The party was everything Tanya had forgotten she'd missed about home. Her mother had somehow managed to coordinate the entire extended family on two days' notice. It was a feat of logistics that put most military operations to shame. The farmhouse overflowed with voices, laughter, and the kind of chaos that only happened when the Furrow clan gathered in one place.
"Tanya!" Her oldest brother Marcus swept her into a bear hug that lifted her clean off the ground. "Look at you, all sophisticated and worldly."
"Put me down, you ox," she laughed, but she was grinning. Marcus had always been the gentle giant of the family, despite being built like a piece of farm equipment.
"My turn," announced David, her other brother, shouldering Marcus aside with practised ease. That was only possible because Marcus let it move him. His embrace was briefer but no less warm. "Mum's been driving us crazy, wondering if you were eating enough or if those fancy city folk were torturing you with synth food. Please tell me you didn't live on synthetic food for five years."
"Only most of the time," Tanya admitted, which sent both brothers into theatrical groans of horror.
"Barbarians," Marcus declared. "Absolute barbarians, these university types."
It turned out that much had changed in her time away.
The introductions to her sisters-in-law were more delicate affairs. Sarah, Marcus's wife, was a schoolteacher with kind eyes and the sort of gentle competence that made her perfect for handling both first-graders and Furrow men. Lisa, David's wife, managed the local agricultural cooperative and had the sharp intelligence of someone who negotiated crop prices with off-world buyers.
"So," Sarah said once they'd all settled around the expanded dining table, "tell us everything. What are the mega-cities really like?"
Tanya took a sip of her father's homemade wine; this was the real stuff, not the synthetic alcohol she'd grown used to, and tried to find words for the experience. "Imagine if you took all of Eden-Five's population and crammed them into a space the size of our county, then stacked it fifty stories high."
"That sounds horrible," Lisa said, wrinkling her nose.
"It should be, but somehow it isn't. There's this energy to it, this constant buzz of activity. People from a hundred different worlds, all mixing together. You can hear multiple languages just walking down the street, smell cooking from places you've never heard of, see fashions that won't reach the outer colonies for another decade. It was infectious and exciting"
"And the men?" Sarah asked with a mischievous grin. "Please tell me you didn't spend five years with your nose buried in technical manuals."
Tanya felt heat rise in her cheeks. "There were... a few relationships. Nothing serious."
"Define 'nothing serious,'" David said, leaning forward with brotherly interest.
"A couple of dates here and there. One guy, Kalis, lasted about six months, but he was more interested in the idea of dating an outer colony girl than actually dating me. Another one, Marcus—not you, Marcus—"
"Thank god," her brother muttered.
"—was sweet, but he wanted to settle down and start a family immediately. I wasn't ready for that."
"And?" Lisa prompted. "Your face says there's an 'and.'"
Tanya sighed. "There was Kevin. We were... compatible. Really compatible. Smart, funny, and understood why I'd disappear into the design lab for ten hours at a time. We were talking about maybe moving in together after graduation."
"But?" her father asked gently.
"But his family owns a major shipping consortium in the Core Worlds. After graduation, they offered him a position running their sub-division. Big promotion, huge salary, set for life."
"And you didn't want to go with him?" Sarah asked.
"He asked me to. Said I could find work anywhere in the Core, that there were opportunities there I'd never see in the outer colonies." Tanya stared into her wine glass. "He wasn't wrong. But that's not what I want. I don't want to be another small fish in the Core's vast ocean. I want to build something meaningful, something that matters."
"So you chose your career over love?" Marcus asked, not judging, just curious.
"I chose my dreams over settling for someone else's," Tanya said firmly. "If he'd been willing to build something together, maybe it would have been different. But he wanted me to fit into his life, not create one with him."
Her father reached over and squeezed her hand. "Sometimes the hardest choices are the right ones."
Even now, part of her wanted to imagine what life in the Core worlds might have been like, with polished streets, endless resources, the easy kind of comfort money could buy. But in her gut, she knew she'd have grown smaller there, her life slowly shaped to fit someone else's mold.
She'd told herself it was the right call at the time. Some nights, she still had to repeat it until she believed it.
The conversation moved on to safer topics like local gossip, farm news, political developments she'd missed. The evening passed in a warm haze of family connection, the kind of belonging she'd forgotten existed.
After everyone had gone home and her parents had retired, Tanya sat on the porch swing, watching the stars emerge in Eden-Five's clear sky. That's when Sage chose to make their presence known.
//Assessment: successful social reintegration achieved. Familial bonds remain strong despite extended absence.//
"Was that a compliment?" Tanya asked quietly.
//Observation. However, your development has reached a transitional phase. New challenges await.//
Something in Sage's tone caught her attention. "What kind of challenges?"
//Economic integration assessment. Your technical skills now exceed basic competency thresholds. Time to determine whether this translates to practical application.//
Tanya frowned. "Meaning?"
//Can you sustain yourself as an independent shipwright? Current assessment: unknown. Your family farm provides security, but dependency limits growth potential.//
"I'm not dependent," she protested. "I've been helping with—"
//Financial analysis: your contributions generate approximately four thousand credits annually in saved operational costs. Respectable for farm assistance. Insufficient for independent practice.//
The blunt assessment stung because it was probably accurate. "So what are you suggesting?"
//Objective proposal: establish economic viability within standard timeframes. Target threshold: one million credits accumulated within six months.//
Tanya blinked. "One million? Sage, that's... that's more than most people see in five years. That's 'buy a small starship' money."
//Affirmative. Shipwright-class earnings require shipwright-class capabilities. Current skills suggest this target is achievable with proper application.//
"And if I can't reach it?"
//Then you remain at current capability level indefinitely. No advancement to larger vessel construction, no access to restricted knowledge bases, no progression beyond basic workshop operations.//
It wasn't a threat—it was a gate. A test of whether she'd learned enough to actually function as the shipwright Sage was trying to create.
//This is not punishment for failure. It is recognition that true mastery requires both technical skill and practical application. Many gifted individuals never bridge this gap.//
Tanya sat back, mind racing. "You're asking me to prove I can make it in the real world."
//I am asking whether you wish to become a professional shipwright or remain a talented amateur. The universe has an abundant need for the former. The latter serve primarily as curiosities.//
Tanya spent the next week helping her parents with harvest preparation, but her mind kept returning to Sage's challenge. One million credits in six months. It was ambitious, bordering on impossible, that is, unless she could find the right niche.
She set up her old workstation in her childhood bedroom and dove into market research. The extranet on Eden-Five was slower than what she'd grown used to at university, but it was adequate for her needs.
First step: legal framework. She registered "Furrow Incorporated" as a small business entity, listing her services as "custom spacecraft design and consultation." The filing fee was modest, and Eden-Five's business-friendly regulations meant she could be operational within days.
She was deep in shipping manifests and cargo route analyses when the knock came at the front door. Her mother answered, and Tanya heard unfamiliar voices one professional, polite, but with an underlying edge that made her hackles rise.
"Ms. Tanya Furrow?" The man at the door was middle-aged, wearing a nondescript suit that somehow managed to scream "investigator." His companion was younger, female, with the sharp eyes of someone who made her living finding things other people preferred to keep hidden.
"That's me."
"Inspector Davidson, Colonial Security. This is Ms. Chen from Barth Transit Services. We would like to ask you a few questions about your recent travel arrangements."
Tanya's mouth went dry, but she kept her expression neutral. "Of course. Please, come in."
They settled into the living room. Davidson set a slim recorder on the table between them, its red light blinking steadily.
"Ms. Furrow," Davidson began, voice clipped but polite, "our records show you booked passage on the shuttle Prospector's Dream from Barth Prime Station to Eden-Five six months ago. The shuttle never arrived. It was declared missing. And yet… here you are."
Tanya folded her hands in her lap. "I never made it here in that shuttle."
"According to the departure manifest, you boarded," Chen said. "Your ID was scanned."
"I boarded, yes. But the shuttle suffered a critical systems failure en route. It went down hard on an uncharted world. The hull was destroyed. I salvaged what I could carry."
Davidson leaned forward. "You're saying you crashed."
"Yes. I was stranded for a time. Then I was contacted by a private mentor. It was someone offering an educational opportunity I couldn't pass up. They helped me finish salvaging what was left of the wreck and arranged alternate transportation."
Davidson's eyes narrowed. "Without notifying your transport service? Or your family?"
"It all happened quickly," Tanya said. "The mentor preferred to work in isolation, away from distractions. I sent word to my family once I was settled. Contacting the transport agency… honestly, it slipped my mind."
"Name of this mentor?" Davidson's pen hovered over his notepad.
"I'm sorry," Tanya said evenly. "I signed a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement. I can't provide specifics about the location or the mentor's identity. I also don't see how it's needed for a rental dispute." She couldn't tell what they were fishing for or how much they already knew.
The two investigators exchanged glances. Chen's tone sharpened. "Ms. Furrow, we're not just dealing with a rental case here. Four shuttles disappeared from that corridor within days of each other. No distress beacon, no debris field, no trace whatsoever. Multiple people are missing, possibly dead. We need more than vague references to mysterious mentors."
She hadn't seen anyone on the planet while she was there, so she had no idea if those four people were related to the mysterious storm or not.
"I understand your concern," Tanya said, "but I genuinely can't provide the information you're looking for. The NDA I signed was very comprehensive."
"Can you produce this NDA?" Davidson asked.
Tanya's heart sank. "It was... digital. Part of the terms was that I couldn't retain copies."
"How convenient." Davidson's tone had gone flat. "Ms. Furrow, we also understand you've recently arrived on Eden-Five in a spacecraft that doesn't appear in any registry. Care to explain that?"
"I built it. With my mentor's guidance and using materials they provided."
"But you can't tell us who this mentor is or where this construction took place."
"That's correct."
Chen stood up, her professional demeanor slipping slightly. "Ms. Furrow, I want to be clear about something. Multiple people are missing. Their families deserve answers. If you know something about what happened to those shuttles, or if your disappearance is connected to theirs, withholding information makes you complicit in whatever happened to them."
"I don't know anything about the missing shuttles," Tanya said, and that at least was completely true. "My situation was entirely separate."
Davidson stood as well, pocketing his recording device. "We'll be in touch, Ms. Furrow. I suggest you think very carefully about what you can and can't remember about this mysterious mentor of yours. And I'd recommend consulting with a lawyer. You need someone who can help you navigate the balance between NDAs and obstruction of justice charges."
After they left, Tanya sat in the empty living room, her hands shaking slightly. The investigators were right about one thing. That her story sounded ridiculous. But what was the alternative? Tell them about alien technology and dimensional workshops? That would land her in a psychiatric facility faster than she could blink.
//Observation: You are now under active scrutiny,// Sage noted quietly. //However, your citizen records now reflect the NDA you referenced. Supporting documentation has been appropriately archived.//
"You can do that?" Tanya whispered.
//When necessary for educational continuity. However, increased official attention complicates your economic viability objective. Recommend accelerating timeline.//
"Thanks, but how did you hack the government network? Wait, I don't want to know."
She returned to her workstation, but concentration was difficult. The investigators would be back, and next time they'd probably bring warrants and more pointed questions. She needed to find a way to make enough money to satisfy Sage's challenge while staying below the radar of people who were already suspicious of her activities.
She pulled up her market research files and got back to work. Somewhere in the shipping manifests and cargo requirements, there had to be an opportunity worth a million credits.