He sat alone in the break room, the same flickering light overhead casting its cold hum across the linoleum floor. The coffee machine gurgled behind him, filling the silence like it had something to say. It was his third year at NorthStar Freight, and in all that time, he’d never once been late. Never missed a shift. And now he was being let go for "disrupting operations" because he reported a safety hazard on the loading docks.
Doing the right thing had never felt so wrong.
His phone buzzed with a text—Mom—but he didn’t check it. He couldn’t deal with another voice asking if he was “okay.” If he had a plan. He didn’t. There was no plan. There was just the slow unraveling of everything he used to believe about the world and himself.
When he was ten, he wanted to be an astronaut. Not in the way kids say they want to be one day, but in the way that meant notebooks filled with rocket sketches, late-night documentaries, and dreams that stretched past Saturn. But those dreams had died somewhere between student loans and minimum wage.
Now, at twenty-three, Eli had become exactly what he’d feared—forgettable.
He stood, stuffed the termination slip into his jacket pocket, and walked out into the parking lot. The sky was a dull gray, like someone had scrubbed all the color out of the world. The buses roared past on the main road, indifferent to whether he caught one or not. He didn’t bother chasing them.
He wandered instead.
Past the strip mall. Past the rows of tired apartment blocks. His feet moved without direction until he found himself at the overpass, the one where the freight shuttles sometimes screamed overhead on their way to the orbital elevator. He leaned on the railing, staring out at the haze of the city. His thoughts sank lower with each passing minute.
Maybe it would be better if he just… wasn’t here anymore.
He gripped the railing tighter.
“Eli Carter,” a voice said behind him—calm, firm, and far too composed for a city street.
He turned.
The man standing there was tall, dressed in dark gray with no logos, no ID badge, just a coat that looked far too expensive for this part of town. His eyes, sharp and strangely knowing, met Eli’s without hesitation.
“Who are you?” Eli asked, instinctively stepping back.
“My name’s Ralec,” the man said. “I represent an organization called the IEG. The Interplanetary Exploration Guild.”
Eli blinked. “Never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have. Not yet.”
The man tugged at his coat and tapped on a small silver pin—a stylized spiral, almost like a star going nova.
“We monitor promising candidates,” Ralec said. “And we’re offering you a chance to leave this world behind.”
Eli stared at the pin, then back at the man. “Why me?”
Ralec gave a small, measured smile. “Because you’ve already lost everything. Which means you're finally ready to risk something more. But before we get to that point, how about you join me for some dessert?" The man said, extending his hand. "I'm craving for something sweet, and there's a cozy little spot just around the corner that serves a mean peach cobbler."
The diner sat at the corner of a half-abandoned strip plaza, its neon sign blinking like it had a bad memory. Inside, everything smelled faintly of burnt coffee and syrup. Vinyl booths lined the windows, and the waitress didn’t even blink when Ralec walked in like he owned the place.
They took a booth in the back. Ralec slid into the seat across from Eli and placed a clean, silver card on the table between them like it was a chess piece.
A waitress approached, bubblegum smile practiced but fading fast.
“What’ll it be?” she asked.
“Two slices of peach cobbler,” Ralec said, without checking with Eli. “And two coffees.”
She scribbled and walked off without comment.
Eli sank into his seat, arms crossed. “You act like this happens all the time.”
Ralec raised a brow. “It does. You’re just not usually on this side of the conversation.”
Eli didn’t answer. He stared out the window at the blinking light and the cracked sidewalk beyond it.
“You read my file?” he finally asked.
Ralec nodded. “NorthStar Freight. Three years. No complaints until last week. Filed a safety report about corroded locking clamps. Management ignored it. You escalated. The next day, you were out.”
“That’s not a ‘promising candidate.’ That’s just a guy who got screwed.”
Ralec leaned back, folding his hands neatly on the table. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s someone who refuses to stay quiet, even when it costs him. Someone who still believes in right and wrong—even when the world doesn’t.”
The waitress returned and slid two plates of warm cobbler onto the table. Eli blinked at the golden crust, the syrup pooling at the edges, the impossible normalcy of it.
He took a slow bite. It was hot, sweet, absurdly good.
“You ever wanted to be more?” Ralec asked.
Eli chewed, swallowed. “Yeah. When I was a kid.”
“Astronaut, right?”
Eli paused. “How do you—”
“IEG sees patterns,” Ralec said. “That dream didn’t just vanish. It got buried under debt, disappointment, compromise. But it’s still in there.”
Eli’s throat tightened. He took another bite just to keep from answering.
Ralec sipped his coffee. “You were ready to jump, Eli. I saw it in your eyes. And I get it. I’ve been there.”
Eli looked up, surprised. “You?”
Ralec’s gaze didn’t waver. “We don’t recruit anyone who hasn’t stood at the edge.”
The hum of the jukebox changed. A slow piano melody played. For a moment, everything in the diner felt still.
Ralec leaned forward. “You can go back to that bridge. Or you can come with me. The mission is dangerous. You may not survive. But if you’re willing to risk your life anyway… why not do it for something that matters?”
Eli stared at the silver card again. His fingers hovered over it, hesitating.
“What's the catch?” he asked.
Ralec smiled, just a little. “There’s always a catch. But we’ll get to that once you're off-world.”
Eli laughed—just once, sharp and breathless.
“Hell of a recruitment pitch,” he said.
Ralec raised his coffee in a quiet toast. “We aim for honesty.”
“I’ll think about it,” Eli said, his voice quiet but firm.
Ralec gave a slow nod, as though he’d expected that answer all along. “You have until sunrise. After that, the card won’t work.”
Eli pocketed the silver card. “Why the time limit?”
Ralec slid out of the booth, adjusting the cuff of his coat. “Because waiting too long kills decisions. And this one needs to come from the part of you that still believes.”
Without another word, Ralec turned and walked out into the neon-washed night.
Eli sat for a while, finishing the cobbler in silence.
The apartment was dark when he got back. One overhead light flickered when he flipped the switch, then died with a faint pop. He didn’t bother replacing the bulb. The place was a half-unpacked box with furniture. Dishes in the sink. Blank walls. A calendar stuck on a month that had already passed.
He kicked off his shoes, collapsed onto the couch, and stared at the ceiling.
How had it unraveled so fast?
He used to have direction. A map, even. School. Scholarships. Aerospace engineering—until his dad got laid off, and Eli had to trade formulas for freight handling. One month turned into twelve, then thirty-six. Now he was unemployed, aimless, and eating diner pie with a man who claimed to work for a secret space agency.
He laughed softly to himself.
Sleep came like a slow tide pulling him under.
In the dream, he was ten again.
The schoolyard shimmered with afternoon heat, the cracked pavement echoing with shouts and laughter. Eli stood between two older boys and a scrawny kid whose backpack had been dumped out across the ground.
“I said, leave him alone,” Eli snapped, voice shaking.
One of the older boys sneered. “Or what, Carter? Gonna cry at us?”
They shoved him hard. He hit the pavement. His notebook scattered, pages fluttering like weak wings.
They saw it then.
A full page drawing—crayon-sketched stars and a rocket ship labeled U.S.S. Dreamer. A cartoon version of Eli floated beside it in a spacesuit, smiling, hand raised in a wave.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The bigger kid picked it up and laughed. “What is this, baby art? You wanna be a space hero?”
They ripped it in half and threw it back at him.
He didn’t cry. He just picked it up, folded the torn halves together, and sat there as the scrawny kid quietly gathered his spilled books.
Eli woke with a start.
The morning light crept through half-closed blinds. Dust danced in the air. His throat was dry, but his chest felt heavier than his bones.
He turned his head—and saw the model.
It sat on the bookshelf, covered in a fine layer of dust. A spacecraft he’d designed himself, 3D printed piece by piece at the old campus lab, long before everything had gone sideways. He hadn’t looked at it in months.
He reached out and picked it up, brushing the dust away with his sleeve. The name U.S.S. Dreamer was still scratched into the side.
His phone sat on the counter, the silver IEG card beside it.
Eli took a breath. Deep. Centered.
Then he picked up the card.
Time to find out if it still worked.
The morning air was crisp, sharper than usual for early spring. Eli stood at the edge of the parking lot behind his apartment complex, holding a duffel bag that weighed far less than the decision he’d made.
He checked the time on his phone.
6:02 AM.
Then he heard it—not a hover engine or a transport drone, but the unmistakable low rumble of something mechanical. The kind of sound you only heard in vintage movies or antique car shows.
A long, black car rounded the corner. Chrome trim, squared edges, deep growl in the engine—it looked like something pulled straight from the 20th century. It pulled up beside him with a quiet hiss of brakes.
Eli blinked. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
The driver’s side door opened, and Ralec stepped out, looking as crisp and put-together as if he’d stepped off a fashion runway instead of behind the wheel of a gas-guzzling dinosaur.
“A ‘69 Lincoln Continental,” Ralec said, gesturing to the car like a proud curator. “Restored the interior myself. Original dash, leather seats, real wood inlays.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “You do realize we live in an age of clean-energy transports and orbital shuttles, right?”
Ralec gave a small shrug. “I know. But I collect things. Tangible things. Things that rust and smell like oil. This car—it reminds me I’m still connected to the ground, even when I’m not.”
He walked around and opened the passenger door for Eli. “Besides,” he added, “I hate autopilot.”
Eli hesitated only a second before sliding in. The inside smelled like old leather and faint engine heat. No screens, no digital panels—just dials, switches, and a cassette player that probably hadn’t worked in decades.
“You’re full of contradictions,” Eli said as Ralec climbed back into the driver’s seat.
Ralec smiled faintly. “It’s what makes me good at recruiting.”
The engine rumbled back to life, and they pulled away from the curb, the low sun casting long shadows behind them. The city passed by outside—rows of worn-down apartments, blinking advertisements for off-world cargo routes, domed towers with streaming sky-lanes of air traffic. Eli watched it all blur into streaks of gray and gold.
“You sure I’m not dreaming?” he asked quietly.
Ralec glanced at him. “If you are, it’s about to get a whole lot stranger.” They turned off the main road, heading toward the edge of the city.
The Lincoln rumbled down a winding backroad that led into the hills beyond the city—past forgotten warehouses, rusting solar farms, and rows of concrete barriers no one had moved in years. As they climbed higher, the skyline vanished behind them, swallowed by fog and forest.
Eli leaned against the window, watching trees blur past. “You sure this isn’t just an elaborate kidnapping?”
Ralec didn’t look away from the road. “If it were, I’d have picked a faster car.”
They crested a ridge, and just ahead, nestled in what looked like an abandoned quarry, was a rust-streaked service garage. A corrugated metal shack with a faded sign: Lansing Auto Salvage.
“This is it?” Eli asked, frowning.
Ralec pulled the car to a stop. “Appearances.”
They stepped out. The wind smelled like dust and iron. A couple of old forklifts sat frozen in place, half-swallowed by weeds. A chained fence circled the lot.
Ralec walked toward the shack and knocked on the door—three times, pause, then two more. The door creaked open on its own, revealing pitch-blackness beyond.
Without a word, Ralec stepped inside.
Eli followed.
For a moment, the dark swallowed them. Then a flicker of blue light pulsed from the walls—and everything changed.
The grime and rust shimmered like a skin being peeled away, revealing smooth chrome and black poly-glass beneath. Holograms blinked to life across the floor. What had looked like junkyards and piles of metal now revealed rows of precision machinery, scanning arrays, and transport pods.
Eli turned in place, wide-eyed. “This is insane.”
“It’s cloaked,” Ralec said. “Quantum-anchored misdirection tech. Looks like junk to everyone else.”
Down a central hallway, a wall slid open with a hiss. Beyond it, an underground hangar stretched out into what felt like infinity—multiple levels stacked with small spacecraft, launch shuttles, and automated drone bays. Technicians moved with quiet urgency, some in uniform, others in civilian clothes with strange insignias stitched into their sleeves.
On a platform above it all was a sleek vessel—black hull, matte finish, no visible engines—resting like a predator waiting to strike.
“That’s the Odyssey,” Ralec said. “She leaves in 48 hours.”
Eli stared at the ship, unable to find words.
Ralec looked at him, expression calm. “Still think this is a joke?”
Eli let out a quiet breath. “I think… I have no idea what I just walked into.”
Ralec smiled. “That’s how every explorer begins.”
The briefing room aboard the Odyssey was all sharp lines and sterile lighting—angled chairs bolted to the floor, a projection table at the center, and a wall-sized display showing a swirling void of stars labeled Designated Interference Zone – Sector 9V. The hum of the ship’s core systems thrummed faintly beneath the floor like a heartbeat.
Eli stood near the door, awkward in his borrowed jumpsuit, trying not to fidget. His boots felt too new. His brain, too full.
Ralec had left him there without much of a sendoff—just a nod and a cryptic, “They’ll size you up. Don’t flinch.”
One by one, the crew filtered in.
First was a tall man with salt-and-pepper stubble and a permanent scowl. He moved like he’d been here before anyone else and would be the last to leave. He gave Eli a long look and grunted, “You the new one?”
“Yeah. Eli Carter.”
“Tom Delaney. Loadmaster. Don’t touch the freight unless you want a wrench to the teeth.” Then he smirked a little. “Kidding. Sort of.”
Next came a lean guy about Eli’s age, arms full of datapads and a steaming cup of something synthetic. His glasses slid down his nose as he fumbled into a seat.
“Sorry—sorry—I’m Gabe Moreno, systems analyst. Uh, you must be Eli. I read your file. Not like… in a creepy way. It’s part of onboarding.”
Eli gave him a wary smile. “No worries.”
Then came a heavier set of footsteps. A man in his thirties, sharp-jawed, with tired eyes and hands that looked like they’d seen too many fights. He nodded once at Eli, then sat across the room in silence.
“That’s Darius,” Gabe whispered, leaning over. “Don’t let the ex-military vibe fool you. He’s mostly quiet. Unless he’s not.”
“I heard that,” Darius said without turning.
The doors slid open again, and in walked a woman with a plasma coil keychain hooked to her belt, her hair tucked beneath a grease-stained bandana. She had the confident stride of someone who fixed things for fun.
“Hey, new kid,” she said to Eli. “You got a death wish or are you just unlucky?”
“Uh—bit of both?”
“Good answer. I’m Sparks. Real name’s Keira, but if you call me that, I might rewire your oxygen feed.”
She dropped into a chair and immediately started fiddling with the table’s interface.
Finally, the pilot arrived.
She moved like zero gravity was her default. Slender, composed, dark eyes scanning the room with the precision of someone who could thread a needle between asteroids. She stopped in front of Eli, extended a hand.
“Elira Knox. Call me El if you like. I fly this rustbucket. You puke in my cockpit, I feed you to the waste recycler.”
Eli shook her hand, trying to match her calm.
“Eli Carter. I’ll, uh, try not to puke.”
“Smart man.”
The lights dimmed. A hologram flickered to life above the center table: a region of space, grainy and pulsing. Red dots marked debris fields. Yellow flashes indicated lost ships. At the center was a shadow—an unidentifiable structure, almost like a wound carved into the stars.
A synthetic voice echoed through the room:
"Briefing protocol initiated. Mission Designation: Vesper Route Interruption. Primary Objective: Investigate and neutralize unidentified anomaly disrupting interplanetary trade in Sector 9V."
Tom sighed. “And here I was hoping we were just delivering cargo.”
Sparks leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “Whatever that thing is, it’s chewing through ships like popcorn.”
Eli stared at the projection, his gut tightening.
Gabe glanced at him. “Still sure you’re ready for this?”
Eli nodded slowly. “Not even a little. But I’m here.”
Darius gave a short laugh. “Welcome to the deep end.”
The hologram flickered as the system loaded mission telemetry. Static danced across the edges of the projected star map, swirling around the pulsating center marked UNKNOWN ANOMALY – 9V.
The briefing room doors hissed open one final time.
Ralec stepped in, hands behind his back, coat crisp, expression unreadable.
Immediately, the crew straightened—subtle but instinctive. Even Darius sat up a little straighter.
“Apologies for the delay,” Ralec said, his voice smooth but commanding. “Let’s get to it.”
He moved to the center of the room, the projection warping slightly around him. With a flick of his fingers, the map zoomed in to show a star system on the edge of known space, its orbital routes glowing in faded blue.
“This,” he said, “is Sector 9V. Three weeks ago, two cargo convoys vanished here—no distress calls, no debris trails. A week after that, an IEG scout probe went dark mid-transmission. Since then, we've picked up unstable gravitational readings, magnetic distortions, and quantum echo spikes. Whatever’s in this region—it’s not natural.”
“Could be a rogue black hole,” Sparks muttered.
“Or an artificial event,” Gabe added, eyes wide behind his glasses.
Ralec nodded once. “Our job is to find out. We enter the zone, deploy sensor drones, collect samples from the surrounding anomaly field, and extract before things go sideways. No heroics. This is a recon op.”
Tom leaned forward. “What’s the backup plan if we can’t extract?”
Ralec paused. “Then we improvise. But ideally, you all get home in one piece with more answers than you left with.”
Eli looked from face to face, tension knotting in his chest. Everyone here looked like they’d been through hell and back in their own way. And now he was one of them.
He raised a hand slightly. “Uh… who’s leading the trip?”
A quiet moment passed.
Ralec turned his gaze to Eli, then the rest of the crew.
“I am.”
The air in the room seemed to shift. Eli blinked. “Wait—you’re the captain?”
Ralec gave a small smile. “I recruited each of you. I know your strengths, your cracks, and what happens when you’re pushed. This mission isn’t just about the anomaly. It’s about the team that faces it.”
Sparks snorted. “So you’re not just a suit with good hair.”
Ralec ignored the jab. “We leave in 36 hours. Get your kits in order, your heads on straight, and say your goodbyes—if you have any left to say.”
With that, the hologram faded. Ralec stepped toward the exit but paused at the door.
“Eli—welcome aboard. You’ll find your designation assignment in your quarters. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
Then he was gone, the doors sealing behind him.
Eli sat in silence for a moment, the reality of it all finally landing like gravity had just doubled.
“So…” Gabe said awkwardly. “You hungry? The food’s not terrible if you close your eyes.”
T-minus 2 minutes.
The hum of the Odyssey’s engines reverberated through the launch bay like a caged storm waiting to break free.
Eli sat strapped into his acceleration chair on the lower deck, his hands clenched around the harness buckles. The cabin lights glowed dimly blue, casting long shadows across the angular interior. Above him, the crew took their positions—Sparks finishing last-minute diagnostics, Darius checking over the weapons lockers, Tom muttering something under his breath about “missed coffee.”
Gabe leaned over, helmet balanced in his lap. “First launch?” Eli nodded, throat dry. “You’ll be fine. It’s just loud. And fast. And statistically safer than crossing a street on Earth.”
“Comforting,” Eli said flatly.
On the bridge, Elira’s voice came through the comms—calm and focused.
“All systems green. Flight path cleared. Launch vector locked.”
Ralec’s voice followed, cool as ever.
“This is Captain Ralec of the Odyssey. Final status check.”
One by one, the crew answered:
"Engineering secure." — Sparks
"Cargo sealed." — Tom
"Weapons primed." — Darius
"Nav systems synced." — Gabe
"Engines ready for burn." — Elira
There was a short silence, then:
“New blood?” Ralec asked.
Eli swallowed. His voice cracked just slightly when he answered.
“Eli Carter. Ready for launch.”
The rumble beneath them intensified. Lights shifted from blue to amber.
T-minus 10 seconds.
Outside the observation viewport, the stars tilted as the ship aligned with the outbound corridor—a narrow shot into deep space.
Five.
Eli exhaled. This was it. No turning back.
Four.
He tightened his grip.
Three.
The dream was no longer in notebooks or childhood drawings.
Two.
It was real now. Heavy and terrifying and his.
One.
Ignition.
The Odyssey roared to life.