My Universe (mxm)

Chapter 1. Aurora

   Life on Earth was never my thing. I could not fit in, no matter how hard I tried. There was always something about me that felt different, awkward, distancing me from the crowd. I am a loner, a person whose world consists of books, movies, studies, lots of work and the ultimate dream to uncover the mysteries of deep space. There is too much on my mind to be good at socializing. I am driven by endless curiosity, but not about people. My thoughts strain away from them, longing to leap over the ordinary and get lost into the unknown.

   My planet is already too busy, too friendly and too packed for me. Everyone is crazy about the new 'get to know each other and become friends' fashion, ruling the society since all the borders between countries fell and we turned into a gigantic, buzzing beehive. There are no crimes, no poverty, no serious deceases and no separation into cliques, groups and fractions, based on gender, religion, politics, social status or race. We are tolerant and understanding. One big, happy family. I feel guilty for not being able to become its integral part, especially knowing how many painful stages humanity has been going through for centuries on end and the enormous efforts to achieve this. I am proud of what we have become. I cherish the freedom it gives us. But I am also overwhelmed by the endless stream of mental energy, flowing around me most of the time, trying to suck me in and suffocate me. I am one of those people who would rather avoid large family gatherings and read by myself in the library instead.

   When I completed the five-year, despicably harsh training course at Space Fleet Academy to become a deep space pilot and passed another year of severe psychological tests and evaluation, I finally found my place in the world. This is what I want to do. I am in my element, having earned with blood, sweat and tears my rightful place among the only twenty acting First Rank Commanders. 

   I was chosen to be the captain of the biggest spacecraft ever built. My darling Aurora is huge, almost the size of a small village and also the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. We have been roaming the galaxy together since then.

   I still remember the Commander-in-chief's exact words at our graduation ceremony, two years ago. The brawny, intimidating, eighty year old Admiral was emotional and his voice full of pride.

   "You are the strongest among us," he said. "We all admire you. Our rigorous assessment has shown that only twenty out of five million space cadets can withstand what you are about to experience. Your task can be carried out by no one else. Never forget that you are Earth's Ambassadors, the front line, the best of the best. When the time comes to contact other sentient species, you will be their first impression of the human race. I have no doubt. We couldn't have made a better choice. Good luck and remember that we will always be waiting for you to come home."

   I cannot deny how deeply his speech touched me and how proud it made me feel of what I have achieved. It sounded pompous, though, and quite far from the way I perceived my career. For me this is simple. What I do is just the best way to be exactly who I am.

   I take a deep breath before pressing down the helmet until I hear the familiar click, indicating it has connected with the portable life support system and the oxygen will flow inside in ten seconds. I always count them to make sure everything is ok. Not that I am afraid. I have been in too many dangerous situations to worry about a minor spacesuit malfunction. I actually never worry. It is absolutely pointless. There is a strict routine I persistently follow and plan A, B and C in case of unpleasant surprises. In the end, I either survive or I don't. Adam says that the estimated probability of failure is one in two million. My chances are pretty good, much better than those of a car driver.

   Three short beeps and the inner door slides shut, sealing me into the airlock's cylindrical chamber.

   "Do not remove any of your protective equipment until you are back in the habitable area. Depressurization begins in five seconds," a soft, pleasant and very calm female voice announces.