Zach, Chapter 2 The pulsing neon glow of Dirk's gaming establishment dimmed in the morning light as Zach emerged, a smirk still lingering on his lips from the latest digital conquest. His dark eyes scanned the horizon of the Resort city as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his worn jacket, the fabric soft and familiar beneath his fingers. He had played all night, the family dinner completely forgotten to the lure of the arena. With each step toward the train station, his mind drifted to the underground haven that awaited. Employees didn’t live within the Resort City, but instead in a city one hundred miles north, and mostly underground. The sleepy rhythm of his thoughts shattered as an air raid siren tore through the silence, its wail slicing the morning like a warning from the past. Zack's heart thumped against his ribs, a primal response as an old memory flashed in his mind: the rogue asteroid, hurtling between Ceres and Jupiter, threatening their dwarf planet with oblivion. "Seek shelter immediately," boomed an automated voice, the sound bouncing off the gleaming structures and winding streets. Zack's gaze lifted skyward, where the grand dome—the shield between them and the vacuum of space—began to close. Segmented alloy panels slid across one another, tucking the city into darkness as artificial night fell. The collision shields engaged with a low hum that resonated through the ground and into the soles of his boots. The city buzzed with sudden urgency, a hive disturbed, but Zack remained rooted to the spot for a moment longer, watching the protective embrace of technology assert itself over their heads. A sense of loyalty surged within him, a vow to the Ceres Corporation etched into his very being since birth; protect the guests. With a deep breath, Zack turned his attention back to the present. The station would have to wait; the Corporation—and its people—needed him now. Zack's pulse quickened, the sound of the air raid siren merging with the adrenaline that now coursed through his veins. His training snapped into focus as he glanced down at his chest, patting the fabric of his uniform to confirm the presence of his employee badge—an emblem of identity and duty in these critical moments. With a firm tug, he adjusted it to ensure visibility, its gleam catching the artificial twilight. "Inside Dirk's—now!" Zack's voice cut through the chaos, authoritative despite his youth. His eyes swept over the throng of guests, their faces a tapestry of confusion and fear as they hesitated under the protective dome. "Emergency shelters this way!" he pointed to the gaming establishment, where private glass booths lined the walls like impenetrable crystalline cocoons, promising safety. Though out of sight, Zack could imagine the city's defenses awakening from their slumber; colossal guns emerging from concealed silos, primed to shield the citizens from celestial threats. It was a dance of steel and firepower choreographed long before he was born—a legacy of protection. The words, ‘protect the guests’, played in his mind over and over, drilled into him through long training sessions. He should have been at the docks; the familiar hum of starships and the scent of engine coolant beckoned him. His usual post awaited—an extra hand aboard one of the many defense vessels ready to hurl themselves into the void for the sake of the colony. But fate had dealt a different hand today. "Sir, Zack Hunter, employee 498716, assistant pilot, where do you need me?" He skidded to a halt beside a Steward, the black suit a stark contrast against the chaos around them. The man turned, recognition flashing in his eyes at the sight of Zack's badge and the urgency in his voice. "Direct the guests across the street in the park inside Dirk's," the Steward ordered, his gaze already scanning the crowd for more stragglers. "Then get to the escape ships. They'll need prepping for launch." "Understood!" Zack called back, already dashing towards the park. There was no time for questions, only action. The Corporation had raised him, shaped him into the resourceful individual he'd become—a young man capable of standing strong amidst the tempest of the unknown. As he moved, guiding the bewildered guests to safety, Zack felt the weight of responsibility settle upon his shoulders—a mantle he bore with pride, for he was a child of Ceres, born under its pale light, sworn to its service. And in this moment, as history whispered of battles fought and won, Zack Hunter was ready to defend the guests to his last breath. Zack's boots pounded against the cobblestone path as he darted into the park, his breath visible in the chilled air of the artificial atmosphere. A knot of guests clustered around the central fountain, their faces a pale canvas of confusion and fear under the suddenly darkened sky of the closed dome. Without hesitation, Zack raised his voice above the wail of the siren. "Everyone, this way! Follow me!" His command cut through their paralysis. He was just a kid, but in that uniform, with the assurance of someone who knew exactly what to do, they rallied to him like iron filings to a magnet. As they scurried toward Dirk's, Zack glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one lagged behind. The Stewards had done their part; the streets were eerily empty save for the group he shepherded. They reached the entrance of Dirk’s, its neon sign flickering nervously. Inside, chaos reigned. Employees, thrust into roles of guardians, herded the guests with firm hands and voices strained from urgency. Glasses lay shattered, their contents seeping into the plush carpet. Chairs upended, tables askew, the opulence of the gaming hall now marred by the scramble for survival. "Upstairs, let's go!" Zack barked out, leading his group towards the spiraling staircase. On the second level, the situation was no calmer, staff directing the bewildered patrons into booths with an efficiency that belied the underlying panic. Zack's gaze darted from booth to booth, seeking refuge for his charges. The cacophony of panic was almost tangible, a thick fog of fear that he sliced through with determination. Then, amidst the chaos, a familiar voice cut through. "Hey, Zack, I got room in here," called out a boy he knew from the arena, his head poking out like a groundhog checking for spring. "This way, that one's open!" He pointed to Seth’s booth with its door ajar. Zack ushered the guests inside, the fear on their faces slowly replaced by trust as they realized they were safe inside the booth. "You'll be safe here," Zack assured them, his tone threaded with the light banish he used during less dire times. Their nods of gratitude were the only thanks he needed as he prepared to make his next move, driven by the loyalty and responsibility etched into his being by the Corporation that had raised him. He watched as parents pulled their children closer, couples held hands, and strangers exchanged small, hopeful smiles. In this fortified glass haven, Zack wasn't just some kid; he was their anchor in a storm, the embodiment of the Corporation's promise to protect and serve. They were more than guests; they were his responsibility, and he wouldn’t let them down. Zack's gaze swept across the huddled figures, their bodies tensing in anticipation of an explanation. Seth, a wiry boy with eyes wide with concern, leaned towards Zack, his voice barely audible over the hum of the sheltering booth. "Zack, do you know what’s happening?" Seth's question hung between them, a verbal plea for clarity amidst chaos. "Turn your video screen on," Zack instructed, nodding toward the sleek panel on the wall. The room held its breath as fingers fumbled and tapped the display, summoning the screen to life. A static image crackled into view, the Ceres Corporation's emblem emblazoned beneath bold letters flashing an emergency announcement: 'SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. MORE INSTRUCTIONS TO FOLLOW.' The group shifted uneasily, their fleeting relief supplanted by the weight of impending news. Zack stood firm, his back straightening, his black hair a stark contrast against the pale light emanating from the screen. The wait was brief, but each second stretched taut like a wire. Then the image flickered, replaced by the solemn face of a news reporter, her expression etched with gravity. She spoke with urgency, her words cutting through the silence. "At 1600 hours, Galicon Mining Corporation sent a distress signal. Aliens have been discovered and ATTACKED a Mining Ship. Casualties have been reported." Her voice, though steady, betrayed the significance of her message. As the reporter continued, she announced a directive that sent ripples through the room. "Captain Archer and Earth Fleet have deployed." A pause lingered before she delivered the next line, one that solidified their reality. "Earth is advising all colonies to prepare their defenses." In the wake of the broadcast, a tension knotted in Zack's chest. He closed his eyes. Aliens. There were actual aliens, and they were coming. A thought came to his mind, a fear response, an instinct too deep to be completely eradicated, ‘there’s escape ships just beyond the escape door of the booth, flee now, Zack, while you can’. A sharp pain stabbed through his head at the unbidden thought. The pain continued until his mind recalled a memory; flashes of light with the words, ‘loyalty, commitment, excellence’. He saw his class, standing around him, and all repeating the words again and again. Zach repeated the words in his head until the stabbing pain was replaced with the comfort of his class around him, and the Corporation watching over them, protecting them. The thoughts of fleeing evaporated, now replaced by the ever present Corporation. Loyalty, Commitment, Excellence. Zack opened his eyes to the anxious faces around him, their eyes searching for reassurance. With a steadying breath, Zack offered a wry half-smile, a dash of humor to lighten the burden they all felt. "Well, looks like game night's been upgraded to a live-action thriller," he quipped, his joking tone belying the undercurrent of resolve that flowed within him. "Stick with me. We'll get through this together." Zack's words were not just a promise to the guests—he was affirming his allegiance to the Corporation that had raised him, to the community he was born into, and to a future they were now bound to defend. The view screen flickered, capturing their attention again, its glow casting a surreal light over the faces crammed into the glass booth. "The Mining Corporations' Security Fleet are nearest to the attacking aliens and moving to provide defense for Ganymede station," the reporter’s voice was somber, her words dropping like stones into the tense silence of the room. "Other nearby Mining Corporations are joining together to form a Fleet in an attempt to hold back the vicious aliens." Zack watched the guests absorb the news, their eyes widening with each grave update. The reporter continued, "Captain Archer and Earth Fleet will take three weeks to arrive at the scene of the battle." She paused, as if allowing them to digest the gravity of the situation. "A spokesperson from the Mining Corporations have announced their determination to hold back the alien armada. This reporter’s hopes and gratitude go out to those brave men and women defending humanity." On the screen, starships of the Mining Fleet darted across space, weaving a dance of defiance against the unseen threat. There were no images of the aliens yet, but the urgency communicated by the Fleet's maneuvers left little doubt about the peril they faced. Turning away from the screen, Zack faced the frightened faces around him. "Okay, everyone," Zack spoke up, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. He pointed at the door to the back of the glass booth, where a narrow frame outlined an exit. "That is the escape door." Heads turned, following his gesture. Their expressions shifted from fear to tentative hope as they focused on the possibility of a way out. "Every structure on Ceres has escape pods and escape ships built into them," Zack explained. "Just beyond that door is the escape ship for this booth. The ship can hold twenty-four people." He scanned the group quickly. "We have plenty of room for everyone." Mutters of relief bubbled through the crowd. In the chaos of the moment, Zack’s words were a lifeline—a promise that they weren't just abandoned game pieces on a board spiraling into disaster. They had a plan, a means to survive. And that meant everything. Zack’s heart drummed in his chest, fueled by the adventuresome spirit that had always defined him. This was not just some elaborate video game scenario; it was real, and his actions could mean the difference between life and death for these people. It was more than his training that compelled him to lead—it was a sense of duty, a fierce loyalty to his home and to the Corporation that stood as the backbone of their society. "Stay close," he urged, a hint of his usual humor threading through the tension. "I'm going to check that our ride out of here is ready to launch." "Who's going to fly the ship?" The question came sharp and edged with panic from a woman clutching a child to her chest. He flashed a grin, the kind that had often disarmed his opponents in the gaming arena. "The ships are auto-piloted, but can be flown manually," Zack said, injecting a dose of confidence into the tension-thick air. "I’m a pilot on a Salvage ship, trust me, I have lots of experience outrunning pirates. I can run circles around some alien scum." He winked at the child, who peeked out from behind her mother's arm. "Now, everyone just stay here and remain calm." In hushed tones, doubt rippled through the group. A man leaned close to his neighbor, his voice barely above a murmur. "How do we know he can actually fly a ship?" The other guest’s reply brushed through the uncertainty like a soothing balm. “Did you see all those patches on his jacket? Those are youth competition flight awards, and almost every one of them 1st Place. That kid knows how to fly.” A woman sitting next to them leaned in and whispered. “Ceres children are special. I was taking the Dome tour with a boy Steward-in-training, he was so adorable in his little black suit. I mentioned how lovely a necklace made with those little pink stones you can see outside the Dome would be. He showed up at my suite at two in the morning with a tray of six necklaces made from the pink stones. I felt so bad, the poor dear wouldn’t go to bed until he filled my request.” “They are different, if he says he can fly, you better believe he can,” the second man said. The first man scoffed. “Ceres kids are brainwashed.” “Maybe, but when the aliens show up to lay their eggs in your brain, I want to be on that kid’s ship,” the second man replied.