The cabin is a claustrophobic box. There’s a single bunk that barely fits me—and I’m short. A tiny closet that could maybe hold three shirts if you’re feeling optimistic. That’s it. After the day I’ve had, I could really use a shower, but I’m not about to wander out and ask Alek or Jenna where I can clean up. Alek didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat.
I strip off my black shirt and pants, tossing them on the floor. No pajamas, obviously. I didn't exactly pack before I got arrested. I open the closet, and all I find is a white undershirt and some too-tight blue shorts. Great. The shirt clings to my gut, a reminder that I’ve let myself go. Whatever. The alternative is sleeping in my underwear, and that’s a level of pathetic I’m not ready to embrace yet.
I climb into the bed. The mattress feels like it’s stuffed with concrete, and the pillow’s not much better. I lie there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, before letting out a stream of curses. I don’t usually swear much, but this situation demands it. I’m worn out, physically and mentally. Just this morning, I was a boring corporate accountant. My life wasn’t great: I had a crappy apartment, a dead-end job, and no social life—but at least I had some stability. Now I’m a fugitive, stuck against my will on a spaceship with a bunch of socialist revolutionaries. The authorities want me dead, and to top it all off, I can’t even get a decent night’s sleep because the damn bed is trying to break my spine.
A man can only stay pissed off for so long. Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I pass out.
I dream. I’m walking through a frozen wasteland, everything covered in snow as far as I can see. No hills, no mountains—just endless white stretching in every direction. I know this is a dream. It has to be, right? I’m still in the cabin, probably snoring. But it feels real. Too real. My bones ache from the cold, my teeth chatter like I’m actually freezing out here.
Then I spot something in the distance. A figure. At first, it’s just a blur, way too far to make out. But as it gets closer, I see it’s a woman. She’s young, but there’s something ancient in her brown eyes, like she’s seen things no one should. Her hair’s long and brown, flowing down over her slim frame. Her skin is pale, like porcelain. Her nose is a delicate, button-like feature, contrasting sharply with her full, luscious lips. She’s stunning—beyond Jenna. Jenna’s the kind of hot you’d see in HoloNet ads. This woman? She’s otherworldly, like she’s not meant to be seen by people like me.
Her gown doesn’t help. It’s this long, flowing red silk that stands out in the sea of white snow. I just stand there, frozen in place as she gets closer, not sure whether I’m scared or in awe. Maybe both.
“Ian,” she says, and her voice—God, her voice—it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s calm, sensual, almost sad, like she’s speaking from somewhere deep inside me. It fills me with this weird mix of peace and excitement, like she’s unlocked some part of me I didn’t even know existed. “We will meet soon.”
And then, just like that, she’s gone. Everything goes dark, and then I’m back in the cabin, lying on that damn hard bed. I’m drenched in sweat. I peel off the undershirt and shorts, toss them aside, and grab my black shirt and trousers from the floor. After getting dressed, I head out of the cabin.
In the mess hall, I find Jenna at the stove, a cigarette dangling from her lips, frying what looks like an omelet. She flicks the cigarette to the floor and grinds it out with her boot. "Breakfast’s ready," she says, her voice flat. "Sit."
I drop into one of the chairs. Right on cue, Alek strolls in from the cockpit and takes a seat without saying a word. Jenna slices the omelet into three uneven chunks and slides a plate in front of each of us. Then, she fills three mugs with what I assume is coffee and sets them on the table.
"Thanks," I mutter, grabbing the mug. One sip, and yep—it’s as bitter as I expected, like someone melted dirt and called it coffee. Still, it jolts me awake. The omelet isn’t much better, but at this point, I’m starving enough to eat anything. So, I shovel it down without caring if I look like a pig.
Jenna glances at me over her mug. "How’d you sleep?" she asks, taking a slow sip.
"Alright," I lie, because what’s the point? Complaining about their crappy bed won’t do me any good. And I sure as hell won’t mention the weird dream. These two already think I’m some chosen one with superpowers, thanks to their Oracle. They’d probably take that dream as more proof. So, I keep it to myself.
"Where are we going?" I finally manage to ask. It’s been gnawing at me for a while now, ever since we left Syndrax behind and probably shot past the edge of the solar system. I have no idea where these two weirdos are dragging me.
"We’re headed to the Vlasthia System," Alek says, like I’m supposed to know what that means. I’ve never heard of it. "It’s on the edges of human space. The United Corporate Systems haven’t colonized it yet. A couple of minor corporations sent expeditions, but no settlements. The planets aren’t exactly vacation spots. The most 'habitable' one," he adds, air-quoting the word habitable with his fingers, "is Vlasthia X-2—a frozen hellscape."
"Then why the hell are we going there?"
"We’ve got a secret base under the ice," Jenna cuts in. A base under the ice? On a frozen planet at the edge of known space? I think about asking how they pulled that off, but I know better. I won’t get a straight answer.
"When do we get there?" I ask instead, trying to ignore how absurd this all sounds.
"Seven days, give or take a few hours," Alek replies, sipping his coffee like it’s a trip to the next city.
I shift in my seat, feeling a different kind of urgency. "Is there a shower? Or a bathroom?" I haven’t gone since I was arrested, and I smell like a dumpster fire. Coffee’s not helping either—now I really need to pee. And then take a long shower.
"Yup," Alek says, barely looking up as he lights a cigarette. "Jenna, show him."
I follow Jenna down a cramped corridor until she gestures toward a door on the right. "Bathroom’s here," she says before disappearing, leaving me to my own devices.
I step in, relieved to find a decent-sized room with a toilet and a shower that actually looks somewhat comfortable. Without wasting time, I unzip and take a long overdue piss. Who knew peeing could feel this good? Once I’m done and have washed my hands, I throw my clothes and underwear onto the floor.
I usually take cold showers in the mornings before work, but this time, I crank up the heat. Screw it. I know the water’s recycled—like on every starship—but that doesn’t matter. I let the warm spray hit me, and for the first time in what feels like ages, my muscles start to loosen up. It’s almost... nice. Like I can pretend, for a few minutes, that everything’s normal. I stop the water long enough to grab a sponge and drown it in shower gel, scrubbing myself like I’m trying to erase everything that’s happened. I feel grimy. Maybe I am.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Once I’m satisfied I’ve scrubbed off every layer of filth—physical and otherwise—I turn the water back on and let it rinse me clean. For a moment, I let myself relax. Close my eyes. Almost fall asleep on my feet. That’s when the damn alarm bleeps, warning me I’ve used too much water. The shower shuts off automatically.
Great.
I dry off with the towel, then put on my clothes again. Same grimy underwear, same black shirt, same everything. I’d kill for fresh ones, but apparently, that’s too much to ask for in this nightmare. Or is it? Maybe I’ll ask Alek or Jenna if they have something I can change into. We’re all familiar now, right?
I head back to the mess hall, where they’re still nursing their coffees. Alek’s smoking, naturally.
"Any chance you’ve got fresh clothes and underwear?" I ask, half hoping for a miracle.
"You’ll have to make do with what you’ve got," Jenna says. For once, she almost sounds sorry.
"You’ll need to get used to roughing it," Alek chimes in, clearly with no sympathy. "We’ve got bigger concerns than laundry. You’re the chosen one, meant to lead a revolution against the corporate oligarchy. You can’t do that while pampered."
Have I mentioned how much I hate this "chosen one" crap? I’ve got zero interest in leading some suicidal revolution against the United Corporate Systems. The only reason I’m sticking with these two weirdos is because the alternative is getting caught by the authorities and executed. And that’s only happening because they dragged me into this mess. If they hadn’t contacted me, I’d still be just another nobody in a sea of nobodies. Now, thanks to them, I’m public enemy number one.
There was a time when I used to think a life of adventure would be cool—like one of those HoloNet movies. Now? I’d give anything to go back to being a boring corporate accountant, crunching numbers, and drinking coffee that doesn’t taste like engine grease.
“You mentioned something about unlocking my potential,” I finally say, breaking the silence. “And something about an Oracle... and the prophecy that I’m the ‘chosen one’ with superpowers or whatever. Can someone explain that?”
“No,” Alek says flatly, not even looking up from his cigarette. He takes another drag, sips his coffee, and ignores me, like I’m not even there. Of course.
Jenna, the nicer one—if I’m being generous—speaks up. “You’ll find out when we get to Vlasthia X-2. It’s hard to explain right now. We told you the basics: you’re the chosen one, the Oracle prophesied it, and you’ve got superhuman abilities that we can unlock with her help.”
“That’s not much to go on,” I say, frustrated.
“To be honest, we don’t know much either,” Jenna shrugs. “The Oracle’s cryptic. Once we’re at the base, she’ll explain it better than we can.”
Great. Because that’s exactly what I need—more vague nonsense.
“For now,” Jenna adds with a smirk, “just be a good boy and don’t cause trouble for the rest of the trip.”
Patronizing. Fantastic. Here I am, supposedly the "chosen one" destined to lead a revolution, but they talk to me like I’m an inconvenience. Honestly, I can’t blame them. I don’t exactly scream “leader.” I’m just a guy who’s way in over his head.
The rest of the day drags on like a slow, painful death. I’m bored out of my mind, and neither Jenna nor Alek seem to care. Alek shuffles between the cockpit and the mess hall, mostly to refill his mug with more coffee, while Jenna locks herself away in her cabin, doing God knows what. Meanwhile, I’m left pacing the corridors of the ship like a caged animal, until Alek tells me to quit wandering and stay in my cabin.
Great. Now I’ve got nothing to do but lie on that stiff bed, back in my undershirt and shorts, staring at the grey ceiling. I would’ve killed for my holopad, but that’s back in my apartment on Syndrax, a million miles away. All I can do is think, and let me tell you, that’s the last thing I want to be stuck doing right now. What time is it anyway? Hell if I know. Space doesn’t have day or night, just endless void. I want this miserable trip to end already. That frozen hellhole of a planet they mentioned sounds like a vacation compared to being stuck on this ship with nothing but my thoughts.
The Oracle… just thinking about it makes me scoff. It’s insane, the idea that some woman can supposedly see the future. The longer I dwell on it, the more my irritation turns to anger. If this so-called Oracle hadn’t pointed her mystical finger at me, Jenna and Alek wouldn’t have dragged me into this mess. And if they hadn’t dragged me into this mess, I wouldn’t be running for my life. So yeah, thanks, Oracle. You really screwed me over.
After what feels like a lifetime, there’s a knock at the door. “Dinner,” Jenna calls out. Finally. I get up, switch back into the black shirt and trousers, and make my way to the mess hall. At least there’s food. Small mercy.
The smell hits me first—something actually good. Jenna’s setting out three plates on the table, and it’s sausages with fried potatoes. Definitely a step up from the sad sandwiches I usually manage to throw together. I slice into the sausage, take a bite, and yeah, it’s delicious. Way better than the sorry excuse for an omelet I had for breakfast.
Jenna glances at me, her voice softer than usual. “Must be hard, leaving everything behind like that.” She pauses, looking for a reaction, while Alek shoots me his usual look of disdain. “But from what I gathered, you didn’t have much of a social life—no friends, no one special. Maybe that makes it easier to leave Syndrax behind.”
Ouch. She didn’t mean to gut me, I’m sure, but hearing it out loud like that makes me feel even more pathetic. I mean, what do you call a guy who hasn’t had a friend since forever or a girlfriend since high school? Loser seems to fit. “Yeah,” I mumble, “I guess there’s that.”
We finish the meal in silence. No small talk, just the sound of chewing. My mind drifts to horny thoughts I really shouldn’t be having about Jenna, but I shut them down. Especially with Alek sitting there, not that I could make a move even if I wanted to.
After dinner, I retreat back to my cabin, slipping out of my clothes and onto the same bed that feels like it’s made out of concrete. I try to get comfortable, which is impossible, but after tossing and turning for what feels like hours, I finally manage to fall asleep.
I wake up at some point, though calling it morning is pointless out here in space. I throw on my regular clothes and step out of the cabin. As I make my way down the corridor to the mess hall, I hear voices. Jenna and Alek. They clearly don’t realize I’m awake. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I tiptoe closer, trying not to make a sound.
“I’m still not convinced we’ve got the right Ian McArthur,” Alek says, his voice low but tense.
“We found him exactly where the Oracle said he’d be,” Jenna replies, calm but firm. “It’s him.”
“We’ll see when we bring him to her…”
“Haven’t you already told him a hundred times that he’s the chosen one? The guy who’s gonna lead this big revolution against the corporate machine?”
There’s a pause, and I hear Alek sigh. “I just repeated what the Oracle told us. But honestly, I’m trying to convince myself more than him. I mean, look at him. This guy’s supposed to be the hero of some prophecy? The one with superhuman powers who’s gonna free humanity from corporate slavery? He’s a loser.”
Ouch.
Jenna’s voice softens a bit. “That’ll change. Once we get to the Oracle, she’ll unlock his potential. His powers. You need to have some faith, Alek. How’s he supposed to believe in this if you don’t?”
Another pause. “You’re right,” Alek mutters. “The Oracle hasn’t let us down yet.”
I linger for a minute, then make some extra noise with my steps, just enough to let them know I’m awake and not creeping around like a weirdo. “Morning,” I mumble through a yawn, doing my best to act like I didn’t just overhear their conversation. “Got any coffee?”
Jenna gestures toward the kitchen. “Yup.”
I grab a cup and take a sip. It’s awful. Somehow worse than yesterday, and that’s saying something. But, hey, I’m not exactly swimming in options here. “Breakfast?” I ask, hoping for something edible.
“Today’s Alek’s turn in the kitchen,” Jenna says, almost apologetically.
“And I only made coffee,” Alek adds, as if that’s an accomplishment. It explains why the coffee tastes like battery acid. Not that yesterday’s was much better, but this is a whole new level of bad. “I’ll make breakfast later,” he says, like I’m supposed to find comfort in that.
My stomach grumbles, loud enough that I’m sure they heard, but Alek either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Probably the latter.
Yeah, this trip is going to be a blast. I sigh internally, already dreading the rest of the day. I can’t wait for the moment we finally reach that frozen planet…