The Mnemosyne maneuvers carefully, backing toward the A.R.C.

  Thrusters spit fire in brief, controlled bursts, nudging her into alignment.

  The two ships meet with a deep CLANK.

  The hatch GROANS. Rust flakes rain down.

  Hydraulics strain — then lurch to life.

  The doors yawn open.

  On the other side: people. Formal. Rigid.

  Tattered uniforms, polished and re-polished across centuries.

  They stand at attention.

  The Hammonds, by contrast, are casual. Their clothes read working class —

  medium income, though few people with medium income own a ship-house.

  The difference hangs in the air.

  Lina steps forward, composed.

  She presents a small ceremonial key — clearly symbolic — and gestures them aboard.

  “Welcome to the A.R.C.”

  They walk the ship.

  It’s a tomb dressed as a cathedral —

  beautiful once, now cracked and weary.

  Patches upon patches. Silence sealed into the walls.

  The tour ends in Lina’s office, a narrow room.

  Relics and books crowd the shelves.

  Lina gestures to a set of chairs. “Sit.”

  Arthur sits with the others, making introductions.

  “This is my brother, Thomas — and our wives, Anna and Sarah.”

  Lina arches a brow.

  “Twins marrying twins. Interesting.”

  Arthur chuckles politely.

  “It’s a good thing we found you first. If pirates had, your ship would’ve been torn apart.”

  Lina laughs softly.

  “We can protect ourselves. If need be.” She leans in. “Don’t be fooled.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Sarah smiles.

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  “This ship was supposed to reach its destination a thousand years after launch, wasn’t it?” Thomas asks.

  “Do you still have an archive?”

  Lina’s eyes narrow, studying him.

  “Why?”

  Thomas stays calm.

  “I study history. And this… all of this… is history.”

  Arthur speaks up.

  “If you want, we could drop a buoy.” A faint smile.

  “A gate seeder ship would arrive within the hour.”

  “They’d evacuate your people in no time,” he continues.

  Sarah tilts her head.

  “How many are aboard?”

  Thomas adds, “By the size of this beast… thousands.”

  Anna smirks.

  “The livestock alone would take a week.” She shakes her head.

  “They’d move the mega-gates for a ship this size.”

  Lina folds her hands.

  “There are 4,654 of us.” She looks at them.

  “After we lost our way, we had to make… some hard choices.”

  “It has worked. For a long time.”

  She sighs, weary. “And it will continue to work.”

  Arthur nods, steady.

  “I could tell you stories about the choices Earth made. Twice we almost went extinct.

  Imagine the A.R.C. — the last vestige of humanity.”

  Anna rises, brushing off her shorts.

  “We should get back.” She smiles.

  “Our baby’s alone. He’s only two.”

  Thomas half-smiles.

  “He’s going to wake from his nap any minute.”

  The room chills.

  Lina stiffens, her mind racing — what happens to a baby if her crew doesn’t see him?

  Fighting against the truth: these strangers could still be pirates.

  “Why would you leave a child alone on your ship?”

  Arthur blinks.

  “What?”

  Lina snaps a control.

  “Stop. There is a child on the ship,” she barks into the comms.

  Doors CLANG.

  Guards flood in, rifles raised.

  Arthur tenses. What is this?

  Arthur, Sarah, Thomas, and Anna exchange glances.

  Their eyes flicker — understanding.

  The room goes still.

  Lina holds the silence — long enough to watch them squirm,

  long enough to make her decision.

  “We’ve run into pirates like you before. All polite. All lies.”

  She shakes her head.

  “That won’t happen again. We gutted them and stripped their ships.”

  —

  In the White Void, towers of empty bookcases rise into endless white.

  At the center, a sixty-foot bubble of water hangs weightless above a canopy.

  Rain drizzles down into shallow pools.

  The family sits at a table beneath the canopy.

  Arthur’s voice is low, measured.

  “Do we hurt these people?”

  Sarah leans back, steady.

  “If we have to.”

  Anna shakes her head, urgent.

  “We have to leave, Sarah. If they strip our ship, we’ll never get Sean back.”

  Thomas clenches his fists.

  “We were always going. Sean’s alone.”

  Arthur exhales.

  “Agreed. But hurt only the people you have to.”

  They vanish back to the real.

  —

  Arthur rips a rifle from the nearest guard.

  Shots ring out.

  Bullets slam into his chest — he staggers, but stays upright.

  Anna takes one in the stomach.

  She winces, blood spreading — but keeps moving.

  Thomas drops with a leg wound, firing upward.

  Guards fall in controlled bursts of violence.

  No fatalities.

  The room goes silent.

  Lina presses into a corner, trembling.

  Arthur faces her, calm.

  “Don’t make us your enemies.”

  They move past her.

  The door hisses open.

  Guards block the corridor.

  The family doesn’t hesitate.

  Shots echo.

  Muzzle flashes strobe the walls.

  The ship groans — as if aware.

  Gas hisses from the vents.

  The family staggers.

  Arthur buckles.

  Sarah hauls him upright.

  “Stay with me.”

  They slam into the cargo bay doors.

  Kicks splinter the frame.

  Finally — the doors burst open.

  The bay swarms with crew, stripping the Mnemosyne apart.

  Anna’s eyes lock on Sean — cradled in a woman’s arms.

  She bolts.

  Crew surge to block her.

  Sarah is already at her side.

  “I was going to stop combat training.”

  She slips past an A.R.C. crewman, tripping him.

  “Guess this proves I still need it.”

  Anna sweeps a man’s legs, knees another in the face.

  “Even after eighty years — I’ll never stop until I can beat one of the boys.”

  Arthur and Thomas plow through fifteen men.

  The A.R.C. crew are clumsy — not soldiers.

  They fall one by one.

  Sarah and Anna reach Sean.

  Anna rips him free from the woman’s arms.

  “If you had hurt him—”

  Her fury collapses into control.

  Getting Sean safe is all that matters.

  Sarah knocks the woman unconscious.

  They retreat to the Mnemosyne, Sean clutched tight.

  They jump to their stations.

  Fingers fly.

  The engine sputters — dead.

  Cargo bay doors half-shut, frozen.

  Arthur tries restarting it.

  “Dammit,” he mutters. Nothing.

  Thomas braces by the door, rifle ready.

  “What now?”

  Arthur exhales, eyes darting.

  “We try to talk.”

  Anna glares, clutching Sean.

  Sarah grabs her and Anna’s pistols from their rooms.

  “Lina didn’t like the idea of him being left alone. She seemed to care.

  Talking might work.”

  Anna’s voice is razor sharp.

  “I don’t have a damn thing to say to these bastards.”

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