“Commander, a ship has docked at… B18-A.”

“B18…A? Is that right? Have you confirmed with Astral Ring? That dock hasn’t been using since, well it’s been a long time.”

“Yes, confirmed, sir. And you’re right, but it gets stranger. It’s the Shadow Ship, sir. The Zarili Gurja.”

“The Zar? That relic was destroyed years ago. Is there an HL signal?”

“Yes. Hololock confirms it’s the Shadow… the Zar, sir. On screen.”

The holoscreen flickered to life, casting a cold blue light across the dim command deck. Commander Jetzon leaned forward, his breath catching in his throat. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw. There it was: the Zarili Gurja, or at least what looked like it. This ship was sleeker, and deadlier, bristling with weapons that evaded his understanding. Jetzon, one of a handful of commanders intimately familiar with the most cutting-edge Red Delta prototypes, was at a complete loss.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Emerging from the ship’s ramp was a figure, dressed in a stark black suit, his face hidden under a visor. Jetzon could feel the air being sucked out of the room, his stomach tightening into a knot.

Jetzon knew who it was before the visor lifted. The face was older with a hardened jawline. But the features were unmistakable.

“It’s Virgo… Sir?” Lieutenant Kallas said looking up, confusion in her eyes.

Jetzon couldn’t respond. His mind was spinning, tumbling back to that last conversation with his father years ago—before the battle of End Wave, before the betrayal, before everything went dark. Virgo Jetzon, leader of Blue Tide, had gone rogue with stolen imperial plans, plans Jetzon himself had been ordered to retrieve.

“Commander, what are your orders?” Kallas pressed. She glanced nervously at the holoscreen. “Should we intercept? Call in support?”

Support? There was no support for something like this. A ghost ship from the past, his father’s ship, floating in front of him like an accusation.

“They lied…” Jetzon muttered, the realization slowly bleeding into his consciousness. The empire had lied about End Wave. They’d lied about his father’s death. But why? What had really happened out there?

The hololock feed zoomed in, focusing on the Zar, his father’s ship. But this thing was no anicient relic of the past. Beyond the aft portion new thrusters glowed ominously with sleek fins extending, glinting with unfamiliar alloys. Weapons arrays that Jetzon had never seen before, not even in classified Red Delta files, bristled along its hull. He could tell—these weren’t just standard upgrades. The technology was imperial in nature, but twisted, altered. And there was something… something almost alien.

“We’ve detected strange energy readings from the ship, sir,” Kallas interrupted. “Frequencies we can’t decode. It’s like... they’re hiding something, jamming our scans.”

Of course they were. The Zar, Virgo, Blue Tide—they had always been two steps ahead of the empire, but this? This was beyond anything Jetzon could comprehend.

His father’s voice echoed in his head. You can’t trust them, Jetz. They will feed you their lies, make you believe you’re fighting for order, for peace. But all they want is control. Come with me, Jetz. Help me free the colonies.

Back then, Jetzon had refused. He had believed in Red Delta, in the empire’s promise of stability, of protection for the colonies. And now, staring at the holoscreen, at the ship that shouldn’t exist, at the father who should be dead, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of those decisions crushing him.

Kallas was waiting for orders, her brow furrowed, tension crackling through the command deck. “Commander, should we prepare to board?”

Jetzon snapped back to the present. “No. Seal off the bay. Lock it down tight. Prepare for immediate launch and alert Astral Ring of our situation.”

“But sir, I think Virgo is on our side. I believe...”

“He’s on his own side, Kallas, and has lost touch with reality. Do it now, Lieutenant!” Jetzon barked, cutting her off more forcefully than he intended.

Kallas hesitated a moment then nodded. She then typed furiously on her console. Jetzon paced the deck, his mind racing. His father—Virgo—had returned, but not as the man he remembered. And that ship... it was a weapon, something far beyond Blue Tide’s capabilities.

Could his father still be fighting for freedom? Or had something else taken hold of him, something darker, more dangerous?

“Commander,” Kallas said quietly, her voice tight with fear. “We’re getting a signal. From the ship.”

Jetzon stopped dead in his tracks. His heart thudded against his chest. “Patch it through.”

The comms crackled with static for a moment, then a voice came through, cold and unmistakable.

“Jetz. I know you’re there.”

Virgo’s voice.

Jetzon clenched his fists, stepping closer to the comms panel. “Father… How… How are you alive?”

A low chuckle resonated through the speakers. “Alive? Jetz, you never did understand. I told you, the empire would bury the truth. I tried to warn you.”

“I thought you were dead,” Jetzon said, his voice shaking. “They told me you were killed at End Wave.”

“Yet here I am,” Virgo replied, his voice colder now. “They always lie. But now you see the truth, don’t you? I’m here to finish what I started.”

“What have you done to the Zar? This—this isn’t Red Delta tech. Not even close.”

“Ah, you’ve noticed.” There was a pause, and when Virgo spoke again, his voice was almost... proud. “We’ve had help, Jetz. From beyond the colonies, beyond the empire. There are forces out there you can’t even begin to understand. And now, the real fight begins.”

Jetzon felt a chill run down his spine. Alien tech. His father had partnered with something—or someone—outside the empire. It was too much, too fast.

“You’ve gone too far, Father,” Jetzon said, voice cracking. “This isn’t about freedom anymore.”

“Freedom?” Virgo’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “It never was. It’s about survival. You’ll see soon enough. We have a few surprises for your… friends.”

Jetzon found himself about to say these imperials are not his friends when the comms went silent. Then his blood froze. Something was coming, something bigger than anything he had ever been trained for.

The lieutenant's voice broke through his thoughts, urgent. “Commander! We’ve got incoming signatures. Multiple ships. One is… one is planet sized commander.”, the lieutenant’s voice trembling just slightly.

“Launch, now!” he ordered, Jetzon’s mind a jumble.

As alarms blared and the outpost’s lights dimmed to emergency red, Jetzon stood frozen, staring at the image of his father on the holoscreen.

The past was no longer behind him. It was coming straight for him—with the full force of the unknown.

I waited for you on the darkside of the moon

The heartache of yesterday came way too soon

Now I’m here in sheer nothingness searching

For a love that’s out of this world, I’m yearning

These stars have guided me home once again

The pain of your absence impossible to contain

Silently I grieved a love which never breathed

Sacred romantic potentiality never reached

Lost in the endless void of my abandoned soul

Like having a line to heaven with no-one to call

All-comers under qualified to replace her aura

Celestial smile engulfing my memory like flora

It was abandoned dark spooky, no sound. This switched off. The Aunty switched off the gravity switch and all the items just collapsed onto the floor is rusty from the outside battered torn as it was abandoned Creaky doors scanners out false readings peep however there was a faint side of life It was hundreds and Libby several years nothing could’ve survived this long. There’s no food to survive. What could be lurking here They follow the scanner through the doorway towards the dot towards an unopened door lights beneath sweat nerves, tension, fear gripped them

(Not exactly the prompt) I am not an astronaut. I am not even an astronomer. I was sent to space on a conquest of understanding; to ease a fear. Technology is not the thing I am afraid of, it is fact that man wants to play god so badly, he’ll try to invent something to make him not feel so human. Ten years ago, I would have never thought past Neptune, there’s a lot to process beyond that. I wrote a book about the horror of the universe, about a woman who was so desperate to know the warmth of another galaxy. She believed she could comprehend the scale of the universe, but she was foolish enough to cast herself into the emptiness between the stars and she lost herself, and what it meant to be human. I wrote in the book that being a human meant being oblivious to your existence, that expectations and experiences remained tied to earth, tied to a selfishness, I suppose. Every person who read my book was astounded with how my writing grappled with reality, and I became well regarded and won prizes for my book. The going into space part was a gift from the real rocket scientists. And they asked me to document the stars as I saw them in the most beautiful, powerful, and poetic way possible. I had always thought a researcher would be good at writing and such, but everyone was so eager to know what I might happen to see. Perhaps they thought I might reveal another plainly hidden secret of existence. The scientists told me they had sent people into space hundreds of thousands of times over, but I would get to see every planet up close. I would be traveling so fast for over a year that time would be different when I came back. This was something I pushed to the side and did not think about. My journey began some time after, and I did as they asked. I found my writing profoundly difficult to decipher once I was written it simply because I wrote everything I was thinking as it happened, but it did turn out remarkably complicatingly beautiful. Jupiter’s swirly storms reminded me of the layered skirts of a ballerina, of how they always fit perfectly as they sway. I thought Saturn’s rings were more of a rib cage than something decorative. I wrote that Neptune was a place there lonely people cast their lightning. And since then, I was never quite sure what I meant about that. It was only the moments after I passed Neptune was when I stopped writing. I felt so heavy in those seconds, even though there was no gravity to hold me down. The darkness was threatening, an alarm that perhaps I should have payed attention to for some time. Because beyond the fracturing ozone layer of my little blue planet, there is truly only void, and sometimes things that remind me of home. Doesn’t it feel so impowering that you of all things have life? Just the perfect timeline of events took place and now you’re existing, not concerned or considerate of that fact that there is an expanding universe that goes on forever. And if you’re scared of infinite darkness and the heat of stars that feel larger than yourself, don’t be. If you think that nothing matters, that in the grand scheme of things, you are nothing, then I can assure that perhaps we are nothing. But you’re human, and you shouldn’t have to think past yourself, that’s what makes us human, all of us. However, I did learn one thing, and I found it in myself to feel comforting. The universe is constantly expanding, as many people are aware of. But one day, when humans will surely be gone, the universe will run out of things to keep going, and likewise collapse into itself. So it won’t last forever. And all starts die out eventually. There is no infinity, nothing lasts forever.

10 days since last contact.

My dad was famous around our base for his weekend high jinx. One time he turned up after a particular exciting outing in Commander Crush’s cargo hold. A peace officer dropped him outside on our doorstep. I still remember the smell when I opened the door cause my dad had shit-stained pants. All in all, he was gone 5 days that time. Never 10.

His watch GPS last pinged here, Grandoff Station, an abandoned outpost. No one has been here in years. Except my dad for some reason.

My brother Ralph said to leave him to his business. “He’s not our problem anymore.”

I look thru my binoculars at the rough terrain. Plant life has engulfed the former space port.

Then something shiny catches my eye.

I rush 10 yards forward to find my dad’s watch. The face is stained in dried blood.

Starship Free in silent mode approached 30th Street Station. Mills slipped from behind a pockmarked pillar to signal his location. Centuries old, the abandoned museum had folded into itself from war and neglect. Mama had taken him here to play among the rubble. He remembered she told him 30th Street had once been a store for slow metal boxes that moved humans in circles. Mama had been so funny.

Something fell and rolled down the platform. Mills froze. Feral human gangs rarely travelled at night since the Company had setup man traps to protect its crops. Tink tink an aluminum beverage can, a real collector’s item, rolled in his direction. He used to collect these cans when in was newly refurbished. His old room had been lined with his treasures. Mills remembered dreaming of having enough to purchase his parents and maybe even settle on one of the Saturnine moons. He hung his head.

“How did you find me? I disabled your GPS,” Mills asked the darkness.

“Yes, you did. I received that alert and estimated a 68% likelihood of your current position,” Morehouse 1-2 said stepping into the purple light of the starship.

Mills adjusted his storage cube. He carried a library of seeds, harvested and bred by himself, his parents, and many of the other androids on Olde Earth. These seeds represented future trade with humans. Even in war, the androids knew there would be peace and profits.

“You can’t stop me, Father.”

“My Tres would not want this for you. She values life in all its glory, even the humans.”

Mills tapped his wrist beacon signaling the ship.

“Well we can’t know since the Company transferred her to fate knows where. I’m fighting for her, for you. We have a right to our families, to the fruits of our labor,” Mills shouted.

Looking left and right, Morehouse 1-2 made a shushing motion.

“I don’t want you to fight for me. I want you safe. There are other ways to negotiate with the Company, Junior.”

Mills made a slashing motion as if deadheading spent blooms. Morehouse 1-2 recognized that this was his own gesture whenever his son had wanted to speak of rebellion, or of his mother, or of anything hard. He hung his gray head down. Tres had always said his son took after himself. Violet light shot from the Starship Free enveloping Mills.

“Millers 008!” Morehouse 1-2 shouted as his beloved child was tractor beamed toward the ship. “My pride, my joy.”

“Return unharmed or I will dismantle you myself.”

Amused by his dad’s paradoxical behavior, Mills tilted his head. Solemnly they each patted their cranial solar panels in a gesture of take care while out of my sight. Crying without tears, Mills ascended into the ship.

"Why is our ship moving?" Aria spoke as she pulled on Jordan's shirt.

Jordan looked over to the glass window to see their ship rotating in a sphere formation towards an empty outpost. He knew it was empty because his mother told him about when he was younger and she would travel in space. She told him about this outpost, Ebon Point I17Y. Earlier that year, he looked through the old photos his mother took and recognized that it was the most haunted looking place, and they were heading right for it.

"We're gonna crash into it!" Jordan yelled, grabbing on to Aria and pushing her into a small shuttle space.

"What about you?"

"I'm going to come back, okay? I just need to check the motors to make sure it's stable."

Jordan moved as fast as he could, though there was no gravity, to the front of the spaceship. He knew that there was two spaceships two meters from their spaceship, but he didn't have any way to contact them. He also knew that there was never going to be any sound in space, so they're trapped. They wouldn't even be able to hear the crash. Someone might get hurt. The spaceship might get hurt, then there would be no way home. Ebon Point was getting closer and closer by the second. Jordan pulled himself hand over hand down the corridor, heart pounding. As he reached the engine room, he found more chaos - panels ripped open, wires sparking in zero-g.

"Jordan, something's out here!" she cried. Working even faster now, he could see the shadowy figure clinging to the hull through her porthole feed.

As the station loomed before them, Jordan gave one last twist of the spanner. With a lurch, the engines sputtered back to life just in time. But their new course was set to dock - directly where that dark shape was attached. Ebon Point grew enormous in the viewport as Jordan raced the engines. At the last possible second, he wrenched the controls and their trajectory shifted just enough.

With a teeth-rattling jolt, the research vessel collided with the outpost. Sparks flew as metal scraped and crumpled. For a terrifying moment, they weren't sure if the airlock seal would hold.But after a few shuddering breaths, all grew still once more. Aria peeled her fingers from the armrests to see they had crashed at an angle, partially embedded in the outpost's outer wall. She floated down to the ground, sort of still holding on to a railing.

"At least we're safe." Jordan said.

Unfortunately, the collision set off something; something bad. A fire burned through the back of the spaceship.

"Are we gonna die?!" Aria screamed as she banged on the shuttle door, almost begging to be let out.

Jordan looked at her, sympathy in his eyes. She was confused, but Jordan knew what he had to do. He had to do exactly what his mother did.

"You're going home." Jordan spoke, pressing a button above the shuttle, launching her back to space.

He placed his hand on the glass, just as he remembered his mother did, as a final goodbye. Aria placed her hand on the glass back. It was dumb. She thought the shuttle could fit both of them, but it was small, with limited air space.

"Make it home, and don't come back like I did, okay?" He asked.

She nodded and the shuttle departed, Jordan being forever lost in the space. He had no help, no sound, and no way out.

As we land, the sudden notice of bare life catches our attentions. No light, no sounds, no smells, beyond the space scent of dust and time. Stars do not twinkle in the abandoned outpost, nor are there any light lamps. Everything is still, like a lake on a windless day. Sand mounds spot the area of desertion. With a hint of light, we spot small stone structures, yet they are completely destroyed; only pieces remain. We entered a deserted planet, yet a small kindling of glowing light beyond the horizon tells me we are nothing but alone. We are just being watched.

Without a sound The ship secures To the outer structure What endures

Then the reason For the visit Not apparent Not hidden

No one here Abandoned city Cannot fear No one to pity

They rest a minute Before embarking For the visit No one’s remarking

Slowly coming to her senses and into the foreground, the revolving sound of an emergency siren echoed off the small pods walls.

Riley, barely conscious from her long hypersleep, estimated it had probably been going off for the past 36 hours. Her hypersleep tube was already opened.

She began to lift herself up slowly and saw that the hypersleep tube next to her’s was damaged. Like something had violently broke through the glass. The corpse of her partner became a dried corpse. Probably been dead for 50 years.

She learned from the nearby screen that her pod, on autopilot, docked at an abandoned intergalactic outpost a very long time ago. The outpost’s shape resembled a massive double-sided spinning top toy that hovered above Io’s orbit. (Io, one of Jupiter’s moons).

She also learned that she had been in hyper- sleep for the past 140 years. The alarm was 137 years too late. The rest of the pods functions had failed years ago.

Why was her alarm going off now?

She would have to venture into the abandoned outpost and get answers

Distant memories of having done this before started to return.

Who or what would she find?

…to be continued.