2 Years Earlier

The savory and greasy smell of cooking meat percolated throughout the tiny kitchen, the steam creating a permanent cloud that floated languidly through the room’s rafters. 16-year-old Daniel Hardgrave loomed over the grill, scrutinizing the food with an expert eye. His stomach grumbled with hunger, but he put those urges in the back of his mind. He was always hungry, but this food wasn’t for him. After a few seconds, he decided that 4 of the 12 patties were done. With an adroit flick of the wrist, he scooped the subjects off the stainless steel and flipped them onto the buns sitting on plates near the grill’s side. He quickly constructed each burger and placed their plates in the open compartment leading to the service area. Finally, he rang the bell and called:

“Order up! One double cheeseburger with extra bacon and extra mustard and two single BLT burgers.”

Three forest green tentacles appeared in unison, gathering up each plate and whisking them away to the service area. A low, gravelly, yet still vaguely feminine voice called back in response:

“Keep them coming, chef! Rush hour is in full swing.”

“I’d be able to cook’em faster if you hired me an assistant, Boss!”

Daniel called back, faking an annoyed tone while sporting a small grin as he turned back to look at the grill. From the other room came an annoyed sounding croak:

“Maybe once we start making more money, I’ll do just that. I’m in debt from all the bribes and expenses I paid out just to open this place.”

“You should have done business in the Outer Rim if you didn’t want to get scammed by the government!”

They both gave a mild chuckle at that. Boss Gascoigne was right, opening a restaurant, even in one of the poorer parts of town, was an expensive and time-consuming task in Akaadia’s capital city of Ankara. The seat of power in the Imperium wouldn’t let just anyone cozy up to it, even in the slums. The only reason Daniel was even able to get an apartment and a job here was thanks to the old man’s recommendations.

Once work was over, Daniel gratefully changed out of his sweaty chef’s garment and into more casual clothes. Sporting a black T-shirt with a graphic of his favorite band in its center atop camouflage cargo shorts, he went to see his boss in her office. He was joined by a small, mousy looking girl by the name of Elise who had just been hired as a part of their wait staff. She had dark brown hair, with eyes to match, and a cute little nose. Little about her was extremely attractive, but she had a strong girl-next-door vibe. Daniel gave her an easygoing grin, which she shyly returned, before they both walked into the boss’s office.

Boss Gascoigne was a large green nonhuman. She had a wide body, large elephantine legs, and a vaguely toadlike face situated atop that body, lacking any neck whatsoever. In lieu of arms, she sported three long tentacles on either side of her body, and they tended to stay active even while she was focused on the task in front of her. She was an Elucid, one of the oldest known races in the entire known universe. Their kind had been vassalized and given Toshak technology, and even some Warp tech, by the Aeterna many centuries ago, allowing them to participate in intergalactic trade. They had once been numerous and powerful, but their kind had been among the hardest hit by the Collapse. Now, they were a shadow of their former selves, and their home world was Imperium Territory.

None of that seemed to ding the Boss’s pride, however, and she looked down at her two employees with a mixture of benevolence and imperiousness. She beamed at the duo as two of her tentacles reached into a drawer and pulled out small envelopes that she then proffered to them. Nonphysical pay was the standard across most of the Imperium, but the Boss was old fashioned. As they accepted their pay, her deep smoker voice boomed out:

“Payday kids! Don’t spend it all at once, or you’ll be eating out of the waste cans for the next two weeks!”

“Yes boss!”

They replied in unison, Elise squeaking out her response where Daniel belted out his. They happily exchanged glances for a moment before looking back to their boss, a fact that she took clear notice of:

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“No fishing in the company pond, you two! Workplace romances, and the related drama, are headaches I do not want to deal with right now!”

They both nodded apologetically, Daniel looking a little embarrassed while Elise blushed to the roots of her hair. Satisfied with their responses, Gascoigne dismissed them:

“Now run along. It’s getting late.”

They nodded again and walked out of the room. Daniel realized that the Boss was right. It had gotten dark. Even though this restaurant was more of a breakfast and lunch place, it was probably past 7:00 local time when they were finally able to leave. He made sure to see Elise safely to the Line station, said a quick goodbye to her, and hurried home.

…

Daniel typed in his password and used the biometric scan to unlock the door to his apartment, but he was slow to open the door and peer inside. Registering the motion, the lights flickered on, only to reveal a large orange blur scrabbling across the floor. Daniel didn’t have much warning before the creature pounced on him, driving its paws into his stomach with a muted woomph. He doubled over gasping, the wind knocked out of him, and it took a second for him to catch his breath and regain his composure. He straightened up and eyed his attacker irately.

Staring up at the fry cook was a very large, orange furred tabby cat with a milky white belly. It dwarfed most dogs in size and looked rather like a tiger had been stripped of its stripes and shrunk down to a slightly more manageable size. Slightly. Lime green eyes betrayed both irritation and intelligence as it glared up at him. The message, both from the glare and the pounce, was simple:

“You’re home late. Where’s my food?”

“Take it easy, Dio! You almost took me out for good.”

Daniel rubbed his stomach gingerly as he walked inside. To appease his feline friend, his first priority was to grab the cat kibble and pour liberal quantities of it into a bowl. He knew for a fact that Dio hunted rats while he was away, so it was a testimony to the big cat’s appetite that he stuck his head in the food and munched away voraciously, purring contentedly. Pet appeased, Daniel warmed up some dinner of his own and sat on his coach before turning on his SmartGram. The hologram lit up in entertainment mode, displaying a large screen of light with images dancing across it in clear resolution. The first thing he saw was coverage from Star News, the Imperium News Channel:

“According to the Imperium Diplomat, peace talks with the enemy are going exceedingly well as a consequence of recent military successes. She believes that negotiations should reach a favorable conclusion in the near future.

Senior enemy officials have also made known their willingness to reach a compromise, thanks to a realization that their position was untenable. It is widely recognized that the Imperium only extends the olive branch to them as a consequence of the Emperor’s magnanimity.

Shirley Abramson is there on the ground. What can you tell us Shirley?”

Daniel switched the channel. He had never been much for the news, but he was happy to see that the war was coming to an end. The conflict had been terrible for the economy, and if things eased up then Boss Gascoigne’s restaurant would start to make more money. Which meant a better paycheck for him. Hopefully. Daniel sighed a little as he turned on one of his favorite shows.

It was an older show about the early days of the Imperium. The show was called Ad Astra, and it followed a young man who started a mercenary business shuttling valuable cargo from one world to another. He and his crew galivanted across Imperium space, still crawling with pirates in those early days, refueling in isolated worlds and fighting off anything that threatened their mission. They saw strange sights and always took the time to explore the unusual planets they landed on, a practice that they were typically rewarded for.

Daniel couldn’t get enough of the show, even if it was a little cheesy, but every time he turned it on, a voice would ring out in his head:

“Adventurer and fool are the same word, Danny! Don’t let any of that propaganda fool you. Anything trying to get you to become a Pioneer or a soldier is selling you a lie.”

It was the voice of the old man. The old man who had taken Daniel off the streets and raised him as his own. It had been two years since Daniel had struck off to make his living in the big city, but the old man’s teachings still loomed large in the back of his mind:

“Listen Danny, you’re not the academic type, that much is clear. But you’re a hard worker and well-coordinated. You can make a good living working a stable job. Rise in the ranks. Meet a girl or three. Or try becoming an athlete instead! Do what you want, Danny, but don’t become a Pioneer. Life’s short enough as is. Don’t be expendable.”

The old man had reminded him of all of this, before setting Daniel loose in the big city. It was adventure enough trying to survive the concrete jungle, so it had rarely been too tempting to ignore the advice. He loved and trusted the man who raised him, so he had worked hard at his simple life. But there was something in Daniel that burned when he watched this show. It started in the pit of his stomach and wound its way through his core, then his whole body. When that feeling took over, he couldn’t help but imagine his face atop the main character’s. Blazing new trails, fighting rogues and scoundrels, making a fortune, all of it. It was childish, and it went against everything he had been taught, but he allowed himself the luxury of a fool’s dream.

As he was polishing off the last of his dinner, the show had finished and gone to credits. He had to go to work early the next morning, but the call to watch another episode was almost too strong. As he deliberated between responsible sleep and irresponsible media consumption, a message icon flashed in the top right of his screen. Surprised, he tapped it, and dark green print appeared on his screen:

“To: Daniel Sylvester Hardgrave

Subject: Funeral Arrangements

Mr. Daniel S Hardgrave,

We are sorry to inform you that Mr. Roger M. Hardgrave, 85, passed away one week ago, on the fourth day of the ninth month in the year 196 ISC…”

Daniel kept reading the letter in a daze, his mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what he was reading. His eyes constantly flitted back to the first line in shock, and when he finally finished the letter, there were only two words on his mind:

“Old man…?”