Chapter 1 - The White Room

Hyperspeed, the folding of space to traverse astronomical distances rapidly, stands as the pinnacle of interstellar travel known to humanity. Paradoxically, this incredible capability also serves as the most effective means to dispose of evidence of a crime. When discarded into the unfathomable depths of space via an airlock, evidence simply vanishes into the never-ending void, lost to eternity. Regrettably, Jason was on the precipice of becoming such evidence in a murder case—his murder case.

As he stood within the confines of the airlock, his gaze fixated on the porthole at the architect of this nefarious act. A manic wave and a malevolent grin adorned their face. Without a moment's hesitation, they pushed the outer door release, jettisoning Jason into the unforgiving abyss of space, a sentence of inevitable doom.

Though every occupant of the Batavia was equipped with an emergency space suit and a precious ten minutes of oxygen, these slender lifelines would hardly save him from the timelessness of the void. Once expelled, the rainbow road of hyperspeed vanished, forsaking him to what should have been a lightless eternity of endless soul-crushing expanse. In this cruel twist of fate, however, Jason stumbled upon a twisted sort of luck, for whether it was good or bad made little difference now. He had been unceremoniously dumped just shy of the dreaded event horizon of a malevolent black hole.

In anticipation of the imminent spaghettification, he whispered his goodbyes to absent friends, hopeful they'd remember him fondly. But as the moments dragged on, nothing transpired. He reasoned it must be happening slowly, as he assumed the centuries were passing in normal space. But as he looked at his time flow metre, astonishingly, time raced only slightly faster than its earthly pace. Had humanity's understanding of black holes been mistaken? Or was this cosmic spectacle before him a facade for something greater.

He drifted closer and closer, gaining speed as he approached the point of no return. A breathless moment passed before he crossed the formidable threshold—the event horizon and into the unknown, a space no man had travelled before. Yet, what lay before him was not the light prison that was the hallmark of a black hole. Instead, he found himself in a city, an awe-inspiring megalopolis that defied all expectations. In a mere fraction of a second, he was teleported to a chamber of mirrors, a place where his own reflection surrounded him in an endless symphony of selves.

Somehow the room was lit with a passive dull radiance, which was more than bright enough for him to see himself in the myriad of mirrors encasing him. There, he stood, his tousled, medium-length blonde hair bound in a makeshift knot, his sapphire eyes, and his lean frame. Unfortunately he had not yet fully matured into the stature of manhood, leaving him somewhat disadvantaged among the more robust peers of his age.

After the merest of instants, the once-mirrored surface morphed into an expanse of pristine white, a room devoid of any discernible boundaries. In this ethereal space, an immaculate white chair and table materialised with an almost mystical grace, their presence beckoning him to take a seat. As Jason lowered himself into the chair, an otherworldly glow emanated from the table's surface, casting an iridescent sheen upon his face. The glow dulled revealing a screen which read, "What is your wish?"

Jason touched the table, pondering the question before him, but the table did not have the idle chill of an abandoned room; instead, the table exuded a warmth that seemed to pulse with purpose. Jason spent some time trying to answer the question he was posed, but all he could fathom, still raw from being discarded out the airlock like some rubbish, was a burning desire for bloody revenge.

A message materialised on the screen, its words changing fluidly as if it plucked the very essence of his thoughts from the ether. "revenge is but a concept, your wish must be tangible."

Jason, uncertain of the nature of this transcendent entity, ventured to articulate his inquiries with a quiver in his voice. "Is there a limit to the scope of this wish?" he ventured, his words a fragile tether to the unknown.

The screen reacted once more, reconfiguring its text to provide an answer to the inquisitive interloper. "We are the ancients, and any limitations upon your wish exist far beyond the confines of your comprehension."

Jason sat there staring at the screen for a moment, his disbelief palpable as he grappled with the impossible truth before him. The ancients, a fabled race long believed to be extinct, were now more than mere legend. Generations had grown up with their mystical existence as little more than a bedtime tale, an inspiration for young minds to reach for the stars and explore the cosmos. The stories had always spun the same tantalising promise - that, hidden out beyond the stars, lay a gift beyond imagination: a solitary wish, bestowed upon the one who could find the ancients and unveil their hidden city. Had Jason, against all odds, stumbled upon this fabled city?

The legacy of the ancients extended beyond the promise of wishes. In the vast expanse of the galaxy, every sentient being was granted a singular opportunity upon reaching maturity – a solitary roll of the cosmic dice, a chance to grasp the power of their most fervent desires. Entire schools dedicated themselves to preparing for this pivotal moment, guiding young minds to choose wisely from the array of powers that could await them. But, as in most facets of life nothing is guaranteed, luck also needs to be on your side.

Jason was in the process of returning from his own "Right of Passage," a pivotal event that had left him despondent and bereft of the grandeur he had yearned for. His fate? An F-class power, the lowest of the low. The location of this transformative rite was at the very heart of the galaxy, a place known as the Gap, using its creatively named device, the Gap Device. This device held the collective hopes and dreams of countless beings, making some and breaking others.

"The stories, are they true?" His voice quivered with disbelief. "The one who discovers your city is granted a wish, and I am that person?"

The table's screen cleared, its luminous surface resonating with an affirmative response. Armed with the knowledge he sought and mindful of the precious seconds ticking away, he meticulously crafted his wish, choosing his words as succinctly as possible. However, as he poised to utter the request, the screen underwent a sudden transformation. Before he could articulate his desires, the wish was already known. The tablet's message materialised:

"Your wish shall be granted under a single condition, a safeguard for the galaxy against one individual's monopoly. This wish will be extended to another person of our selection. Do you agree with this stipulation?"

With little thought about the mysterious recipient, he instantly consented, his determination unwavering.

"So be it," the screen declared, sealing his fate in stone.

With the next flicker of his eyelids, an excruciating sensation gripped him, as if his very essence had been torn asunder and then hastily stitched back together in the span of a fleeting moment. When he opened his eyes, a sense of disorientation washed over him, as he found himself in his dorm, laying in his bed. Could this bewildering episode merely be a dream, this notion was swiftly dismissed as he noticed he still had his emergency space suit on, helmet included. Removing the helmet and casting a scrutinising gaze around the room, everyone else was still missing. For the first time ever, he found himself on an island of solitude amidst the familiar yet eerie surroundings of his dormitory, designated for seventeen-year-olds—a stark reminder that the inexorable march of time had ushered him into adulthood. In a matter of hours, he would be cast adrift onto unforgiving streets, for he had recently crossed the threshold into the uncharted territory of eighteen. While most children would find solace in the arms of their parents after completing their tenure at military school, Jason's fate diverged starkly. His scumbag parents had conveniently gone uncontactable, leaving him homeless in a matter of hours.

In the wake of the surreal events that had just unfolded, Jason couldn't help but contemplate the authenticity of his reality. If his wish was indeed granted, as it seemed, his desires should have already come true. But, before he could put his wish to the test, he was interrupted by their supervisor, The school's Commander, Miss White. Once a student within these same halls, she had rapidly ascended to the role of a military school teacher. Her departure had coincided with Jason's arrival year at school, and now, she had returned as the commander. It was no surprise to anyone that she had rapidly ascended the ranks and returned; she was renowned as a tactical genius.

Jason found himself pondering why such a remarkable woman, possessed of striking beauty, a towering stature, fiery scarlet locks, massive tits and limitless ability had chosen to be a school teacher. As it was peace times, she was likely given a choice to as she pleased, as long as the military retained her. Her piercing blue eyes bore into him, questioning his presence. "Shouldn't you be aboard the Batavia with your fellow classmates?" she inquired, her voice laced with an undertone of expectation.

Jason stammered, a sudden rush of unease leaving him at a loss for words as he grappled with explaining his return to the dorms ahead of his peers. Yet, just as he struggled to formulate a response, an unexpected lifeline presented itself. She closed the distance, leaning in to study his face, her intent gaze probing for answers. Amidst her scrutiny, Jason fought to maintain his composure, resisting the temptation to glance down her light blue military blouse, at her vibrant pink bra.

"Did they lock you in the storage cupboard again?" inquired Commander White, her features contorting in disapproval.

"Yes commander," lied Jason, his nerves tingling. Commander White had taken a liking to him over the past year, and would always treat him well. He figured her kindness served as a counterbalance to offset the torture his classmates had put him through.

"This is quite troublesome. Aren't you scheduled to be discharged tomorrow morning?" She asked, her long slender fingers, adorned with elaborately painted, sharp, crimson nails, caressing her chin as she contemplated the situation.

"Yes commander," replied Jason, his anxiety escalating as he navigated her probing inquiries. He feared she may find out the truth, even though he had done nothing wrong. She had to know he had been on the Batavia, she may have even seen him board. It was likely obvious he hadn't been here for the past day and he was in his space suit, which is usually only donned upon boarding.

"The next Gap transport isn't slated until next week. Moreover, I'm aware you lack a destination upon your release tomorrow, correct?" she inquired, pacing gracefully alongside his bedside.

"Yes Commander, that is correct," Jason responded with a respectful tone, his curiosity piqued by the unfolding conversation.

"Well, I shall have you stay with me as my guest until the next transport arrives. Tomorrow afternoon, upon your discharge, make your way to my office," she instructed, a faint smile gracing her lips as she extended a pointed finger toward him.

Caught off guard by this unexpected act of kindness, Jason momentarily abandoned his usual schoolboy decorum, failing to respond appropriately.

Okay!" he blurted out, his excitement overriding his manners. Commander White fixed him with a piercing glare, prompting a quick correction. "Commander," he added hastily.

"Very well," she declared, her departure from the room marked by her silence. As she exited, Jason found himself captivated by her round ass in the dark blue military pencil skirt, which jiggled and bounced as she walked.

Jason hated the military, and there was nothing that could convince him to stay and go into full service, but that ass almost did.