Chapter 01

Of those that sail the stars, many may spend their lives seeking treasure, seeking fame, or seeking freedom. For some, freedom is a wide open sea of constellations, the glitter of star fire and the inky black void of space. But in the endless expanses of the galaxy, some may find themselves caged by freedom, while some may find themselves set free by a cage. Such is the fickle nature of power, that it consume some, and leave others untouched.

----

Zara's eyes surveyed the shelves that lined the room, taking in the dozens to hundreds of boxes that were hers to catalogue. She considered it a mark of professionalism that she sighed only briefly before she raised the datatab in her hand to glance at the list of required inventory. It was just another day like so many others, stretching out before and behind her like an endless march of checks and crates.

The Intergalactic Express was a simple merchant ship, not of particular extravagance. It dealt in intergalactic trade, imported goods and items hard to come by planetside. Although it was a company based on Cirnic, it stopped along it's trade route in many systems, and it had a long history of business with the planets along the way.

In this, and in most of it's mechanics, it was an average merchant vessel. And today was just another routine stop along the typical trade route. Zara was tasked with overseeing the loading of new goods... someone else would be overseeing the sale of others. Products came in and products went out. A day in the life.

"Where do you want these ones?" A voice made her turn, and she smiled; a polite gesture that did nothing to communicate the boredom she felt.

The loaders likely felt just as caught in the endless monotony as she did, anxious to be done with their shifts and hit the bars for a shot or two of starshine. Unwind in the evening before waking up the next morning to do it all again.

"Right over on those shelving units please. Thank you." She gestured with her tail, directing the workers based on the designations for each type of cargo, and the types of cargo were numerous. Supplies, spare machine parts, and technological items were in abundance, but so too were more costly luxury items.

The company Zara worked for was a merchant vessel, and they often dealt in the kinds of things Zara herself wouldn't be able to come close to affording on her own salary. There were exotic spices and herbs that were hard to find, and therefore all the more in high demand, organized according to their planets of origin. Clothing and novelty items, sought after by those without the time or the inclination to make long interplanetary voyages. And of course all sorts of spirits, a collection of traditions and a rather amusing confirmation of the universal truth that no matter how far distant the planet or how foreign the people, everyone invented some form of booze.

She swiped a finger across the small screen in her hand, glowing a faint pink hue into the room. Checking off items as they arrived, confirming the IG Express's acquisition of each item. It was monotonous work, but she knew it could always be worse. She might have no work at all. That was a pleasant thought. As her eyes scrolled through the lists on the screen, one of the loaders tapped her on the shoulder. The woman was a manteera, an insectoid species from Querran. She was older, her skin beginning to toughen and mottle. Zara wondered how long she had been doing this job. It certainly couldn't offer decent retirement.

The woman's claws were folded around a sheet of paper. Hardcopy? That was unusual.

"This last crate wont be on your list. Last minute addition." Her mandibles clicked as she spoke, an accented form of common that Zara was more than familiar with, in her line of work. Say nothing else of the job, she did get to travel. Her tail swayed behind her as she turned to take the paper from the worker's hand, peering at the listing with some amount of curiosity. Last minute additions on hardcopy were uncommon, but not completely unheard of. Still, it required a little bit of extra attention. She restrained herself from huffing with annoyance at the interruption to routine.

The paper seemed to check out. Her eyes flitted to the crate, already being loaded onto the ship between the arms of two more workers. It apparently contained mechanical tools, and the clink of the crate as it was jostled into the room confirmed that. The paper had proper authorization from the right people; it ticked all the right boxes.

"Why the last minute change? Now I'll have to scan the paper in to add this to the digital inventory. They couldn't have sent the data with the rest of this?" There was annoyance in her voice, but it really wasn't directed to the workers.

It was the higher ups making these kinds of changes after everything had already gone through the proper channels that made more work for her. The manteera just clicked and made a shrugging motion as she straightened to her full height, towering over Zara's much smaller stature.

"I just deliver what I'm told. You'd have to ask my boss." There was sympathy in the woman's voice, and Zara smiled some, shaking her head with a sigh of resignation.

"No, it's fine. I'm just complaining, really. It's been a long day." That elicited a peal of laughter, high pitched and raspy, from the woman. She nodded in sympathy.

"I think we all know what that's like. Where are you headed after you leave port?" The loaders were finishing up now, crates all put away where they belonged, everything in order. As always. Zara slipped the datatab into a clip on her belt, raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The frizzy poof of purple was short and in it's usual state of disarray. She never had the time, or the desire really, to wrangle it into order.

"Dangor. After that, the moons of Sheer." She had to think for a few moments, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she did. Once upon a time she might have been excited at the prospect of stepping foot onto far distant planets. Now, they were just an endless list of names of places that she would barely see more of than a cargo bay.

"You get any chance to do any sight seeing?" The woman seemed to have read her mind. Zara's lip curled in a dry smile as she shook her head. Her tail swung around and came to rest on the ground, giving her a moment to lean idly against it as she crossed her arms.

"Nah.. maybe a day of personal time, but you can't stray too far from the ship. Most of us just find a bar to get drunk in while we wait." Not that she was in the habit of that. Well, not always. On occasion. Most of the time she just wanted to kick back and rest.

"Well, at least that's something. Living planetside isn't all it's cracked up to be either. Sometimes I wish I could get out there, see the galaxy. A little bit of adventure you know?"

The woman's big eyes looked wistful, looking with something akin to longing at the crates of goods. Possibly wondering at the history of the objects within, their origins, their stories, their culture. Zara had often wondered the same things herself.

"Trust me, my job is not all that adventurous. But, it's a living." No sense letting this become too melancholy. Zara smiled, reaching out a hand towards the employee as she roused herself from where she stood. Her tail curled reflexively around her leg as she shook the woman's clawed hand.

"Thanks for everything today. Hopefully you're due for a vacation soon." She winked, trying to liven the mood a little bit. The manteera nodded, returning the warm handshake.

"Yes. Soon."

-----

Really, living on a ship was much nicer outside of planetary atmosphere. The endless expanse of stars from the viewports never ceased to amaze Zara, no matter how many times she saw them.

At the end of a long day, there was nothing she enjoyed more than just gazing into the sea of lights, glittering like precious stones, stretching out for infinity. There was nothing more soothing, or more beautiful to her.

Some people said it was disconcerting to see stars at all hours of the day cycle, the only indicator aboard the ship that it was technically daytime being the artificial lighting. But she had never minded it; the stars were light enough to keep her. She liked seeing them as she passed through the corridors in what was otherwise a very mundane job.

Her eyes were bleary as she moved through the ship, her feet taking her with sluggish steps towards the mess hall. The alarms had only just woken them, alerting the day crew that it was time to be up and to look lively.

The doors made a soft swooshing sound as she passed, the large room filled with the kind of shuffling bustle of those only just waking up and eager to get on with their days.

Food was being served for the employees, synthesized food packs designed to take on the semblance of planetside delicacies, but never quite making their mark. Still, they were far better than flavourless ration bars.

She was, for her own part, more interested in the coffee. It was weak, watery and all but flavourless itself, but it was real coffee, not produced by the artificial synthesizer. That cup of fresh hot coffee in the mornings was easily the highlight of her day.... because even shit coffee is still coffee.

Her fingers curled around the white mug, letting the heat from the edges sink into her hands. It smelled less than strong. It was still heavenly.

The moment was broken in an instant when the lights shut out.

The room held it's collective breath for a moment, everyone too taken by surprise to call out in alarm. For a moment the room was bathed only in the glow from the stars in the viewports. Then there was a sound of generators kicking in, backup energy systems whirring to life as the illumination came back, dimmed and soft. The emergency alarms followed on the backup system's heels, even as the ship gave a sudden lurch that sent everyone stumbling to the left. Zara's tail whipped out to keep her balance, precious coffee flying from her hands. The sound of the ceramic smashing on the floor was overwhelmed by the sounds of distress and confusion from the others in the mess.

"This is the Captain speaking. We are under attack. Repeat. The ship is under attack. Prevent the aggressors from boarding at all costs. High Alert!"

The Captain's voice blared through the speakers, distorted and crackling. She reached for the blaster at her hip, too confused to think twice.

It looked like she was due for some adventure after all.