Chapter One: The Horizon Calls

The low hum of the Mayflower’s engines reverberated through the docking bay. A crowd had gathered, murmuring with restless anticipation.

“You think it’ll run this time?” someone asked.

“Doubt it. They’ve been trying all day,” another replied, unimpressed.

The engines whirred louder, a subtle pulse rippling through the dock. Almost in unison, the crowd covered their ears as the vibrations intensified.

“Well, it’s more than last time!” a voice shouted, though his words were swallowed by the roar.

On the forward deck, the captain wore his Skytrac graduation medal, which gleamed against his dark navy-and-white uniform trimmed with gray. He calmly directed his flight crew.

“Push to thirty percent power. Adjust grav intake. How are we on the systems? Give me levels!” His voice carried authority, though the strain beneath it was clear. They had been at this since morning, and the day was nearly gone.

Up front, the pilot eased the throttle forward.

Twenty-five percent… twenty-six… twenty-seven… twenty-eight…

Hope began to flicker among the crew until a deafening blast ripped through the dock. The cables securing the Mayflower shuddered and whipped under the strain. One snapped free with a metallic crack. Smoke belched from the starboard engine, followed by violent arcs of plasma and a bloom of purple fire.

The fire suppression systems roared to life, filling the dock with a blinding cloud of white, powder-like suppressant. When the haze finally cleared, the ship was still upright, showing no visible damage. For the crew, that counted as a victory. For the watching crowd, however, it was only another reason to avoid signing up for the expedition.

The posters appeared overnight: bright white and sharp blue, stamped with bold letters across every wall and transit station.

SECURE THE HORIZON.

By morning, people crowded beneath them, necks tilted, whispers weaving through the air. Some laughed, dismissing it as another empty promise. Others stood silent, their gaze fixed on the image of the Mayflower Ascendant, a gleaming city of steel built to push beyond the known.

Eira was one of the silent ones. She traced the poster’s edge with her fingertips, as though touch alone could make it real. A century had passed since Horizon Verse first began charting the void, and still humanity lingered in the shadow of a single sector. But this ship was different. They were not sending scouts anymore. They were sending people.

The station air vibrated with equal parts excitement and fear. Families clutched their application slips like lifelines. Volunteers in Horizon’s crisp uniforms threaded through the crowd, smiling as they promised: “You won’t be passengers. You’ll be founders.”

Founders. The word rang in Eira’s mind like a bell.

Behind her, an old man muttered, “Prison ship dressed up as a miracle.” No one turned. All eyes remained fixed on the towering holo-display, where footage replayed endlessly, the Ascendant’s hull glinting under floodlights.

For an instant, Eira thought she heard her brother’s voice in the shuffle of the crowd. He had already signed his name weeks ago, selling everything for a berth. She had not decided yet. But as she stared at the poster, at the promise of the horizon, the weight of choice pressed down hard.

The Mayflower Ascendant would depart in less than a year. Some would go. Some would stay. None knew what awaited beyond the dark.