Spaceport
The morning came too quickly. The pale light of dawn crept through the curtains of Mason's room, casting soft lines across his packed duffle on the bed. Every article of clothing was neatly folded, every academy-issued item stashed with near-military precision. He sat on the edge of the bed in silence, staring at the floor as the weight of the day pressed down on his shoulders. His acceptance into the Corven Military Space Corp Academy was a dream — a chance to carve out a future. But the reality of what he was leaving behind made it feel like a punishment dressed up as an opportunity.
Downstairs, Jan was humming a cheerful tune far too bright for the occasion, while Malcolm muttered something about loading up the transport. They were trying. Mason appreciated that. But their upbeat tone only made the silence in his chest more deafening.
He stepped outside into the cool morning air, duffle slung over one shoulder, and found Olivia waiting by the gate. She stood with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket, her long coat fluttering gently in the breeze. The sunrise behind her bathed her in gold and orange, casting her silhouette in a soft radiance that made Mason's breath catch.
He approached slowly. They didn't speak at first. The quiet between them said more than words could. Her eyes searched his face, memorizing every freckle, every scar, as if afraid that time or space might erase him.
"I made you something," she said at last, reaching into her coat pocket. Her hand came out with a small, palm-sized locket — a simple, elegant design, nothing flashy. She opened it to reveal a tiny hologram projector. When activated, it shimmered with a soft blue light and displayed a moving image of the two of them standing on the cliff, the sun setting behind them, smiles caught mid-laugh.
Mason stared at it, the projection reflecting in his eyes. He swallowed hard.
"I didn't even know you took a photo."
"I didn't," Olivia said, lips curling into a half-smile. "I recreated it from memory. Figured… if you ever get lonely on Corven, you could remember that moment. Remember this place. Me."
He closed the locket gently and clutched it in his hand, nodding once. "Thank you. I'll keep it with me. Always."
They stood there for a moment more before Malcolm called from the transport, "Time to go, kiddo. Shuttle won't wait!"
The words sliced through the air like a blade.
Olivia stepped closer. "You're going to do great things, Mason."
"You should be there too," he said, voice cracking slightly. "If you hadn't been late with the application—"
"I know," she cut in gently. "But this was always your path. I just wanted to be near it."
He couldn't hold it in anymore. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his arms wrapped around her like he could hold back time itself. She melted into it, burying her face against his shoulder, and for a second, the world narrowed to just the two of them. No planets. No academies. No war. Just Mason and Olivia — the kids from Montipet who survived, who remembered.
"I'm going to miss you," he whispered.
"You better," she replied with a soft laugh, though tears sparkled at the corners of her eyes. "You better miss me every day."
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "I will."
They lingered there, noses inches apart, breathing the same breath, eyes trying to say what neither of them had yet dared. But then Jan honked the horn and reality shattered the stillness.
Mason let go. He climbed into the transport. Olivia stood there as they pulled away, one hand raised in a silent wave, the other clutched around her coat as though it held her together.
At the Spaceport
The spaceport was massive — a metal city of flashing signs, constant announcements, and people from every corner of the quadrant rushing in all directions. Tall, gleaming banners bore the Corven Military Space Corp crest, fluttering slightly under the environmental control fields.
Mason moved through security on autopilot. His mind felt like static. Every step away from the curb felt heavier than the last.
He checked his boarding pass, passed through the biometric scans, and followed the glowing lines embedded in the floor toward Gate 47.
Each section of the spaceport was a blend of high-function technology and sterile formality. The air smelled of pressurized oxygen and synthetic oil. Overhead, through a transparent dome, the pale lavender sky of Skrylimpo-7 bled into deep purples and navy. Distant stars winked like tiny promises.
He found a seat by the window at the gate. Outside, his ship — a sleek, deep-gray transport cruiser marked with the CMSC insignia — waited, bathed in landing lights.
He pulled the locket from his pocket and clicked it open again. The image flickered to life. That moment. That sunset. That laugh.
A voice crackled over the intercom: "Final boarding for CMSC Transport Aegis to Corven. All cadets please proceed to Gate 47."
Mason stood.
One last glance out the window. One last look at the planet he called home — the one he barely remembered, the one he had to leave behind to find out who he really was.
He walked toward the gate. Toward Corven. Toward whatever came next.
Behind him, Olivia's words lingered in his mind: You better miss me every day. And he would. More than she'd ever know.
The doors of the boarding terminal hissed open, the stale air of the spaceport giving way to the colder, recycled chill of the transport ship's entry corridor. Mason Satrev stood still for a moment, duffel slung over his shoulder, heart still thudding in the echo of goodbye. The hum of distant thrusters, the low murmur of voices from other cadets and travelers—all of it faded against the tightness in his chest.
Olivia was gone now, swallowed up behind the glass of the departure terminal. He hadn't looked back—he couldn't. He knew if he saw her again, standing there with that soft smile, trying not to cry, he wouldn't be able to leave.
He forced himself forward.
The corridor gave way to a wide central walkway inside the ship, where cadets in uniform or carrying the standard-issue duffels were directed toward assigned seating. Monotone announcements echoed overhead—navigation warnings, arrival expectations, safety procedures—but Mason tuned them out.
As he moved down the aisle toward his row, someone bumped shoulders with him.
"Whoops—sorry, man," came a quick voice. A boy around Mason's age, maybe a year older, turned to face him with an easy smile and messy brown hair that looked like he'd cut it himself in the mirror. His uniform jacket was half-zipped, and a pair of old synth-glasses hung loosely from his collar. "Didn't mean to give you a concussion. You heading to the academy too?"
Mason blinked, surprised by the friendliness. "Uh… yeah. Corven."
The boy nodded and extended a hand. "Simon Petrogev. Guess we're shipmates for the ride."
Mason took the handshake. "Mason Satrev."
Simon tilted his head a little. "Satrev… sounds familiar."
Mason tensed. He didn't want that name to mean anything to anyone. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Common name," he said flatly. A flicker of panic stirred in his gut—he hated how easily his past might catch up to him through just a name.
Simon didn't push it. "Fair. You mind if I sit with you? Not really looking to get stuck with the guy who's already arguing with the flight attendant about bag storage."
Mason shrugged. "Sure."
They found their seats mid-ship, across from a pair of wide-view windows. Outside, the bulk of the port was fading into focus as the ship's anti-grav kicked in, gently lifting from its dock. Beyond it, stars blinked behind the haze of the atmosphere.
Simon dropped into the seat next to him and let out a breath like he'd been holding it for years. "So. First time leaving your system?"
Mason nodded slowly. "First time leaving anything."
Simon chuckled. "Yeah. It's a weird feeling. I've been off-world once or twice—family used to do supply runs between outposts—but it's different now. Feels more permanent."
They fell into a silence as the ship's engines ramped up. The rumble wasn't loud, but Mason felt it in his ribs, like the beginning of something he hadn't quite prepared for.
"You nervous?" Simon asked eventually.
Mason stared out the window. The port was shrinking. Skrylimpo-7 was shrinking. "I'm not sure I know what I feel right now."
Simon gave a thoughtful nod. "Yeah. Same."
For a while, they didn't speak. The ship angled toward the void, and the planet fell away behind them, a swirl of blue and green with arcs of silver cityscapes tracing the horizon.
Mason exhaled slowly.
He thought of Olivia. Of the cliffside. Of that impossible promise under the sunset. Of how she once called him a phoenix—someone who could rise from the ashes of who he used to be.
And now—this. A metal hull. A distant star. A path with no looking back.
"Hey," Simon said, more softly this time. "Whatever you're carrying… just know, none of us get here without ghosts. But that academy? It's the kind of place where you figure out what kind of person you're gonna be next."
Mason turned to look at him.
Simon didn't smile this time. He just offered a quiet, understanding nod.
And for the first time since stepping onto the ship, Mason felt a sliver of calm.
The stars drifted lazily past the wide viewport as the ship slid into the cold void between systems. The transition from Skrylimpo's atmosphere to space had been seamless—quiet even—but Mason's mind still reeled from the weight of it all. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, gaze locked out into the black.
Simon sat beside him, slouched with his legs outstretched, fingers fidgeting with the strap of his duffel bag. He'd been respectfully quiet since their last exchange, occasionally glancing out the window, occasionally glancing at Mason.
Eventually, he broke the silence.
"So," he said, casually. "What made you want to join the CMSC? If you don't mind me asking."
Mason kept his eyes forward for a beat before responding. "I guess… I want to be part of something bigger. Something that matters."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "That sounds rehearsed."
Mason gave the smallest shrug. "It's the truth."
"Yeah. Fair." Simon scratched at his temple, then smirked a little. "I mean, I mostly joined because my brother said I couldn't make it. Said I'd get kicked out first month, probably forget which way to hold a rifle."
Mason glanced at him. "Is he in the military?"
"Was. Graduated from the CMSC Academy five years ago. Now he's all stationed-out on some outer post, barely sends a message unless Mom nags him." Simon's grin twisted slightly. "We're... not exactly close."
The conversation drifted again, comfortable enough in the quiet. The hum of the ship was like background music—steady and low, a song you only noticed when the silence stretched too long.
After a while, Simon nudged Mason gently with his elbow. "So where'd you grow up? I mean, if I can ask."
Mason hesitated. The truth caught on his tongue like thorns.
"Skrylimpo-4," he said finally. "A town called Montipet." The name sat in his mouth like ash. Familiar, but brittle. He didn't add that it was the last place he remembered feeling like a person. But I… moved around after that."
Simon nodded slowly, not prying. "I get it. My family's from Valcotis. Ever heard of it?"
"No."
"Exactly," Simon said with a grin. "No one has. Tiny crater town on the ice belt. We had one hover bike between five kids and half the roads were frozen solid half the year."
"That sounds… miserable."
"Oh, it was. But it made for great stories."
He launched into a series of absurd tales—getting stuck on the roof of a market after a gravity-plate malfunction, accidentally shorting out a power grid because his older sister dared him to touch a conductor panel, and once mistaking an alien fungus for candy and regretting it for three straight days.
Mason found himself smiling without even realizing it.
"You're good at this," he said.
Simon tilted his head. "At what?"
"Talking."
"Yeah, well," Simon shrugged, "not everyone's built for silence. I talk so the quiet doesn't get the last word."
The words sat heavily for a moment between them, deeper than the grin that followed them.
They lapsed into silence again. But this time, it wasn't stiff or awkward. It was earned.
The lights above flickered once to a soft blue—a signal that re-entry protocol was beginning. An automated voice rang through the cabin. "Estimated arrival at Corven in fifteen minutes. Please secure your belongings and remain seated during descent."
Simon sat upright and pulled his bag onto his lap. "Here we go."
Mason tightened the strap on his shoulder bag. His stomach twisted—not in fear, but in anticipation. Whatever happened next… it was the start of something new.
As the ship began its descent into the atmosphere of Corven, the stars dimmed, and the glowing outline of a vast city—silver and gold against the twilight curve of the planet—began to take shape below them.
Corven. The capital of the CMSC. A place of prestige, power, and discipline. The beginning.
Simon leaned toward the window, mouth parted slightly in awe. "Now that… that's a view."
Mason said nothing. He just stared at the shining world below—and for the first time in a long time—let himself hope.
The ship trembled with the subtle vibration of atmospheric entry, its outer hull flaring briefly with the heat of friction as it pierced through Corven's upper layers. Mason could feel the shift in gravity gradually pulling stronger with each passing second. Clouds streaked past the windows like smears of misted light, and the city lights below brightened until they sparkled like circuitry across the land.
Corven was a marvel. Even from above, Mason could tell this planet was nothing like Skrylimpo. It had a precision to it—angular cities with sharp, geometric sprawl, skyscrapers that shimmered like obsidian spires, glinting with gold tracery and neon veins. Air traffic buzzed in tight, calculated lanes, and the horizon glowed with the white shimmer of protective field lines that wrapped around critical sectors of the surface.
But one thing confused him.
He leaned over slightly, catching the eye of a nearby attendant as she passed. She was tall, dressed in a matte-black uniform with cobalt trim and the CMSC emblem embroidered along her left sleeve.
"Excuse me," Mason asked, polite but genuinely curious. "Why didn't we dock with the Corven Sky Dock? I thought all incoming traffic had to go through it and then use the space elevator."
The attendant offered a small smile. "For civilians and standard transport, yes. But CMSC Academy vessels follow a different protocol. Direct descent to the surface. There's a private spaceport connected to the Academy complex. It's more secure. More efficient."