The year was 2478 by the Galactic Confederacy calendar. It was in this year that a voyage, funded by the Confederacy itself, had finally come to fruition. The Epstein Project, a plan devised by humanity's brightest minds, intended to push beyond the boundaries of our conquered universe and into the unknown beyond.
At first, such a venture seemed unnecessary. Humanity had already claimed the universe, after all. But as with all things that are created, an ending inevitably follows. Conquest did not mean permanence. Expansion did not mean survival. And so, the Epstein Project became more than ambition; it became necessity. Our last safeguard against extinction.
"Hey! What's up with you, Red?"
I flinched at the sudden intrusion of a familiar voice. It was none other than my friend, Blue.
It would appears that I have realized that I was staring at the viewport for too long, the stars beyond it drifting slowly, blurring into one another.
"You look like you're about to fall out of the world," Blue added, leaning against the bulkhead with a grin.
I let out a short laugh, then exhaled, steadying myself before answering him. "Just thinking about where we're going."
"Everyone knows where we're going..." he said, lifting a hand and pointing outward, towards the vast unknown we were soon to be plunged into.
"Forward."
I didn't say it out loud, but that wasn't what unsettled me. It was the thought that this time, there might be no way back. And yet, looking at him, I could tell he saw things differently as I studied his face, I found no trace of hesitation, as if fear itself had never learned his name.
*Sighs*
And so, I sighed.
"You're such a handful, you know that?"
I loosened my grip on the logbook I'd been clutching, my fingers finally relaxing as I let it rest in my hands. Worrying, I knew, would change nothing.
"Alpha Team, please gather on the main deck."
The mechanical voice blared overhead, seeping into every corridor and compartment. There was no avoiding it—Blue and I included.
Blue pushed himself off the bulkhead and stretched, the announcement barely seeming to register beyond mild inconvenience.
"I guess that's our cue."
I nodded, closing the logbook and tucking it beneath my arm. Around us, the hum of the ship shifted and the footsteps starts emerging from distant corridors, doors sliding open in sequence, the quiet choreography of a crew that had rehearsed this moment more times than they could count.
We joined the flow toward the main deck, the passageways narrowing as more figures merged in. Faces passed by. Some of which are familiar, while others obscured by helmets or shadow, but they all wore the same expression; restrained focus, as if no one dared to acknowledge what lay ahead.
Blue, of course, broke the silence.
"So..." he said, hands clasped behind his head as he walked, "think they'll let us see the jump calculations this time?"
In response, a figure clad in gray stepped forward, their suit adorned with lines of integrated tech. Though the uniform itself was the same as ours, a standard issue across the Alpha Team, the coloration however sets us apart.
"Truly optimistic as always.."
He shook his head in dismay before turning his helmet toward Blue, confusion flickering briefly before his voice cut in.
"You do realize that's all mumbo jumbo, right? Way above our pay grade."
It was Gray, another familiar member of the team. His supple yellow eyes gleamed through the visor, sharp yet cautious.
"Hmm.."
Gray's gaze lingered on Blue for a moment longer than necessary, then shifted just briefly to me. No words followed, but the look was enough.
"..."
I gave a small nod in return.
*Click, Clack*
From behind us came a soft click of boots against the deck. A figure in green emerged from the gathering crowd, her movements measured, deliberate. Unlike the rest of us, she hadn't been listening to the exchange at all—or at least, she hadn't reacted.
One hand was raised, fingers dancing through a projected interface only she could see.
"If you're done debating a theory," she said calmly, eyes still fixed on her display, "we're already three minutes behind schedule."
That was Green. Precision incarnate. The kind of person who trusted numbers more than people—and rarely had reason to regret it.
"Pfft- Ahahaha"
A sharp laugh followed, bright and unrestrained.
"Oh, relax," came another voice, this one laced with amusement. "If they wanted us to be early, they wouldn't have paired him with that."
A figure in pink leaned casually against a nearby railing, helmet tucked beneath her arm. Her eyes flicked between Blue and Gray, a playful grin tugging at her lips.
Pink was a girl who likes treating the impending unknowns the same way she treated everything else; A challenge worth teasing.
Blue raised a hand in mock offense. "Hey, I'm right here!"
"And still somehow impossible to be missed," Pink shot back.
For the first time since stepping onto the main deck, I felt the tension ease—just a fraction.
Not because the mission felt safer, but because Alpha Team was whole for once.
Green finally lowered her interface and glanced at me. "Red," she said simply, as if confirming a variable. "You're a bit quiet today."
"I'm thinking," I replied.
She nodded, satisfied with the answer.
Pink tilted her head, scrutinizing me now. "That's never a good sign."
Maybe she was right.
The deck lights dimmed slightly, and the low hum of the ship deepened—an unspoken signal that the briefing was about to begin. Conversations tapered off, laughter faded, and all eyes turned forward.
"It's been over three weeks since this project was launched."
A tall figure clad in white stood before us, wearing ornamental yet breathtaking garments that are reminiscent of a naval admiral, though that comparison scarcely did her justice.
"I've gathered all of you here today for an important announcement," she continued, her voice steady and precise. "What follows is to remain confidential."
Her name was Hina. Captain of this vessel. And my superior. The one who basically calls the shots here.
*Click, Clack*
Her high heels clicked sharply against the deck as she paced before Alpha Team, each step punctuated by the metallic echo of authority.
*Bzzt*
A brief burst of static cut through the silence of the main deck as a projected screen flared to life. Columns of data flooded the display, most of it foreign to me, though fragments here and there were enough to piece together the truth.
"Our reserves are running low," Hina said. "The repeated spatial jumps have taken a heavier toll than anticipated. And as you can see..." she gestured to the display, "...we have yet to find an end to this project."
Her words settled over the deck like weight. No one spoke. No one moved. It wasn't that we didn't understand her.
I was that we understood too well.
"Which is why I've called your team in," Hina said, her gaze settling on me. "Red, you and together with your team is to board Hyperion and launch an expedition into the Expanse."
*Swish*
The screen flickered, the data dissolving into a rotating model of a ship. A single label hovered beside it:
HYPERION
Even as a projection, it was magnificent—sleek, vast, unmistakably purpose-built. A vessel worthy of awe.
And yet, knowing what it was meant to do, I wasn't sure awe was the right response.
"Your primary objective…"
Hina continued with a pause, although it was brief, it was anything but long enough.
"..."
And after that, she looked at us, there was a glint of resignation in her eyes. Whatever answer she was about to give, it wasn't one she could avoid.
"…is to scout for any and all viable celestial bodies."
Her gaze hardened. To me, staring me right in the eyes.
"And only then can this project finally come to an end."
The words echoed longer than they should have.
No one spoke. No one moved.