Chapter 21
The Ship's Heartbeat
The artificial dawn on the Pioneer's Dawn was a gentle, gradual affair, the lights in their cabins shifting from a dim starfield simulation to a soft, golden hue. Kaelen rose, his body humming with a quiet energy that was a permanent souvenir from Valeria. A scheduled chime announced the first meal cycle, and right on cue, Jax was at his door, buzzing with a restless energy that seemed to be his default state.
"Come on, slowpoke! A whole ship to explore and you're meditating? Let's go find the good stuff!"
They met Roric, Elara, and Luna by the mess hall entrance. The cavernous room was less chaotic today, the initial shock having settled into a routine. Over a breakfast of nutrient-rich waffle analogues and synthesized syrup, Jax voiced the anxiety many of them felt.
"Seven months," he groaned, stabbing his food. "What are we supposed to do for seven months? Float around? There's a training area on the deck plan, but it's just a big empty room. No instructors, no drills. How are we supposed to get better? I can't just practice melting cutlery."
Roric grunted in agreement. "In Capital, the people never stops. Idle hands are a waste of energy."
It was Kaelen who spoke, his voice calm. "A tool is only as good as the hand that wields it. The room is empty because it's a canvas. You don't need an instructor to tell you to push your limits. You need a consistent routine. The body strengthens through repetition, not just revelation." He looked at Jax. "Your power is tied to your focus and your emotional state, right? So train that. Meditate. Practice minute control—lighting a single, specific thread on a fabric without burning the whole thing. Strength isn't always about scale. Sometimes it's about precision."
Jax blinked, the frustration on his face giving way to thoughtfulness. "Huh. Never thought of it like that. So... you're saying I should try to toast this waffle with my mind, one square at a time?"
"Maybe start with a breadcrumb," Kaelen said with a faint smile.
After breakfast, they decided to explore. The training facility was, as advertised, vast and largely unstructured. It was divided into sections: a massive gymnasium with weight systems that could be calibrated for high-gravity workouts, a sparring area with reinforced floors and energy-dampening fields, and a psionic range with isolated booths for mental disciplines.
They saw Enhancers of all types there. A woman from the Veridian Syndicate was meticulously practicing genetic manipulation on a fast-growing plant specimen. A group from the Aethelgard Hegemony ran through complex squad-based tactical drills with synchronized shield walls. It was a glimpse into the different philosophies of the Federation nations.
Leaving the training area, they found themselves in the ship's entertainment sector, a sprawling multi-level complex that felt like a miniature city. Holographic arenas showed highlights from various Aegis League circuits. The core world leagues were displays of breathtaking, almost artistic power. The mid-tier leagues were grittier, more brutal. And then they saw a promo for the Elysian Wildcard Brawls—raw, chaotic footage of Enhancers fighting in half-built arcologies and alien jungles.
"This is where we're going," Jax said, his eyes wide. "It looks... insane."
As they walked, they couldn't help but overhear the gossip buzzing through the crowds. The "privileged volunteers" were a recurring topic. They were kept in a separate, more luxurious sector of the ship.
"They have their own trainers, you know," a lanky telekinetic whispered to his friend. "I heard one of them, a guy from the Avalon Technocracy, can interface directly with the ship's systems. He's basically a walking computer."
Another snippet came from a pair of Vitalists near a holographic fountain. "The one from the Euro-African Concord... they say she's a 4th Order Psionic out of the academy. Empath. Can calm a riot or incite one with a thought. She's not here to settle; she's here for a cabinet position in the new colonial government."
Luna, with her Oceanic League connections, confirmed some of the rumors. "The top volunteers aren't just powerful; they're political. Their placements on Elysian are pre-negotiated. That hydro-kinetic in news from my world? Her family owns a majority stake in the orbital desalination projects. She's not a colonist; she's a shareholder."
The conversation naturally turned to the strange and wondrous places these top-tier Enhancers came from. Roric spoke of the "Orbital Forges" around Kulthea, habitable satellites where zero-G manufacturing produced the Federation's finest starship alloys. Luna described the "Coral Cities" of Oceanus, vast bio-engineered habitats that drifted on the planet's great currents. Elara, in her quiet way, mentioned the "Memory Vaults" of motherworld, orbital libraries that stored not just data, but the emotional imprints of great historical events.
"And what about the Whisper-Station around Avalon?" Jax added, his voice dropping. "The one the FID runs. They say it's not a station at all, but a captured alien artifact where they study... well, nobody knows what they study."
It was a tour of the Federation's marvels, a reminder of the civilization they were a part of, yet one that felt distant from their own status as "general volunteers."
They regrouped for an early dinner, the exploration having given them much to process. The mess hall was quieter, the mood more contemplative.
"It's a caste system, even here," Roric observed, his voice a low rumble. "They upstairs, us down here."
"Perhaps," Elara said, her gaze distant. "But the emotions down here... they're more real. Up there, it's all ambition and calculation. Down here, it's hope, and fear, and determination. It's... purer."
Jax, for once, was quiet, seemingly lost in thought about Kaelen's advice from the morning.
Back in his cabin, the ship's gentle night cycle began, the lights dimming to a deep blue, simulating a twilight sky. The day had been informative, but it had also reinforced Kaelen's position. He was an outsider here, just as he had been on Aethelgard. His true power, his real growth, lay elsewhere.
He lay on his bunk, the memories of the ship's bustling facilities and whispered gossip fading as he focused inward. He reached for the silver cord, the familiar, slight disorientation giving way to the solid reality of another world. The hum of the starship was replaced by the crackle of a hearth fire and the scent of pine.
He opened his eyes in the Lord's bedchamber of Bluestone manor. Moonlight streamed through the window. The concerns of the Pioneer's Dawn—the privileged volunteers, the political games, Jax's training—felt a universe away. Here, he was Ser Renly, a Knight with a village to protect and a path of his own to walk. He took a deep, cleansing breath of Valerian air, ready to shoulder the simpler, heavier weight of a lord's responsibilities.