's expression.

"Mamá," Maya whispered.

"I'm here."

"I can see stars. During the day."

Rosa looked through the viewport. The stars were clearly visible, steady and innumerable, against a profound darkness.

"Yes," she affirmed. "You can."

Maya's hands, previously still in her lap, moved to touch the viewport glass. She pressed her fingertips against its surface.

The glass felt cold. Nevertheless, she kept her fingers there.

Diego had been watching through the viewport since the city vanished from view.

He found it difficult to look directly through the viewport, and the angle of his seat hindered him without the leg support he lacked. Consequently, he shifted sideways, bracing one arm on the seat's frame, his face angled towards the glass.

Marco, seated beside him, remained mostly silent throughout their ascent. He offered no translations because Diego had yet to speak. They sat together, sharing the same view unfolding before them.

As the Earth's complete curvature became visible—a masterful blend of blues and whites, the oceans a sapphire hue, bisected by a starkly defined terminator line—Diego let out a slow breath.

Marco patiently waited.

After a period of quiet, Diego finally uttered something.

Without turning his head, Marco translated, "It appears unreal, doesn't it? He mentioned it resembles descriptions from books, and he had never believed those accounts to be accurate."

The shuttle continued its climb, and the Earth progressively dominated the viewport, growing larger and more intricate. Swirling cloud systems, like slow-motion spirals, were discernible over the vast oceans.

Diego extended his hand, pressing his palm against the cool glass of the viewport.

He maintained this contact for an extended duration.

***

Back aboard the space shuttle en route to Warsaw, currently traversing the void towards the Base, one of the volunteers, Piotr, had been uncharacteristically quiet since boarding. He remained seated, his coat still on, hands resting in his lap, gazing through the viewport and diligently committing every sight to memory.

The moon gradually materialized in the upper right quadrant of the viewport. From this perspective, it was a slender crescent, its surface details rendered with a sharpness unsoftened by any atmospheric haze.

Piotr observed it for a considerable moment.

Then, he glanced down at his hands in his lap, only to return his gaze to the moon once more.

His thoughts drifted to Warsaw. The pallid, flat sky that morning. The unexceptional facade of the building with its ordinary windows. The brief three seconds he had lingered, staring at it before entering the car.

He looked again at the moon through the viewport and, in a realization that had been consolidating until this precise instant, understood unequivocally that he had made the correct decision.

Until this very moment, complete certainty had eluded him.

Keeping his hands still in his lap, he watched the moon grow larger, enveloped in silence.

***

At fifty-three minutes into the journey, the voice of the lead Synth resonated from the front of the cabin.

"Approaching Lunar Base Sanctuary in seven minutes. Kindly remain in your seats."

The volunteers did not stir. They had already arrived at their desired destination.

Through the viewport, the lunar terrain occupied the lower half of the frame — a desolate expanse of grey, crater-scarred, and ancient, stretching limitlessly in all directions, unblurred by any atmosphere.

And integrated into this landscape, radiating light into the lunar darkness, was the base.

Maya was the first to perceive it.

She placed both hands flat against the viewport glass, her voice imbued with an emotion for which no Spanish word seemed adequate, exclaiming, "Mamá."

Rosa looked.

She offered no words, merely keeping her hand gently on her daughter's arm.

Nevertheless, a nascent belief was beginning to solidify within her regarding the possibility that her doctor might soon be able to walk without assistance.

A radiant and hopeful smile began to bloom across her face.