Destiny, Chapter 1 Max stood at the end of the path next to the road, his feet scuffing the gravel and sending small puffs of dust into the air. He clutched a well-worn duffle bag that had been handed down to him from his father. He was thirteen years old as of four hours ago at midnight, and now eligible to attend the Destiny Preparatory Academy. The sun lamps high above on the rotating central axis were still pointed at the upper hemisphere; sunrise for this hemisphere was still another two hours away. He gazed up at the mirror image of mountains, lakes, and towns just finishing their day cycle. His friend, Brock, lived up there on one of the mountains, and had probably been picked up two hours ago. The Academy was on this side of the Destiny, so Brock would have to take a shuttle to get down here. He had only met Brock once, during the mandatory field trip for all fourth graders to the outer hull; they had remained in contact as pen-pals. When the bulkhead doors to the outer hull opened, Max and perhaps two-dozen other kids had rushed to the viewing windows to see outside their world for the first time. Brock had been one of the kids that showed no fear and ran out to see the vast emptiness of space; that's when he'd met Brock. Most of the kids refused to leave the inner hull when they saw the blackness beyond. Some even fell on their hands and knees crying, but some braved at least venturing into the outer hull, though they stayed tight to the opposite wall from the windows. They didn't know it at the time, but the kids that had braved standing at the viewing windows were put on a list to attend the Academy, and one day become pilots or gunnery marines for the fleet of fighter ships, scout ships, and cargo ships that served Destiny. Those kids that had at least dared to go out into the outer hull were marked to become the support personnel and engineers working in the outer hull that kept the Destiny running. The rest of the kids would become farmers, merchants, or any of the many professions the Destiny needed, but they would never be asked again to venture beyond the safe inner cylinder of the titan-sized colony world-ship. He checked to make sure the bus wasn't coming yet, then turned around to look back at the cabin that was his home. His parents had promised not to come outside and embarrass him when the bus came. He caught his mother peering out with a hopeful expression from behind the curtains. Max waved, but shook his head when she held up a plate of buttered biscuits - a last attempt to see him off before he left for the Academy. He would come back during holidays and summers, but it would never be the same again. He sighed, thinking of all the things he'd miss; Ice skating during the winters when they froze the rivers would be one, he loved ice skating, and he would miss his friends at school. Last year had been the seventh grade, and the start of advanced mathematics in preparation for the Academy. He had also been placed in an advanced history class, but learning the ancient history of Earth had been boring. He understood that Earth had been the home of humanity, but it was so long ago, and so alien, it was almost impossible to truly understand. He had met some of the first generation colonists, they were required to be woken from cryo according to a lottery and serve one year awake. The idea was to try to keep the memory of Earth alive, and to keep the language from shifting, but after 12,000 generations, it was difficult to understand a word they said. By the time the world-ship arrived at a viable world for colonization, another 15,000 generations would pass, and nothing they did would stop the language shift. Faster than light speed had been a fantasy, the only way to reach across the vast distance of space was a generational ship. Though, nobody thought of the Destiny as a spacecraft anymore, it was their world, and as natural as Earth was to the first generation colonists. By the 10th generation, very few people volunteered for cryo. The original twenty million of the first generation were content to stay in cryo, for many reasons, but mostly because it was too alien for them to think of Destiny as a world traveling through space. And so, the population was carefully controlled, and people lived out their lives normally. Some would be required to go into cryo - those with vital skills that might not be needed now, but would again. Max would have to go into Cryo, they didn't need many pilots awake, at least until they passed another asteroid belt. Then, Max and every pilot would be woken to harvest vital resources. The sound of a vehicle approaching caught Max's attention and pulled him out of his thoughts. The blue and gold colors of the Academy were emblazoned on the side of the bus with the words, Destiny Preparatory Academy. He lifted the duffle bag containing his few permitted personal possessions, along with the carefully packed items from the packing list he'd been sent by the Academy. This was it, this was the moment everything would change. He could still turn around and walk back to his home, and his mother with the plate of butter biscuits, and the life he'd always known. The bus wouldn't stop, it would continue on without him. Nobody would say a word, he could go back to his old school, his friends, and his life would be as it always had. But, he knew it would disappoint his father, this was a chance to become something important, to do something that really mattered. The bus stopped, and the doors opened. He took a deep breath and stepped up onto the bus. Most of the seats were already filled. He was one of the last to be picked up. He scanned the faces of the other kids on the bus. These were the brave kids that had stood with him on that day years ago staring out into space, but they didn't look so brave now - they looked as frightened as he felt. He sat in the first available seat and clutched his duffel bag to his chest. The doors of the bus hissing shut made the whole thing seem so final, his fate was sealed. Despite his fears, he knew he had made the right decision and there was no turning back now. He squared his shoulders and vowed to give it his all, no matter what challenges lay ahead. Nine years later... Max's hands gripped the controls as he chased after the massive asteroid hurtling through space. "Slow down, Lieutenant, you're approaching too fast," came Captain Harris' voice over the intercom. Max hesitated for a split second before checking his velocity and targeting indicator. As commander of the ship, he was responsible for every aspect of its operation, but he knew Harris was right. With a deep breath, he fired the forward breaking thruster and slowed his approach. "Don't worry, Max," came Brock's voice from the turret behind him. "Just get me close enough." Brock had been Max's roommate since their days at the academy. At first, Max had been confused as to why a marine was sharing a room with him, until he learned about the intricate partnership between pilots and gunners in the Fleet. While Max flew the ship, Brock controlled the weapons, engines, and even the external claw used to harvest asteroids. Max flew and Brock worked – it seemed fair. "Almost there," replied Max, carefully maneuvering the powerful cargo ship closer to their target. "I'm ready when you are," said Brock confidently. With precision and skill, Max brought the ship within inches of the massive asteroid. One wrong move now could send them flying off course at an unrecoverable trajectory. "Target, target, target," shouted Max over the roar of the ship's engines. With a tense silence hanging in the air, Max felt Brock expertly guide the claws into position on the surface of the icy asteroid. Four powerful anchor bolts were fired down to provide stability for their next task. "We're anchored," declared Brock triumphantly. "You can go back to your nap now." Max couldn't help but grin at his friend's teasing. "Not yet," he replied. "It's time to light the candle." With a careful hand on the thruster lever, Max prepared to change the direction of the asteroid. This maneuver would use up most of their fuel, but it was necessary to intercept the Destiny. "We have a problem," came Brock's urgent voice. "I'm getting sensor readings through the anchor bolts. This asteroid has an iron core." Max's heart sank at this news. While it meant they would be able to collect valuable resources for the Destiny, it also meant that his calculations to get the asteroid to the needed course correction were wrong. "Let's go, math boy, do the long-division, can we still get this thing back to Destiny?" asked Brock. Max almost laughed, the equation was anything but long-division, it was a very complex equation, and shouldn't be done in his head, but if he waited for the Destiny computers to give them the new equation, they might not make it. They were already very close to the point of no return. He needed the equation now. Max closed his eyes and with a deep breath, sank into hyper-thought, a mental state that took intense training to master. His mind raced through the vast expanse of numbers and equations, and for a moment, he feared he wouldn't be able to return. But then, with Brock's voice pulling him back, he opened his eyes and checked his watch; sixteen seconds had passed, but it was enough time for him to solve the equation. Max shuddered as he remembered the first time he crossed the hyper-thought barrier and almost lost himself in the infinite possibilities of the Universe. "You still there, buddy," asked Brock. "Yes, I have the equation," replied Max. "We won't be back for lunch. We're going to make a two-degree deviation and intercept with the Destiny in three weeks." "Oh great, plastic food for three weeks, I'm in," said Brock. "Was the hyper-thought easier for you this time?" Brock was referring to the rations aboard the cargo ship. They would spend the next three weeks nibbling on food that tasted like plastic and playing card games. "Yes, I didn't feel the same pull towards the void as usual. I think it's because this is an emergency and I was distracted emotionally." "Who would have ever thought you would be one of those freaks that could use hyper-thought." Max grinned. "Your gentle compassion is over-whelming." "Hey, no problem. Now light this candle and let's go home." Max entered the equation into the navigation computer, and activated the burn. The ship's powerful engines pulled the asteroid into a new course. Max watched as the fuel gauge dropped rapidly until there was barely enough to keep the ship warm during the next three weeks. A fighter ship out of the corner of his eyes pulled alongside. He could see the pilot and gunner, it was Tom and Mark. "Hey, Max," said Thomas over the radio. "Captain Harris is taking the rest of the wing back to Destiny, I drew the short straw for babysitting duty." Max nodded in understanding - Thomas would fly escort with them in case something went wrong and they needed a ride home. "Thanks, Tom," he said gratefully. Thomas responded with a grin. "I heard Brock say that chunk of rock has an iron core. That's quite a prize, maybe you two will get that Scout Ship you want for this." Max's eyes lit up at the thought of finally getting their own Scout Ship. "One can only dream," replied Max, then settled back into his seat. He would sit up here for a few hours to make sure everything was going as planned, then pull himself back to the crew compartment for some breakfast. It was going to be a long three-weeks, but Max knew it would all be worth it.