Journey

Grant felt a sharp tug on his hand and the tight grip of Ria let go.

"Ria!" Grant shouted, spinning around in horror.

He saw her stumble, her small form collapsing to the ground. His blood froze in his veins. The woman had shot her—right in the back as she ran.

Grant's heart stopped. The world seemed to slow around him, the distant sounds of the Vipers' pursuit growing muffled in his ears.

"No!" he shouted, running back to Ria's side.

She was lying on the ground, her face pale, her small body trembling. The bullet wound was already staining her uniform—a dark, wet patch spreading across her side.

"No, no, no!" Grant's voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside her, cradling her head in his lap. He could feel the hot blood soaking through his fingers.

"Ria, stay with me!" he begged, his hands trembling as he tried to assess the wound.

Her eyes fluttered open weakly, and she managed a small, painful smile. "I—I'm sorry, Grant..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Don't say that. Don't you dare!" Grant growled, his voice breaking. He couldn't lose her—not like this. It felt all to familiar.

But the Vipers were closing in, and time was running out. The gate was right there—the escape that would take them far away from the danger of the colony. But Ria...

The decision hit him like a punch to the gut. If he carried her to the gate, there was no way he could protect both of them. They'd be targeted, and she might not survive the journey. If he stayed, he could try to stabilize her, but they'd be caught.

The gate. Ria. The gate. Ria.

Grant's chest tightened as the weight of the choice crushed him.

Ria's eyes were half-closed now, her breaths shallow and ragged. Her hand reached out weakly, her fingers brushing his arm.

"Go," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "You... need to save yourself..."

"No," Grant growled, shaking his head, trying to hold back tears. "I'm not leaving you. You're my responsibility, Ria. You're not alone."

She gave him a weak smile. "I... I'm sorry... I'm not strong like you..."

Grant's heart shattered. He knew she was right. She wasn't strong enough to make it out of this alone—not now.

But he couldn't—wouldn't—abandon her.

"Hey-Kid!" The voice of the Scarred man pierced through the haze of his thoughts. He was getting closer.

Grant looked down at Ria one last time, and something inside him clicked—something primal, something fierce. He wasn't going to leave her. He couldn't.

But he needed more time. He heard a bang, and a sharp pain in his leg. He didn't have it.

"System!" he shouted, his voice full of desperation. "Omni-Forge. I need—"

A faint, mechanical hum followed his command, but his body was so drained. The Omni-Forge flared weakly, struggling to gather enough energy.

The Viper mans voice was closer now. He was almost on them.

Grant looked back down at Ria. "Hold on, please hold on."

Grant's heart hammered in his chest as he knelt beside Ria, her frail body limp in his arms. Her breathing was shallow, each exhale a desperate rasp. The blood soaking her side was spreading faster now, and she was fading, slipping away from him.

"Stay with me, Ria," Grant muttered, trying to hold back the panic rising in his chest. His fingers trembled as he pressed harder against the wound, but the blood kept flowing. He could feel the life draining from her. 

Her tiny, pale hand brushed weakly against his cheek. "Grant…" Her voice was faint, barely audible. "You have to go. You're... strong enough... to make it."

"No," he snapped, shaking his head violently. "I'm not leaving you. You're my responsibility, Ria. You're not alone."

But her eyes were already growing heavy, her grip weakening. The gunfire from the Vipers echoed in the distance, and Grant knew they didn't have much time. The gate to the large ship was within sight. It was their only chance, and he could feel the pressure building in his chest.

The Vipers were closing in, but Ria was still in his arms. The gate.

Grant's mind was racing. Escape. The gate. The ship.

The words felt like daggers as they formed in his head. He could go through the gate, make it onto the ship, and survive—but what about Ria? He couldn't carry her; she was too weak, and he was exhausted and injured. There was no way he could fight the Vipers and keep her safe, not in the state she was in.

Ria's hand twitched, her eyes fluttering open one last time. "Grant… go…"

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him. The Viper woman was getting closer.

Grant closed his eyes for a moment, and the weight of the decision hit him like a ton of bricks.

He could hear Ria's faint whisper as her hand weakly fell away from him. She wasn't going to make it much longer.

The gate.

He couldn't hold on anymore.

His chest ached as he reluctantly set Ria down, her fragile form leaning against the wall. The words felt like poison on his tongue, but he forced them out, barely able to speak through the lump in his throat.

"I'll come back for you," Grant said, though his voice cracked. He didn't know if he could keep that promise.

Ria barely moved. She looked up at him with dull eyes. "I… know…" she whispered weakly.

Grant stood, his legs trembling as he forced himself to turn away. The gate was only a few meters away now, and he had no choice. His heart was breaking, but he knew what he had to do.

He could hear the Vipers getting closer, their voices loud and clear. The scarred man and the woman were just behind him.

Grant stumbled towards the gate, pushing through the pain in his chest. His energy was drained, his legs burning, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He flashed his card to the guard. It seems they weren't paid enough to actively stop his boarding, only not stop the vipers assault.

The gate was open, and the massive ship loomed before him. His salvation.

He took one last glance over his shoulder. Ria was still there. Unmoving. His heart wrenched, but there was nothing more he could do. Not now. Not with the Vipers breathing down his neck. He saw them scoop her up as the guards blocked The scarred man- Grant now knew who to blame- From entering.

Grant stepped through the gate.

And he left Ria behind.

Grant stumbled through the hallways of the luxurious ship, knowing the vipers couldn't board without a pass. 

Grant's legs felt like lead as he staggered down the gleaming white corridor of the ship. His breath came in ragged gasps, and every step seemed to echo in his skull, the weight of his decision crushing him with each passing second. Ria. Her face, her smile, the sound of her voice—it all burned in his mind.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. The blood. The way her tiny hand had slipped from his. The way he had left her.

What had he done?

He pushed those thoughts aside, forcing himself to focus. He couldn't afford to break down now—not when there was a chance to survive. The Vipers wouldn't be able to board without a pass, and the guards were blocking their way. For now, he was safe. But that didn't mean he was free. Not yet.

His eyes darted around the hallway, taking in the pristine surroundings of the ship. Everything here felt alien, too clean, too perfect. It didn't belong to someone like him. He was out of place, and deep down, he knew it.

For now, he needed to find a med bay. He was injured and had no idea how long the flight was. He opened a door to find a crowd of people, kids around his age. It seemed these were his soon to be fellow classmates.

"Oh-Oh my god! Are you alright?" A young boy with black hair approached Grant.

It seemed him walking into what seemed to be an auditorium during a presentation caused quite a scene.

"Um yea, Im fine. Just tripped on the way here." Grant Muttered "What's going on?"

"Tripped?" The boy questioned, then shrugged his shoulders. Seems these kids didn't give a damn about anyone else "This is the intro speech. Up there is one of the professors from Zenith academy, John Wayne. You should pay attention and stop causing a scene."

Grant looked around. It seemed everyone was staring at him. The speaker cleared their throat to get everyone's attention.

"Ahem. It seems we have a new student. Ill be sure to catch him up on the earlier parts of my speech. But as I was saying. Zenith Academy is not just an institution for the brightest and most talented. It is a place where the weak become strong, where those with the potential to change the course of history are shaped. Whether you're here for the stellar navigation program, the engineering division, or one of the many specialized courses we offer, know this: you've all been chosen because you have something exceptional inside of you."

Professor John Wayne's voice boomed through the auditorium, his words carrying weight. The room was silent, hanging on his every syllable.

Grant glanced around, his mind still reeling from the encounter with the Vipers and the strange feeling that his life was being pushed into a new direction at breakneck speed. The tension from his run to the gate, from leaving Ria behind, still gnawed at him. But here, in this pristine hall with these students who seemed unfazed by his abrupt entrance, he tried to focus.

"You're here for a reason," Wayne continued. "This school isn't just for learning; it's about evolving. Pushing the boundaries of what you thought was possible. And some of you," he paused, scanning the room, "might not know it yet, but you already have the power to shape the galaxy."

Grant shifted his weight uneasily, glancing at the other students. Some were leaning forward with rapt attention, others were bored, and a few were already whispering amongst themselves, clearly not interested. He didn't feel like he fit in here, not at all. But what was he supposed to do? Sit back and blend in?

Wayne's gaze suddenly shifted toward Grant. It was as if he could feel the weight of the room pressing against him.

"And you," the professor said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "What's your name, young man?"

The eyes of every student in the room turned to Grant. His pulse spiked, and he hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Grant Asher," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Professor Wayne nodded slowly. "Asher, you say?" He tapped his chin, then gave a faint smirk. "Interesting. A new student, and already making an impression. Well, you're just in time, Asher. The program has already begun."

Grant's heart skipped. The program? What was he walking into now?

Wayne waved his hand, and the large holographic screen behind him appeared, displaying a star chart. "You're not just here to learn about space. You're here to become a part of it. A small part of a much larger universe." His voice dropped slightly. "You'll have to prove yourselves worthy of the privilege. This isn't just about grades or tests—it's about your will to survive in the harshest conditions."

Grant tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. He'd survived worse. A junkyard orphan. A gang attack. He could survive this. He had to survive this. But still, a strange unease crept up his spine.

Wayne's gaze softened slightly, but there was an edge to it. "Now, for those of you who aren't familiar, let me make something clear. This academy, like everything else, isn't easy. Your abilities, your determination, will be tested. Pushed to their limits."

Grant's eyes flicked to the other students. They all looked so sure of themselves. So confident. But he didn't feel confident. He felt scared, unready for what was to come.

"We'll start with basic introductions," Wayne continued. "Then, we'll discuss the first exam. You'll be assigned teams, and your ability to work together—just as much as your personal strength—will determine whether you advance. Whether you make it to the end."

The first exam. Grant clenched his fists at his sides. He had no idea what kind of tests they would put him through, but one thing was clear: this was his chance to show what he could do. This was where it started.

Professor Wayne gestured toward the side of the auditorium. "Feel free to grab a seat, Asher. We'll get you up to speed. And everyone else, get comfortable. We'll be leaving soon."

Grant moved toward an empty seat in the back, his heart still racing. As he sat down, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything was moving too fast. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up the act—that he belonged here.

Grant felt the pain in his leg now. He hadnt realized the magnitude of his situation. He had been shot. And it hurt.

"System, whats my status looking like. How long have I got till I need to get treatment?" Grant muttered as he saw the professor walk toward him and pull out a strange pen like object.

SYSTEM STATUS

User: Grant AsherHealth: Injured - Gunshot wound, right legInjury Status: Severe - Blood loss moderateTime Until Critical: 12 minutesRecommended Action: Immediate medical attention required

Grant's stomach churned. He had been so caught up in everything—the chaos, the flight, the academy—that he had ignored the pain in his leg until now. The wound was much worse than he'd realized.

"Great," he muttered to himself, gripping the edge of his seat to steady himself. His mind raced through his options. The ship was huge, and it seemed like there were places to get medical treatment, but how long would it take to find one?

Before he could make a decision, Professor Wayne approached him with that strange pen-like device in hand. The professor raised an eyebrow as he looked down at Grant's leg.

"You seem to be in a bit of pain, Asher," Wayne said, his voice low and oddly sympathetic. "Here, let me help."

Grant frowned but didn't argue. His leg was screaming for relief, and he wasn't about to refuse help, especially if it would get him back on his feet faster.

The professor pressed the device to Grant's leg, and there was a soft whirr. The pen-like device began to glow with a faint red light, and within moments, Grant felt a strange sensation—a deep, tingling warmth where the bullet had pierced his flesh.

"You're lucky you came to me," Wayne said, his eyes narrowing. "This is an advanced healing stimulator known more as its common name-the med pen. It won't fully heal the wound, but it'll stabilize you for now. It'll be enough to get you through the exam."

Grant gritted his teeth as the device worked. He could feel the pain dulling, the bleeding slowing, but the injury was still there, lurking beneath the surface.

"Thanks," Grant muttered, still unsure of his place in this academy. "How long will this hold?"

Wayne shrugged. "Long enough. But don't push it. You're not invincible, Asher. Take care of yourself—this isn't a game. Head to the Med bay before going to your quarters. Pick any of the remaining ones."

Grant nodded, wincing slightly as he tested his leg, the pain dulled but not completely gone. He stood up slowly, taking a moment to steady himself before heading toward the exit of the auditorium. As he walked through the doors, he felt the eyes of his classmates on him. Some were still whispering among themselves, others studying him more intently. Grant ignored them—he had bigger things to focus on.

The halls of the ship were sleek, with polished metal walls reflecting the faint overhead lights. The contrast between the raw, dusty environment he'd come from and the pristine luxury of this place was jarring. His mind drifted back to Ria. He pushed the thought aside—he couldn't afford to dwell on her now. He had to survive. He would confront those feelings when he had the power to get vengeance.

Following the signs, he soon found the Med bay. The room was well-lit, with rows of sterile white beds and various medical devices lining the walls. A nurse, a young woman with short blonde hair, was standing near a counter. She looked up as Grant entered, giving him a quick once-over before noticing the limp in his step.

"You look like you've been through the ringer," she said, her tone light but professional. "What happened?"

Grant hesitated for a moment, not wanting to share too much with a stranger. "I got shot," he said simply, not offering more details. "I need something to keep me going."

The nurse raised an eyebrow but didn't question him further. "Alright, take a seat. I'll get you patched up."

He sat down on one of the beds, and she moved over to a nearby console, tapping a few commands into it. A panel slid open, revealing a set of small medical tools and a vial of glowing liquid. She picked up a syringe and gestured for Grant to roll up his sleeve.

"This will help stabilize your condition," she said, her eyes scanning his leg. "After this, you'll be able to rest, but I recommend you go easy for a while. You're lucky it wasn't worse."

Grant nodded and held out his arm. She swiftly administered the injection, and within moments, he felt a cool sensation spreading through his bloodstream. The tension in his leg loosened, and the sharp, throbbing pain began to fade, though he still felt the weight of the injury.

"That should hold you for a bit," the nurse said, removing the syringe and cleaning the area. "If you want more treatment, head to the back section, but for now, that'll do."

Grant slid off the bed, feeling the full weight of his exhaustion hitting him now that the immediate pain was manageable. He managed a weak smile. "Thanks. How do I find my quarters?"

"Just head down the corridor to your left," she instructed, pointing. "Room assignments are on the doors. It's a free-for-all with the remaining rooms, so pick whichever one you like. But don't get too comfortable; things are about to get a lot more intense here. This is only the beginning."

Grant nodded, his resolve hardening again. He needed to rest, but he also needed to prepare. Whatever was coming next, he had to be ready.

"Thanks again," he muttered, and made his way out of the Med bay.

As he walked down the corridor, his mind raced. He was surrounded by people who were all presumably at the top of their classes. He felt like a fraud, like he didn't belong here. But there was no going back now. He was in, and he needed to prove he could keep up.

Grant reached the hallway with the rooms. He wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for—perhaps some sign that this place could become home. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes scanning the doorplates. Most of them had names etched into the metallic surface, but one door was unmarked.

Grant staggered down the hallway, his legs still unsteady despite the treatment he'd received in the med bay. The pain in his leg had dulled but lingered, a constant reminder of how close he had come to disaster. He couldn't afford to fall behind now—there was no telling what would happen when they reached Zenith Academy, and he needed to be prepared.

He entered the corridor where the rooms were. It was quiet here, save for the soft hum of the ship's systems. The walls were sleek and metallic, the floors smooth and clean. He passed several rooms, each door marked with a student's name, but there was one door without a label. It felt... oddly inviting. Maybe it was just the exhaustion talking, but something told him it was the right place.

Without further hesitation, Grant stepped inside.

The room was small but functional, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the rest of the ship. There was a single bed with simple linens, a small desk with a console, and shelves along the walls. Everything had the sterile, utilitarian feel of a ship that was designed to be efficient, not comfortable. But at least it was a place to rest for now.

Grant moved over to the bed, dropping his bag on the floor and sitting down. He could still feel the hum of the ship beneath him, the constant motion of the engines, a reminder that they were on their way to something bigger. Zenith Academy. The place where everything could change for him.

A deep breath escaped his chest. He had barely begun to process everything that had happened—leaving Ria behind, the fight with the Vipers, the chaos of being shot—but now he had no time to rest on it. Soon, they'd be at the academy, and he would need to be prepared for whatever came next.

He reached over to his pack and retrieved his communicator, trying to connect to the ship's network. It flickered to life, displaying a basic status screen. The journey to Zenith was still ongoing, but according to the display, there were about two hours until they reached their destination. Two hours before his life would change again.