The First Chapter

New Year's Eve

The isochron displays aboard the USS Exorbitant ticked away the dwindling hours of 2199. The spaceship, a massive three-thousand-foot Silver Pallas class star-cruiser, located eighty-two light-years from Earth, buzzed with excitement and festive partying. Music of all sorts and funny sounds spilled out from open doors as hundreds of its crew sang, laughed, and gave toasts at the same time.

Real alcohol was, of course, off-limits. A clever nanozoid substitute mimicked its effects, but also featured an emergency sober-up function that could kick in within seconds if required. It was also designed to control the process, preventing anyone from getting too drunk too fast. This feature was probably malfunctioning, though. Quite a few were already getting rowdy and were likely to end up under the table soon. Yet, the attentive servo androids continued circulating, cheerfully offering even more drinks.

Ariel strolled down the plush, velvet-lined corridor of the fifth deck, the heart of the USS Exorbitant. The ship’s metallic bones were softened by warm, glowing light panels that bathed the hallways in a comforting golden-white glow. Around him, illusionary windows created by high-resolution screens projected the space with such clarity they could be mistaken for real glass portals. He paused by one such screen, momentarily lost in the twinkling tapestry of stars.

Why should the numbers matter? Ariel pondered, staring out at the starlit void. Ninety-nine flips to two zeros. Big deal.

Even though he hadn’t attended the party, the anticipation of it thrilled him from the moment he overheard the buzz about it in the seventh deck canteen the day before. Unwilling to endure another meal from the cabin’s replicator, Grandma ushered them to the bustling cafeteria. Amid the clatter of mealtime, Ariel caught wind of the psychic division discussing a grand celebration involving the entire ship, aiming to rival even the once-a-decade Centauri Festival. The ongoing celebrations had already allowed him a clandestine visit to the engineering section. Now, he was on his way to the bridge.

Ariel Harel was fifteen and had ended up on this ship purely by accident. He and five others had been traveling on a beat-up space yacht when it broke down six days ago. Stranded beyond the civilian hyperjump perimeter, they were immensely fortunate that the American ship happened to be nearby. The Americans picked up the junker with its passengers, and since then, they had been compelled to follow the cruiser’s mission, which took them further and further away from home.

While his grandma grumbled about their predicament, Ariel considered it pure luck. Ever since his parents mysteriously vanished during a trip to a moon in the Kappa Phoenicis system two and a half years prior, where they had lived in a small space colony, Ariel had been obsessed with space travel. He even held aspirations of one day joining the elite ranks of career galaxers, those esteemed officers steering long-range spaceships like the USS Exorbitant. Now, unexpectedly aboard such a ship, Ariel found his dreams melding seamlessly with reality.

A group of six crew members sauntered toward the command center, their laughter echoing down the hallway. A young guy in the security uniform was cracking a joke with the punchline centered around “spacing” someone. The group burst into laughter, and Ariel, even without catching the humor, chuckled along as he trailed behind, imagining the breathtaking voyages they shared and the sense of pride they surely felt as guardians of Earth and its allies.

This is it. The standard blue flooring transitioned to a pristine white carpet as they crossed the threshold separating the command center from the rest of the ship. Red lights above flashed twice as Ariel stepped through the gate, and a thick crimson panel touched his shoulders and grated against the back of his head as it shut behind him. Butterflies swarmed in Ariel’s stomach, the thrill of trespassing in forbidden territory being both exciting and nerve-wracking. Luckily, no one seemed to notice anything. They were all too engaged in their next round of jokes.

The corridor stretched ahead for about thirty feet before it forked. The group turned right while Ariel, his heart pounding, slipped to the left. The semi-circular passage was wrapped around the bridge, its entrance tantalizingly close, a mere thirty feet away.

Ariel took a deep breath. The air was fragrant with high-end perfume and a whisper of old-fashioned liquor. He couldn’t suppress a grin. This can’t be nano. These folks have relaxed the rules and surely won’t mind a teenager poking around.

An unexpected wave of panic and anxiety washed over Ariel, making his heart skip a beat as the alarm blared and yellow lights began to flash. His pulse skyrocketed as he darted into a dead-end on his left, tucking himself into a tiny alcove. Is all this fanfare and fuss because of me? What else could it possibly be?

From his makeshift hideaway, he saw the ship’s personnel rushing back and forth, their faces reflecting a blend of concern and agitation. Amid the chaos, someone shouted something that sounded like “running over the critical.” Must be chasing me, Ariel concluded.

Brushing away the hair falling over his eyes, Ariel looked around. The alcove, a mere twelve feet from the bustling corridor, provided only minimal cover. It was a miracle he hadn’t been discovered already.

Behind him, the door to a bathroom whirred open, and an android emerged. Ariel tensed, ready to bolt, but to his relief, the android trundled past, disappearing around a corner without even a cursory glance his way. He jumped in just before the door closed again. Inside, he quickly flicked the lock shut.

Ariel’s thoughts raced so fast that they were almost a blur. If I’m discovered, will I be under watch for the remainder of the journey, or could they even throw me in the brig? Would they strand Grandma and me at the nearest outpost? Could this ruin my Space Academy dreams for good? Will this blemish follow me forever? Ensnared in a storm of dread and questions, he imagined scenarios of detention, jeopardized ambitions, and disappointed relatives. Eventually, after a seemingly endless ten minutes, he managed to inhale deeply and shift his focus to the room around him.

The restroom smelled faintly of damp grass. Across from the sinks, a table with chrome legs invited him to sit. Perfect.In a while, I might slip out and return to my cabin without being caught.

Perched on the table, he noticed his reflection in a mirror across the room. His casual green jeans and ruby polo shirt made him stand out. No wonder they sounded the alarm. I should have put on something white. Or, better yet, I could have borrowed a ship’s blue uniform. After all, I am aiming for the Space Academy. He sighed.

Only a few weeks ago, Ariel had attempted to enter the prestigious Royal Space Academy prep courses in Cranwell, but his application was rejected. Back home, Cedric, Ariel’s AI, had bolstered his spirits, pitching other alternatives. “If the Brits give you the cold shoulder, go for someone else. I can help you get into the American Academy instead,” the AI said.

“I’m not American,” Ariel said with uncertainty and reluctance.

“It’s just a matter of tweaking some data. Trust me, I can swing it,” Cedric assured him, his voice brimming with confidence.

Ariel’s mind raced, struggling to decide whether the prospect of breaking the rules was a price he was willing to pay to chase his dream. Could he truly go ahead with this and still hold his head high?

“But Grandma doesn’t want me to move away from her.”

“Then I’ll relocate you both. How does that sound?” Cedric proposed, his tone enticing.

“Well...”

“Are you not sure yet of your desire to become a galaxer?”

“No, I mean... I am sure.”

“So, you have decided?” Cedric pressed.

Ariel raked a hand through his hair. “What?”

“That you’re willing to let me do what I gotta do to launch your space career, even if it means cutting a few corners.”

Ariel paused, excitement wrestling with lingering doubts. He nearly agreed to Cedric’s plan, but the concept of achieving his dreams through deceitful means didn’t sit well with him.

Ariel sighed. “Yes, but—”

“No buts. You have determined what you want; now, you just do it. Imagine commanding your own cruiser one day.”

“You make everything sound so simple,” Ariel said, allowing himself a small smile.

“It is simple. People often over-complicate things. Give me the green light, and I’ll put things in motion.”

Ariel hesitated for a moment before finally giving in. “Okay, do it.”

Merely two days later, a fire had swept through their home. Cedric’s ketanayte data crystal had gone up in flames, dashing any hopes for the US academy and costing Ariel his best friend.

His memories were interrupted as the emergency lights around him ominously transitioned to red, indicating a worsening crisis. Should I step out and surrender? Finally, the color jumped to violet. A speaker inside the ceiling ordered everyone to follow the markings on the floor and relocate into the escape pods.

Ariel sprang to his feet. No way they’d give such orders because of a fifteen-year-old. It’s unlikely they set off the alarm for me in the first place.

He tapped the door unlocked and waved it to open, but the metal plate stood firm. Oh great, now the damn door found a perfect moment to play games.

Beside the door, an intercom panel listed an option for command-level maintenance. Ariel pressed the button, and a voice-only auto-response answered.

“Open the restroom door,” Ariel demanded.

“We are in code violet. Proceed to the nearest life pod and use the facilities there.”

“What? Can’t this brainless AI figure out I’m in the restroom?” Ariel grumbled under his breath. He explained the situation, after which the door made promising, low-pitched noises. The panel didn’t move.

“I’m dispatching a technical team to fix it,” the voice finally said.

Ten minutes elapsed, and no androids came. After trying to open the door once more, Ariel redialed maintenance. There was no answer. The whole device now appeared to be dead.

Just in case, he tried his phone bracelet. Its holographic display on his fingers showed the same situation as before: the ship’s network was exclusive to crew members. Direct device-to-device connections were also blocked.

Feeling trapped, Ariel pounded on the door and yelled, his voice serving as his sole means of communication. Either the door was soundproof, or nobody was close enough to hear—his efforts went unnoticed.

In desperation, he even tried to ram the door a few times. Hopeless. The panel was made of parathetium alloy—light as cardboard but as tough as hardened steel. He couldn’t even make a single scratch on its surface. Rubbing his aching elbow, he flopped onto the table again, frustrated by his inability to do anything.

Forty minutes later, the alarm ceased. With a barely audible sizzle, the door finally reopened.