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’ve been developing a story and have written quite a bit more, but I wanted to share the first two chapters to get some feedback. I’d love to know if the story is engaging and easy to follow. Any feedback, both positive and constructive, is greatly appreciated. I’m a long-time reader, but this is one of my first few attempts at writing, so I’m excited to try out this new hobby and hear what others think!
1
I moved effortlessly across the jagged surface of 33ZRX Keplar, my breath calm and steady despite the thin, brittle air that clawed at my lungs. The giant space rock stretched before me like an ancient, forgotten landscape — craters pockmarked its rough surface, and ridges loomed in the distance like the spine of a dormant beast. The gravity here was lighter than Earth's, allowing me to bound gracefully over rocky outcroppings, each leap carrying me farther than I would have thought possible.
The dark, powdery surface was cracked and uneven, peppered with glittering shards of mineral deposits that caught the faint glimmer of starlight. Dust clung to my suit, and every step sent clouds of it spiraling into the air before settling back down like ash. This wasteland, desolate yet strangely beautiful, had become my escape from the stifling confines of the station. We weren't supposed to venture beyond its walls, but some of us had a taste for adventure—or recklessness.
As I crested a jagged ridge, a large crater came into view, its steep walls casting long shadows across its basin. It was ancient, its edges softened by time and space weathering. What caught my attention, though, was the unmistakable sign of human presence: rusted metal beams protruding from the ground like skeletal fingers, remnants of a makeshift shelter long abandoned. Curious, I descended into the crater, my boots skidding on loose gravel.
The structure was crude but functional—weather-beaten walls cobbled together from scraps of metal and polymer sheets. Inside, time had left its mark. The airlock door lay twisted on the ground, half-buried in dust. A rusted cooking unit sat toppled in one corner, and shattered glass littered the floor like frozen tears. Whoever had lived here had done so in desperation.
As I explored, my gaze caught on a grim sight: skeletal remains slumped against the far wall. The figure was curled in a fetal position, fingers clutching something that glinted faintly in the dim light. My breath caught in my throat as I knelt beside the bones. In the skeletal hands rested a ring—simple yet mesmerizing. Its surface shimmered with an iridescent glow, as though it held the secrets of the universe within its delicate band.
The longer I stared, the stronger the compulsion grew. It was as if the ring was calling to me, begging to be taken. My thoughts grew foggy, and the edges of my vision darkened. Panic flickered in the back of my mind, but the pull was too strong. Driven by instinct, I reached out, my gloved fingers closing around the ring. As I slipped it into my pocket, a surge of dizziness overtook me.
With my last coherent thought, I jabbed the distress button on my suit, sending a beacon back to the station. My dad, the director, was going to be furious—but that was the least of my concerns. Darkness crept over my vision as I stumbled toward the crater's edge. I barely registered the faint hum of the rescue team's signal before everything faded to black, and I fell into unconsciousness.
I jolted upright, adrenaline surging through my veins as I gasped for breath. Expecting to wake up out in the desolate crater, I was instead greeted by the familiar warmth of my room on the station. The walls were sleek and softly illuminated with a gentle blue hue, the lighting automatically adjusted to mimic the natural cycle of day and night. Soft panels on the walls displayed scenic holographic projections—this morning, it was a serene forest landscape with shafts of golden light filtering through the trees.
My bed, larger and more luxurious than standard issue, was covered in plush bedding crafted from lightweight, temperature-regulating fabric. Thick carpets cushioned the floor beneath my feet, a rarity in most quarters. Shelves lined the walls, housing a curated selection of books, personal knickknacks, and family heirlooms—reminders of Earth's long-lost comforts. My family’s status afforded us these privileges, though I rarely thought about it unless someone pointed it out.
As I shifted to get out of bed, I was immediately aware of the heavy bulk taped securely around my waist. The diaper crinkled faintly with the movement, a reminder of the station's standard practice for anyone venturing outside. Finding a bathroom out there was practically impossible, and in emergencies, diapers were a lifesaver. I must have wet mine at some point after passing out, though it was a blurry memory.
Stretching, I winced as soreness settled into my muscles from the outing. As I made my way toward the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror mounted beside my closet. My long, dark brown hair was slightly disheveled from sleep, framing my face and making my vibrant blue eyes stand out even more. I had an athletic, toned build—lean yet feminine at 130 pounds—with curves that balanced strength and softness. The snug fit of the standard under-suit uniform clung to my figure, accentuating my chest and well-defined butt. The bulge of my wet diaper was noticeable, but I thought nothing of it. On the station, it was an unspoken necessity for most when venturing out.
Some people switched back to regular underwear once inside, but there were plenty of us who enjoyed the convenience and comfort of wearing diapers all the time. It wasn’t exactly frowned upon, but there was definitely a social divide—some saw it as childish. My dad, of course, firmly believed I should wear “proper” undergarments, but as usual, I ignored his suggestions and chose comfort over conformity.
Realizing the damp heaviness around my waist was becoming uncomfortable, I grabbed a fresh diaper from the storage unit built seamlessly into the wall. After a quick change, I felt refreshed and ready for the day.
As I headed downstairs, I glanced at the sleek, futuristic bracket on my wrist—the station-issued phone. It projected a holographic screen above my arm, customizable with intuitive gestures. The time displayed a glowing "05:00 AM," confirming the early hour. My dad must have instructed the rescue team to bring me home after my distress signal.
I entered the kitchen, the air filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. My dad was already dressed for work, his uniform neatly pressed as he stood by the counter, pouring himself a steaming cup. His dark hair was slicked back in its usual no-nonsense style, and his sharp eyes flicked up as he sensed my approach.
Steeling myself for the inevitable lecture, I took a deep breath and stepped forward. The faint crinkle of my diaper accompanied my movement, a subtle sound that only reminded me how much trouble I was probably in.
As I sat at the table, I noticed the enticing aroma of bacon and eggs wafting through the room. Dad had already plated breakfast, which was rare given his early-morning schedule. I quietly gathered some onto my plate, keeping my eyes focused on the food. The weight of his impending words loomed over the room, making me hesitant to look up.
"Maxine," he said, using my full first name instead of his usual nickname for me, Max. My stomach dropped. He only used my full name when he was serious.
Reluctantly, I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze. His uniform caught my attention—a sleek, futuristic ensemble that exuded authority. The tailored suit shimmered faintly under the station's lighting, its polished black fabric accented by a silver trim along the sleeves and collar. A sharp black tie was neatly secured beneath the high collar, and his name was elegantly woven into the breast of the jacket in metallic script: Rivers. The station's insignia, a celestial compass, gleamed on his shoulder. It was a uniform that commanded respect, fitting for the head of the station.
He took a measured breath, his expression stern. "I've told you countless times to stop going outside the station alone," he said, his voice controlled but edged with frustration. "You could have been seriously injured had the rescue team not found you when they did. Do you have any idea the strings I had to pull to keep this under wraps?"
"I know, Dad," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. "I'm sorry."
"You always say you're sorry, Max," he continued, his tone sharp. "But then you go right back out there, ignoring every protocol I've put in place. You're reckless, and I can't always be there to bail you out. Do you understand that?"
I averted my eyes, guilt gnawing at me. "Yes, sir," I whispered.
The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the soft clinking of our utensils as we ate. I focused on chewing my food, unsure of what else to say. After a few minutes, Dad sighed, the tension easing from his shoulders.
"Listen, Max," he said, his voice softer now. "I know you enjoy exploring the outskirts beyond the marked safe locations. I get it—I was the same way at your age. You're smart, capable, and you know how to handle yourself out there. But it's not about your skills—it's about the risks of going alone."
I glanced up at him, surprised by the change in his tone.
He continued, "That's why I've decided to enroll you in the Scavenger Academy."
My fork clattered against my plate as I stared at him, wide-eyed. "Really? The Scavenger Academy?" I practically shouted. My heart raced at the thought. The academy was prestigious—a four-year program designed to train explorers who would venture into the uncharted outskirts of Keplar, searching for valuable resources and technology. It was dangerous, daring, and everything I had ever dreamed of.
Dad nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, really. But this isn't some free pass to keep being reckless. You'll be in a structured environment, learning how to do what you love while staying safe and following protocol. You'll need to pass all the physical and academic evaluations, and it's going to be hard work. But I think you’re ready for it."
"I won't let you down," I promised eagerly.
"I know you won't," he said with pride.
We finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the weight of our earlier conversation lifting. As I collected the dishes and began washing them at the sink, Dad grabbed his coffee and headed toward the door. He paused, glancing back at me with a raised eyebrow.
"You know," he said with a hint of exasperation, "you really should consider wearing proper underwear, Max. You're not a kid anymore."
I rolled my eyes and dismissed him with a wave. "Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Dad," I said dryly. "I'll stick with what works for me."
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he left for work. I smirked to myself, enjoying the comfort of my diaper as I finished the dishes. Once everything was clean, I headed back to my room, the excitement of the academy swirling in my thoughts.
The first day was only five days away. As I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower, I imagined what it would be like—adrenaline-fueled expeditions, cutting-edge technology, and the thrill of discovering the unknown. I was ready for this.
2
As the warm water cascaded over me, I let my thoughts drift. The Scavenger Academy—it was a prestigious institution, similar to what people from Earth might have called college. Four years of rigorous training, both academic and physical, preparing students to become pioneers on Keplar. The idea was thrilling, and despite Dad's lecture, I couldn't wait to start.
I'd always been naturally gifted when it came to academics and physical challenges. I loved the rush of solving complex equations just as much as I loved the burn of a high-stakes sparring match. My dad had made sure I knew how to fight from a young age, training me in hand-to-hand combat since I could walk. The countless hours of drills, bruises, and victories had molded me into someone who could handle herself, whether in the station or beyond its boundaries.
The thought of structured training at the academy made me feel both excited and curious. I'd finally get to channel my rebellious energy into something meaningful.
After drying off and getting dressed in a clean set of station-issued clothes, I picked up my phone from the bedside table. The sleek bracket hummed to life, projecting a translucent holographic screen. I swiped through my notifications and spotted a group text from Ike and Misha.
Ike: "Café at noon? I’m starving." Misha: "Isn't that your permanent state, Ike?" Ike: "It's called a high metabolism." Misha: "It's called gluttony." Me: "I'll meet you guys there."
I smiled at their usual banter. Ike was 18, tall and broad-shouldered, with an athletic build and sharp features. His confident smile was enough to make most girls on the station look twice. Misha, on the other hand, was my mirror in more ways than one. At 19, she had a build similar to mine and shared my love for adventure. Sarcastic and confident, she was the friend who always had a witty comeback.
As time crept closer to our meetup, I made my way through the station's main corridor. The place buzzed with energy, filled with people going about their daily duties. Futuristic transport pods zipped through elevated tracks, carrying cargo and personnel to different sections of the station. Holographic advertisements flickered above the walkways, showcasing everything from cutting-edge technology to entertainment hubs.
Vendors lined the streets, their stalls brimming with exotic foods, gadgets, and handcrafted goods. Children in sleek uniforms dashed past, laughing as they chased one another. The atmosphere was lively, a testament to the vibrant community that had formed on this floating rock. Despite the sterile, metallic architecture, the station felt alive.
I finally reached the café, a cozy hub with glass walls that offered a panoramic view of Keplar's barren surface. Inside, the warm lighting and sleek furnishings created an inviting atmosphere. I spotted Ike and Misha already seated at a table near the window. Ike was leaning back in his chair, casually scrolling through his phone, while Misha sipped her drink, her expression amused as she watched him.
As I approached, Ike glanced up and grinned. "Hey, Max! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"
Misha smirked. "Let me guess—you got lectured by your dad again?"
I rolled my eyes as I slid into the seat across from them. "You could say that."
As I settled into the café seat, I leaned forward, unable to hide my excitement. "Guess what? My dad enrolled me in the Scavenger Academy!"
Ike's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Misha's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "No way," Ike said with a grin. "That's crazy because we both got enrolled too!"
My jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah," Misha confirmed with a smirk. "Turns out we'll be in the same class."
"Even better," Ike added, tapping his phone, "I pulled up the assignment list. We're Squad 7."
"Squad 7? That sounds badass!" I grinned. "This is going to be amazing."
We all exchanged excited looks, the possibilities of what lay ahead swirling in our minds. The Scavenger Academy was legendary, known for training explorers to navigate Keplar's treacherous terrain, recover valuable resources, and survive in the wildest conditions imaginable.
"I've heard they run simulated expeditions that are so realistic people forget they're on the station," Ike said.
"Yeah, and the combat training is supposed to be intense," I added. "I'm ready for that, though."
Misha leaned back, her expression turning thoughtful. "You know, my mom was in the academy back in the day. She told me some pretty wild stories."
"Like what?" I asked, intrigued.
"Well," Misha said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "there's a reason they train us the way they do. My mom said there's life out there—on Keplar, I mean. Not human life either. She wouldn't go into detail, but from what she hinted, they ran into things that were... let's just say, not friendly."
Ike's eyes widened. "You're telling me we're gonna be dealing with aliens?"
"Something like that," Misha shrugged. "Maybe not your classic little green men, but yeah—things that don't come with a welcome mat."
The idea sent a thrill down my spine. Exploring the unknown was what I lived for, and the academy promised plenty of that.
As we wrapped up our conversation, Ike glanced at the time. "Wanna head back to your place, Max? I'm starving again, and your kitchen always has the best snacks."
"Of course you are," Misha teased. "But yeah, let's go. Your place is way cooler than mine."
We stood up, and as I adjusted my clothes, I noticed the familiar slight bulk under my uniform. My diaper had soaked at some point during our chat, causing a subtle bulge in my clothes. It wasn’t uncommon on the station, though. Most people wore them when venturing outside, and a fair number preferred the convenience inside as well. Ike was one of the few who only wore them outside, but Misha was clearly padded—and from the way her stance shifted slightly, it looked like she'd had a messy accident too. Thankfully, the advanced tech in our diapers eliminated odors, so it was barely noticeable.
We made our way back to my place, weaving through the bustling crowd. As always, the streets were alive with activity. Transport pods zipped through elevated lanes, holographic billboards shimmered above, and vendors called out their wares. The sleek, polished architecture of the station gleamed under artificial daylight, a stark contrast to the rugged landscape outside.
When we reached my home, the security panel scanned my wristband and slid the door open. Ike and Misha immediately made themselves comfortable on the plush sectional in the living room.
"Man, I love coming here," Ike said, stretching out. "State-of-the-art everything. It's like living in a luxury resort."
"Perks of being best friends with the director's kid," Misha added with a grin.
I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it has its benefits."
As I grabbed drinks and snacks from the kitchen, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The academy was only days away, and with Ike and Misha by my side, I knew it was going to be the adventure of a lifetime.
Misha nudged my shoulder as we both stood up from the couch. "We should probably go get changed before we have any real accidents," she said with a lighthearted grin.
"Yeah, good idea," I agreed, feeling the slight discomfort from my situation.
We both made our way to our respective rooms, returning a few minutes later, feeling fresh and more comfortable. Ike was still on the couch, scrolling through his communicator.
Misha flopped down beside him. "So, what do you guys think about starting at the academy? You ready for all those crazy challenges they’re gonna throw at us?"
"I’m pretty hyped for it," I said, settling into the armchair. "But I heard the instructors there are brutal. No more easy missions. It'll be full-on combat training, strategy drills, and survival scenarios."
Misha smirked. "Good. I was getting bored with those low-level assignments. We need real challenges if we're going to improve."
Ike raised an eyebrow. "You two sound way too excited about this. I’m not looking forward to the survival tests. Sleeping out in the wild with no food? No thanks."
I chuckled. "Come on, Ike. You gotta toughen up. Maybe you'll learn to catch your own food."
He rolled his eyes. "Or maybe I'll just stay on the strategy side of things and let you two wild animals handle the rough stuff."
Misha laughed. "Fair enough, but don't be surprised if you end up running from a wild boar because you refused to learn how to handle yourself."
The conversation flowed easily between us, each of us expressing a mix of excitement and nervousness about the academy. It was clear that the challenges ahead were going to test us in every way imaginable, but at least we had each other's backs.
After a while, everyone began heading home to pack and prepare for the next big step.
That evening, the house was quiet. Dad was out for work as usual, leaving me with the place to myself. I was in my room, organizing my gear, when my eyes landed on my academy uniform hanging over the chair in the corner. Something bulged in the pocket, catching my attention.
Curious, I walked over and reached into the pocket, pulling out a ring. My memory of how I found it was foggy, but as I stared at the intricate design, I felt an inexplicable pull to put it on.
The moment I slipped it onto my finger, a rush of strange sensations flooded my mind. Disembodied voices chattered in overlapping whispers, growing louder with each passing second. I couldn't make sense of what they were saying until one phrase cut through the chaos:
"Galactus Invictus."
The words echoed in my skull, resonating with an eerie clarity. I clasped my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the voices. In my panic, I yanked the ring off and dropped it onto my bed.
Instantly, the voices ceased.
Breathing heavily, I stood there, staring at the ring as it lay innocently on the blanket. Despite the unsettling experience, I wasn't afraid. There was something about the ring that felt... important. Like it was meant for me.
But I also knew I couldn't share this with anyone—not yet. I had to keep it a secret until I understood what "Galactus Invictus" meant.
Feeling worn out from the encounter, I carefully placed the ring in a small jewelry box on my dresser. As I laid down on my bed, the phrase lingered in my thoughts, circling like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
Galactus Invictus.
What could it mean?
Sleep claimed me as I pondered the mystery, pulling me into a restless dreamscape filled with swirling shadows and distant whispers.