Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Ties That Bind

Dylan Trafford awoke to the low hum of the air circulation system and the faint copper glow of his room's walls. Another day in the Copper District. The novelty of life in the Galactic Empire hadn't worn off yet, but it was starting to feel less like living in a dream and more like a constant balancing act. His transition from Earth had been overwhelming—more than he'd anticipated. He was learning to adapt, but every day still threw something new at him, something that made him pause and think, Am I really here?

Breakfast was its usual quiet affair, aside from the steady whirr of the food replicator. The Empire's meals were efficient, packed with nutrients, but completely devoid of any flavor that even vaguely reminded him of the Earth food he craved. He absentmindedly poked at what was supposed to be "omelet," its consistency more like rubber than anything edible.

His parents, Aric and Lyra Trafford, were already at the table, engrossed in conversation. His father glanced at him, eyes twinkling with that same old curiosity that Dylan had come to expect.

"So," Aric began, not bothering to look up from his datapad, "tell me again how Earth's legal system worked? All those laws and... what was it called—due process? You mean to tell me people got trials for everything?"

"Yeah, well," Dylan replied, stifling a sigh. "Not everything. We didn't exactly line people up and—oh, I don't know—execute them for jaywalking. We had tiers of punishment, Dad."

"Ah yes," Aric said with a dry smile. "Tiers. How quaint."

Dylan smirked, shaking his head. "Remind me to call up Earth's Supreme Court the next time you have a client, see if they can recommend a little light imprisonment instead of vaporization."

Aric chuckled, setting down his datapad. "I keep telling you, vaporization's quick. Humane, even. Saves everyone the trouble of listening to endless appeals. But hey, I'd love to see your due process hold up in a court here."

Lyra gave a soft laugh from across the table. "Don't mind your father. He just likes to pick at anything that isn't laser-focused efficiency."

"Well, considering his job, I'd say that's par for the course."

Aric Trafford wasn't just a standard lawyer. In the Empire's legal system, every crime—whether fraud or murder—carried the same penalty: death. Aric's role as a Law Liaison was to convince a jury of 5 Golds, 10 Silvers, and 15 Coppers that the defendant deserved a different fate, usually some form of imprisonment. A job that required incredible finesse, logic, and a bit of performative flair. To him, Earth's layered justice system seemed almost laughably inefficient. But Dylan, in typical fashion, found it hard to let the banter pass.

"Next time you give one of your big speeches," Dylan said, his tone playful but pointed, "be sure to throw in a line about how vaporizing people keeps society nice and tidy. That should win the jury over."

Aric smiled, raising his cup of coffee in mock salute. "I'll pencil it in."

With the morning's usual dose of dark humor behind him, Dylan's thoughts shifted to his own ambitions. Today was a big day. He needed to make some real progress toward advancing from Copper to Silver rank, and that meant getting serious about his game project.

He pushed his plate aside, leaning back in his chair. "I'm heading to the Hub today. Going to get started on that game I've been working on."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Ah, the mysterious Red Strings Club. You've barely mentioned it," she teased, knowing full well it was all he'd talked about for weeks.

"Well, I've refined the idea," Dylan said, ignoring her sarcasm. "It's not just a game. It's an experience—an exploration of human emotion and connection. Players get to be bartenders, right? And the way they interact with customers will change the world around them."

His father's reaction was predictably skeptical. "Bartenders," Aric repeated. "In a world filled with giant mech battles and interstellar warfare, you're going with bartenders?"

"Exactly," Dylan said with a grin. "Because mech battles are so original. Everyone's doing it. This is different—it's about the choices people make, the way relationships change over time. It's got layers, Dad."

"Well, if it bombs, at least you'll have a backup career mixing drinks," Aric quipped, earning a snicker from Lyra.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Dylan muttered, getting up from the table.

Later that day, Dylan made his way to the Creative Games Division, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The Hub was alive with energy, as it always was, bustling with developers showcasing their projects. He felt a moment of unease—this was a galaxy away from the indie scene he'd been part of back on Earth.

"Dylan!" came a familiar voice. Zara, the bubbly designer who'd shown him around during his first visit, waved him over. "How's the masterpiece coming along?"

"It's... coming along," Dylan replied with a grin. "I'm just getting started on the prototype for The Red Strings Club. Hoping it won't be a total disaster."

"Well, that's the spirit!" Zara laughed. "Come on, let's get you set up."

She led him to a workstation, where the tools and software were already far more advanced than anything he'd worked with back home. As she set him up with the basics, Zara couldn't help but make conversation.

"I gotta say, I like your idea. It's kind of... artsy for the Empire. You know, most people here just want to blow things up."

"Yeah, well, I figure we've got enough explosions. Thought I'd try for something that doesn't involve imminent death."

Zara smirked. "Good luck with that. You know how people get here—they're not exactly looking for deep emotional experiences. But hey, maybe you'll start a trend. Stranger things have happened."

Dylan spent the next few weeks buried in work. Developing The Red Strings Club was both exhilarating and exhausting. The game was slowly taking shape, the futuristic cityscape becoming more vibrant, the mechanics of player choice weaving a complex web of relationships. He loved the intricacies, even if his parents seemed a bit bemused by his dedication.

One night, as Dylan was tweaking the game's dialogue system, Aric appeared at his door, leaning against the frame with a pensive expression.

"I've been thinking about your game," he said after a long pause. "You're focusing on emotional interactions—why?"

Dylan stopped typing, spinning his chair around. "Why not? I mean, not everything has to be about shooting or vaporizing people. It's about connection, Dad. Choices matter, and not just whether you pick the right weapon. It's about how you treat people, how you navigate relationships."

Aric stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. It's ambitious, I'll give you that."

"Thanks. I think."

Aric smiled faintly. "Hey, for what it's worth, I'm looking forward to seeing it. I'm sure it'll blow everyone away—without the lasers."

Dylan chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The day of the exhibition arrived, and Dylan stood in front of his holographic display, nerves buzzing in his chest. The crowd swarmed around, and slowly, people began to gather at his station. He watched as they interacted with the game, intrigued by the concept. The feedback was positive, encouraging—some visitors were genuinely captivated by the emotional depth of the game.

Later that night, exhausted but proud, Dylan reflected on how far he'd come. The exhibition had been a success, but the journey ahead was still long. Advancing from Copper to Silver rank was no small feat, but for the first time, he felt like he was carving out a space for himself in this new world.