The room was bathed in dim, bluish light as I stirred awake, the steady hum of the Jericho vibrating faintly beneath me. It wasn’t a comforting sound—not yet. It was too vast, too mechanical, too foreign. Still, it was constant, a low murmur that felt like the heartbeat of the ship itself.
"Good morning, Sol," Jericho’s voice crackled to life, calm and clinical as always. "Lieutenant Commander Vega has sent the morning briefing packet to your datapad. You have two hours until the scheduled briefing."
I groaned and rolled onto my side, the thin blanket twisting around me like it was trying to hold me down. Two hours. That was Vega for you—stern but fair, giving just enough time to prepare but not a moment to waste.
Last night, she had stopped by my cabin with a small bag of hygiene supplies: toothpaste, soap, a few changes of clothes. She didn’t linger, just handed it to me with a brief nod and told me to get some rest. “You’ll need it,” she’d said, her voice even but not unkind.
The gesture had stuck with me. Vega wasn’t just sharp and no-nonsense; there was something else under the surface. She wasn’t looking for perfection—she just expected effort.
With a reluctant sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the cot, the cold metal floor biting against my bare feet. My cabin was small, barely more than a box, with a cot, a desk, and a storage compartment. The datapad rested on the desk, still glowing faintly from where I’d left it last night. I grabbed it, brushing a strand of white hair from my face, and settled back onto the cot.
The screen blinked to life, displaying Vega’s message at the top of the interface.
<hr>
Sender: Lt. Commander Vega
Subject: Morning Briefing – Review Packet
Time Remaining: 2 hours
Message from Lt. Commander Vega:
"Sol, you’ve been assigned this briefing at 0700 hours. Attached is a detailed overview of the Jericho’s systems, mission specs, and key operational protocols. Familiarize yourself with this information before the meeting. Understanding the Jericho is critical to your role. Study up."
<hr>
I sighed, letting the datapad rest in my lap for a moment. “I just want to sleep, Vega,” I muttered under my breath. But I couldn’t ignore her.
Resigned, I tapped open the attached packet. A schematic of the Jericho filled the screen—clean, precise, and overwhelming in its scale. A mile long, bristling with technology, and carrying what was left of humanity across the stars.
<hr>
Jericho Systems Overview
<hr>
<h4>Classification:</h4>
<ul>
<li>Type: Long-Range Interstellar Colony Vessel</li>
<li>Designation: Jericho</li>
<li>Length: 1 mile (1,609 meters)</li>
<li>AI Classification: Level 5 intelligence “Experimental”</li>
<li>Primary Structure: Modular rectangular superstructure divided into propulsion, storage, and crew living quarters.</li>
</ul>
<hr>
<h4>Structural Allocation:</h4>
<ul>
<li>Propulsion and Power Systems: 70% of total mass</li>
<li>Storage: 20%</li>
<li>Crew and Operational Spaces: 10%</li>
</ul>
<hr>
<h4>Propulsion Systems and Hanger Bay:</h4>
Fusion Core:
<ul>
<li>Output: Produces 10 exawatts of power per hour under standard operation.</li>
<li>Fuel: Primarily hydrogen, supplemented by other elements.</li>
<li>Mechanism: Replicates the extreme conditions of a star’s core.</li>
<li>Classified: [REDACTED – ACCESS DENIED].</li>
<li>Classified: [REDACTED – ACCESS DENIED].</li>
<li>Supports: Sublight propulsion, FTL travel, shields, and weaponry.</li>
<li>Maintenance: Requires hydrogen refueling every 10 months from gas giants, comets, or stars.</li>
<li>Current Status: Low fuel—refueling operation scheduled for today.</li>
</ul>
FTL Warp Drive:
<ul>
<li>
Capabilities:
<ul>
<li>Allows faster-than-light travel by bending spacetime around the ship, enabling journeys up to 100 times the speed of light.</li>
<li>Reduces interstellar distances, turning decades-long trips into weeks or months.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>
Functionality:
<ul>
<li>Warp Bubble Mechanics: Compresses spacetime in front of the ship and expands it behind, moving the ship without traditional propulsion.</li>
<li>Powered directly by the fusion core, converting immense energy into exotic particles needed to stabilize the warp bubble.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>
Limitations:
<ul>
<li>Energy Intensive: Drains a significant portion of the fusion core’s power, temporarily reducing available energy for other systems.</li>
<li>Field Instability: Power fluctuations or miscalculated jumps can destabilize the warp field, risking catastrophic failure.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>
Applications:
<ul>
<li>Interstellar Travel: Essential for reaching distant colonies like Haven within feasible timeframes.</li>
<li>Emergency Evacuation: Provides rapid escape from threats, though high speeds increase risks.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>
Note : The warp drive represents humanity''s best hope for interstellar travel, powered by the Jericho’s advanced fusion technology.
Sublight Ion Drives:
<ul>
<li>Capabilities: Multi-axis Ion engines provide precise maneuverability and efficient extended sublight travel, essential for docking, evasive maneuvers, and close-range system navigation.</li>
<li>Power Source: Powered by the hydrogen-fed fusion core, ensuring consistent energy output for sustained operations.</li>
<li>Efficiency: Utilizing ionized particles for thrust, the engines achieve exceptional efficiency with minimal resource consumption for long-duration travel.</li>
<li>Precision: Advanced multi-axis configuration enables exact adjustments in position, vital for operations like refueling, maintenance, and planetary orbit entry.</li>
<li>Sustainability: Designed for long-term reliability with minimal maintenance requirements, supported by integrated nano-repair systems to manage routine wear.</li>
</ul>
Shuttles (2 Total):
<ul>
<li>Description: Multi-purpose craft used for reconnaissance, resource gathering, and minor repair missions.</li>
<li>Propulsion: Ion propulsion systems for precision maneuvering within the ship’s vicinity or planetary entry.</li>
<li>Capabilities:
<ul>
<li>Suitable for scouting and short-range exploration.</li>
<li>Equipped with light point-defense lasers for basic defense.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Crew Capacity: Holds up to 8 individuals per shuttle, with limited cargo space.</li>
<li>Limitations: Not FTL-capable; designed for operations within the local star system.</li>
<li>Evacuation Role: Can function as emergency evacuation vessels for nearby planetary destinations.</li>
</ul>
Lifeboat/Cargo Ship (1 Total):
<ul>
<li>Description: A larger dual-purpose vessel serving as a cargo transport and emergency lifeboat.</li>
<li>Capacity:
<ul>
<li>Holds up to 30 people if no cargo is on board.</li>
<li>Designed with essential life-support systems for short-term survival.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Propulsion: Ion thrusters for limited navigation, supplemented by solar sails for energy efficiency.</li>
<li>Limitations: Not FTL-capable; intended for evacuation to nearby planets or celestial bodies only.</li>
<li>Evacuation Role: Serves as the primary escape craft for the largest portion of the crew in emergency situations.</li>
</ul>
<hr>
<h4>Defensive Systems:</h4>
Plasma Shields:
<ul>
<li>Description: Energy barriers that absorb energy-based attacks and cosmic radiation.</li>
<li>Limitations: Overload risks under sustained bombardment, reliant on the fusion core for prolonged operation.</li>
</ul>
Kinetic Barriers:
<ul>
<li>Description: Magnetic fields and high-energy pulses to deflect physical projectiles like railgun slugs or meteoroids.</li>
</ul>
Nano-Carbon Hull:
<ul>
<li>Reinforcement: High-strength nano-carbon mesh for heat, radiation, and impact resistance.</li>
<li>Nano-Regenerative Technology:
<ul>
<li>Harvests external materials (e.g., asteroids, comet debris) to autonomously repair damage.</li>
<li>Repairs structural breaches faster than manual intervention.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>
Multi-Role Combat and Repair Drones
Offensive Capabilities
<ul>
<li>Integrated laser cannons for precise strikes and sustained suppression.</li>
<li>Micro-missiles with adaptive targeting systems for enemy ships and armored vehicles.</li>
</ul>
Defensive Systems
<ul>
<li>Reinforced kinetic barriers to repel incoming projectiles, including small railgun slugs.</li>
<li>Swarm-enabled point-defense systems to intercept and neutralize threats at long range.</li>
</ul>
Repair and Maintenance
<ul>
<li>Advanced nano-repair modules for rapid patching of hull breaches and shield restoration.</li>
<li>Autonomous diagnostic systems to identify and fix mid-mission damage or malfunctions.</li>
</ul>
Resource Recovery
<ul>
<li>Material extraction tools for mining and salvaging asteroids or debris fields.</li>
<li>Onboard processors to refine harvested materials for immediate repair use or resupply.</li>
</ul>
Ground Combat Features
<ul>
<li>Retractable legs and hover thrusters for enhanced movement across uneven terrain.</li>
<li>Close-range plasma-edged blades designed for melee encounters.</li>
<li>Grenade launchers for wide-area suppression and crowd control.</li>
</ul>
Autonomous Coordination
<ul>
<li>Jericho’s AI manages all drones for seamless tactical deployment.</li>
<li>Autonomous protocols enable operation during communication blackouts or emergencies.</li>
</ul>
<hr>
<h4>Offensive Systems:</h4>
Railguns:
<ul>
<li>Description: Dual railguns fire tungsten slugs the size of hover transports, designed to penetrate even the thickest enemy armor with devastating kinetic force. Each slug is constructed with a dense tungsten shell encasing a depleted uranium core, with the tip specially hardened for maximum armor-piercing capability. As the slugs accelerate to near-light speeds, their immense kinetic energy generates enough force on impact to vaporize the tungsten shell into a plasma shockwave, softening the target''s defenses. The depleted uranium core then delivers a concentrated punch, driving through starship hulls or fortified planetary structures with unparalleled precision and power. This lethal combination ensures the railguns can cripple even the most heavily armored targets.</li>
<li>Drawbacks: Limited ammunition reserves. While resources in storage can be used to synthesize more slugs, the process relies on the nano-bot synthesizers, which require significant time and raw materials. This limitation places a strain on both storage capacity and operational efficiency during extended engagements.</li>
</ul>
Laser Arrays:
<ul>
<li>Description: High-precision beams for debris clearance, mining, or surgical strikes.</li>
<li>Operation: Continuous fire capability under stable core output.</li>
</ul>
Missile Launchers:
<ul>
<li>Payloads: Conventional explosives, EMP rounds, and nuclear warheads.</li>
<li>Failsafe: Nuclear launches require dual authorization from Captain Warren and Jericho, the ship’s AI.</li>
</ul>
Note: Like the rail gun, building ammo is time and resource intensive.
Elite Strike Force – "The Royal Guard":
<ul>
<li>
Overview:
<ul>
<li>20 elite soldiers, Earth''s most advanced warriors, each personally modified by Dr. Julian Voss, housed in cryo-storage aboard the Jericho. Known semi-officially as "The Royal Guard," their nickname reflected their direct connection to Voss, revered by many as humanity’s "king," and his daughter Sol Voss, often seen as its "princess." Cybernetically and genetically enhanced to superhuman levels and equipped with advanced power suits, plasma rifles, and energy blades, they were the epitome of Earth’s military prowess—each a one-man army in their own right. Their presence symbolized unmatched skill, unparalleled combat efficiency, and unwavering loyalty to safeguarding humanity’s fragile future.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>
Cybernetic and Genetic Enhancements:
<ul>
<li>Advanced augmentations grant superhuman longevity, strength, reflexes, and endurance.</li>
<li>Neural interfaces enable seamless connection to the Jericho’s systems and advanced weaponry.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>
Equipment:
<ul>
<li>Advanced Power Suits:
<ul>
<li>Reinforced power armor designed for high mobility, adaptive shielding, and environmental versatility.</li>
<li>Integrated heads-up displays (HUDs) with tactical overlays and real-time data feeds.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Plasma Rifles:
<ul>
<li>Precision energy weapons capable of rapid-fire and anti-armor modes.</li>
<li>Configurable for mission-specific needs, from crowd control to direct assault.</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>Energy Blades:
<ul>
<li>Melee weapons with plasma-edged blades, capable of cutting through advanced materials.</li>
<li>Compact and retractable, suitable for stealth or close-quarters combat.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>
</li>
<li>
Purpose:
<ul>
<li>Designed for deployment in high-risk scenarios where overwhelming force or precision is required.</li>
<li>Serve as a last line of defense for the Jericho and its mission.</li>
<li>Prepared to handle security during civil unrest or as a strike force against external threats.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>
<hr>
My gaze lingered on the description, Vega’s words from the attached note echoing in my mind.
“The Royal Guard stands as the pinnacle of Earth’s military and scientific advancements—a living testament to Dr. Voss’s vision. Their name may have begun as a nickname, but it carries undeniable truth. They were his protectors, and now, by extension, they exist to safeguard what little humanity has left. Their strength and loyalty are unparalleled, but they are a double-edged sword—our greatest asset or our gravest liability. Keyed to the Voss genetic line, they now answer to his daughter alone. Should the time come when we must rely on them, the balance of power will rest entirely in her hands.”
The Royal Guard. My father’s private army, created to defend what he deemed most important. The nickname stung with irony. I wasn’t royalty, yet the name followed me like a shadow, a reminder of the pedestal my father had placed me on—and the expectations and power that came with it.
My chest tightened as my mind wandered briefly to the yellow-eyed monster I had seen—no, felt—just yesterday. Tall, wrong, and cloaked in darkness, it had loomed in the corner of the bathroom, its gaze piercing and unrelenting. I had frozen, too terrified to run, my body betraying me as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for it to vanish. When I finally dared to open them, the room was empty.
Even Jericho’s scans had turned up nothing.
“No anomalies detected,” the AI had reported, its calm tone making me feel even more unhinged. But I knew something had been there. I could still feel the weight of its presence, the icy dread it had left behind.
Could these soldiers—these superhuman warriors—handle something like that? My imagination ran wild: the Royal Guard in their advanced power suits, their plasma rifles lighting up the darkness, energy blades slicing through that impossibly wrong figure. I pictured them moving with perfect precision, the pinnacle of human strength and resilience.
For a fleeting moment, I felt a pang of comfort. They were Earth’s best, after all. If anyone could handle something like that…
But then doubt crept in. The thing had disappeared without a trace. Even Jericho’s sensors hadn’t detected it. What kind of monster could evade everything?
I shook my head sharply, trying to banish the memory. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real. Just the lingering effects of cryo, I told myself. My mind was still foggy, my body still adjusting. But no matter how I rationalized it, the unease refused to leave me.
I forced my focus back to the datapad, my eyes settling on the next entry: the Solar Beam, the most terrifying weapon my father had ever created—at least, the one the public knew about.
<hr>
Solar Beam:
<ul>
<li>Description: A last-resort weapon drawing directly from the fusion core at great risk to the core''s stability.</li>
<li>Capabilities: Destabilizes stars or destroys planetary cores.</li>
<li>Failsafe: Requires triple authorization from Captain Warren, Jericho, and a crew member with medium clearance or above.</li>
</ul>
<hr>
My gaze lingered on the description of the Solar Beam, the most terrifying weapon my father had ever conceived—or at least, the one the public knew about. A last-resort superweapon, it could destabilize a planetary core or even trigger a star to go supernova. Theoretically, it was humanity’s ultimate safeguard, a deterrent meant to keep any hostile force at bay. But I couldn’t help but think bitterly: Was it really a safeguard? Or just a testament to how far my father was willing to go? The debates about the weapon’s ethical implications had raged before Jericho’s launch, but in the end, the allure of power had won. People would rather fear their savior than face the unknown unarmed. Shaking off the thought, I looked back at the datapad, continuing to scroll through the seemingly endless details of the ship’s systems.
<hr>
<h4>Nano-Repair System:</h4>
<ul>
<li>Capabilities: Breaks down raw materials into base components for reconstruction.</li>
<li>Applications: Produces ammunition, drones, hull patches, or entirely new components.</li>
<li>Sustainability: Operates indefinitely with sufficient resources.</li>
</ul>
<hr>
<h4>Storage:</h4>
Cryogenic Preservation:
<ul>
<li>Human Population: 1,000 cryo pods designated for crew and passengers.</li>
<li>Biodiversity Archive:
<ul>
<li>100 pods reserved for Earth’s critical animal species.</li>
<li>Genetic repository for 100,000 species stored in cryo-tanks, ready for cloning.</li>
</ul>
</li>
</ul>
Hydroponics Bay:
<ul>
<li>Primary Function: Oxygen production along side the CO2 scrubbers.</li>
<li>Capacity: Limited to 4% of maximum theoretical output.</li>
</ul>
<h4>Crew Living and Work Quarters (10% of total mass):</h4>
Habitation:
<ul>
<li>Description: 10 interconnected floors, each approximately 30,000 square feet.</li>
<li>Amenities: Crew quarters, mess halls, research labs.</li>
</ul>
Mission Briefing: Hydrogen Harvest Operation "Feeding The Dragon"
<hr>
The datapad’s glow reflected off the dim cabin walls as I scrolled through the ship’s systems, the technical perfection of the Jericho laid out in neat diagrams and precise numbers. My finger paused over the schematic of the fusion core, tracing the delicate pathways of plasma conduits that wrapped tightly around its heart. Each line of data felt clinical, detached—an artificial simplicity masking something far more volatile beneath the surface.
I swiped to the next section, where the mundane technical details gave way to the specifics of today’s mission. My stomach tightened as my eyes locked on the title:
"Feeding the Dragon."
The phrase stared back at me, stark and ominous. It clung to me like a whisper from the past, dragging jagged memories I’d buried deep to the surface. Feeding the Dragon. The name wasn’t arbitrary. It was deliberate, calculated—loaded with meaning I couldn’t ignore. My finger hovered over the schematic, tracing the plasma conduits again as unease pooled in my chest.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
“Ten exawatts per hour,” I murmured to myself, the figure gnawing at me. That kind of power shouldn’t exist. It wasn’t natural. No colony ship before us had ever come close to such output. Their fusion reactors had been primitive, barely scraping by, and their journeys had been desperate gambles. Some had failed. Most had simply vanished. But the Jericho? It wasn’t scraping by. It was something else entirely.
I stared at the schematic, fragments of memory stirring like dust shaken loose in the dark.
“It’s not just fusion,” a voice whispered in my mind, sharp and trembling. “This isn’t science, Julian. This is madness.”
The memory came rushing back, vivid and inescapable. I was twelve years old, sitting on the edge of a desk in my father’s lab. My legs swung idly, brushing against the cold metal, as the hum of machinery filled the air. The holographic projection of the Jericho’s core floated between my father and Dr. Knight, its intricate design rotating slowly in the sterile light.
“This isn’t just fusion,” Knight said again, her tone low and tight. She sounded like she was holding back a scream. Her almond-shaped eyes darted between the hologram and my father, her expression a mix of fear and disbelief. “You’re containing a singularity inside a star. This… “Dragon”, Julian. You’re building a weapon, not a power source.”
“It’s not a weapon,” my father snapped, his words cutting like a scalpel. He paced around the projection, his movements sharp and deliberate. “It’s survival. Do you think a standard fusion core would have been enough to power the Jericho? To maintain its systems, its defenses, its propulsion?” He turned on her then, his gaze hard and unrelenting. “Do you think humanity has time to wait for safe, conventional solutions?”
Knight folded her arms, her expression darkening. “You’re using fusion to cage a black hole. Do you even hear yourself? If we lose containment for even a fraction of a second—”
“We won’t,” my father interrupted, his voice rising with a rare edge of anger. He stepped closer to the hologram, his hand hovering near the spinning image of the core as if he could touch it. “Dragon is stable. Perfectly contained. It produces more energy than anything humanity has ever conceived, and it will sustain the Jericho indefinitely.”
Knight’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “This isn’t just science, Julian. This is playing with reality itself. If anyone ever finds out what you’ve done here—what Dragon really is—they won’t just call you a genius. They’ll call you a madman.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. My father didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned to me. For a moment, his intensity softened, his sharpness fading into something gentler. He crouched in front of me, his voice quieter but no less certain.
“Sometimes, Sol,” he said, his eyes locking with mine, “you have to break the rules to save what matters.”
Back then, I didn’t understand. How could I? I was just a child, perched in the middle of a conversation I wasn’t meant to overhear. But now, staring at the title on the datapad, the memory cut through me like glass. He hadn’t just broken the rules—he’d shattered them. And he’d dragged all of humanity with him.
I swiped back to the schematic, my gaze locking onto the plasma conduits wrapped around the core. The truth hovered at the edge of my thoughts, jagged and undeniable.
The core wasn’t just a fusion reactor. It was something far more dangerous—a black hole caged by fusion itself. The singularity at its heart wasn’t just a power source; it was a predator, patient and unrelenting. It radiated immense energy in the form of Hawking radiation, driving the Jericho’s engines, shields, weapons, and life support systems—everything that kept us alive in the void. But its containment required something equally extraordinary: the unyielding plasma field of an artificial star.
My stomach twisted. Fusion wasn’t the heart of the Jericho. It was its leash.
The memory faded, and I blinked, my focus snapping back to the datapad in my lap. The name Dragon stared back at me, no longer hidden behind the usual security layers but highlighted as part of the mission briefing. It was access I’d only been given because of how crucial this task was—replenishing the core wasn’t just maintenance; it was survival.
If the core ever ran out of power, the star feeding it would collapse, unable to sustain the plasma fields holding the black hole in place. The thought made my breath catch. A black hole, loose and uncontrolled, would devour everything in its path—the Jericho, the surrounding space, maybe even a solar system.
Why would you build something so dangerous, Dad?
I shivered, my fingers tightening around the datapad. The black hole wasn’t just a power source—it was a predator, its hunger held at bay by nothing more than my father’s genius and the unrelenting need for fuel. And what happens when the fuel runs out? The question churned in my mind, sharp and unyielding.
I tapped the screen, navigating back to the menu. The section labeled Experimental Systems caught my eye, its flashing red header marked CLASSIFIED – RESTRICTED ACCESS. My clearance wouldn’t unlock it; I already knew that. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more buried here—more than what Vega had shared in her briefing.
My fingers hovered over the console, and I tapped the icon. Predictably, the system denied me with a dull chime. ACCESS DENIED.
I sighed, leaning back against the cold wall of my cabin. Of course, Vega hadn’t trusted me with full clearance. Why would she? I was the ship’s walking enigma, and even this much access felt like a reluctant gesture. Still, something itched at the back of my mind, a half-formed thought that refused to leave me alone.
And then it came to me: the code.
A sharp pang of memory struck, a mix of guilt and something softer. SOL-LUX-7. It wasn’t just any code—it was the same emergency pass my father had given me when I was barely a teenager. “If I’m not around,” he’d said, his voice low and serious, “and you need to get into my lab, this will let you in. It’s only for emergencies, Sol.”
He’d trusted me with it, but I hadn’t exactly been responsible. I’d used the code more than once to sneak out of our stronghold—Earth’s last crumbling bastion of safety—to wander the streets with the few friends I had. Those nights felt like fragments of another life, moments of stolen freedom in a world falling apart. The stolen bottle of cheap liquor, the shared laughter, the bitter tang of smoke in the air.
But those friends were gone now. All of them. Dead in the final days of Earth’s collapse, while I was spared—hidden away and smuggled aboard the Jericho. A knot formed in my throat, sharp and unrelenting. It was a miracle my father hadn’t revoked the pass after catching me sneaking out that night.
I still remembered the terror as two members of the Royal Guard dragged me back into the stronghold. They were towering, over nine feet tall, their movements fluid despite the massive power suits that encased them. I had tried to resist, thrashing and kicking, but it was like fighting against a wall of steel. One of them had effortlessly scooped me up, his mechanical grip unyielding yet careful not to harm me. They didn’t speak—just loomed silently, their glowing visors casting an eerie red light across my tear-streaked face. Even then, their sheer might was enough to leave me trembling.
When they delivered me to my father, I’d expected his usual lectures or, worse, punishment. But instead, he’d simply shaken his head, his expression a mixture of disappointment and something softer. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” he’d said, his voice quiet but firm. That look, more than the Royal Guard’s imposing presence, had stayed with me. It wasn’t anger—it was fear. Fear for me, for what I could lose, for the fragility of the world we were clinging to. And in that moment, I realized how much weight he carried, how much he believed in me despite everything.
And now, here I was, years later, still holding onto that trust. Still using it.
I opened the manual override console, my fingers trembling as the clean interface flickered into a command-line prompt. The cursor blinked, steady and unassuming, as if it had been waiting for me all along.
“Only one way to find out,” I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible. My fingers hovered over the keypad before finally typing the code: SOL-LUX-7.
<hr>
Override Code: SOL-LUX-7
<hr>
The system processed the input, the cursor blinking for an agonizing moment before a quiet beep broke the silence.
<hr>
USER: Sol Voss
Clearance Level: MEDIUM
ACCESS GRANTED – LIMITED FILES UNLOCKED
<hr>
I froze. It had worked. My clearance level was higher than I’d thought—medium. That wasn’t nothing. But it also wasn’t enough to unlock everything.
A new menu appeared, listing the experimental projects. My stomach twisted as I read the names.
<hr>
PROJECT FILES
Code Name: Dragon – [REDACTED]
Code Name: Phoenix – [REDACTED]
Code Name: Gryphon – [REDACTED]
Code Name: Wyvern – [REDACTED]
Code Name: Chimera – [REDACTED]
Code Name: Leviathan – [REDACTED]
Code Name: Hydra – [REDACTED]
<hr>
Each name glared at me, cryptic and foreboding. My clearance wasn’t high enough to see the details, but the names alone sent a chill through me, stirring half-remembered truths from my childhood. Dragon, I knew—perhaps too well. But the others…
Phoenix. That one hit me hardest. It was my father’s masterpiece, the project he had poured himself into more than any other. His dream had always been to conquer mortality, to make humanity something more. Immortal. Regenerative. The ultimate survivors. Seeing the name now, it was as if a dam had broken in my mind. The memories I had buried deep—perhaps too deep—rose like smoke from a dying fire, hazy but unrelenting. I had known the most about Phoenix, even as a child. My father had whispered to himself constantly, piecing together ideas, working late into the night. “Immortality isn’t just a goal, Sol—it’s a necessity. The universe won’t wait for us to catch up.”
Gryphon. My father had mentioned “bending reality” once, as if it were a puzzle waiting to be solved. Quantum manipulation? Spacetime distortion? His words came back to me now, faint and distorted: “If we control the rules of physics, Sol, we control our destiny.”
Wyvern. Singularities. Gravitational anomalies. Controlled collapses. His fascination with the raw power of the universe had bordered on obsessive. “Gravity is the ultimate weapon,” he had told Pierce once. “Harness it, and nothing can stand against you.”
Chimera. The name churned in my gut, stirring a deep unease. Hybridized, adaptive, predatory. It could mean anything—a swarm of nanotech, or something horrifyingly alive. My father’s voice, soft but relentless, whispered in my mind: “Adaptation is survival. If humanity won’t adapt naturally, we’ll force it.”
Leviathan. I thought of Knight’s warning, spoken so quietly I almost hadn’t heard it. “A weapon to consume fleets,” she had said, her voice heavy with something close to fear. Was it a dark matter cannon? A swarm of something far worse? The idea lingered, a shadow in my thoughts.
Hydra. This name coiled around my mind like a snake, slithering into the cracks of my memories. Something regenerative, endlessly growing. Like me? Or was that wishful thinking? My gaze flicked back to the note I had found, the words etched into my memory: “Evolution is better left to nature and God.” Hydra reminded me of Lab 3, the sealed room that no one dared talk about. The warning note, the secrecy, the death. Were they working on Hydra there? Or Chimera? Or were they continuing Phoenix itself? My stomach twisted at the thought. What if it wasn’t just one of them? What if they were working on all of them?
I leaned back, my chest tightening. These weren’t just projects. They were experiments, weapons, concepts dragged from the edge of science and thrust into reality. And if Dragon—the fusion core—was the backbone of the Jericho, what were the others? Contingencies? Fail-safes? Or something darker?
I didn’t want to think about the answers, but the memories wouldn’t let me go. My father had whispered endlessly about Phoenix in his lab, speaking to himself, to Pierce, sometimes even to me. “Humanity has limits,” he’d said once, his voice sharp with frustration. “But those limits are illusions, Sol. Evolution can’t be left to chance. Nature and God don’t care about our survival. We have to take control.”
But I had seen what “taking control” looked like. I had heard the cries, seen the faces of the human experiments he had pushed too far. My hands clenched at the thought. I didn’t know what had happened in Lab 3, but I knew how far he had been willing to go for Phoenix. For all of it. He’d called it “progress.” Knight had called it madness… but she hadn’t just stood by in silence. She had helped him, even knowing it was wrong. She had been complicit in every step, her hands as stained as his, no matter how conflicted her expressions might have been.
The names stirred fragments of my younger years, snatches of conversations whispered late at night. “Sacrifice is necessary.” “Evolution doesn’t come without pain.” “This will be our legacy.” Even then, I had wondered: Was he trying to save us? Or was he just playing God?
My father’s words from years ago came back to me: “Sometimes you have to break the rules to save what matters.” But what if saving what mattered had required sacrifices too great to bear? What if his ambition had cost more than he was ever willing to admit?
The datapad dimmed, flickering into standby mode. I set it aside, my hands trembling. The Jericho wasn’t just a ship. It was a powder keg, its foundation built on secrets and ambition. And somewhere, buried beneath layers of encryption and redaction, were the answers I wasn’t sure I wanted to find.
With a sigh, I pressed the screen again, bringing it back to life, and opened the mission briefing once again.
<hr>
Mission Briefing: Hydrogen Harvest Operation "Feeding The Dragon"
Location: Propulsion Bay B, Primary Hydrogen Intake
Time: 0900 Hours
Team Assignments:
<ul>
<li>Lead Engineer: Reid (Propulsion Bay Operations)</li>
<li>Assistant Technician: Sol (Monitoring Valves, Shield Stability)</li>
<li>Support Roles: Jimmy (Diagnostics), Ashly (Shield Management, Voss''s Supervisor), Garin (Core Intake Oversight)</li>
</ul>
<hr>
Hydrogen Harvest Procedure: "Feeding the Dragon"
Star Hydrogen Harvest
<ul>
<li>Utilize intake conduits to siphon hydrogen directly from the star’s outer layers.</li>
<li>Ensure continuous flow to stabilize plasma fields in the fusion core.</li>
<li>Note: During the initiation of the process, Jericho will momentarily blink offline. To allocate maximum power to the shield systems and intake mechanisms, all non-critical systems—including AI communication—will be temporarily shut down, leaving the ship operating at minimal capacity.</li>
</ul>
Valve Calibration
<ul>
<li>Monitor and adjust flow rates on primary and auxiliary intake valves in conjunction with Jericho’s automated systems.</li>
<li>Sol''s Role: Serve as backup for Ashly, assisting in manual adjustments during emergencies or anomalies. Sol’s involvement will primarily include turning valves or executing simple directives under Ashly’s guidance.</li>
</ul>
Shield Maintenance
<ul>
<li>Maintain the integrity of heat and radiation shields throughout the operation.</li>
<li>Shields are critical to protect the crew and ship systems from the extreme conditions near the star’s surface.</li>
</ul>
Core Stabilization
<ul>
<li>Direct harvested hydrogen into the fusion core to replenish reserves and sustain the plasma fields containing the black hole.</li>
<li>The process is highly risky and relies on precise teamwork between Reid, Ashly, and the rest of the engineering team to execute flawlessly.</li>
</ul>
Special Note from Vega
"Sol, this process is similar to the tests you assisted with on Earth under your father’s supervision. I know this isn’t entirely unfamiliar to you—you’ve done this before, and if you study the schematics and protocol, you’ll be fine. Just remember: this isn’t about reinventing the wheel; it’s about following procedure and acting as an extra set of hands when Ashly needs you."
<hr>
Warning: Fusion core containment relies on sustained plasma field stability. A fuel interruption of more than 60 seconds could result in catastrophic loss of containment.
Failure to maintain balance between intake flow and core consumption will result in:
<ul>
<li>Plasma destabilization</li>
<li>Core collapse</li>
<li>Immediate destruction of vessel</li>
</ul>
Notes:
Hydrogen is not a finite reserve, but plasma stabilization depends on continuous input. The fusion reaction generates power to sustain itself, yet even a temporary disruption could render the entire process unsalvageable.
<hr>
I stared at the text, the words catastrophic loss of containment ringing in my head. The explanation was so clinical, so detached, yet it confirmed what I had long suspected: the crew knew the Jericho would be destroyed if the fusion core ever ran out of fuel. But the briefing didn’t go into specifics—it didn’t mention why. Not the truth of the black hole caged within, nor the monstrous reality of what my father had created. That detail was carefully omitted, hidden beneath layers of technical jargon and sanitized warnings.
I scrolled further, skimming through diagrams of the intake system. The conduits connecting the ship to the star were elegant in their simplicity, yet the process they managed was anything but. Hydrogen would be funneled into the plasma shell surrounding the black hole, maintaining the delicate balance that kept the singularity contained. The plasma fields weren’t just a shield—they were a lifeline.
And if the stars themselves run out of hydrogen?
I blinked, my breath catching at the thought, even as I knew it was absurd. Stars lived for billions of years—far beyond the lifespan of the Jericho, or even the human species. The star we were orbiting now wouldn’t burn out today, tomorrow, or even in a few billion years. But the thought still stuck with me, gnawing at the edges of my mind. What happens if we really succeed? If we survive long enough that immortality becomes more than just a dream?
I let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow in the quiet cabin. “Not my problem,” I muttered under my breath. By then, I’d either be long gone or—more likely—just another footnote in this ship’s improbable history. Still, the idea chilled me. For all the weight this mission carried, for all the impossible stakes, there was something strangely freeing about knowing that some problems were simply too far away to matter.
But the thought lingered, sharper now: If we lived forever—if my father’s dream of immortality became reality—what would that mean in a billion years? My chest tightened as I tried to imagine it: endless time, endless hunger, the stars themselves growing dim as the universe slowly unraveled. If this was his legacy, was it really salvation? Or was it just trading one kind of doom for another?
I shook my head, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind. I couldn’t deny it: my father had always operated on a level far beyond the rest of humanity. His genius was matched only by his secrecy, and even now, after his death, I was still uncovering the pieces of his grand design.
Phoenix. The word pulsed in my thoughts like a heartbeat. It wasn’t just me—it couldn’t be. The name was too deliberate, too symbolic. A phoenix rose from its own ashes, reborn in flame. Had my father planned for something like that? A contingency? A way to rebuild, even if the Jericho fell?
The datapad dimmed, the screen flickering into standby mode as I stared at it without really seeing. My hands trembled as I set it aside, the weight of the mission pressing down on me. The Jericho was a marvel, a fortress, a lifeboat. But it was also a gamble—a desperate bet placed by a man who had always played for the highest stakes.
I thought of the code names again: Dragon, Gryphon, Phoenix. Each one a whisper of his ambition, of the lines he had been willing to cross. And now, here I was, caught in the middle of it, trying to hold it all together with nothing but scraps of knowledge and a name that felt more like a curse than a legacy.
My stomach churned as I glanced at the clock. Less than an hour until the mission briefing. Less than an hour until I had to step into the heart of the Jericho and face whatever came next.
With a deep breath, I scrolled through the rest of the mission details, my unease growing with every word. Valve calibrations, shield stability, intake flow monitoring—all precision tasks with no room for error. The others had been assigned critical roles, each one vital to the ship''s survival. My own role was listed as "minor," but it didn’t feel that way. Even the smallest mistake could cascade into disaster. So much for easing into things.
I set the datapad aside again and ran a hand through my unnaturally soft hair, trying to steady myself. At least I wasn’t alone. Ashly, the team’s quiet biologist, would be supervising my tasks. From the little I’d seen of her, she seemed calm and steady, the kind of person who could keep things running smoothly without making a fuss. It wasn’t much to go on, but she struck me as someone reliable—maybe even someone I could learn from. Of course, I didn’t know her well enough to say for sure.
Then there was Garin. Even without knowing much about him, I’d already decided he was a self-righteous ass. If anyone on the team had a problem with Ashly, it was probably him, but I couldn’t tell yet if that was a fair judgment or just my irritation talking.
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. First impressions didn’t mean much out here, but I’d have to start somewhere. For now, I’d just have to trust Ashly and do my part—learn fast, keep up, and try not to mess up.
Still, the thought of walking into the propulsion bay, into the heart of this impossibly dangerous machine, made my stomach twist. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. There was no time to sit here overthinking it. With everything on the line, the best I could do was keep up.
I glanced back at the datapad, the schematic of the propulsion system glowing faintly on the screen. My role was simple in theory: monitor intake valves, adjust flow rates, and report anomalies. Straightforward tasks I’d done for my father dozens of times, but the stakes made them feel monumental. One misstep could cascade into disaster. As I studied the layout of the bay—its intricate web of conduits, shield generators, and control panels—I tried to commit every detail to memory.
The more I stared, the more my nerves threatened to get the better of me. With a deep breath, I forced myself to focus on the practical. One step at a time. Study the schematics, understand the role, get dressed, and go. Repeating the steps in my head like a mantra helped ground me, even if only a little.
I pulled on the pressure suit, its sleek material hugging tightly against my skin. My movements felt mechanical as I adjusted the seals, making sure everything was in place. The suit was a shield, a layer of protection against the volatile environment I was about to step into—but it was also tight, far too tight, clinging in ways that made me cringe.
I caught my reflection in the glossy surface of the cabin wall and winced. The snug material emphasized every curve, drawing attention to my chest in a way that made me feel like I was on display. My cheeks burned as I adjusted the seals again, trying and failing to make it less noticeable. Growing up, I’d always hated how much attention my figure drew—it felt like a trait I had inherited without asking for, one more thing about my body I couldn’t control.
Shaking off the frustration, I rummaged through the small pile of clothes Vega had left me the night before, pulling out an oversized shirt. It was soft and faded, the fabric worn to perfection, with an old pop culture logo I didn’t recognize stretched across the front. It hung past my hips, comfortably loose, mercifully hiding the suit’s awkward fit. Practicality be damned—I needed something to make me feel less exposed, more like myself.
I tugged the hem of the shirt down one last time, letting out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me feel a little more human.
“Let’s hope this works,” I muttered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the ship.
Before leaving, I scarfed down a quick meal, barely tasting the reheated rations as I ate standing at the counter. My body needed the energy, even if my nerves made food hard to stomach. The bland meal was a small anchor of normalcy, a reminder that despite everything—black holes, classified projects, and impossible stakes—life still marched on in the little ways.
With the last bite down, I grabbed my datapad and headed for the door.
The Jericho thrummed beneath my feet as I stepped out, its heartbeat steady and unyielding. For the first time, though, it felt less like a comfort and more like a warning.
First day of training, first mission. What a crazy fucking day to start.