Chapter 5 - Separation

Okay, here we go. Time to wrangle these idiots. "Alright, everyone," I clapped my hands, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing. Which, let's be real, I usually didn't.

My eyes snagged on Emily, holy shit. Damn, she looked amazing. Like, a straight-up firecracker. And she knew it, with that little smirk and a wink. She was doing that on purpose.

She sauntered over, pecked me on the cheek, "Alright, Captain," she said, all teasing and batting her eyes at me. She knew she was hot, the way she strutted away, that sway in her hips.

Danny shuffled past, his eyebrows practically touching as he tugged at the collar of his uniform. "This thing's tighter than a vacuum seal," he muttered resignedly. "I swear I just heard it squeak when I moved.”

And of course, Ryan, that little shit, jumped in. “Here, let me fix that wedgie for you, Danny.” Asshole. Tugging at his suit. Danny yelped, "Get your hands off me!" Face bright red. Ryan always had to mess with Danny.

“You two are hopeless,” I muttered, shaking my head. They were like a couple of toddlers. Still, I’d die for those two knuckleheads, wouldn't admit it though. They were idiots.

Okay, with all the last-minute stuff finally done, we were all in our spots on the bridge of the Triumph of Darron, ready to rock and roll. Zoe, our navigation officer, was front and center, looking like she was born to pilot this damn ship. I’m pretty sure she slept with a star chart under her pillow.

To her right, Emily was all focused, her eyes scanning the screens like she was dissecting them. She was a real looker when she was concentrating like that. If I didn't know better, I'd say she wanted to be here more than me.

Ryan and Danny were off to the side, like the nerdy science and engineering department, hunched over their consoles. Those two were a pair of tools sometimes, but when push came to shove, they knew their jobs. They were arguing about some pointless crap as usual. On Zoe’s left were Joey and Chris, the newbies, but not really. They were like the older brother types who hung out with us back in the day. Joey's got this quiet intensity about him, like he was carrying the weight of the world, which he kind of was, what with his dad being a grade-A shitbag and all. But underneath that brooding, he was solid. A good dude.

Chris, on the other hand, was all smiles and energy. The guy just radiated positivity, it was almost sickening, bet he was glad to be part of the crew. He was a last-minute addition, someone to bring along with Joey. But all that charm was just hiding the fact that he was a beast in combat, yeah, we had that going for us.

Alright, everyone was in position. I took a deep breath, the kind you take before jumping off a cliff. "Initiate undocking procedures," I said, trying to sound all captain-y. Like I knew what the hell I was doing, well… I did know what I was doing, mostly, with my 'Starship Piloting Familiarity' and my 'Starship Operation Familiarity', just enough to make this work without immediately wrecking us, but not enough to truly feel in control, not until 10 anyway.

I flicked open my interface because, let’s be real, that’s what you do at the start of an adventure, right? Set the stage, check the numbers, make sure everyone knows where we stand. For all you math weirdos out there, yeah, I’ll update this stuff as we go. Just don’t ask me to explain the math.

[Status]

Name: Luca Rossi

Combat Path: Operative [Perception, Intelligence]

Profession Path: Starship Commander [Intelligence, Memory]

Level: 60

Experience Points: 1,706,305/1,706,306

[Attributes]

Charisma: 22

Intelligence: 50

Memory: 45

Perception: 66

Willpower: 31

When it came to XP allocation, I was a bit of a mess. Zoe and the rest of them? Those guys had it together: a skill plan and skill queue, all orderly and put together. My problem, no, not a problem, my situation, yes that’s what it was, was different. I had to take on additional skills outside my path, you know, for the sake of the team, and, in a sense, it forced me to diversify because I cared. The problem was that at level 60, our cap, we only had a certain amount of XP, and while I had skills that gave me enough knowledge to do my job, everyone else could do it better. I was more of a jack of all trades. So I had my upgraded combat path and my professional path, plus, you know, other critical essentials.

Now, our skills weren’t flashy, no magic or special abilities, not yet anyway. These were mostly passive, like the system inserted knowledge into your brain, allowing you to skip college and whatever else. That’s how Danny, at 20 years old, had PhD level knowledge on astrophysics or whatever, but could operate our instruments and actually interpret the data, and Ryan, as much a loser as he was, was a perfect starship engineer, mostly. My piloting skills felt okay; I had a level 4 in Starship Piloting and Operation Familiarity, but when it came to power system optimization? Well, that was just level 3. Anyhow, here are my Starship Commander Skills. I had more, but they weren’t really relevant right now.

Starship Piloting Familiarity: Level 4

Starship Operation Familiarity: Level 4

Starship Systems Familiarity: Level 4

Starship Maintenance Familiarity: Level 3

Starship Power Systems Optimization Familiarity: Level 3

Starship Navigation Familiarity: Level 3

"Alright, everyone," I said, settling into the captain’s chair. My voice sounded steadier than I felt, which was all that mattered. "Let’s do this clean."

“You got it, Captain,” Zoe responded, toggling the thrusters. She had that cocky little smirk that said she could do this blindfolded. The Triumph of Darron rumbled softly, the engines humming alive beneath us. The vibrations carried through the deck, like the ship itself was just as eager as I was.

"Docking clamps disengaged," Emily reported, her tone steady. "Jetbridge retracted. All systems nominal."

“Copy that,” I said, watching as Zoe began the delicate work of easing us out of the bay. “Nice and steady.”

Why the hell couldn't I have focused more on one thing, like Zoe? Watching her make the maneuvers with such precision, it was hard not to feel the difference between her honed Multi-Vector Piloting skill and my level 4 version. At least my Zero-G Maneuvering Familiarity is at the same level as her. Her professional path had been consistent from the beginning, flying and navigation. Those skills synchronized and built off each other, pushing her navigation skills into the proficiency tier, far surpassing what I could do.

Chris leaned into his console, toggling the comms. “Genesis Platform, this is Triumph of Darron,” he said, his tone all business. It suited him, even if I could tell he was barely holding back a grin. And who knew what path Chris even had? Sure, he had a DPS combat path, he told me what it was one time, but his professional path? No idea. Who even let him on the ship? The guy probably had a charisma attribute so high it registered as a weapon.

A short burst of static came through before the reply: “Triumph of Darron, this is Genesis Traffic Control. We read you loud and clear. What’s your status?”

“Traffic Control, we are undocked and maneuvering clear of the bay,” Chris replied smoothly. “Requesting departure clearance.”

“Roger that, Triumph,” came the response. “You are cleared for departure. Proceed on vector zero-seven-one until you are 10 kilometers clear, then resume your planned course. Safe travels.”

“Copy, Traffic Control,” Chris said. “Proceeding on vector zero-seven-one. Thank you, Genesis.”

The Triumph glided smoothly away from the platform, Zoe working the controls like the damn artist she was. The massive structure of Genesis shrank in the viewport, its spindly construction like a web against the stars. It looked smaller already, which was saying something. I swallowed a weird lump in my throat. Nostalgia or nerves? Could’ve been both.

"Ship’s clear," Zoe announced, her voice calm but smug, like she’d just nailed a perfect landing. Which she had, in reverse. I wished that feeling was just mine. All her skill points, completely focused on 'Starship Navigation,' made her a natural, whereas I'd had a smattering of skills that allowed me to do the job, but never quite good enough to be truly confident.

"Confirmed," Emily added. "All systems green. You’re good to set our course when ready, Captain."

Chris switched the comms. “Genesis Traffic Control, this is Triumph of Darron. Clear of the platform and proceeding on departure vector.”

"Copy, Triumph. You are cleared to engage your next sequence. Safe journey, and we’ll see you on the other side." The radio crackled one last time before falling silent.

And just like that, we were on our way.

Chris thanked them, ending the transmission. He turned to me, gave me a thumbs-up and a wide grin, all teeth and boyish charm. “That was easy,” he said.

I tried to keep it cool, but a small laugh escaped my lips. “Don’t get too comfortable yet, Chris. We still have a long way to go.”

Just then, the comms panel on Chris's console chirped, a rhythmic pulse indicating an incoming priority message. He tapped a control, his brow furrowing slightly. "We've got a priority one hail from Genesis, Captain," he reported, his voice all business. "It's Commander Rossi."

I nodded, straightening up a little in my chair. "Patch it through to the bridge speakers, but keep it formal." This wasn't just a casual chat; it was a message to the entire crew, and potentially being recorded for the logs.

Chris manipulated the controls, as a soft tone echoed through the bridge, signaling the open channel.

"Triumph of Darron," a familiar voice filled the bridge, rich with authority. "This is Commander Athan of the Genesis Station. Please confirm receipt."

"This is Captain Luca Rossi of the Triumph of Darron," I replied, my voice echoing slightly in the sudden formality. "We read you loud and clear, Commander. Go ahead."

There was a brief pause, a moment of static that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Then, my father's voice, a little softer now, but no less commanding. "To the crew of the Triumph of Darron, I extend my official best wishes for a successful and safe voyage. You have trained hard, and you are prepared for the challenges ahead." He paused, clearing this throat.

"You carry the hopes of many with you," Athan continued, his tone gaining strength. "The success of this mission, the data you gather, will be invaluable to the United Earth Republic, and the IFC. Remember your training, rely on your crewmates, and conduct yourselves with honor and integrity. Genesis Station will be monitoring your progress. We expect great things."

"We will do our best, Commander," I said, glancing around at the crew, who were all listening intently. "Thank you for your support."

"Don't worry, Commander," Emily chimed in, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "We'll keep him in line."

"Good. Remember what I said about sticking together." He paused, then to me, "Luca. Lead them well, son. Make me proud."

My throat tightened unexpectedly. "I will, Dad. I promise."

"Good. Genesis Station out." The connection closed with a soft click, leaving a sudden silence on the bridge.

I nodded, took a deep breath, and turned to face my crew. “Alright, guys,” I started, trying to keep the excitement from making my voice crack. “This is it. Our journey begins now.” I glanced around at each of them, Emily, focused and ready; Zoe, smirking with anticipation; Danny, a little nervous, but determined; Ryan, already scheming, I just knew it; Joey, looking steady and resolute; and then, back to Chris, who was sending logs or something back to the shipyard.

Across the bridge, Danny was working on his console, his brow furrowed in concentration as he double-checked the readings. On his screen, the Genesis Platform was already a distant speck, barely visible amidst the swirling chaos of the asteroid belt.

Ryan leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied groan as he finished the final systems checks. He shot me a confident wink. "All green, Captain. Ready to punch it."

Joey's eyes swept over the crew, lingering for a moment on each of us. He tapped a few commands into his console, his expression unreadable. When our eyes met, he gave a curt nod. "Vitals are nominal," he reported, his voice calm and steady.

I cleared my throat, because, you know, captain stuff. I hated speeches, but sometimes I gotta say something, right? I didn't want to be captain, no one else did, so here I was, stuck. “Alright, everyone, let’s remember why we’re out here.” Ugh, this sounded so lame, the words tasted like ash. I tried to sound like I knew what I was doing, like some action movie hero. “We have a mission to explore the Alpha Centauri system and uncover its secrets.” I paused, met each of their eyes, trying to look all serious and professional. “It’s gonna be scary, exciting, and awkward at times, but I know we can handle it.”

My words got a few chuckles out of them, and I couldn’t help but grin. It was nice when they weren’t looking at me like I was a complete loser.

“But seriously, guys,” I continued, “this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Let’s make the most of it and discover something extraordinary. If it goes well, we’ll secure funding to continue these sort of missions in the future.” Okay, that was enough inspirational captain bullshit for one day.

I took one last look at the disappearing platform, a fusion of relief and anticipation swirling inside me before I settled back into my chair, my face set with some kind of determined expression. “Now, let’s get this show on the road. Engage primary thrusters, Mr. Mitchell. Ms. Woods, plot a course for the Oort cloud passage.”

“Yes, Sir!” they shouted back in unison, then burst out laughing. I couldn’t help but laugh with them, they were a bunch of goddamn goofballs. The good kind.

Ryan activated his control panel, and the Triumph of Darron kicked into gear, accelerating smoothly away from the asteroid belt. I leaned back, feeling the low hum of the engines vibrating through the ship.

To my right, Danny was a statue, his eyes fixed on his sensor readings. Zoe, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of motion, double-checking her coordinates with rapid-fire movements. Her eyes flickered between the console, Danny, and Ryan, a hint of a smile playing on her lips whenever she looked their way, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she's got a crush. I felt a pang of empathy for her, it couldn’t be easy being stuck between those two goofballs. I knew all too well how hard it was to admit feelings for someone when you're around them all the time, especially if it was complicated. What was she waiting for? They were all idiots.

With our duties done, the ship cleared the asteroid belt and set its sights for the Oort Cloud. Chris relayed our destination to flight control, the guy always seemed to know the right thing to say. One by one, they left the bridge, their tasks done for now as the ship shifted to autopilot. And then I was left alone. Fuck. Captain’s log, I muttered to myself, today I gave a horrible speech, and everyone laughed at me.

The cabin door hissed shut, and suddenly, the sterile quiet wasn't about comfort. It was about the deafening silence of responsibility. Alpha Centauri wasn't just a destination anymore; it was a tightrope, and I was about to step onto it, blindfolded.

See, this whole Alpha Centauri trip? It wasn’t just some random Sunday drive. It was riding on the back of something insane that happened a couple of years back. Venus. Level 60 portal. That’s where they found the first FTL drive. An honest-to-god, warp-speed engine, if you believed the description. The United Earth Republic snapped it up for a pile of credits that’d make your eyes water, and last I heard, eggheads in Geneva were still trying to figure out how it even worked.

Venus went nuts after that. Suddenly everyone and their mom was an ‘adventurer,’ tripping over each other to find another FTL drive. The portal where the first one popped? Single-use, gone. Typical. But the Interstellar Frontier Company, Karen’s company, they’re quick on the uptake. They slapped an outpost down on Venus faster than you could say ‘atmospheric pressure is a bitch.’ Venus is Venus, though. Harsh doesn’t even cover it. But IFC, they’re all about planning and logistics. Suddenly, hitting portals on Venus became… well, not easy, but doable. Still, level of difficulty? Astronomical.

My team, having been part of the IFC since the early days, we got the VIP pass to the base, running Venus portals like they were going out of style. Which, some of them probably were. Even with the IFC hookup, we were elbowing for portal time with every other team high level team in the IFC. Hundreds of crews, all scrambling for the same thing.

The portal where we finally scored our FTL drive? Straight up hellscape. No exaggeration. We’d run portals all over Venus, waited our turn in the queue more times than I could count, and finally hit the jackpot. FTL drive in hand, we practically shoved it under Karen and Michael’s noses at IFC and told them we were bidding for the Alpha Centauri charter. Convincing them wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. But we had the FTL drive. And Dad? Athan Rossi? He actually committed to building us a ship. Us.

The bidding war for the charter was a whole other level of hell. Karen and Michael going head-to-head with Orion Horizons, Helix Corp, Titan Dynamics, the whole damn shitload of corporations. Were there more FTL drives floating around? Nobody was broadcasting their portal drops or tech finds, but damn, they were putting on a show. There must have been thirty of forty outposts in Venus by the time we scored. IFC pulled out all the stops – influence, resources, the works. And somehow, they actually won. Charter secured. FTL drive in hand. Boom. Suddenly, we were actually doing this Alpha Centauri thing.

First order of business? Creating the Triumph Initiative. Our own company, but technically a subsidiary of Karen’s IFC. Basically, inheriting all the sweet perks and freedoms that come with being a system-sanctioned adventuring company before the founding of the UER. It basically meant we were not dependent on the government rescinding our status or under their purview. Which, you know, is kind of important when you’re about to jump halfway across the galaxy.

And that charter win? It felt like a victory, sure, but it was also a ticking time bomb. Karen had bet the solar system. And the chips were all in, riding on us. Hyperion profits, Kuiper Belt rights, even the Venus outpost leased at cost – all gone, traded away, just to secure this damn charter. And the Genesis Platform, Dad’s shipyard? It wasn't just IFC risking credits. Dad had poured his heart, soul, and a hell of a lot of Genesis resources into upgrading his drydocks to build the Triumph. This was Dad’s legacy.

This wasn’t just some off-the-shelf freighter; it was custom-built, cutting edge, a flagship for his yard. If we pulled this off, if we actually brought back the data the UER was demanding? Genesis Platform would be set. Dad would be set, finally breathing easy, commissions flooding in, pushing back against the corporate sharks circling his yard. But failure? If we came back empty-handed, or worse… The thought alone made my gut twist. Karen would be in the UER’s crosshairs, Genesis would be teetering on the brink of collapse, and Dad… beyond the platform, beyond the business, there was just him. And I knew, deep down, that another loss, another empty space at his table, was something he couldn’t weather. This wasn't just about our team anymore. This was about everything he held dear.

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes drawn to the viewport. The vast expanse of black, punctuated only by the distant pinpricks of stars, seemed to stretch on forever. Out there, somewhere, lay the Oort Cloud, and beyond that, Alpha Centauri. A low hum vibrated through the deck, a constant reminder of the powerful engines that were carrying us further and further from home.

The picture frame on my desk was slightly crooked. I reached out and adjusted it, aligning it perfectly with the edge of the desk. Mom, Dad, Matteo, Alessio, all smiling back at me, frozen in a moment of happiness from a lifetime ago. A wave of longing washed over me, so strong it almost took my breath away.

This wasn't just a joyride. This was real. This was happening. And the weight of it? It felt like it was about to crush me.