Chapter 1

EEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEE.

The alarms screamed like wounded beasts, their shrill cries reverberating through the hollowed corridors of the once-majestic spacecraft.

EEEEE-EEEEE-EEEEE. 

The sound was relentless, a constant reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. Smoke curled through the air, thick and acrid, stinging the eyes and lungs of anyone unfortunate enough to still be breathing. The ship groaned under the weight of its injuries, its metal bones creaking as if mourning the devastation it had endured.

The corridors were a graveyard of shattered dreams. Electrical wires dangled from the ceiling like severed veins, sparking intermittently and casting eerie flashes of light across the scene. The walls were scarred with deep gashes, their once-pristine surfaces now marred by the violence of the invasion. Panels had been ripped away, exposing the ship's inner workings—tangled circuits, fractured pipes, and the faint hum of dying machinery. The floor was littered with debris: shards of glass, twisted metal, and the lifeless bodies of those who had fought valiantly but ultimately failed. Blood pooled beneath the fallen, its metallic scent mingling with the smoke to create a nauseating cocktail.

In the heart of the spacecraft, the damage was even more pronounced. The central chamber, once a grand hall that symbolized the unity and strength of the crew, now lay in ruins. The walls were scorched black, and the air was thick with the stench of burning plastic and charred flesh. A massive hole in the ceiling revealed the cold, unfeeling void of space beyond, though the ship's emergency shields held firm, preventing a catastrophic breach. Fires raged in the corners, their orange tongues licking hungrily at the remnants of what had once been.

At the center of the chamber, two groups stood facing each other, the tension between them palpable. On one side, a small band of survivors clustered around their captain, their faces etched with exhaustion and despair. They were the rightful owners of the spacecraft, a proud crew now brought to their knees. Their navy-blue uniforms, once a symbol of their allegiance and discipline, were now torn and stained with blood and soot. They formed a protective circle around their leader, their weapons raised but trembling, their shields battered but still held high.

The captain, a blonde woman with piercing blue eyes and a face that bore the weight of command, leaned heavily on her sword. Her white uniform, a stark contrast to the grime and blood that covered her, was torn in several places, revealing deep bruises and cuts beneath. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale a struggle, but her gaze remained steady. She was Captain Elara Voss, the ninth child of the King of Astra Prime, and though her body was broken, her spirit was not.

Opposite them stood the invaders, a group of pirates who exuded an air of cold superiority. Their leader, a woman with striking purple hair and an aura of undeniable authority, stood at the forefront. Her olive-green uniform was pristine, untouched by the battle that had ravaged the ship. She folded her arms across her chest, her expression one of mild amusement as she surveyed the scene before her. Her soldiers, clad in matching olive uniforms, surrounded the survivors, their weapons trained on the beleaguered crew.

"I surrender," Elara declared, her voice hoarse but firm. She straightened as much as her injuries would allow, her sword clinking against the floor as she adjusted her grip. "Don't harm any more of my people. Let them go. You can do whatever you want to me."

The pirate captain raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "How noble of you," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm afraid your surrender is a little too late, Captain Voss. Taking you hostage would be… pointless. What use do I have for the ninth child of a king? You're hardly a bargaining chip."

Elara's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She knew the pirate was right. Her father had never been one to show favoritism, and as the ninth in line, she was more of a political pawn than a cherished heir. Still, she held her ground, her mind racing as she tried to think of a way out of this nightmare.

The pirate captain tilted her head, her purple hair catching the dim light as she studied Elara. "No, what I need," she continued, "is something far more practical. Live humans. Workers. Bodies to keep my ship running. So here's my demand: I'll take half of your surviving crew as prisoners. Consider it a… recruitment drive."

A murmur of fear and disbelief rippled through Elara's crew. Half of them? To be taken as prisoners by pirates? It was a fate worse than death. Elara's heart sank as she looked at the faces of her men and women—her people. They had trusted her, followed her into battle, and now she was being asked to sacrifice them to save herself.

"No," she said through gritted teeth. "I won't agree to that."

The pirate captain's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "And I thought I was being generous," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Do you really think you're in a position to refuse me? I could wipe out your entire crew right now if I wanted to. Don't test my patience."

Elara's mind raced. She knew the pirate wasn't bluffing. The invaders had already proven their strength, and her crew was in no condition to fight back. But how could she condemn half of her people to a life of slavery—or worse? She had always dreamed of ruling Astra Prime someday, of being a queen who protected her people, not one who sacrificed them for her own survival.

A man stepped forward, his face pale but determined. It was Lieutenant Kael, one of her most trusted officers. "Captain," he whispered, his voice urgent. "You have to take the deal. If you don't, we'll all die. At least this way, some of us have a chance."

Elara shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I can't," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't do that to you."

But one by one, her crew began to nod in agreement with Kael. "Do it, Captain," someone said. "We'll survive. We always do."

The weight of their trust crushed her. She wanted to scream, to fight, to find another way. But there was no other way. She looked at the pirate captain, her eyes blazing with defiance even as her heart shattered. "Fine," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "But I have conditions. You take a quarter of my crew, not half. And you leave us with enough supplies to make it to the nearest station."

The pirate captain's lips curved into a smirk. "Bargaining? How bold. Very well, Captain Voss. A quarter of your crew, and your precious supplies. But don't think for a second that this makes us even."

The deal struck, the pirates moved quickly to secure their new prisoners. Elara watched in silent agony as her people were handcuffed and led away. Some went willingly, their heads held high despite their fear. Others resisted, like the man with pitch-black hair who tried to make a run for it. He didn't get far before a pirate tasered him into unconsciousness, his body crumpling to the floor.

Hours later, the pirate ship detached from the spacecraft, leaving behind a scene of utter devastation. The once-gleaming halls were now a twisted wreck of broken metal and shattered dreams. Elara stood amidst the ruins, her sword still in hand, her heart heavy with the cost of survival.