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 galley 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. "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.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“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 galley 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,” and that useless level cap holding me back from actually using my ''Starship Navigation Familiarity'' to its full potential… “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.