Chapter 1

Admiral Thorne’s personal transport was as sleek and utilitarian as the man himself. A single, streamlined form of dark-gray alloy, it rose silently from a concealed launchpad, barely disturbing the stillness of the forest. The view from the cockpit was a stark transition from the lush green of the national park to the gray, smog-choked sky. As they broke through the last layer of atmosphere, the sun’s light finally hit them, and Blast caught his first glimpse of Earth from above in years.

It was not the planet he remembered. The vibrant blues of the oceans were now a murky, sickly turquoise. The continents were no longer defined by green and brown but by a patchwork of concrete and steel, the sprawling urban centers connected by vast, elevated roadways that snaked across the landscape like vines. The planet was bruised, a testament to humanity’s consumption, and the sight was a punch to the gut. The mission no longer felt like a simple request; it felt like an act of desperation.

They docked at the orbital space platform, a massive, rotating structure that resembled a colossal metallic flower. Thorne led Blast through a labyrinth of polished chrome corridors to a conference room dominated by a holographic display. Waiting for them was a young man who looked barely old enough to vote, dressed in the clean white lab coat of the Science Directorate.

“Admiral Thorne, sir,” the young man said, a little breathlessly. “And you must be… William Last Johnson. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

“This is Dr. Bucky Robinson,” Thorne said, his voice flat with an air of professional efficiency. “He’s the head of our Science Directorate.”

Robinson’s eyes, magnified by his thick glasses, seemed to drink Blast in. “I’ve studied your tactical logs from the Lunar Android Assault of 2134,” Bucky gushed. “The way you used the asteroid field to disable their command ship’s comms… absolutely brilliant. My team and I have theorized that the asteroid field could’ve been used to—”

“Dr. Robinson,” Thorne cut in, a hint of steel in his tone. “The briefing, if you please.”

Bucky blushed; his youthful excitement momentarily subdued. He quickly brought up the schematic of a small, heavily shielded one-man prototype ship on the holographic display. “This is the Stardust. She’s been equipped with our experimental FTL-5200 propulsion drive. It works by generating graviton particles to create a localized artificial wormhole, allowing us to travel beyond the solar system in a matter of minutes. No pilot has ever attempted to control a ship at those speeds before, which is why we needed you.”

“And if it fails?” Blast asked, his gaze fixed on the schematic.

Bucky’s smile faltered, replaced by a more serious expression. “We have a backup plan.” He didn’t elaborate, and Thorne made no move to prompt him. “But we’re confident we won’t need it. Your mission is to fly her out, make a jump, and report on the data.”

The briefing unceremoniously concluded, and Blast was led to his quarters. It was a sterile, functional room with a small viewport offering a dizzying view of Earth. He sat on the edge of the bed, the sight of the blemished planet outside a constant reminder of the stakes.

On the bed lay a brand-new Earth Defense Fleet uniform. The navy-blue fabric was pristine, the gold accents gleaming under the soft light. He picked up the jacket, the material cool and unfamiliar in his hands. It had been over a decade since he had worn one of these. Slowly, he unbuttoned his civilian shirt, took a deep breath, and slid his arms into the sleeves of the uniform. It fit perfectly, the shoulders feeling broader than they had in years. As he buttoned it up, he felt the weight of the jacket, but it was more than just fabric and metal. It was the weight of a nation, the crushing pressure of a planet in decline. It was the weight of responsibility, a burden he had thought he’d put down forever, now firmly back on his shoulders.

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