Together, Emily and I made our way to the mess hall, my heart pounding as much from anticipation as the snugness of my uniform. Every step through the corridors of the Triumph of Darron made me acutely aware of how the suit clung to my body, highlighting everything—everything. And if I felt exposed, I could only imagine what the others would look like.

When we reached the mess hall entrance, Zoe was already there, leaning against the doorframe like she’d been plucked straight from a magazine spread. Her long legs looked impossibly sleek in the form-fitting suit, the material hugging her in ways that should’ve been outlawed. The zipper of her uniform was pulled down just enough to draw attention to her small chest, a tease of almod skin visible beneath. She caught me looking and smiled, running her hand down her waist like she knew the effect she had.

“Damn, Zoe,” Emily exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. “You look incredible.”

Zoe tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Thanks. I guess this suit does have its advantages.” Her voice was light, but her eyes were practically daring someone to disagree.

Holy shit, I thought, trying to keep my expression neutral. How am I supposed to focus with this going on?

Before I could say anything, Joey walked up, his uniform stretching taut over his broad shoulders and chest. And, yeah, there was no missing the way the material left absolutely nothing to the imagination below the belt. Joey didn’t even look embarrassed—in fact, he was grinning like this was the best day of his life.

“We’re never going to be able to concentrate with all these distractions walking around,” he said, his tone half-joking but his gaze lingering on Zoe.

Ryan strolled in next, his sandy blonde hair as messy as ever, but his uniform made him look like some kind of space model. The sleeves clung to his arms, showcasing muscles that, let’s be honest, deserved to be shown off. He grinned as he approached, flexing just a little as he slid into the group. “Speak for yourself, Joey. I’m just glad I can finally show off my muscles without having to wear a tank top.”

Okay, Luca, breathe, I told myself. Between Ryan’s casual confidence, Joey’s unintentional thirst-trap vibe, and Zoe’s deliberate smolder, my brain was on fire. And then there was Emily beside me, the warmth of her body brushing against mine, her suit highlighting every curve—damn it, focus.

Danny shuffled in next, tugging at his uniform with an annoyed groan. “Can we just appreciate how uncomfortable these new uniforms are? I feel like they’re constantly riding up.”

I almost laughed at the sight of Danny—freckled, red-faced, and clearly out of his element—but even he managed to make the outfit work. The snug material showed off his lean frame in ways I hadn’t noticed before, and the way his curly hair shifted slightly as he moved made him look oddly endearing. Why is everyone on this ship so ridiculously attractive?

“The lady told us they’ll break in,” Emily said, her voice soothing. “It should be wicked comfortable after a couple of wears.”

Meanwhile, Chris walked in behind Danny, cool and confident as ever. His jet-black hair framed his face perfectly, and his suit practically glowed under the mess hall’s lights. The bulge in his pants was... noticeable, and he clearly didn’t give a damn. Seriously? Is this my life now?

I stepped back slightly, my gaze sweeping over the team. Zoe’s dimples, Emily’s curves, Joey’s confidence, Ryan’s charm, Danny’s endearing awkwardness, Chris’s cool swagger—every single one of them looked like they’d stepped out of a fantasy.

Years of fighting together, of building trust and risking our lives for each other, had led to this. A crew so hot they could melt steel beams just by walking into a room. My chest swelled with pride—and something a lot less noble—as I looked at them. We’re doomed, I thought. Absolutely doomed.

“Alright, alright,” I said, trying to play it cool as I clapped my hands together. “Let’s focus. Everyone looks... great.”

We finally gathered around the mess hall’s oversized table, everyone crammed into seats that were clearly not designed with this many egos in mind. I sat at the head because, well... I was the Captain. My table... was already scratched and scuffed, already broken in, even though we hadn’t left yet. We'd need to be more careful around here if we wanted things to last, I thought, and I drummed my fingers against the surface, stalling for time. The chatter died down, and all eyes turned to me.

God, I hated this part. Speeches. They were awkward and unnecessary. Everyone here knew what they were doing—or at least pretended to—and I wasn’t about to act like I had some profound wisdom to drop on them. Still, Captain duties and all that. I leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Alright, listen up,” I started, keeping my tone casual because that’s all I had. “I know this whole setup’s new. The ship, the uniforms, the tiny gym shorts. Yeah, it’s tight, and yeah, it’s weird. But we’ll figure it out.” I paused, letting my eyes sweep across the crew. “Just don’t fuck up too badly, alright?”

That earned a few laughs, and I couldn’t help but smile. Humor: 1, Awkward Silence: 0.

Leaning back, I stretched my arms behind my head like I wasn’t winging every word. “Let’s get the last of the cargo loaded and get moving. The sooner we’re out there, the sooner we start making history.”

The crew nodded, murmuring their agreements as they stood to head off to their tasks. The table emptied, leaving me sitting there for a moment, staring at the now-vacant seats.

Do we have everything? Hell if I knew. We had food, fuel, and enough gear to at least pretend we were ready. That’d have to be enough. The rest? We’d figure it out as we went, or we wouldn’t. Either way, the clock was ticking, and Alpha Centauri wasn’t getting any closer.

This was my team. Flawed, ridiculous, way too attractive for my sanity, but they were mine. And somehow, I had to keep them alive, functional, and hopefully out of each other’s pants long enough to complete the mission.

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“Great pep talk, Captain,” I muttered under my breath, standing up and heading for the door. Let’s see if we can survive launch without blowing something up.

***

The mess hall had cleared out, leaving me alone. I shook my head, trying to clear my brain. Right. Loading. We needed to finish loading the ship.

I headed towards the cargo bay, the hum of the Triumph's systems growing louder with each step. As I rounded the corner, I saw the crew struggling with a particularly large crate, its metal edges groaning under the strain. Or rather, most of the crew.

"Easy, easy!" Danny was saying, his voice tight with anxiety. He was practically hovering over the crate, his hands outstretched as if he could prevent any damage through sheer force of will. "We need to be careful. That contains sensitive calibration equipment. If we jostle it too much—"

"Relax, science boy," Ryan said, his tone far too casual for someone who was supposed to be helping. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching Emily, Zoe, and Chris grunt and push. "They've got it."

"A little help here, Ryan?" Emily grunted, her face flushed from the effort. The muscles in her arms were straining against the fabric of her uniform, and for a moment, I was too distracted to be annoyed.

"Yeah," Zoe added, her voice low and slightly breathless. "Unless you're planning on carrying this thing to Alpha Centauri yourself?"

Ryan pushed himself off the wall with a lazy grin. "Fine, fine. But someone should've grabbed a pallet jack. My back isn't what it used to be." He sauntered over to the crate, finally deigning to add his strength to the effort.

As they inched the crate forward, its metal legs scraped against the floor, making me wince. "Guys, guys! Watch the floor!" I called out, hurrying over. "The ship is brand new! You're going to scratch it all up."

"Maybe if someone helped instead of just supervising," Chris muttered under his breath. He adjusted his grip, his biceps bulging.

"Seriously," I said, trying to regain some authority, "We need to lift, not drag. There are pallet jacks for a reason." I gestured to the controls on the side of the crate.

"Yeah, yeah," Ryan said, waving me off. "We're almost there. Just a few more feet." With a final, combined heave, they shoved the crate into place, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the bay.

Panting slightly, Zoe leaned against the crate, her chest rising and falling. She shot me a grin. "See? We got it. No scratches."

I ran a hand over the floor, inspecting for damage. "Just try to be more careful next time, okay?" I said, trying not to sound too much like a nagging parent. "This isn't some beat-up freighter. It's our home now." I paused, then added, "And a very expensive one at that."

Danny, ever the pragmatist, was already scanning the crate with a handheld device. "Readings are nominal," he announced, relief evident in his voice. "No damage to the equipment."

"See? We're professionals," Ryan said, clapping Danny on the back a little too hard. Danny stumbled, and I saw Zoe's hand twitch like she wanted to steady him. Interesting.

"Alright," I said, clapping my hands together, "Let's get the rest of this stuff loaded. And someone grab a pallet jack this time. Please." I shot a pointed look at Ryan, who just grinned back, unrepentant.

***

I stood near the loading bay, watching them hustle to get the last of our supplies onboard. This was it—the moment we’d been building toward for months. The Triumph of Darron was about to embark on its maiden voyage into the unknown, and I was leading the charge with my closest friends by my side. No pressure or anything.

Running a hand through my hair, I tried—and failed—to ignore the wedgie creeping up my butt. The damn bodysuit was tight as hell, but Emily swore it would “break in” eventually. For now, it just felt like a polite, fabric-covered assault on my dignity. Still, she’d chosen this for the crew, and I wasn’t about to half-ass it. Fine, bodysuit. You win this round.

Emily glanced my way and flashed me a quick smile before returning to her work, her blonde ponytail swishing as she moved. Focus, Luca. Focus on the ship. The mission. Literally anything else.

The final crates were secured, and the crew started drifting toward the bridge. For a moment, I felt a pang of sadness. We were leaving everything behind—the station, the platform, the only life we’d ever known. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To go where no man has gone before?

As I turned toward the bridge, I saw Dad making his way toward me. His timing was impeccable, as always. Athan Rossi—the man who’d taught me everything I knew about space and survival, now watching me take my first real steps as Captain. It was weird seeing him like this, not as the commander of the Genesis Platform, but just... my dad.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, pulling him into a quick, awkward hug. “Glad you made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” he replied, his voice steady but warm. “A journey into uncharted territory. I’m proud of you, son.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I stood a little straighter, nodding as if I wasn’t completely floored. “Thanks, Dad,” I said, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.

His eyes flicked down to my uniform, and his lips twitched with the kind of amusement that only a dad could manage. “You’re really going to travel through space in that?” he asked, gesturing at my snug outfit.

I grinned, even as my cheeks burned. “Emily promised it’ll loosen up after a few wears,” I said, tugging at the fabric riding up my thighs. “And hey, it’s supposed to protect against cuts and scrapes. Fashion and function, right?”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “Well, let’s hope it holds up. I brought you something to make the journey a little easier.” He held up two cases of wine, his expression softening in a way I wasn’t used to. “For celebrating new discoveries—or just surviving the day.”

I froze for a second, staring at him. Celebrating new discoveries? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he being literal, like, “Good job finding a new planet, here’s a toast”? Or was there more to it? Dad wasn’t exactly the “wink-wink, nudge-nudge” type. Since Mom died, he’d been all business, all the time—focused, serious, the kind of guy who measured success in results, not feelings. And yet, here he was, holding wine like we were about to party our way through Alpha Centauri.

Was he telling me to cut loose?

My mind went into overdrive. Was this some kind of subtle dad-code for “go out there and enjoy the hell out of life”? Was he telling me to celebrate everything I discovered? Planets, new species, Emily’s body, Ryan’s tight ass—holy shit, stop thinking. But seriously, what if he meant it like that? Was this some weird father-son bonding moment where he was low-key telling me to… explore?

No. No way. This was Athan Rossi. Mr. Stoic. He couldn’t possibly mean—could he? I tried to shake off the thought, but my brain wasn’t letting it go. Damn it, Dad. Be clearer with your cryptic life advice!

I glanced at the cases of wine, my grip tightening around the handles. “Uh, thanks, Dad,” I said, my voice steady even as my brain continued its internal meltdown. “I’ll, uh, make sure it gets used for... appropriate celebrations.” Smooth, Luca. Very smooth.

He gave me a knowing look, the kind that made me feel like he could see through every bullshit layer I was trying to hide behind. “Good,” he said simply, patting my shoulder before turning to greet the rest of the crew.

As I watched him walk away, I felt like I was missing something—a joke I wasn’t in on, or maybe just another one of those dad moments that only made sense years later. My thoughts drifted back to Emily, the way her uniform hugged her curves, and to Ryan, who had no right looking that good in anything. Celebrating new discoveries.

Was that Dad’s way of saying, Go live your life, kid? Go screw around? Or just… don’t be afraid to feel something? I sighed, hefting the wine cases. Either way, the man had dropped a philosophical grenade on me and walked off like it was nothing.

Fine, Dad. I’ll figure it out. Eventually. Probably. Maybe after a glass of this wine. Or three.