Chapter 1: The Weight of Tomorrow

The ground beneath Eden's feet was wrong—too soft, too alive. Not the cold steel of Ship 10, but something that yielded and breathed with each desperate step. Ancient trees towered above him, their branches clawing at a sky that burned with unnatural colors. This was Earth, though he had never seen it with waking eyes.

Run. The word pounded through his mind in rhythm with his heartbeat. Run, run, run.

Beside him, a girl with golden hair streamed behind her like a banner kept pace, her breathing ragged but determined. She moved with practiced grace, as if she had run this path a thousand times before. Eden didn't know her face, didn't recognize the determined set of her jaw or the way she glanced back over her shoulder, but somehow she knew him.

"This way, Eden!" she called, her voice cutting through the chaos of snapping branches and distant, inhuman howls. "The old bridge—we can lose it there!"

How did she know his name? In the strange logic of dreams, the question flickered through his mind but couldn't take hold. Behind them, something crashed through the undergrowth with the sound of splintering wood and tearing earth. The Enger. Even in sleep, Eden's body knew that primal terror—the fear that had driven his ancestors from their homeworld.

The girl stumbled, her foot catching on a twisted root. She went down hard, her cry of pain mixing with the growing roar of their pursuer. Eden spun around, his hand already reaching for her.

"Eden, help me!" She stretched her arm toward him, fingers grasping desperately at the air between them. Her blue eyes were wide with terror, but beneath the fear was something else—recognition, as if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

Eden stepped toward her, but froze as the shadow fell across them both. The Enger emerged from the treeline like a piece of the void given form. Its body was darkness made flesh, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Saliva dripped from its gaping maw in thick, viscous streams, and when it opened its mouth wider, Eden could see rows of teeth that seemed to go on forever.

The creature's head snapped toward the fallen girl with predatory intent. She screamed Eden's name one more time as those terrible jaws descended—

Eden bolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged animal. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the perpetual chill of Ship 10's recycled air. For a moment, the dream clung to him—he could still smell the earth, still hear her voice calling his name with desperate familiarity. His hand reached out instinctively, grasping at empty air where the girl had been.

Then the alarm shrieked at exactly 0600 hours, its piercing wail shattering the last fragments of the vision. The sound echoed through the cramped quarters of Sector 7-B, dragging him fully back to reality. Eden's eyes focused on the familiar sight of rusted metal ceiling panels and the ever-present hum of the ship's life support systems. Another day on Ship 10. Another day at the bottom of the world.

He rolled out of his narrow bunk, his feet hitting the cold steel floor with a dull thud. The dream still lingered at the edges of his consciousness—the same dream that had haunted his nights for months now. Always the same girl, always the same desperate flight through an impossible forest, always ending with those terrible jaws descending toward her terrified face. Eden shook his head, trying to dispel the images, but they clung to him like smoke.

The gravity here on Antaria always felt heavier in the morning, as if the colony itself was trying to press him back into bed. Ten percent stronger than the gravity his ancestors had known on Earth—though Eden had never experienced anything else. This crushing weight was simply life. Yet somehow, in his dreams, running had felt effortless, natural. As if his body remembered something his mind had never known.

"Eden! Move your lazy bones!" His mother's voice carried from the kitchen alcove, barely three meters away in their cramped family quarters. "The shift bell rings in twenty minutes!"

"Coming, Ma!" Eden called back, pushing the dream fragments aside as he pulled on his standard-issue gray work coveralls. The routine helped ground him in reality—the rough fabric against his skin, worn thin from countless washings and repairs. On the chest pocket, the familiar logo of CyberElectronics stared back at him—a stylized circuit board formed into the shape of a crown. Even here, five thousand years after the Great Departure, Zeus's mark was everywhere.

But as Eden fastened the coveralls, he couldn't shake the feeling that each time the dream returned, it felt more real, more urgent. As if somewhere in the depths of space, that blonde girl was still running, still calling his name, still waiting for him to save her.

The family quarters consisted of four rooms total: the main living area that doubled as a kitchen, two tiny bedrooms, and a hygiene unit barely large enough for one person. Home to Eden, his mother Vera, and his younger sister Luna. It wasn't much, but it was theirs—more than some families on Ship 10 could say.

Eden splashed cold recycled water on his face in the hygiene unit, staring at his reflection in the scratched metal mirror. Dark hair, olive skin inherited from Mediterranean ancestors he'd never know, and brown eyes that his mother said held too much curiosity for his own good. At sixteen, he was already taller than most adults on Ship 10—good nutrition was a luxury reserved for the higher-numbered ships.
"Did you finish your readings last night?" Luna asked as Eden emerged. His sister sat at their tiny fold-out table, already dressed in her school uniform. At thirteen, she still had three more years before she'd be assigned to a work detail.
"Of course." Eden ruffled her hair, earning an annoyed swat. "Chapter twelve through fifteen of 'The Glorious History of Our Salvation.' Zeus saves humanity, Zeus builds the ships, Zeus leads us to the promised land. Same story every day."
"You shouldn't talk like that," Luna whispered, glancing nervously toward the door. "What if someone hears you?"
Eden's mother appeared from the kitchen alcove, carrying three steaming cups of synthetic coffee substitute. Her face was lined with premature age—the result of fifteen years working in the recycling plants. "Your sister's right, Eden. Keep those thoughts to yourself."
"I know, Ma. I'm just tired of pretending everything is perfect when—"
"When what?" Vera's voice carried a sharp edge. "When we have food? When we have air to breathe? When we have protection from the void?" She gestured toward the porthole that showed the star-filled darkness beyond Antaria's rotation. "Your ancestors were chosen, Eden. Never forget that. We earned our place here."
Eden bit back his reply. His mother had grown up hearing stories from her grandmother—one of the original survivors of the Great Departure. To her, their cramped existence was still a miracle. But to Eden, who had never known anything else, it felt more like a cage.
The shift bell rang, its deep brass tone reverberating through the ship's corridors. Eden gulped down his synthetic coffee and grabbed his work tablet from the charging station.
"I'll see you both tonight," he said, kissing Luna's forehead and squeezing his mother's hand. "Try to stay out of trouble."
"That's my line," Vera replied with a tired smile. "Remember—head down, mouth shut."
Eden nodded and stepped out into the corridor. The hallways of Ship 10 were narrow and utilitarian, lined with pipes and conduits that carried water, power, and air throughout the massive vessel. The walls were painted a dull green that had probably been cheerful once, decades ago. Now it was just another shade of institutional depression.
Other workers streamed past him, all heading toward their assigned sectors. Eden recognized most faces—Ship 10 housed only the essential workers and their families, roughly eight hundred thousand people total. Everyone knew everyone else, at least by sight.
"Eden! Wait up!"
He turned to see Marcus jogging to catch up, his friend's red hair still messy from sleep. Marcus was three years older and had been working the maintenance tunnels since he turned sixteen. His coveralls were stained with grease and coolant fluid.
"Another glorious day in paradise," Marcus said with a grin as they fell into step together.
"You're in a good mood for someone heading to crawl through waste recycling pipes," Eden observed.
"Actually, I got reassigned. Emergency work detail up on Ship 7." Marcus's grin widened. "Agricultural sector needs extra hands for the harvest rotation."
Eden stopped walking. "Ship 7? Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. Apparently there was some kind of equipment malfunction, and they need people who know mechanical systems." Marcus's expression grew more serious. "Look, I know it's just temporary, but... Eden, I'm going to see what it's like up there. Real food, natural light from the growing chambers, maybe even catch a glimpse of someone from the higher ships."
"Don't get any ideas," Eden warned. "You know what happens to people who try to move above their station."
"I'm not planning anything stupid. I just want to see what we're working for, you know? Understand what this whole system is supposed to accomplish."
They had reached the junction where their paths diverged. Marcus would take the transport tube up to Ship 7, while Eden continued deeper into Ship 10's mechanical levels.
"Be careful," Eden said. "And try not to let them see how much you're paying attention."
"Always." Marcus clasped his shoulder. "Maybe when I get back, I'll have some real food to share. None of that synthetic protein paste."
After Marcus disappeared into the transport tube, Eden continued alone toward Sector M—the power distribution center. His assignment for the past two years had been monitoring the energy conduits that channeled power from Antaria's core taps up to the higher ships. It was tedious work, but it gave him access to information most people on Ship 10 never saw.
The power center was a vast chamber filled with humming machinery and endless rows of monitoring stations. Holographic displays showed energy flow throughout the entire colony—twenty ships, millions of people, all dependent on the steady stream of power drawn from the dwarf planet below.
"Morning, Eden." Supervisor Kane looked up from his control station, his weathered face creased in its permanent frown. Kane had been working the power systems since before Eden was born, and rumor had it he'd once been offered a position on Ship 8 before some scandal pulled him back down.
"Morning, sir. Anything unusual in the overnight reports?"
"Same as always. Ships 1 through 3 are running fifteen percent above baseline consumption. Must be nice to waste power on luxuries." Kane's tone was bitter. "Meanwhile, we had to cut heating in Sector 12 again. Third time this month."
Eden took his position at monitoring station 7, pulling up the overnight data on his display. The numbers told the same story they always did: the lower ships rationed and conserved while the upper ships consumed freely. Ship 1 alone used as much power as Ships 8, 9, and 10 combined.
But as Eden scrolled through the data, something caught his attention. A small anomaly in the power flow to Ship 1, lasting only a few minutes around 0300 hours. The consumption had spiked to nearly double normal levels, then dropped back to baseline.
"Supervisor Kane?" Eden called out. "Did you notice this power surge to Ship 1 early this morning?"
Kane glanced at his secondary display and shrugged. "Probably just running some heavy equipment. The wealthy folks don't worry about energy efficiency."
But Eden wasn't satisfied with that explanation. He'd been monitoring these systems for two years, and he'd never seen a spike like this. Ship 1's power consumption was usually steady—high, but predictable. This looked different. Almost like they'd been running something they didn't want anyone to notice.
He made a copy of the data onto his personal storage device, telling himself it was just curiosity. But deep down, Eden knew it was more than that. His whole life, he'd been told that their rigid hierarchy existed for the good of everyone. That the people at the top deserved their position because they were humanity's saviors.
Looking at those numbers, Eden couldn't help but wonder: what were they really doing up there? And why did they need so much power to do it?
The rest of his shift passed uneventfully, but Eden's mind kept returning to that data. As the end-of-shift bell finally rang, he made a decision. Tonight, after his family was asleep, he was going to dig deeper into the power distribution records. If something unusual was happening on the upper ships, he wanted to know what it was.
After all, his ancestors hadn't been chosen just for their physical strength or mental stability. They'd been chosen for their curiosity, their drive to survive and adapt. Maybe it was time to put those inherited traits to use.
As Eden made his way home through the crowded corridors of Ship 10, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing at the edge of something bigger than himself. The data was just numbers on a screen, but sometimes numbers told stories that no one wanted you to hear.
Whatever was happening on Ship 1, Eden was going to find out. Even if it meant risking everything he and his family had in their small corner of humanity's floating refuge.
The weight of Antaria's gravity pressed down on his shoulders as he walked, but for the first time in his life, Eden felt like he might be strong enough to push back.