Shadows in the Void

Chapter 1: The Solace of a Drink

The UESS Dominance, a gleaming bastion of human innovation and unity, glided silently through the vast emptiness between galaxies. Its sleek hull caught the distant light of stars, scattering it like diamonds across black velvet. Inside, the ship hummed with the steady rhythm of a living organism, a symphony of lights, screens, and machinery that never ceased.

The corridors, usually alive with military precision and familial warmth, lay quieter than usual. Most of the crew slept in cryogenic suspension, leaving only a skeleton watch to keep vigil during the voyage's early stages.

Lieutenant Dagr Magnusson wiped a smudge from his console with the hem of his shirt, eyes burning from hours of diagnostics. He leaned back, stretching until his spine cracked with a muted groan. His shift was over, and the quiet solace of the lounge beckoned, a brief reprieve from duty.

The dim lights and faint antiseptic scent clung to the corridors as he walked. His footsteps echoed against sterile white walls, each step carrying him farther from the hum of systems toward the promise of silence.

The lounge door hissed open, revealing a sanctuary rather than a room. Here, the stars could be admired without the weight of responsibility pressing down, a place where the mission's enormity softened into something almost human.

Dagr rolled his shoulders, loosening the tension of the day as he crossed to the bar. The chrome surface gleamed beneath soft lighting, polished to perfection.

The bartender, an older man with a kind smile and steady hands, nodded in greeting.

Dagr's gaze lingered on the bottles lined neatly behind the counter, finally settling on the gin.

"Make it a dry martini." His voice was low, almost out of place in the hush of the room.

He watched the ritual unfold—the clink of ice against the shaker, the measured pour, the olive dropping with a soft plop.

The glass slid across the bar with a nod.

Dagr lifted it, savoring the cool burn as it touched his lips, and turned toward the quiet corners of the lounge, searching for a place to disappear. 

There were other crew enjoying drinks, talking among themselves. Dagr prefers the company of his thoughts, easier then trying to find the right words to say. Easier than apologizing when you don't.

The door to the lounge swung open with a gentle hiss, and in strode Anton Grovinoff, his Russian accent preceding him like a mischievous ghost.

"Dagr!" he boomed, a smile as broad as the Siberian steppe splitting his face.

Dagr winced at the sudden intrusion but managed a polite swivel of his head, forcing a smile.

Anton slapped him on the back, the impact resonating through his body like a drum.

"You work too hard, my friend!"

He plopped down on the stool beside him, laughter echoing through the quiet room.

Across the lounge, Xinyue and Angela glanced over from their table, their conversation momentarily halted by the commotion.

Xinyue's gaze lingered on Dagr, curiosity piqued by the unassuming yet obviously knowledgeable man she had heard whispers about.

Dagr's smile tightened at the interruption, but he nodded in greeting.

"Just finished up," he said, lifting his martini for another sip.

His eyes flicked toward Xinyue and Angela, catching the way they looked at him. His pulse quickened, a beat faster than it should. Not used to attention... especially from women like them.