"Ours is the Glory. Ours is the Pride. Ours is the Future. We alone take it upon ourselves to sail upon a new world—so that our children may sit under the trees we planted with our blood, sweat, and bones."

"We shall pioneer the Age of Tomorrow."

It was a large procession, attended by every man and woman of the Icarus, and those setting sail to Luna to finally discover if humanity truly ends with us or not.

I was one of them—shoulder to shoulder with my brothers and sisters-in-arms as we recited our rites and vows.

Just as our ancestors had before they set sail towards Mars.

Many died to achieve that dream. Thousands had died before they could reach Mars. Thousands who dreamed of a better future. Just as we do now.

Ever since the news of my recruitment into the Lunar Expedition, Cassava has grown more distant. I’ve tried striking up conversations with her—hell, I even leaned into her crude humor with some jokes of my own.

But the aching distance between us grows even in our close proximity.

My heart longs for my friend and mentor. For her crudeness. For her frail wisdom.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I focus on the procession. Romanus is giving a speech, congratulating and thanking the volunteers for their sacrifice and courage.

"Our forefathers once spoke of a dream—long ago when they first landed on Old Mars. The first words written on the red rocks of Mars were 'For The Future Is Narrow and Bleak, Persevere, Children of Tomorrow.' Today, you, the Children of Today, pave the way for the Children of Tomorrow. And for that, you have my sincerest gratitude."

Romanus finally finishes his long-winded speech.

I cast a glance at Ester. She looks groomed today. Well-rested. Beautiful in her ceremonial uniform that perfectly tugs her body.

She looked... stunning, even.

She notices my gaze—her hazel eyes lazily inspecting my own silver ones.

It is a sweet moment. In that moment, I see something in her that I haven't dreamed of in years.

A future.

Bleak and uncertain as it may be. The rumors of my relationship with her were, as I claimed, unfounded... but that wasn't the whole truth. I had spent a night or two with her.

The station requires children to exist. And maidens have little use in a dying civilization.

On the month of our 16th name-day—on that dark September night, she approached me and chose me to take her maidenhood instead of another man in the station.

It was one of the happier moments in my life. That I had to admit.

Our prolonged eye-contact eventually ends as the ceremony concludes.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Yet, nobody has the chance to approach or congratulate me before Cassava drags me away by the wrist. Her grip has not changed since the last time she had me in a triangle chokehold.

Once again, it was almost childishly obvious to those who watched—my gaze lingered on Ester's. Hers was confused, and mine resigned.

"Talk to you soon," I mouthed with a smile.

I could swear she nearly let out a smile of her own before she disappeared from my view.

Cassava's grip never falters, as if she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.

"Cass—"

"Shut your damn mouth."

"Cass—"

"Shut it."

"Fine."

My attempts at pressing her for information fail spectacularly quickly. Unsurprisingly. Cassava has an intimidating streak—despite her rugged beauty.

And I have already been subjected to her subdued strength. I would rather not test how strong she truly is when she isn't trying to control herself.

Cassava and I are wearing similar outfits. The gray ceremonial uniforms we wear are old—passed down from generation to generation before the Fall of Old Earth. The other volunteers wore newer ones—stitched together in the image of the older uniforms like the ones we currently wear. But it was common tradition to wear the uniform and honors of your ancestors before becoming a Pioneer yourself.

My own ancestors were...

My train of thought is wrecked as Cassava finally stops at our usual spot—now deserted of any inhabitants as most attended the ceremony.

"You..." Cassava grabs me by the collar and pulls me close. I finally see the anguish and fear in her cerulean eyes. But it isn't for herself. It is for me.

"You tell me why the hell you are a Volunteer now, boy."

"You should ask Mister Romanus that, not me."

Cassava flinches at the revelation. 'Of course,' she must be thinking.

Throughout our many years together, our ability to solve most of our issues through violence and dialogue remains untarnished by time or circumstances.

Cassava knew that while I could deceive her, there would be no point in doing so considering that, whether I liked it or not, I could no longer back out of the Expedition.

"That old bastard. We had an agreement... You... Lu... weren't allowed to join the Expedition," Cassava reveals, and it is my turn to be surprised.

"I figured as much... If Ester and the others my age could—why couldn't I?" I said, "Why did you..." I don't finish, hurt seeping into my voice. Hurt because I knew she had done so despite knowing it was my dream to leave this place. Hurt because she doubted my capability to survive out there.

"Because it's dangerous—"

"What am I? A child?!" I snap, eerily enough breaking her grasp without much effort.

"You are! Gods, Lucius, do you know how dangerous this Expedition is?" Cassava asks, massaging her temples.

"I do! Please do not mistake me for an unstudious child—because I am not."

"I know you're bright. Hell, you're smarter than most people in this hellhole. But your brains are better used here instead of risking your life in a suicide mission!"

I feel the vitriol pumping through me. But the hurt easily outmatches the minute anger I feel for this woman.

"You don't understand at all, Cass! If this is a suicide mission—so be it! I'd rather be surrounded by the people I love as I die than grow old in this metal pit, fearing every day that a Shadow might crawl up in my sleep!"

She says nothing more.

My eyes are glued to the ground, trying to maintain the last semblance of any composure I have left.

But Cassava's warm, yet calloused hands hold my cheeks as she gently raises my head.

"Look at me, Lucius," Cassava asks in a foreign tone. She tries to be gentle. Something she had done only when we were children. Only when I wept as others bullied me for being different.

"You are different from us, Lucius. You are the key to solving all of this, remember? You're special." Her thumb traces circles on my cheek.

She takes my silence as my answer.

"I will talk to Romanus. Try to negotiate something to get you out of the Expedition. If fate will have it, we will meet again and you will continue your research under the roof of a Lunarian Citadel as your family would have wanted."

Her voice feels nostalgic. Finally, I recollect the times when she did sing. She sang me songs before I slept. Songs of Earth. Of Mars. Of the Galliaen Moons.

I break away from her grasp and turn away.

"I won't let you decide for me anymore," I say before storming away.

I could feel her gaze locked on my retreating back as I walk away.

I half-expected her to give chase.

To try and convince me further.

But she does not. And I could feel the distance between us now more than ever.