Chapter 21 - Arrival at Alpha Centauri

I felt the vibration of the ship deepen, the kind that made my bones feel like jelly as we decelerated into the Alpha Centauri System. The bridge was alive, every crew member locked into their stations or glued to monitors, their focus razor-sharp. Me? I leaned back in the captain’s chair, trying to look as calm as possible, but my heart was doing cartwheels. This was it: the edge of the next frontier. All that waiting, all the prep, and now? Now I was here. And yeah, I was more scared than excited. But also relieved. We made it. We didn't die in a fiery explosion or get lost in the Oort Cloud. That was something, right?

Zoe was hunched over her console, her long dreadlocks draped over one shoulder, her hands hovering near the controls like they were glued there. Even under the dim bridge lights, I could see the way her almond skin practically glowed, and I noticed the way her fingers twitched, her posture tight. She wasn’t saying a word, but I could tell she was wound up. Zoe never let things show, so the fact that even she looked tense? Yeah, it was a mood.

Then Joey’s voice broke through like a goddamn cannonball. “Finally, some real stars!” he yelled, pointing at his screen like he’d just found buried treasure. Always the dramatics with that guy. I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t wrong. This was a big deal, even if he sounded like an idiot.

My eyes drifted to the viewport. The stars of Alpha Centauri hung there, faint and distant. Not exactly the brilliant fireworks display sci-fi posters promised. Proxima Centauri, the closest of the three, was just a dot in the void. Alpha Centauri A and B? Pinpricks. Tiny lights separated by distances so huge, my brain didn’t even want to try and process them. It was… kinda underwhelming. Not that I was going to admit that out loud. The crew was buzzing, and I wasn’t about to kill the vibe.

---

My stomach churned, and I told myself it was just from the deceleration, not the weight of what we were doing. We were the first humans to ever do this, to ever see this. That should’ve felt bigger. Maybe it would later. Right now? It was just a lot.

Zoe let out a laugh, short, almost disbelieving and unbuckled herself from her seat. “Holy shit, we’re here,” she muttered, running a hand through her dreadlocks. Her boots hit the deck with a light thud as she stood, her excitement radiating like a pulse. She spun on her heel, her eyes scanning the bridge for someone, anyone, to share this moment with.

Her eyes landed on Ryan, who sat next to her and was still staring at his console, his fingers tapping away like they hadn’t just made history.

“Ryan!” Zoe practically screamed. He looked up, startled, just in time for her to throw her arms around him.

“We made it, Ry,” she said, her words muffled against his shoulder, and I could hear the rawness in her voice. Ryan, caught off guard, hesitated for a second before wrapping an arm around her awkwardly. His face was half-surprised, half-grinning, like he didn’t know what to do but wasn’t about to pull away either.

And yeah, that was a sweet moment, I’ll give her that.

Around the bridge, the crew started to catch on. Joey whooped, slapping the side of his console like he couldn’t contain himself. Emily let out a relieved laugh, leaning back in her chair and glancing over at me with a grin that made my chest feel tight. Chris raised his fist in the air, letting out a triumphant, “Hell yeah!” It was chaos, but the good kind.

I stayed in my seat, my hands folded over my chest, watching as high-fives and hugs were exchanged like we’d just won the universe’s most intense game of dodgeball. And maybe we had. A grin tugged at my lips despite myself. They’d earned this moment. Weeks of waiting, grinding through chores, staring at nothing but logs and diagnostics. And now we were here, humanity’s first steps into a new star system. All that tension, all that stress, for this little moment of celebration.

And yeah, I was proud of all of them. But mostly? I was just trying not to freak out.

---

As the initial wave of celebration ebbed, Zoe drifted back to her station. I caught the flicker of hesitation in her expression as she looked at the stars on her display. For all the crew’s excitement, the reality of the system’s vastness was impossible to ignore. At this distance: over 2,000 AUs from Proxima Centauri, and far further from Alpha Centauri A or Rigil Kentaurus as it was named, officially, and Alpha Centauri B, Toliman, the three stars were little more than points of light against the black. The crew had known this, of course. The navigational briefings had been clear: the stars wouldn’t dominate the sky or appear in dramatic proximity to one another. But knowing it logically didn’t make the sight any less underwhelming. And yeah, that reality was sinking in, even for me. This was it, and yeah, I didn’t know how to feel about it. It was amazing, but… also a little bit terrifying.

Ryan, ever perceptive, leaned toward Zoe. His sandy blonde hair caught the light as he spoke softly. “It’s not what we expected,” he said, his voice steady, “but look at what we’ve done. We’re here, Zoe. We made it.” He’s always been good with words, that dumbass.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes lingered on the screen. “You’re right,” she said, squeezing his hand briefly. “I can’t wait to see what we find.” And yeah, maybe that was all we needed to hear.

I adjusted my console, pretending not to notice their moment, and yeah, I was jealous. She’ll be fine, I thought. We all will. This is just the first step, I needed to tell myself that, too. I glanced back at the stars ahead, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing on me. This system was vast, too vast for one ship to explore entirely in our limited time. Every decision from here on would matter, and every mistake would cost us dearly. And yeah, the responsibility was starting to sink in.

Before I could dwell on it too much, I decided to check my interface. It had been weeks, and a small, hopeful part of me figured that maybe, just maybe, the change in system would trigger something. I focused, bringing up my status screen. My eyes immediately went to the skill queue. Still inactive. I checked my experience. Nothing. I blinked, then checked again. Nothing. A wave of confusion, then frustration, washed over me. "What the fuck?" I muttered under my breath.

Emily, seated beside me, reached over and squeezed my hand, her fingers warm and steady. It was such a simple gesture, but it made my chest tighten in a good way. I turned to her, catching the faint smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t say anything, just let the gesture speak for her. And yeah, it helped, more than I wanted to admit.

“Danny,” I called over my shoulder, my tone neutral, almost impatient. “Turn on the screen. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

There was a pause. Too long. I twisted in my chair, eyebrows raised. “Danny?”

He jerked like he’d been caught stealing cookies from the jar, his datapad clutched awkwardly in his hands. His eyes darted from Ryan and Zoe back to me, wide and a little panicked. “What? Oh, yeah, sorry. On it,” he stammered, fumbling to bring the interface online.

I didn’t miss the way his eyes checked out Zoe for a second longer than it should have, or the faint pink creeping up his neck. It was almost funny, really. He’d been watching them, and yeah, I couldn’t blame him. The way Zoe and Ryan had been leaning into each other, sharing that quiet moment, it was hard not to notice. But Danny? He looked like he’d just been caught watching something he shouldn’t, and that made it so much better.

“Focus, Danny,” I said, smirking despite myself as I turned back to my screen. “We’re not here to sightsee.” I was trying to distract myself from the fact that my skill queue wasn't working. It didn't make any sense.

“Right. Got it,” Danny mumbled, his voice a little higher than usual as he scrambled to pull up the interface. And yeah, I knew he was trying to shake off whatever just happened, but the way Zoe glanced over her shoulder with a subtle smirk? She definitely noticed, too.

Emily’s hand stayed on mine for a moment longer, her thumb brushing lightly against my knuckles before she withdrew. The simple touch lingered like an anchor, pulling me back to the moment. This system was already full of surprises, but at least I wasn’t navigating it alone.

A moment later, soft lines and markers blinked to life on the viewport, outlining the positions of Proxima Centauri and Alpha Centauri A and B. Data streamed in beside the stars, distances, orbital details. I squinted at the display. Still just dots, I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Well, at least now we know which dots are ours. All that effort, all that tension, for a couple of damn dots on the screen.

The crew returned to their stations, their chatter quieter now, like they were still processing what this meant. The buzz wasn’t gone; it was just different, muted, but charged. No one said it out loud, but you could feel it. This was something bigger than we could grasp.

"Hey," I said, my voice a little louder than I intended. "Has anyone checked their interface?" The question hung in the air, and I could feel the shift in the atmosphere on the bridge. Everyone looked at me, a few faces already reflecting the same confusion I was feeling.

Emily frowned as she brought up her own interface. "What's wrong?"

"My skill queue is still shows inactive," I said, the words laced with disbelief. "And nowhere to apply XP, even if I had any to apply."

The effect was immediate. A wave of murmurs rippled through the bridge as the rest of the crew accessed their own interfaces. I could see the same realization dawning on their faces, the same mix of confusion and frustration.

"Mine too," Chris said, his voice tight. "What the hell?"

"This doesn't make any sense," Zoe muttered, her eyes fixed on her console as if she could somehow force the system to update. "We're in a new system. The cap should have lifted."

"Maybe it takes time?" Joey offered, but his voice lacked conviction. We all knew the system didn't work like that.

Then, because he could always be counted on to say the absolute worst thing at the worst time, Joey added, "Or maybe we were wrong. Maybe just getting here doesn't do shit. Maybe there's some other hidden mechanic we're missing."

I wanted to punch him. Right in his stupid, pragmatic face. "Thanks, Joey," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's exactly what we needed to hear. You know, besides the whole mapping and surveying thing, and getting paid, the whole fucking point of coming here was to level up. To get that tingle, that little rush. You know, that feeling we haven't had in what almost two years?" I could feel the anger rising in my chest, and it had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with frustration.

Ryan, ever the optimist, chimed in, "Maybe we just need to, you know, use our skills. Get things moving." He gestured vaguely with his hands, like he was physically demonstrating the activation process. "Shake off the rust."

Zoe shot him a withering look. "I've been using my navigation skills, Ryan. It hasn't done shit."

"So... combat skills?" Danny said, his eyes drifting towards the door, then back at us. "That's how we unlocked the system to begin with, right? Maybe that's what it takes?"

A heavy silence fell over the bridge, yep, you guessed it, we could hear the proverbial pin drop. We were in a new system, millions of miles from home, and our skills weren't leveling. We were still capped. A sense of unease, bordering on panic, began to spread among the crew. This wasn't just an inconvenience; it was a serious problem. We relied on those skills, on that progression. And on that rush. That little jolt of pleasure that came with every new level, every skill up. We were junkies, in a way, and right now, we were all going through withdrawal. And right now, we were stuck.

I let my eyes drift back to the viewport, taking in Proxima Centauri and its distant siblings. No dazzling bursts of light, no cosmic drama. Just tiny points against an endless, indifferent black. Not exactly the fireworks show we’d all secretly hoped for, huh? But that’s the universe for you. Cold, quiet, and a hell of a lot bigger than we are. Still, we were in it. For real.

It was terrifying. And amazing. And it was all on me now. I gripped the armrest a little tighter, trying to keep my nerves in check. There’s no turning back from this. We made it. Now it’s time to make it count. But how were we supposed to do that if we couldn't even level up?