Okay, here we go. Time to wrangle these idiots. "Alright, everyone," I clapped my hands, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing. Which, let's be real, I usually didn't.

My eyes snagged on Emily, holy shit. That bodysuit… tight as hell. And it was riding up her back just enough. Damn, she looked amazing. Like, a straight-up firecracker. And she knew it, with that little smirk and a wink. She was doing that on purpose.

She sauntered over, pecked me on the cheek, "Alright, Captain," she said, all teasing and batting her eyes at me. She knew she was hot, the way she strutted away, that sway in her hips.

Danny shuffled past, his eyebrows practically touching as he tugged at the collar of his uniform. "This thing's tighter than a vacuum seal," he muttered, his voice a mix of annoyance and resignation. "I swear I just heard it squeak when I moved.”

And of course, Ryan, that little shit, jumped in. “Here, let me fix that wedgie for you, Danny.” Asshole. Tugging at his suit. Danny yelped, "Get your hands off me!" Face bright red. Ryan always had to mess with Danny. I’d probably do the same thing, if I’m being real.

“You two are hopeless,” I muttered, shaking my head. They were like a couple of toddlers. Still, I’d die for those two knuckleheads, wouldn't admit it though. They were idiots.

Okay, with all the last-minute stuff finally done, we were all in our spots on the bridge of the Triumph of Darron, ready to rock and roll. Zoe, our navigation officer, was front and center, looking like she was born to pilot this damn ship. I’m pretty sure she slept with a star chart under her pillow.

To her right, Emily was all focused, her eyes scanning the screens like she was dissecting them. She was a real looker when she was concentrating like that. If I didn't know better, I'd say she wanted to be here more than me. Maybe I was wrong, but damn if I wasn't curious.

Ryan and Danny were off to the side, like the nerdy science and engineering department, hunched over their consoles. Those two were a pair of tools sometimes, but when push came to shove, they knew their jobs. They were arguing about some pointless crap as usual. On Zoe’s left were Joey and Chris, the newbies, but not really. They were like the older brother types who hung out with us back in the day. Joey's got this quiet intensity about him, like he was carrying the weight of the world, which he kind of was, what with his dad being a grade-A shitbag and all. But underneath that brooding, he was solid. A good dude.

Chris, on the other hand, was all smiles and energy. The guy just radiated positivity, it was almost sickening, bet he was glad to be part of the crew. He was a last-minute addition, someone to bring along with Joey. But all that charm was just hiding the fact that he was a beast in combat, yeah, we had that going for us.

***

Okay, everyone was in position. I took a deep breath, the kind you take before jumping off a cliff. "Alright, initiate undocking procedures," I said, trying to sound all captain-y. Like I knew what the hell I was doing.

"Alright, everyone," I said, settling into the captain’s chair. My voice sounded steadier than I felt, which was all that mattered. "Initiate undocking procedures. Let’s do this clean."

“You got it, Captain,” Zoe responded, her fingers already moving over the controls. She had that cocky little smirk that said she could do this blindfolded. The Triumph of Darron rumbled softly, the engines humming alive beneath us. The vibrations carried through the deck, like the ship itself was just as eager as I was.

"Docking clamps disengaged," Emily reported, her tone steady. "Jetbridge retracted. All systems nominal."

“Copy that,” I said, watching as Zoe began the delicate work of easing us out of the bay. “Nice and steady.”

Chris leaned into his console, toggling the comms. “Genesis Platform, this is Triumph of Darron,” he said, his tone all business. It suited him, even if I could tell he was barely holding back a grin.

A short burst of static came through before the reply: “Triumph of Darron, this is Genesis Traffic Control. We read you loud and clear. What’s your status?”

“Traffic Control, we are undocked and maneuvering clear of the bay,” Chris replied smoothly. “Requesting departure clearance.”

“Roger that, Triumph,” came the response. “You are cleared for departure. Proceed on vector zero-seven-one until you are 10 kilometers clear, then resume your planned course. Safe travels.”

“Copy, Traffic Control,” Chris said. “Proceeding on vector zero-seven-one. Thank you, Genesis.”

The Triumph glided smoothly away from the platform, Zoe working the controls like the damn artist she was. The massive structure of Genesis shrank in the viewport, its spindly construction like a web against the stars. It looked smaller already, which was saying something. I swallowed a weird lump in my throat. Nostalgia or nerves? Could’ve been both.

"Ship’s clear," Zoe announced, her voice calm but smug, like she’d just nailed a perfect landing. Which she had, in reverse.

"Confirmed," Emily added. "All systems green. You’re good to set our course when ready, Captain."

Chris switched the comms. “Genesis Traffic Control, this is Triumph of Darron. Clear of the platform and proceeding on departure vector.”

"Copy, Triumph. You are cleared to engage your next sequence. Safe journey, and we’ll see you on the other side." The radio crackled one last time before falling silent.

And just like that, we were on our way.

Chris thanked them, ending the transmission with a smooth, practiced move. He turned to me, gave me a thumbs-up and a wide grin, all teeth and boyish charm. “That was easy,” he said.

I tried to keep it cool, but a small laugh escaped my lips. “Don’t get too comfortable yet, Chris. We still have a long way to go.”

Just then, the comms panel on Chris's console chirped, a rhythmic pulse indicating an incoming priority message. He tapped a control, his brow furrowing slightly. "We've got a priority one hail from Genesis, Captain," he reported, his voice all business. "It's Commander Rossi."

I nodded, straightening up a little in my chair. "Patch it through to the bridge speakers, but keep it formal." This wasn't just a casual chat; it was a message to the entire crew, and potentially being recorded for the logs.

Chris manipulated the controls, his fingers moving with practiced ease. A soft tone echoed through the bridge, signaling the open channel.

"Triumph of Darron," a familiar voice filled the bridge, rich with authority. "This is Commander Athan of the Genesis Station. Please confirm receipt."

"This is Captain Luca Rossi of the Triumph of Darron," I replied, my voice echoing slightly in the sudden formality. "We read you loud and clear, Commander. Go ahead."

There was a brief pause, a moment of static that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Then, my father's voice, a little softer now, but no less commanding. "To the crew of the Triumph of Darron, I extend my official best wishes for a successful and safe voyage. You have trained hard, and you are prepared for the challenges ahead." He paused, clearing this throat.

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"You carry the hopes of many with you," Athan continued, his tone gaining strength. "The success of this mission, the data you gather, will be invaluable to the United Earth Republic, and the IFC. Remember your training, rely on your crewmates, and conduct yourselves with honor and integrity. Genesis Station will be monitoring your progress. We expect great things."

"We will do our best, Commander," I said, glancing around at the crew, who were all listening intently. "Thank you for your support."

"Don't worry, Commander," Emily chimed in, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "We'll keep him in line."

"Good. Remember what I said about sticking together." He paused, then to me, "Luca. Lead them well, son. Make me proud."

My throat tightened unexpectedly. "I will, Dad. I promise."

"Good. Genesis Station out." The connection closed with a soft click, leaving a sudden silence on the bridge.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and turned to face my crew. “Alright, guys,” I started, trying to keep the excitement from making my voice crack. “This is it. Our journey begins now.” I glanced around at each of them—Emily, focused and ready; Zoe, smirking with anticipation; Danny, a little nervous, but determined; Ryan, already scheming, I just knew it; Joey, looking steady and resolute; and then, back to Chris, who flashed me another bright smile. Was he flirting with me?

Across the bridge, Danny’s fingers danced across his console, his brow furrowed in concentration as he double-checked the readings. On his screen, the Genesis Platform was already a distant speck, barely visible amidst the swirling chaos of the asteroid belt.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied groan as he finished the final systems checks. He shot me a confident wink. "All green, Captain. Ready to punch it."

Joey's gaze swept over the crew, his eyes lingering for a moment on each of us. He tapped a few commands into his console, his expression unreadable. When our eyes met, he gave a curt nod. "Vitals are nominal," he reported, his voice calm and steady.

I cleared my throat, because, you know, captain stuff. I hated speeches, but sometimes I gotta say something, right? I didn't want to be captain, no one else did, so here I was, stuck. “Alright, everyone, let’s remember why we’re out here.” Ugh, this sounded so lame, the words tasted like ash. I tried to sound like I knew what I was doing, like some action movie hero. “We have a mission to explore the Alpha Centauri system and uncover its secrets.” I paused, met each of their eyes, trying to look all serious and professional. “It’s gonna be scary, exciting, and awkward at times, but I know we can handle it.”

My words got a few chuckles out of them, and I couldn’t help but grin. It was nice when they weren’t looking at me like I was a complete loser.

“But seriously, guys,” I continued, “this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Let’s make the most of it and discover something extraordinary. If it goes well, we’ll secure funding to continue these sort of missions in the future.” Okay, that was enough inspirational captain bullshit for one day.

I took one last look at the disappearing platform, a mix of relief and anticipation swirling inside me before I settled back into my chair, my face set with some kind of determined expression. “Now, let’s get this show on the road. Engage primary thrusters, Mr. Mitchell. Ms. Woods, plot a course for the Oort cloud passage.”

“Yes, Sir!” they shouted back in unison, then burst out laughing. I couldn’t help but laugh with them, they were a bunch of goddamn goofballs. The good kind.

Ryan activated his control panel, and the Triumph of Darron kicked into gear, accelerating smoothly away from the asteroid belt. I leaned back, feeling the low hum of the engines vibrating through the ship.

To my right, Danny was a statue, his eyes fixed on his sensor readings. Zoe, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of motion, double-checking her coordinates with rapid-fire movements. Her gaze flickered between the console, Danny, and Ryan, a hint of a smile playing on her lips whenever she looked their way, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she's got a crush. I felt a pang of empathy for her, it couldn’t be easy being stuck between those two goofballs. I knew all too well how hard it was to admit feelings for someone when you're around them all the time, especially if it was complicated. What was she waiting for? They were all idiots.

With our duties done, the ship cleared the asteroid belt and set its sights for the Oort Cloud. Chris relayed our destination to flight control, the guy always seemed to know the right thing to say. One by one, they left the bridge, their tasks done for now as the ship shifted to autopilot. And then I was left alone. Fuck. Captain’s log, I muttered to myself, today I gave a horrible speech, and everyone laughed at me.

***

The cabin door slid shut behind me with a soft hiss, and I was alone, finally. For a minute, I just stood there, taking it all in. The walls were stark, like some kind of military prison cell, the furniture was too damn new to feel like mine, and the overhead lights were buzzing brightly, we should have installed dimmers. It wasn't much, but it was mine for this trip, or however long this mess lasted. I could smell the sterile plastic, the recycled air, everything felt too clean, too new. I wanted to mark it, leave my stink on the place.

I wandered over to the tiny desk by the viewport, placing the picture frame I brought from home right in the center. It was a shot of all of us, my mom, Maddie, smiling with that tired but warm look she always had; my dad, Athan, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but in front of the camera; and my brothers, Matteo and Alessio, grinning like a couple of idiots in matching Christmas sweaters. I ran my thumb along the edge, feeling the ghosts of the last real good holiday before everything went to shit. Before we lost mom. Before everything turned to dust.

I shook off the nostalgia that was creeping into my chest, put the picture down, and turned my attention to the bed. The mattress looked like something straight out of a hospital, sterile and unwelcoming. Like they were expecting me to die here. I unzipped the bag holding my comforter and sheets, giving it a few jerky shakes that sent static crackling in the air. The warm, flannel comforter unfolded in my hands, soft and familiar against my skin. I threw it onto the mattress and smoothed it out with a few half-hearted swipes, “Close enough,” I muttered. I could still smell the detergent, too clean.

Next up were the crates at the foot of the bed. I popped the lid off the first one to find my standard-issue uniforms, neatly folded like I was some kind of military robot. I dumped the uniforms into one of the drawers, stacking them in uneven piles that sort of toppled into the drawers. The plastic smell of the factory still clung to them, a stark contrast to the familiar scent of home I was trying to create.

The second box held my casual clothes, mostly gym clothes, those shorts and loungewear. My eyes landed on a set of flannel pajamas, green and black, and I snorted. Zoe and Emily’s handiwork, 100 percent. They thought they were funny, those two. I bet they’d planned this out for weeks. There were three sets, enough for a change, and for when the other two were dirty. They were soft though, they’d be nice and cozy at night.

The third box was heavier. Boots, spare gloves, and other gear. I pulled out the boots first—white, matching the bodysuits, with that clean, no-nonsense look that screamed crew uniform. They had magnetic soles, too, for when gravity inevitably decided to take a day off. Practical. Fine. They were even velcro, because apparently we’re kindergartners now, incapable of handling laces. I bet Emily and Zoe thought that was hilarious.

They looked like they’d be comfortable, though. Probably needed breaking in, but they’d do the job. I tucked them into the bottom of the wardrobe carefully, right where boots belonged. Gotta take care of your boots—they’re the only thing standing between you and the vacuum of space. These ones still smelled new, like rubber and whatever synthetic leather substitute they used. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right, either. My old boots? They smelled like leather and sweat—a good smell. Familiar. Like they’d been through hell and back with me. These ones had some work to do before earning that kind of loyalty.

By the time I was done, the room looked a little less like a storage closet, and more like it might actually belong to me. It was still not perfect, I'll likely be shuffling all this stuff around for days. I could still smell the emptiness.

I sat down at the desk, elbows on the surface, staring out at the endless black through the viewport. Out there, somewhere, was the Oort Cloud, and beyond that, Alpha Centauri. It was huge, too big almost, but then I looked back at the photo, and felt a sense of duty wash over me. I had to do this for them, for mom. It was the only way to make the world right.

I glanced around the cabin, now slightly more lived-in. I dug into my duffel bag and pulled out my old RISK board game. The worn box felt familiar, grounding. I spent countless hours playing it with my brothers, the sound of our laughter echoing in the kitchen back on Earth. I set it down on the shelf above the desk, letting my fingers linger for a moment. I could almost hear them yelling at each other, the stupid strategy we used to argue about.

Then, I pulled out my Energy Tomahawk, its blade gleaming faintly in the dim light. It had been with me on so many missions where stealth and precision meant the difference between life and death. The metal felt cold, but right, in my hand, like a natural extension of my arm. It reminded me of the danger that was always waiting for me, the blood I had spilled. I placed it carefully on the desk beside my laptop, the weight of it both reassuring and a little terrifying.

I leaned back in my chair, my gaze drawn to the viewport. The vast expanse of black, punctuated only by the distant pinpricks of stars, seemed to stretch on forever. Out there, somewhere, lay the Oort Cloud, and beyond that, Alpha Centauri. A low hum vibrated through the deck, a constant reminder of the powerful engines that were carrying us further and further from home. I pictured the crew in their own cabins, unpacking, making their own spaces, hopefully not tearing each other to shreds.

The picture frame on my desk was slightly crooked. I reached out and adjusted it, aligning it perfectly with the edge of the desk. Mom, Dad, Matteo, Alessio—all smiling back at me, frozen in a moment of happiness from a lifetime ago. A wave of longing washed over me, so strong it almost took my breath away.