I was slouched at the bar in my dad’s shipyard café, tapping my fingers on the worn wood counter. The place smelled like espresso and grease, a weird mix that somehow felt like home. The hot chocolate in front of me was damn near perfect—rich and smooth, the kind that made you forget the station’s busted climate control was letting the cold creep in through every seam. Outside the big plate-glass windows, all you could see was the endless dark of space, the neon red sign buzzing softly like it was trying to stay awake. Cozy, but in that slightly rundown, “we don’t fix things until they’re broken” way. Classic Athan Rossi vibes.

The door swung open. My old man. Calloused hands, a face that could sell you a starship or rearrange your face, depending on the hour. He spotted me, that little smirk tugging at his mouth—Here we go again, kid.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, trying not to sound like I was hitting him up for cash. Grinned anyway. It’s a reflex. “Got something I wanna run by you.”

He slid onto the stool across from me and waved down the server for his usual double espresso. The man could probably drink rocket fuel and still sleep like a baby. "For you, Luca? Always." He leaned back, all casual, like he had all the time in the world.

We shot the shit for a bit—family, the crew, whatever small talk we could scrape together. It was mostly him asking about the latest portal delve, me trying to make it sound less dangerous than it was. You know, the usual.

“So, what’s the emergency that couldn’t wait?” he asked.

I leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “Okay, so here’s the deal: the Triumph. The Alpha Centauri ship.”

“The one Karen’s funding? What about it?”

“We need to talk ship, literally,” I said, lowering my voice. “Look, Genesis builds solid stuff, workhorses, yeah? But this… this needs to be different.”

“Different how?”

“Big, Dad. Way bigger than your usual runabouts. Think long-haul, adaptable. Alpha Centauri is just stop one. We need a ship that can be a home out there, for years if necessary.”

He raised an eyebrow, gaze sharp. "Years? Planning a one-way trip?"

"Hell no," I said, maybe too fast. Didn't want him thinking we were bailing, not after Mom. "But we need to be ready for anything. Private cabins, not bunks. Real mess hall, labs, a hangar. This isn't a joyride; we’re pushing boundaries. We might even hit past level 60 out there, who knows? We need a ship that can keep up.”

“And what happens when you run into something out there that pushes back?” he asked, now leaning forward, his voice serious. I guess I must have spooked him.

“We’ll be ready. Best damn team in the sector. Ryan’s engineering brain, Danny’s science smarts, even Zoe picked navigator at 54. With the right ship, we can handle it. Besides, this is our shot to show the UER what we’re made of. To go beyond.”

He was silent, stirring his espresso. "It's more than just seeing new planets for you, isn't it?"

“It's about a lot of things. Getting away from here, maybe. Seeing something new.” I replied quickly. There was a lot I wanted to do: explore the universe and see new stars and new planets. My team needed a break; we’d been delving into portals nonstop, raising money for this mission to commission our ship. I remember that original ‘System’ message four years ago. The system arrived to all civilizations in the Milky Way. I wanted to see them, I wanted to get there first.

"Your mother always said you had stars in your eyes," my dad said, sighing, a hint of sadness in his voice. He must be remembering her, how much she had believed in me, in this crazy dream.

"Maybe I do. Is that so wrong?" I asked, an edge to my voice. Maybe I needed this escape, this chance to prove myself. And maybe the team did too. We'd spent years delving, fighting to survive in those damn portals. We deserved a break from the grind, a chance to see something beyond Earth and its endless politics.

He sighed. "He sighed. "No. But space is a bitch, Luca. Doesn’t give a damn about dreams.” He was right, of course. It had been a bitch setting up the Shipyard and running it; so many teams had been lost on Mars, Europa, and so many other planets and moons, people who went in unprepared, underequipped, or just had bad luck.

“That’s why we need the right ship, Dad. A fighting chance.” I pulled out my tablet. Emily said I drew like a kid, but whatever. “Look.”

I didn’t wait for him to agree before diving in. “Midsize, roomy for eight. Modular so we don’t kill each other in tight spaces. Big, open bridge with map tables and viewports. Private cabins – screw the bunks. A mess hall that isn’t a closet. Labs, hangar. Comfort and function, that’s the play.”

I couldn’t stop once I got rolling. My hands were flying everywhere, gesturing like I was already giving a tour of the ship that didn’t even exist yet. “Surveying planets, charting systems nobody’s even named yet. We find a good spot, touch down, and bam—alien landscapes under our boots.”

My voice got louder without me meaning it to. “Think about it, Pop. We could uncover entire civilizations, or strike it rich on resources no one’s even dreamed of. And the team—my crew—we’re ready to make it happen.”

He sipped his coffee, slow and steady like he had all the time in the universe. “Quite the adventure you’ve got planned,” he said, one eyebrow raised like he wasn’t sure if I was a genius or just full of shit. “And what about when you need some R&R?”

I threw my head back, stretching, letting the warmth of the chocolate spread through me. "Oh, don’t worry, Pop. We’ve got plenty of comfortable spaces for that too." In my head, I could already see it: the plush lounge, the dim lighting. Perfect for, you know, unwinding after a long day of discovering new galaxies. Maybe with Emily, her laughter echoing softly, or Zoe, leaning in close, whispering about some nebula she just charted. Not that I’d say any of that out loud. “Picture it. Dad: soft rustle of pages, the murmurs of strategy over poker, the kind of vibe that makes the ship feel like home.” My eyes lit up as another idea hit me “Or," I said, grinning, "help Zoe whip up one of her famous casseroles in our state-of-the-art kitchen."

Okay, so I didn’t really care about casseroles, but imagining Zoe in the kitchen, her apron over her bare shoulders, her ass sticking out? Yeah, that was something. Not that I’d say that out loud, especially not to Dad. No way I was letting him know half the shit rattling around in my brain.

Dad sipped his espresso and gave me the look—the one that said, You’ve got big dreams, kid, but do you have the budget? “You know this isn’t going to be cheap,” he muttered. “Just the space alone—the engine, building materials, furnishings... Installing that FTL drive.”

I plastered on my most confident smile, even though my stomach did a nervous flip at the mention of the Drive. "I know it’s a big undertaking, Dad," I said, throwing in a casual shrug like I wasn’t sweating bullets over the numbers. "But I’ve run the math. Between our savings and some financial backing from Karen at the IFC, I’m confident we can make it work."

The word confident hung in the air like I had it tattooed across my forehead. Truth was, I was about 80% sure we could pull this off, and that 20% uncertainty? Yeah, I buried that under layers of bravado and blind optimism. What was the alternative? Give up before I even started? Not my style. Besides, if we didn’t figure it out, Emily would definitely kill me, and Zoe would probably find a way to make it worse just for fun.

Dad raised an eyebrow, the kind of eyebrow lift that could stop a lesser man in his tracks. "This is... ambitious, Luca. You do realize what you're asking for, right? This isn't just a bigger ship. It's a whole different class." He shook his head slightly, running a hand over his tired face. "The cost... we're talking 400, maybe 500 million, easy. And that's a bare-bones estimate. No gravity generator, no supplies."

For a second, my enthusiasm dipped like someone had cut the power. Half a billion credits? It was a number so big it didn’t even feel real. But I wasn’t about to show weakness—not now, not in front of him.

"I know it’s a lot of money, Dad," I admitted, my voice steady, “but we'll make it back. We find something valuable out there, a new resource, a new technology... it'll pay for itself. And Karen, she believes in the mission. She greenlit the Triumph Initiative, remember?.”

"She greenlit a proposal," he countered, his voice firm. "Building a ship like this... that's a whole different ball game. I'll have to clear some schedules, expand the drydock..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And Karen's a businesswoman, Luca. She'll expect a return on her investment."

Of course, she would, why else would she loan us the money? It's her IFC on the line as well. The United Earth Republic would have her head if we failed. "We'll give her one. I know we will," I said, my voice ringing with a conviction I hoped I could live up to.

God, I hope that doesn’t sound as desperate as it feels.

Dad leaned back, studying me with that thoughtful expression he always got when he was deciding if I was full of shit or just stubborn enough to pull it off. "You always were the ambitious one," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Ambitious," yeah, that was one word for it. Maybe reckless or stupidly hopeful would've been more accurate. Relief bubbled up as he added, "Alright, let me talk to my engineers. We'll run the numbers, see what's feasible. No promises, but I'll see what I can do."

I grinned so wide it hurt. "Thanks, Dad. You won't regret it." We clinked our mugs together, his espresso against my hot chocolate, and for a second, it felt like we'd already won. Like maybe, just maybe, this crazy dream could actually happen.

In the back of my mind, though, the doubts were already lining up, whispering about how much was riding on this. How much I was risking. But I pushed them aside. We'd figure it out. We had to. I wasn't ready to let this go, not yet. Not ever.

***

Four months. Four damn months of waiting, planning, and scraping together credits like a broke college kid saving for spring break. And now, here we were, standing by the port window like kids on Christmas morning. The Triumph of Darron—our ship—was finally ready. Well, technically, it was docked nearby, still under the watchful eye of one of Dad’s pilots. But seeing it released from the shipyard clamps was something else.

I leaned forward, my hands pressed against the cool glass, trying to soak it all in. “Look at her,” I said, barely able to keep the grin off my face. “Is it just me, or does she look even better than the schematics?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Zoe chimed in from beside me, her voice low and a little too smooth. I caught her reflection in the glass—big, dark eyes shining as she tilted her head just enough for the light to catch her long dreadlocks. I knew that look. Zoe didn’t just admire things; she studied them, like she was already figuring out how to make the Triumph her playground. Typical Zoe.

Ryan, standing on my other side, gave a low whistle. “Looks fast. Reckon we could race her?” He elbowed me, grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah, until we leave your sorry ass in the dust,” I shot back. But my chest tightened a little at the thought. This wasn’t just a ship—it was ours. The culmination of every stupidly ambitious, half-baked dream I’d had since we hit level 60 and picked our classes. And now? Now it was real.

Emily brushed past me, her ponytail swishing as she stepped closer to the window. She had that look—focused, a little too serious for the moment. “You sure it’s ready for us, Luca?” she asked, her tone soft but edged with that undercurrent of doubt that always made me second-guess myself.

“Hell yes, it’s ready,” I said, more for me than her. “We’ve got everything: Dad’s cutting-edge designs and the Vanguard Hyper-Displacement Drive we pulled from Venus. You were there. You saw what we went through to get it.”

And I wasn’t lying. That level 60 portal on Venus had been no joke—an absolute meat grinder of traps, mobs, and some bastard of a boss who nearly took Ryan’s arm off. But we did it. We made it out, drive in hand, just before the whole portal collapsed behind us. Single-use bullshit. Still, that drive? Worth every scraped knuckle and close call.

I looked over at Danny, who had been quiet this whole time, his gaze fixed on the Triumph. Typical Danny—always thinking ten steps ahead. “What do you think, science boy? Ready to leave the textbooks behind and play mad scientist in zero-G?”“Only if you promise not to break my labs on day one,” he said.

“No promises,” I said with a shrug, and Zoe snickered beside me.

The ship was everything I’d hoped for: a Galactic Surveyor Type MK I, sleek and modular, built for exploration but with enough creature comforts to make long missions bearable. It wasn’t just Dad’s first large ship—it was our masterpiece. And that Vanguard drive? It could push us to .5 AU per second. Half a fucking astronomical unit. It was still hard to wrap my head around speeds like that.

“Once we’re past the Oort cloud, we’ll be golden,” Ryan said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “You sure about that corridor to Alpha Centauri? No ice dust, no debris? Sounds too good to be true.”

“It’s legit,” I said, clapping him on the back. “Gravitational pull or system mechanics or some other science shit—whatever it is, it’s clear. Three weeks, give or take, and we’ll be touching down on alien soil.”

Emily crossed her arms, her expression softening just enough to let me know she wasn’t completely sold but wouldn’t argue. Yet. “Alright, Captain,” she said with a small smile. “You’ve got us this far. Let’s see if you can keep us alive for the next leg.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Challenge accepted,” I said, turning back to the window. My reflection grinned back at me, cocky as hell. Inside, though, I was buzzing with nerves, excitement, and something I couldn’t quite name. This was it—the start of something big, something crazy.

And, yeah, maybe I was imagining Zoe lounging in one of the ship’s plush chairs, or Emily leaning over the bridge console. Sue me. I was twenty, I was human, and I was about to dive headfirst into the unknown with my best friends and the two biggest distractions in my life.

What could possibly go wrong?

***

With the ship now completed, all we had to do was board and take control. Simple, right? Except stepping into the Triumph of Darron for the first time wasn’t just simple—it was fucking magical.

The airlock hissed open, and we drifted inside, floating like kids on a zero-g field trip. The ship was pristine—gleaming metal, faint hum of machinery, and the sharp tang of disinfectant in the air. My boots gave a little kick, and I sailed forward, my crew trailing behind. Our breathing echoed in the empty corridors, the sound weirdly satisfying in the silence.

“Someone forgot to turn on the gravity generator,” I said, grinning like an idiot.

Emily giggled behind me, her ponytail floating in a golden halo. She looked ethereal, the low lights catching the curve of her neck and the shape of her hips. I had to look away before my thoughts ran off the rails—again.

We moved deeper into the ship, lights flickering on as we passed, painting our path in warm yellows and cool silvers. It felt surreal, like we’d stumbled into a dream. Zoe caught up to me, twisting effortlessly in midair. Her long legs kicked lazily as she floated upside down, her dreadlocks spreading like ink in water. “You’re gonna have to teach me how to drive this thing,” she said, smirking.

“Drive? Pretty sure this thing flies itself,” I shot back, trying not to fixate on how her hoodie was riding up, exposing her flat belly. Jesus, Luca. Get a grip. But, seriously, those legs.

Emily shoved a datapad into my hand, snapping me out of it. “We finally got it!” she said, her grin lighting up her whole face. I took the pad, the edges of pride and excitement bleeding into my chest. This was our ship now. Not Dad’s, not some pipe dream—ours.

We rounded a corner into engineering, where Ryan floated surrounded by a halo of tools. His cap was barely holding on, his sandy blonde hair sticking out like he’d just rolled out of bed—which, let’s be honest, he probably had.

“Already losing tools?” I teased, pushing off the wall to get closer.

Ryan looked up, a ratchet floating by his shoulder. “Hey, this is new territory, Luca. Tools weren’t meant to fly.”

He grinned at me, that easy, cocky smile that always felt like a challenge. And damn if he didn’t make even zero-g look good, his broad shoulders filling out his t-shirt just right. Was it normal to notice stuff like that? Probably not. But here I was, noticing.

We left Ryan to his floating mess and drifted further into the ship, finding Danny in the science lab. His curly red hair floated like a puff of fire, and he was squinting at a big-ass microscope balanced precariously on a crate. Danny always had this boy-next-door vibe, freckles and dimples making him look like he belonged in a vintage ad for milk or something. But seeing him here, all focused and determined? Yeah, it worked.

Emily kicked off toward him, her voice light. “Think you’ll have everything you need?”

Danny grinned back at her. “Almost. But we might want to move this microscope before Ryan decides to turn on gravity and it crushes something. Like my foot.”

“Relax, you’d only have yourself to blame,” Ryan called out from the corridor, already halfway to help. He planted himself next to Danny, their movements synchronized as they adjusted the microscope. Watching them work together—it hit me again: a toned ass was a toned ass. Didn’t matter if it belonged to Ryan, Danny, Emily, or Zoe. The whole crew was a walking distraction.

Shaking my head, I pushed myself toward the bridge, leaving them to their balancing act. This ship wasn’t going to captain itself, and I wasn’t about to let my hormone-driven brain get in the way of the biggest moment of my life. But, yeah, I’d probably need a cold shower later. Or a long talk with myself about priorities. Preferably both.

We floated into the bridge, and Zoe was already in her element, gliding from console to console like she’d been born in zero-g. Her dreadlocks stuck out in every direction, and I swear, she looked like some kind of space goddess—intense, focused, and way too attractive for my own good. She adjusted screens, configured the AI, and didn’t so much as glance back at us, her whole vibe screaming, I’ve got this.

Meanwhile, Emily floated beside me, her hand brushing against mine every now and then, sending little sparks up my arm. Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds in the dim bridge light, and her grin could’ve powered the whole damn ship. I had to force myself not to stare at her as she twisted to take in the view. Focus, Luca.

We drifted out of the bridge and down the corridors, every new turn revealing another part of the ship that was ours. Ours. It was surreal, exhilarating, and just a little overwhelming. My brain couldn’t stop buzzing with all the possibilities. The bridge console, for one—flat, smooth, and just the right height. I caught myself wondering how easy it would be to clean up afterward if things got messy. Not that I’d ever say that out loud.

The tour took us everywhere: the observation lounge, the gym, the engine room, even the storage areas. Each space was shiny and pristine, full of promise. But it was the cabins that really did it for me. Eight of them, lined up on the top deck, each a little oasis of privacy. My cabin was small but cozy, with a tiny bathroom, a space for a desk, and a bed that would eventually hold a mattress.

Standing there, I couldn’t help but let my imagination run wild. This bed… Yeah, it’s gonna see some action. Not that I had much experience to back that up—okay, no experience—but damn, I could picture it. Emily’s playful smirk as she leaned over me, Zoe’s sharp tongue cutting through the tension, even Ryan’s easy laugh as we clinked glasses of… something. Hell, even Danny might show up if things got weird enough.

And the lounge? Don’t get me started. All those couches, the low lighting, the view of the stars stretching out forever—prime hookup territory. I made a mental note to add “cleaning supplies” to the shopping list. What’s the point of being Captain if I can’t christen this ship in style?

Emily’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Okay, Captain,” she said, her grin widening as she pulled a device from her pocket. “We’ve got shopping to do!”

“Got it, Captain,” Emily said with a mock salute, “We have shopping to do!” The word hit me like a low-voltage shock, spreading warmth through my chest and, okay, maybe a little lower. Her eyes sparkled as she floated out of the cabin, Zoe close behind, both of them laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Captain.

It wasn’t even supposed to be me. Nobody else wanted the gig, so I’d fallen into it like someone tripping over their own feet at a graduation ceremony. At first, I’d been hesitant—hell, terrified, really. But now? Every time someone said it, especially Emily, it was like a little ego boost I didn’t know I needed. “Captain” had a ring to it, a weight that felt... good. And yeah, when Emily said it, I felt a little more than good. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.

As their laughter echoed down the corridor, I floated there in the cabin, staring at the space like I’d just stepped into the bridge of the Enterprise. My cabin. My ship. My future. The thought made my pulse quicken, and not just because of the ship. The way Emily had grinned at me, the way she said Captain—damn, she could weaponize that word if she wanted to.

I took another look around, imagining how it would feel when the place was fully set up. The bed, the desk, maybe a little frame with a picture of my fam—or just Emily in one of those outfits she rocked so effortlessly. A guy could dream, right? And dreaming was safer than facing how my brain short-circuited every time she smiled at me like that. I needed to focus here.

“Hold on,” I said, raising a hand to slow her roll. “Let me talk to my dad about food supplies first. He’s got experience with this—helping new captains stock up. You guys handle the furniture. Just make sure everything can be bolted down in case we lose gravity again.”

***

The next four weeks were a blur of activity, and honestly? It felt like some weird space version of a home makeover show. Every day, more boxes arrived for the Triumph of Darron, and Emily and Zoe turned the bare-bones ship into something that actually felt like home. They didn’t disappoint—mattresses, tables, couches, desks, gym equipment, rugs, and all the little things I didn’t even know we needed until I saw them unpacked. Zoe found this ridiculously comfortable leather couch that somehow fit perfectly in the lounge, and Emily picked out curtains for the observation deck windows. Curtains. In space. I had to admit, it kind of worked.

Meanwhile, I’d been neck-deep in logistics with Dad and his team on the Genesis Platform, coordinating food supplies for the voyage. Sure, we had the small greenhouse for herbs and maybe some greens, but the bulk of our meals would come from frozen and pre-prepared rations. You can’t exactly live off basil and lettuce when you’re charting uncharted space.

By the end of it all, our quarters didn’t even look like part of a spaceship anymore. The cold steel walls and floors were mostly hidden under soft fabrics, wood paneling, and carpeted walls. My cabin now had a mattress that made me want to skip shifts just to lie on it. The whole ship felt... alive. Cozy. Like it was ours in every sense of the word.

As I stood in the lounge, looking at the ridiculous amount of effort we’d put into making this ship a home, I couldn’t help but grin. This was going to be so much fun. Sure, the whole thing had cost a small fortune—north of 550 million credits, and that didn’t even include the street value of the FTL drive, which added another 200 million if anyone felt like doing the math. But who cared? This was our dream.

Of course, none of this would’ve happened without the Interstellar Frontier Company. They’d won the Alpha Centauri survey charter from the United Earth Republic and thrown 300 million credits at us to build this ship and make the mission happen. The rest? That had come out of our savings, every credit we’d managed to scrape together. We’d spent weeks convincing Karen and Michael at IFC to back us. I mean, begging wasn’t off the table at one point.

This was their big bet on us, and if we screwed it up, the IFC would lose their investment and get their asses handed to them by the UER. No pressure, right? But if we pulled this off? We’d be rich. Like buy-your-own-space-station rich.

For now, though, I wasn’t thinking about credits or charters or all the ways this could go wrong. Standing there, surrounded by my crew—my family—it all felt worth it. Every sleepless night, every impossible negotiation, every credit we’d spent. We were ready. And as Captain—still weird, still kind of a turn-on—it was my job to make sure we didn’t screw it up.

***

The last thing on the never-ending list was uniforms. Uniforms. Just the word made me cringe. I wasn’t exactly the “matching outfits” type, and the idea of telling my crew what to wear felt... weird. But Dad had been insistent. “It’s about discipline, Luca. Morale. Presentation. You’ll be among other crews—miners, gas scoopers, shuttle pilots. They’ll expect it.”

So here I was, dragging Emily and Zoe to a shop called Uniforms Unlimited because, let’s face it, I figured they knew more about colors and clothes than I did. My fashion sense maxed out at “does this have holes in it?” and “is it clean enough to wear again?”

When we walked in, a middle-aged woman with purple hair and a smile like she genuinely enjoyed her job greeted us. “Athan Rossi’s son, correct?” she said, extending her hand. “I’m June. A pleasure to meet you, Luca. And you must be Emily and Zoe?”

I blushed—like, actually blushed. Why do people always know I’m Athan’s kid? “Uh, yeah. Hi, June,” I managed, shaking her hand like a nervous intern. “We’re here to, uh, get some uniforms made for our crew.”

“Excellent,” she said, leading us into her office, which looked like someone had exploded a rainbow in it. Swatches of every fabric and color imaginable covered the walls and tables. It smelled like coffee and ambition, and she wasted no time pouring us cups from the fancy machine in the corner.

“So,” June began, sliding into her chair and looking at me expectantly, “what kind of look are you going for? Professional? Casual? Camouflage, perhaps?”

I hesitated, glancing at Emily and Zoe for backup. “Uh, professional but comfortable?” I said, trying to sound like I had a plan. “We’ll be spending long hours on the ship, exploring planets. Maybe a set of uniforms for onboard tasks, something for downtime... gym clothes too, maybe? Neutral colors? Grays?”

The second I finished, Emily groaned audibly and facepalmed. Literally facepalmed. “Luca,” she said, getting up and pushing me toward the door, “we’ll take care of this, okay?”

“You sure? I was thinking maybe—”

“Nope,” Zoe cut in, joining the shoving effort. “We’ve got this. You’re off uniform duty.”

June raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop them. The girls plopped back into their seats as I stumbled out the door, still holding my untouched coffee. “Fine,” I muttered, half to myself. “Just don’t make us look like space clowns or something.”

From the hallway, I could hear Zoe’s laugh echoing. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll make you look good.”

And there it was again—that word, Captain. It hit me like it always did, sending a warm buzz through my chest and, yeah, lower. I shook my head, trying to clear the image of Emily and Zoe in perfectly tailored uniforms out of my mind. Let them handle it.

Still, as I walked away, I couldn’t help but imagine what they’d come up with. Hopefully not something that screamed “space janitor,” but knowing those two, they’d figure out how to make us look damn good. I just hoped they didn’t spend too much on it. Actually, scratch that—I hoped they did.

***

Five hours. Five damn hours since Emily and Zoe had kicked me out of Uniforms Unlimited, and I was still fuming. Not because I didn’t trust them—well, not entirely—but because sitting around while they ran the show left me feeling like a third wheel on my own ship.

I was in the command chair, fiddling with the bridge’s user interface, trying to figure out if I could customize the layout. It wasn’t going well. Every time I clicked something, another menu popped up, and none of it made sense. Why does everything in space have to be overengineered?

When I heard the airlock hiss, I glanced up to see Emily and Zoe strolling in like they owned the place. Emily had this smug little grin on her face, and Zoe looked like she’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

“How’d it go?” I asked, spinning the chair around and leaning back like I was totally cool with being left out of the loop.

“It went great, Luca,” Zoe said, her smirk almost a challenge. “We’ve got some surprises for the whole crew, but you’ll have to wait and see.”

“Surprises?” I raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure if I should be excited or terrified. Knowing Zoe, it could go either way. “Shouldn’t we try them on before we leave? Did you get everyone’s measurements?” I asked, trying to sound like a responsible Captain and not like someone secretly wondering how good everyone would look in their new uniforms. Okay, mostly wondering about Emily and Zoe.

“June will transmit the design specs over tonight,” Emily said, waving off my concern. “We’ll have them before we leave. Don’t worry.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Relax, Captain. We’ve got it under control.”

And there it was again—that word, Captain. Zoe’s tone was casual, but it still hit me like a well-aimed punch. Captain. My title. My role. My... weird turn-on when she or Emily said it. I tried not to let it show, turning back to the interface and pretending I didn’t feel a little warm under the collar.

“Fine,” I said, because I did know better than to question them when they were in mission mode. They were a force of nature, and honestly? I wasn’t about to get in their way. Instead, I turned my attention back to the bridge, letting out a slow breath as I scanned the room.

The ship was coming together, piece by piece, and it looked spectacular. The consoles gleamed under the soft light, the viewports stretched out to reveal the endless starscape, and my command chair? Perfectly positioned. This was my domain, my sanctuary, my ship.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop imagining what those uniforms might look like—or more accurately, what the crew might look like in them. Especially Emily and Zoe. And maybe Ryan, if I was being honest with myself. God, I was hopeless.