"Lazarus, are you well?"
The old man's voice came softly through the NeuroGear link, warm and familiar. "I still can't believe you won that scholarship. All that hard work… and now you're really there. Tell me—does the gravity still hurt your legs?"
"It's been two months already, Reverend!" Lazarus laughed as she tugged the zipper of her backpack closed. "I'm fine now. And this school is amazing—tons of rich kids everywhere. Can you believe it? We've barely started, and they're already sending us on a study excursion to another star system!"
"Another star system?" The Reverend sounded genuinely astonished. "How wonderful. You must tell us everything when you return. The children at the orphanage miss you dearly."
"I will. I promise." Lazarus smiled despite herself. "I'll even send pictures. Anna's smartbox is way better than mine."
She glanced at the time display hovering near her wrist. "Sorry, Reverend, I really have to go. I'll be late if I don't move now. May the Lord watch over you."
She wanted to say more—to linger just a little—but today was special. Her first school excursion beyond the system.
And the itinerary had no return date.
"Of course, of course," the Reverend replied gently. "Don't let me hold you up. Go on now. I'll call again after the trip. May the Lord watch over you too."
The connection cut.
The dormitory door slid open with a muted hiss, and artificial daylight spilled across the metal corridor. Lazarus stepped out into the glow of the colony's false sky, its programmed clouds drifting lazily overhead. She broke into a jog, her backpack bouncing against her spine as she crossed toward the school building.
The weight dug into her shoulders.
"Hah… hah…" Her breath came rough as she slowed, trudging forward like a soldier marching to the front. Only then did she notice it.
She was the only one with a backpack.
All around her, students rolled sleek suitcases behind them—carbon-shell cases, floating luggage drones, polished logos flashing with quiet luxury.
Lazarus tightened her grip on her straps.
"Figures…" she muttered.
Her steps slowed. A familiar bitterness crept into her chest.
Why am I always the only one like this?
I don't want everything. I just want… the same.
Her fists clenched.
No.
She exhaled slowly and forced her shoulders to relax. That kind of thinking would only poison her. The Reverend's words echoed in her mind—lessons drilled into her over years at Io-5.
If I envy others, I'll never be grateful for my own blessings.And if I can't be happy for them, no one will be happy for me when my time comes.
Bit by bit, she pushed the jealousy aside and walked on.
Ahead, the school gates loomed—tall, luminous, and humming softly with power.
"Lazarus! Over here!"
Laurel waved enthusiastically. Lazarus quickened her pace and slipped into line beside her just as the teacher approached.
"Is everyone here?" the teacher asked, eyes scanning the group as he began roll call.
"Yes. All students from Class 5C are present," Laurel answered promptly.
"Good work. Next."
Laurel straightened, a pleased smile tugging at her lips as she returned to her spot, chest puffed just a little at the praise.
Once attendance was complete, the teacher raised his voice.
"Alright, everyone. Since we're all here, form an orderly line. Watch your step when boarding the travelator—don't rush. From the small gate, we'll head to Mars Space Station. From there, we'll board Starcruiser LX666 toward the big gate." He paused, letting the words sink in. "If you're ready, let's move."
"LX666? That's the newest model, right?"
"No way! I heard it has a full game center!"
"I want to see the viewing deck!"
"There's a pool! A zero-gravity pool!"
"And a sports corner!"
The teacher's warning dissolved instantly beneath the wave of excitement. Voices overlapped as students buzzed about the starcruiser's features—arcades, holographic arenas, transparent observation decks stretching out into open space.
"Lazarus."
She turned to see Anna approaching, two sleek suitcases drifting quietly behind her, their antigravity units humming softly.
"Where's your suitcase?" Anna asked, tilting her head.
"Ahaha… I didn't bring one." Lazarus scratched her cheek, eyes flicking to the floating luggage. "Those are antigravity suitcases, right? Two of them, too. I heard they're really expensive."
She glanced around. Her suspicion was confirmed—only a handful of students had floating luggage. Most still dragged wheeled cases along the floor.
"Well, yes," Anna said matter-of-factly. "But they're not as expensive as Lexus's. Mine aren't brand names."
"But you have two…" Lazarus murmured under her breath, too quietly for Anna to hear.
Anna had already moved on, her eyes lighting up as she lifted the books in her arms.
"I downloaded a bunch of novels!" she said eagerly. "You can read them on my smartbox if you want. I also brought some physical books from my room—feel free to borrow them. Don't worry, I've read most of them already."
"Really? Thank you!" Lazarus's eyes lit up. "I've only ever seen physical books in the library…"
She nearly bounced on her heels. Her faith hadn't betrayed her after all. Look—her new friend had brought books, just like that, without being asked. Now she'd have something to do during the long stretches of free time on the trip.
Anna really was kind.
The moment was cut short by a sharp voice nearby.
"Bob! Hurry up! And don't drop it, okay? Those are my favorite suitcases!"
A boy named Lexus barked orders while Bob—one of their classmates—struggled under the weight of four antigravity suitcases. Lexus himself carried only two, strolling along as if nothing were wrong.
At first, Lazarus thought Bob must be his personal servant. He was big, after all.
But no. Bob was a student. Just like them.
"Geez…" Laurel muttered, dragging her own suitcase along the floor. "They really should've limited everyone to two bags. This is a study trip, not a vacation."
"Wow…" Lazarus murmured. "Four AG suitcases. All brand names, too. Lexus must be filthy rich."
She didn't feel jealous—just oddly numb. Honestly, with that many bags, Lexus looked less like a student on a study trip and more like a refugee fleeing a disaster zone.
"Laurel, where's your AG suitcase?" Anna asked suddenly. "Isn't it tiring to drag a normal one?"
She'd known Laurel since second grade. Laurel's father was a United Space Federation senator—surely she could afford one. Anna even remembered seeing Laurel with an AG suitcase years ago.
"Well…" Laurel shrugged. "Not everyone needs to show off. I figured I'd show a little tact." She gave the suitcase a light tug. "Besides, AG suitcases run on power. When they die, you're stuck dragging something even heavier."
"Ah… I see."
Anna's gaze drifted away, heat creeping up her neck. Only then did she realize how thoughtless she'd sounded—especially with Lazarus standing right there, backpack slung over her shoulders, while she floated two AG suitcases behind her.
"Hey, what's that face for?" Lazarus laughed. "If you've got it, just use it. Or are you trying to flex your muscles, Laurel?"
Anna blinked, then met Lazarus's eyes. She nodded, relief washing over her.
"That's right. If you have something, you shouldn't feel ashamed for using it." Anna nodded.
"Eh? That's not what I meant!" Laurel said quickly, turning away as her cheeks flushed. "I wasn't trying to flaunt anything."
She hopped onto the travelator, which carried her smoothly forward. Lazarus and Anna followed close behind. Bob trudged on last, awkwardly balancing four antigravity suitcases along with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Lexus and his cronies only boarded later, strolling on as if the delay meant nothing.
The travelator hummed beneath their feet.
Lazarus let out a slow breath as the tight confines of the dormitory fell away. Above them, the colony's artificial sky glowed a gentle morning blue, its light panels shifting just enough to imitate drifting clouds. At the colony's edge, the illusion ended abruptly—steel and glass forming a sharp horizon where dome met sky.
Beyond the transparent walkways, buildings of polymer alloy and polyglass curved upward, sleek and utilitarian, built for efficiency rather than beauty.
There were no cars. In a colony barely ten kilometers across, people either walked or rode the main travelators that stretched through the settlement like moving streets. The low thrum of machinery was constant, blending with student chatter and the faint whir of antigravity suitcases gliding beside their owners.
"Bob," Lazarus said quietly, falling into step beside him, "are you really okay with being treated like that?"
"Well…" Bob hesitated, then smiled. "My dad works for Lexus's father's company. And honestly, these are AG suitcases. My backpack's way heavier. Don't worry about me."
Lazarus knew he wasn't lying. Bob had topped their physical education class—only losing out occasionally to Xiaolang. Carrying luggage like this was nothing to him.
But that wasn't what bothered her.
The Reverend's words echoed in her mind: Words can hurt more than actions.
Lexus hadn't bothered to soften his tone at all.
Her gaze drifted to the backpack on Bob's shoulder.
It turned out she wasn't the only one carrying one.
"Geez, why do both of you have backpacks?" Anna said, glancing between them. "We're not marching off to some frontier colony!"
"Maybe they thought there'd be stairs," Laurel chuckled.
"Ahahaha… well, you never know, right?" Lazarus laughed along, relieved to have found an excuse—any excuse—for bringing hers instead of a suitcase.
Bob let out a wry smile.
Even though he was technically one of Lexus's group, he was so mild-mannered that Lazarus couldn't help but wonder if he was being bullied. But since Bob himself insisted it was fine, neither she nor Laurel could step in without making things worse.
For now, all they could do was walk on.
"There's no way they wouldn't have escalators or elevators," Anna protested. "What if someone with a disability shows up? You guys are just being paranoid."
"Ahaha," Laurel laughed.
"Laurel!" Anna puffed out her cheeks.
"Sorry, sorry—ah, here we are."
They arrived at the colony's transit dome.
It loomed at the colony's edge like a massive silver bubble fused to steel and glass, half structure, half promise. Tall transparent doors slid open and shut in a steady rhythm, swallowing people and cargo and releasing them just as easily. This was the heart of the colony.
Inside the dome lay the warp gate.
The technology that made humanity a spacefaring civilization.
Without warp gates, colonies would be isolated specks in the void—resupply taking days, weeks, sometimes longer. Food would run out. Equipment would fail. People would die. It was this very technology that had saved humanity during the first Reactive Casimir Excess, when Earth was torn apart five hundred years ago. Through gates like this one, millions had fled into space.
Warp gates bent space itself, threading wormholes through time and distance to connect two points instantly. Smaller gates linked colonies to nearby space stations. Big gates—anchored to hyperlanes—bridged entire star systems.
Three months ago, Lazarus had passed through this very small gate when she transferred schools.
Now she stood before it again.
This time, it would take her beyond the system—to Alpha Centauri.
She'd seen pictures: three suns hanging in the sky, alien horizons bathed in overlapping light. The infamous triple-star system.
Despite being the colony's most critical facility, the gate sat tucked into a reinforced corner of the dome. If something went wrong, the damage could be contained.
"I wonder if I can brag a little," Lazarus murmured to herself. "Some of my brothers and sisters back at the orphanage have never even left their colonies… let alone traveled to another star system."
Students gathered before the small gate, forming lines by class as instructed.
"Alright," the teacher announced. "From this point on, you'll be divided into groups. Stay with your assigned group at all times."
He checked his list.
"First group: Laurel, Shingo, Lazarus, Anna, Lexus, Bob, and Xiaolang. Second group—"
The teacher finished assigning the remaining groups for Class 5C, then moved on to the other classes. Once everyone had their assignments, the students reorganized, forming neat lines in front of the small gate.
The first to go were Classes 5A and 5B.
Thirty students stepped forward, arranging themselves into a square formation, luggage close at hand. The chatter died down as the gate technician—Mistral—raised a hand.
The gate activated.
A black void blossomed between the four pillars, expanding outward like spilled ink. Its edges writhed and twisted, unstable—until blue lightning snapped across the frame, crackling and binding the darkness in place. The air seemed to warp, tugged toward the center as if the void itself were breathing.
For a single heartbeat, everything felt wrong.
Then the gate stabilized.
The children and teachers of Classes 5A and 5B stepped forward—and vanished, swallowed whole by the darkness.
Gone.
Lazarus knew it was safe. She'd gone through this very gate when she transferred to Mars Colony. She understood the science behind it.
Still, she would never get used to the sight of people being erased so completely, as if they'd never existed at all.
A translucent notification flickered into view before her eyes.
That was embarrassing…
I watched too many movies. I thought orphans would be more miserable just because they were poor and without parents.
I hope I can be friends with her.
~ Laurel