The UEG Hope headed deeper into the outer solar system. Ceres’ shadow would soon be only a distant memory: an echo of a past best forgotten. The impulse drive system sent a dull thrum through the deck plates as Ceres’ icy craters faded from the rear view-screens. Their first destination was to clear the heliosphere so they could make the first jump.

  Captain Deimos stood on the bridge, looking out the forward viewport. Jupiter was barely visible, just off to the left. Saturn lay almost straight ahead. Neptune was nowhere to be seen; it happened to be on the far side of the sun right now.

  The engineering crew had worked miracles getting the engines back online. The air still carried the sharp bite of recycled oxygen mixed with the sweet metallic tang of ozone from the power systems. Tensions remained high after Ceres. It was all Selene could do to keep Commander Costa from tearing into Lieutenant McAlister again.

  She leaned against her command console, mind drifting back to the moment that had lit the fuse between them.

  The memory hit her like a rabbit punch to the gut. It rolled in like a tide…

  “Senior staff to the Apex Chamber emergency! I repeat, senior staff to the Apex Chamber!”

  Deimos and Drache had been the only two on the bridge at that instant. They had exchanged one startled glance and sprinted for the chamber.

  Soon the rest of the command staff had crowded in. Dr. Maekawa had arrived last, still drenched in sweat and slightly out of breath from both revelation and the run. She had taken position at the head of the table, lab coat dishevelled, eyes wide with urgency.

  “Captain, I’ve completed the autopsy and discovered who this mystery person was,” Maekawa had begun, voice steadying as she tapped her data-pad. “First off, the body was well preserved because of the freezing temperatures on the station. From what I can tell, the body was male in his mid-thirties with severe frostbite and exposure. But what killed him was a sudden, sharp stab to the back severing the renal artery. He was dead in minutes.”

  The room had fallen silent, the holo-table’s glow casting eerie shadows across every face. Deimos had leaned forward, silver insignia glinting.

  “Go on, Doctor.”

  “There was slight bruising on his right wrist and neck,” Maekawa had continued. “What this indicates, I’m not sure, perhaps a struggle, or restraint.”

  Comms had spoken up, fingers hovering over her console. “If I may, Captain, I was able to unscramble two vids. The first is what I believe is the fight in question. Shall I play it?”

  Deimos nodded. The grainy footage had materialised above the table video only, silent as the void.

  Two men had stood in the docking-bay airlock, gestures sharp in a heated argument. The taller, younger man had turned to leave, but the older one had drawn a knife and lunged. In a blur the younger man had stepped aside, trapped the older man’s arm behind him, and locked an arm around his neck. There had been a tense pause, mouths moving in unheard words before the knife had plunged into the older man’s back.

  The footage had looped once, then frozen.

  Commander Costa had shot to his feet, face reddening. He murdered that man in cold blood. Who was he? You said you knew, Doctor.”

  Before she could answer, McAlister had jumped up too, shouting, “You’re a daft moron and a blighter to boot. The old man attacked first, the young man was just defending himself!”

  Costa had muttered something under his breath and started around the table, but Deimos had stepped between them.

  “Stand down, both of you. Arguing about something that has nothing to do with us will get us nowhere. Doc, you said you knew who this person was.”

  The doctor had looked between the captain and the two gentlemen who had almost squared off against each other. Then she answered, “Yes, ma’am. It was Dr. Elias Vortek, the creator of our Flux Drive.”

  “Captain… Captain.”

  The waves receded. Deimos snapped back to the present after what must have been several attempts to get her attention.

  “Yes, Comms, what is it?”

  “Ma’am, I’ve locked on to the signal from Stellar Pathfinder. Ready to download the information and update our starmaps on your order.”

  Deimos nodded, shaking off the lingering haze of memory. “Download and update, Comms. Let’s see what the Pathfinder has for us.”

  Comms’ console began scrolling data at blinding speed: new stars, planetary systems, asteroid belts, and strange names: Lumina Shroud, Serpent’s Echo.

  Comms turned briefly from her console. “Captain, this is a lot of data; it might take a while to decipher all it implies. Vega still looks like the best option for the first jump. I’d recommend after the Vega jump is initiated that Lieutenant McAlister and his team analyse this new data and plot the course to Kepler, ma’am.”

  Deimos acknowledged her and punched up the info on her own console. She noticed the Pathfinder program had already assigned names to the systems: Lumina Shroud, Serpent’s Echo… She shook herself out of her daydream.

  “McAlister, are you set to make the jump to Vega?”

  Lieutenant Jaxon McAlister, chief pilot-navigator, nodded from his station. “All set, Captain. Engines green across the board.”

  Deimos’s voice echoed steadily over the intercom. “All hands, prepare for FTL. McAlister, initiate.”

  As the Flux Drive engaged, the ship’s hull vibrated with a low thrum. Stars on the viewscreens distorted, bending like light through rippled glass. A shimmering wave enveloped the Hope, compressing the cosmos ahead into brilliant azure while the rear trailed crimson shifts.

  Space contracted in a brief, silent pulse then released. The Hope leaped forward, flinging itself into a fresh tapestry of stars. The Solar System and Ceres’ sabotaged secrets fell far behind. For a moment the crew exhaled collectively, tension easing like a valve release.

  But in the void, peace was fleeting.

  #

  Dren Valthor trudged down the corridor, wiping a stubborn smudge of lubricant from his hands after a grueling sixteen-hour shift in engineering. All he craved was a quick protein bar and the sweet escape of his rack. The deck plates hummed softly underfoot from the Flux Drive's steady pulse, a vibration he knew like his own heartbeat; any subtle shift in its rhythm would tip him off to an alignment issue.

  But when he stepped into the dining pod for his protein bar, he saw Lira Nexys sitting at a corner table. She held a steaming cup in her hand, a finger tracing slowly around the rim of the cup. She had a far-off look in her eyes, like she was contemplating a signal only she could hear.

  Dren flashed back temporarily to the space walk that almost ended in disaster. But this was not the first time their paths had crossed. They often had the same muster points during emergency drills back in the bunkers. Or when an engineering team member was needed to check out the comm equipment. Her eyes looked droopy, as if she hadn’t had much sleep. But she could still be shaking off the effects of the spacewalk.

  Instead of just grabbing the bar and heading out, Dren veered toward the VersaForge dispenser on the wall, a sleek, UEG-branded miracle of post-war ingenuity. Born from the Resource Wars, when every gram counted, the VersaForge reassembled recycled matter and nutrients into anything: tools, meals, coffee with almost no waste.

  He punched in the codes: a dense protein bar for energy, and on a whim, a cup of black coffee. The machine whirred softly, nanites weaving the brew from stored stocks, outputting a steaming mug that smelled almost like the real thing if you ignored the faint metallic tang.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Cup and bar in hand, he approached her table, clearing his throat softly. "A penny for your thoughts, as they say. Not that any of us has a penny anymore. Mind if I join? You look like you could use some company or at least someone to complain about this manufactured sludge." He lifted his mug with a wry smile, taking a sip and grimacing slightly.

  "Back before the wars, real coffee was ground from beans, brewed with hot water over fire. Rich, earthy, with that kick that woke you up proper. This VersaForge stuff? It's like drinking recycled engine coolant, functional, but no soul. Resources dried up, and now we're stuck with nanite imitations."

  Lira looked up, drawing back from where her mind had wandered. She smiled at his witty banter. Pointing to the empty seat across from her, “Please sit. Dren, you always knew how to draw me back from my mental wanderings. And yes, I remember the stories the old timers like your boss, Commander grumpy pants, used to tell. Maybe we have the seeds to make real coffee when we get to Kepler. This stuff does get the job done, though. I must look like a mess. I haven't slept much since… anyway, never mind about me. How are you doing? Engineering must be pretty busy now.”

  Dren sat down in the offered chair, absorbing the warmth of his mug. “Busy doesn’t quite cover it. I just finished a double shift. Luckily, I am going off for forty-eight hours, so unless an emergency comes up, I can get some rest. And yeah, the flux coils took a beating due to unexpected turbulence during the first jump. However, I think we got them reinforced now so it shouldn't be a problem moving forward. How about you? Still decoding that signal you almost died getting back at Ceres?”

  Lira took a slow sip, her gaze drifting to the mug before meeting his eyes. "Quiet's the problem. The signals from the transfer... they're layered, like echoes in a cavern. I've been running analyses non-stop, but it's like chasing ghosts. Makes you wonder what else is lurking in the static." She paused, tilting her head. "Your work sounds more tangible fixing things that break. Must be satisfying, seeing the results right away."

  Dren smiled briefly. “Tangible results are good for sure. But the engines are almost predictable. Problems tend to be repetitive. Take the coils for instance. They are reinforced now, but over time they will wear down again and need to be fixed again. But what you do is new all the time. Yes, decoding that signal may be tedious, but once done you don't have to do it again. You get to move onto the next project. But I am just being whiny. Do you mind if I make a confession?”

  Lira tilted her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Sure, I find myself intrigued.”

  Dren took a deep breath and let it out. “I am not ashamed to admit I was scared when that micrometeor pierced your suit. The alarms blaring, but I was not scared for me but for you. I felt like we had become good friends back in the bunker. And was grateful that we were both chosen for this crucial mission. What I am trying to say is that I would like to explore the possibility of moving our relationship out of mere friendship and into something more…”

  Lira smiled at Dren. “More ‘tangible.’ To be honest, Dren, I have been hoping you would ask me this for a while. And yes, I think we can explore the tangible side of things if you really want to. I guess it is time for my own confession.” Lira's smile faded slightly, her fingers tightening on the mug. "I was scared too. About the space walk, I mean. Or at least the parts I remember. I remember the initial impact. It was like a punch, then darkness. Then, I am not sure, but you know how they say your life flashes before your eyes. Well, for me it was more like a dream. Yes, scenes flashed, but not of my past but of things I would not be able to experience: marriage, having kids, and seeing the new colony. And the last one was of my sisters huddled together mourning my loss. It's that memory that I was contemplating when you walked up. But since I am here and not in the hereafter, I need to thank you. You saved me, Dren. I owe you for that.”

  Dren blushed a little. “I was only part of the team helping you. Chief Maka was there too. And you don’t owe me anything. It was the least I could do.”

  Lira laughed softly, the sound lightening the air between them. "Well, thank you anyway. It’s been nice talking to you, Dren. I can’t wait until we can…"

  Her comm badge chirped, cutting her off; her boss's voice broke in. "Nexys, report to the Apex Chamber. I need you to help with the route plot."

  Lira sighed, setting down her mug. "Duty calls. Thanks for the chat, Dren; it was... nice." Lira kissed Dren on the cheek, giving him something to dream about during his well-deserved rest.

  He watched her go, calling after her. "Anytime. Let's grab another cup soon; maybe I'll program the Forge for something closer to the real thing." As she disappeared down the corridor, Dren felt a spark of something new amid the ship's routine hum.

  #

  The rec room felt almost like home if home was a metal box hurtling through folded space. Low lighting cast soft shadows over scuffed tables, and the faint thrum of the Flux Drive seeped through the bulkheads like a distant heartbeat. A battered card table sat dead center, surrounded by mismatched chairs dragged in from half the ship. The VersaForge in the corner hissed out another round of “coffee” that tasted like recycled regret.

  Jaxon McAlister dealt the cards with a flourish, amber eyes glinting under the overheads. “Five-card draw, deuces wild,” he announced. “The loser of each hand owes the table one embarrassing bunker story. And tonight’s big loser buys the next round of this sludge.”

  Kenji snorted, picking up his cards. “That’s you, Jax. You’ve lost the last three nights running.”

  “Beginner’s luck for everyone else,” Jax shot back. “Tonight I’m feeling Scottish.”

  Lira and Nira sat opposite each other, sharing the kind of sister-look that needed no words. Drache lounged to Jax’s left, Hikari to his right, and Nal Juma rounded out the circle, already frowning at his hand like it had personally offended him. Lira peeked at her cards and hid a smile behind her mug. Nira raised an eyebrow , the universal signal for “you’re bluffing, and also spill, about Dren later.”

  Jax tossed in two chips. “I open. And before anyone asks yes, the route-planning meeting the other day was brutal. Eight hours of ‘but what if the pulsar fries the shields?’ I’m still having nightmares.”

  Drache laughed, folding her hand dramatically. “You mean the one where Kenji tried to reroute us through a black hole because ‘it would save three days’?”

  Kenji didn’t look up from his cards. “Mathematically sound. Emotionally, maybe not.”

  Hikari folded immediately. “I’m out. My hand’s worse than the coffee.”

  Nal called. “Speaking of brutal, remember that drill in Bunker 17 when the air recyclers failed for six hours? I thought Costa was going to eat someone.”

  Jax grinned as he dealt the next cards. “He almost ate me when I suggested opening a window.”

  The table erupted in groans and laughter. Lira discarded two cards. “Dealer, hit me. And for the record, the worst drill was when the lights went out for twelve hours. Nira, Mira, and I spent the whole time convincing the kids it was just a game.”

  Nira smirked. “You mean the game where you told them the dark was full of friendly ghosts?”

  “Worked, didn’t it?” Lira shot back.

  Jax dealt her replacements, shaking his head. “Bunker ghosts. Better than the real ones we’ve got now looking at you, Serpent’s Echo on the route map.”

  Drache raised. “I’ll see your raise. And speaking of creepy Lira, you’ve been awfully quiet about a certain engineering assistant lately.”

  Lira’s cheeks colored, but she didn’t fold. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Nira leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Liar. I saw you two in the dining pod three nights ago. Coffee and heart-eyes. Spill.”

  The table oohed like teenagers. Lira laughed, covering her face. “Fine. Dren asked me out. Properly. And yes, I said yes.”

  Kenji whistled. “Dren finally grew a spine. Good for him.”

  Jax dealt the next hand with exaggerated seriousness. “About time. I was starting to think I’d have to lock them in a Jeffries tube.”

  Hikari folded again. “You’re all terrible. My most embarrassing bunker story: I once got stuck in a ventilation shaft for four hours because I thought it was a shortcut to the mess.”

  Drache nearly spat her coffee. “You? Mr. By-The-Book? In a vent?”

  “Desperate times,” Hikari muttered. “Ration day.”

  Nal called and raised. “My turn. I confessed my crush on Instructor Vega during a fire drill. Over open comms. To the entire bunker.”

  The table lost it. Jax wiped a tear. “That’s why you always check your channel before speaking. Lesson learned.”

  Lira called the raise. “My embarrassing story: Nira and Mira once hacked the bunker lights to spell ‘LIRA, NIRA, MIRA ARE THE BEST’ across the ceiling for our birthday.”

  Nira grinned unrepentantly. “And I’d do it again. Mira helped with the code.”

  The cards went down. Jax revealed a full house and raked in the pot. “Read ‘em and weep. That’s three in a row. I’m unstoppable.”

  Kenji folded his arms. “Or we’re letting you win so you stop whining about the route meeting.”

  The table dissolved into laughter again. Jax dealt the next hand, still grinning. “Fine. One more round. Then we call it before Costa comes looking for his beauty sleep.”

  Drache raised this time. “I’ll open. And since Jax is on a streak, my story if I lose: I once tried to ‘improve’ the bunker’s protein paste with hot sauce. Ended up setting off the fire alarm. The whole level smelled like burnt regret for a week.”

  Kenji chuckled. “That explains why Costa still glares at spicy food.”

  Hikari called. “My second story I fell asleep during a lockdown drill and woke up to the entire class thinking I’d been ‘taken by the ghosts.’”

  Nal groaned. “You started that rumor yourself, didn’t you?”

  The hand played out. Drache won with a straight. She pumped her fist. “Finally! Jax, your streak is broken. Story time.”

  Jax sighed dramatically. “Fine. Bunker 12, age fifteen. I tried to impress a girl by ‘fixing’ the gravity plate in the rec area. Ended up floating the entire mess hall’s dinner into the ceiling. Spaghetti everywhere. Costa made me clean it with a toothbrush.”

  The table howled. Lira nearly fell off her chair.

  Nira wiped tears. “That’s why he still calls you ‘Pasta Boy’?”

  Jax pointed at her. “Never speak of it again.”

  One more hand. Kenji won with three of a kind. “My story: I once calculated the exact odds of surviving the Resource Wars. Came out to 0.0003 %. Told the whole class. Caused a three-day panic until the instructors shut me down.”

  Drache raised her mug. “To bad odds and worse decisions.”

  They all drank.

  Lira leaned over to Nira, voice low. “He’s not wrong about Dren, though.”

  Nira squeezed her sister’s hand under the table. “Good. You deserve something real.”

  The cards flew one last time. The coffee got colder. And for one rare hour, thirty years of void felt a little less endless.