“So, that’s when it all started then?” Ben asks after I stop speaking for a minute, his voice filled somewhat with disbelief. He takes a long drag on a e-pen and blows the smoke out the open window. The puffy white cloud quickly disperses, flitting away into the purples and blues from the light of the nearly set sun. “That’s where everything changed, on a spaceship leaving Arcadia? I would have expected something a bit more dramatic than that, more explosions maybe, like something out of a stream.”

“Reality is often disappointing. I suppose you could say that’s when everything changed, though. When Ol’ Granddad Xaleyp had to make a decision unlike any other in his entire life.” I look far into the distance, trying to pick out the mountainside cottage. I know it’s there, I can feel it, even if I haven’t been there in decades. The darkness is thick, and I can just barely make out any brown specks from the rows of cottages that have popped up in the previous years, before the whole shit evacuation started. “You never got a chance to see it, but my family had some pretty good times here. After the Reconstruction, at least.”

During the entire time I was talking, Ben didn’t interrupt, he didn’t try to make connections or theories or guess where the story was going. Once I got going, he simply sat there and listened, sometimes smoking, sometimes just standing there, but always keeping his attention on me.

“I can’t believe how seriously you’re taking this.” I try to suppress a laugh, but it escapes and he starts cracking up out of habit. It takes several moments for us both to recover to the point where I can continue. “You’ve never been the sit and listen type. It was horrible when I had to go to school with you.”

I smile to let him know I’m joking, and he laughs.

“Hey, I can be pretty attentive when I want to be.”

“It’s too bad that want to be is usually when a hot chick is involved.”

“I’m a simple guy with simple needs, okay?” Another drag and another ring of smoke out into the dying air. He looks out over the city himself now, the first time I’ve seen him do it since I began the story. “It really is an amazing city. I can’t speak for the whole planet, but definitely the city.”

“It is.” I walk over and place my hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him from noticing how much I’m shaking. “Now just imagine that your family helped build and rebuild it, and you’ll understand how I feel.”

“I understand how you feel, Michael.” He turns and leans against the sill, letting the e-pen hang loosely from between his lips. Small ringlets of smoke blow out with every word, floating up to the ceiling where they stick for a moment before diffusing over the area. “There’s just… there’s gotta be more out there for you, just hiding out of sight, around the corner, waiting for you to show up and claim it.”

“You’re probably right,” I admit. It is, after all, something I considered many times myself, regardless of what I tell him. “There probably is more out there for me, but there’s just something fucked up about being told to roll over and accept whatever the Galactic Council says. There has to be a line that’s drawn. I’m not the first to take a stand, I’m certainly not going to be the last, but maybe, just maybe, I’ll be the catalyst that the galaxy needs to get into a new age.”

Before Ben has a chance to answer, the screeching of engines pierces our ears, and we both instinctively duck around the corner of the window, making sure that we cannot be seen from the sky. Not that they can see us if they’re not looking, but it’s better to not take any risks. With the lights on in the corridor, it just makes it that much easier to spot us if they happened to glance our way.

Another patrol of another pair of starfighters. Just like before, they streak past and continue on their pattern over the mountains, disappearing into the night sky, their engines glowing brightly in the night sky. Where and when they’ll reach their endpoint, I don’t know, but, as long as they don’t find us here, I don’t care either. It takes several minutes in the further darkening sun before we risk peeking out from our hiding spots to make sure the coast is clear. The evening air is calm again, and we are once more alone on the planet.

“So, the Celestial Order.” Ben holds his hands up in confusion. “Why have I never heard of them?”

“You wouldn’t.” I resist the urge to laugh again, if for no other reason than to keep him from thinking I’m making fun of him. Sometimes, he wears his naiveté so openly and proudly on his sleeve, asking the questions that he didn’t even know he shouldn’t. “Only a select few in governments have heard of them, even fewer know of specific agents within their ranks. They’re not supposed to be found, nor are they supposed to be caught. We’re not quite to that point yet, though. A little bit more buildup, then we’ll discover who they are together.”

I look out over the city, taking in the view. The energy sources that had been set up centuries ago still go strong, powering the infrastructure below. Some signs flicker feebly in the nighttime air while still more hang lifeless, left beyond by the never-ceasing current of time. Dazzling, sparkling lights dance on and off from the activity of robots or creatures around the metropolis, as if it is still a living, breathing hot spot of activity, rather than the desolate husk that it has become. Even the building we are in has lit up, the lights of almost every floor bright and beaming.

There is an aura of melancholy in the air, so strong I can almost taste it. Melancholy and something else. Death, perhaps? Despair, maybe? No, something deeper, different and more penetrating than either. Hope, that’s what is filling the atmosphere, even without the humans that once ran free. A definitive air of hope emanating off the forsaken AI and robots that still run on autopilot, doing what humans programmed them to do generations ago without ever thinking about or planning for the eventuality that they may not be around to give the machines orders anymore.

“You know, it’s not a bad night to push someone out a window,” Ben says, breaking me out of my reverie. A grin spreads over his face as he mocks shoving me out the window. “Haven’t had a good defenestration in awhile.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means.”

“Hey, I’m not all looks. I know a few things.”

“You had me fooled.” I smirk just as my stomach growls loudly. “You didn’t happen to bring anything to eat, did you?”

“That is the stupidest question you have ever asked me.” He pulls a pair of ration packs out of his pocket and passes one to me. “It might be a little stale, I can’t remember when I got them.”

I rip it open and devour the mass produced food—if it can even be called such—ravaging the package to the point where it is hardly recognizable anymore and ignoring the look of mingled disgust and admiration on Ben’s face. It tastes divine, as if the gods themselves handed it to me. After making sure I get every last crumb, I stick the pieces of destroyed plastic out the window and release it, letting it float away on the currents of air passing around the building, and it disappears into the night, never to be seen again. Something about that sudden feeling of departure, even for a package of food, gives me a fleeting sense of sorrow.

“So, picking up where we left off.” I turn around to face the tree, where its branches still open wide, welcoming any who venture to approach. There were days as I kid I could hardly resist the urge to climb such a structure, but now I would probably break my neck before I make it two meters. The cold wind whips around my body, chilling me to my bones and bringing me back on topic. “On our way to Siatia aboard the legendary Starkiller, with Xaleyp Vah’Aris, the Director of the Celestial Order, Mian Wemlyr, and perhaps one of the most consequential decisions the galaxy has ever seen officially made.”