The Shape of the Future

The amethyst glow of the overgrown nebula spilled into her room, dancing across walls of slick metal and flickering neon in shades of soft lilac and burnt orange. Commander Saria Vyn tied a slender belt of iridescent fabric around her waist, cinching her snug, high-collared jumpsuit: a symphony of deep plum and silver accents that shimmered whenever the light hit it just so. Her combat boots, polished to perfection, gleamed like liquid star-metal, and her short, coiled black hair hugged her face in sharp, precise layers. As she studied her reflection in the aggressively utilitarian steel mirror of her quarters, her sharp jawline flexed ever so slightly, a muscle memory from years of chewing mastic on planetary campaigns—a gift from colonists who swore by its jaw-strengthening benefits.

Not that she chewed anymore. Not since the raid on Cygnus-9, where every crack of gum had been like a cannon shot in the silent vacuum of an ambush. Her jaw might look carved out of marble, but silent strength was far more valuable these days—especially in what remained of the galaxy.

“Commander,” a soft, artificial voice whispered as the iridescent glow of her wrist-holo flickered to life. “You’re late.”

“I’m aware, Alecto,” she said, brushing a final layer of dust from her shoulder. “Don’t forget who programmed you. Snark doesn’t suit an AI.”

“Snark suits everyone, Commander,” Alecto replied, its synthesized voice dripping with faux indignation. “Besides, the Inter-Stationary Council will be less forgiving than me.”

“The Council,” Saria muttered under her breath, “can wait.”

Slipping through the serpentine corridors

Slipping through the serpentine corridors of the Serpentis IX station, the air buzzed with tense whispers in a dozen different dialects. Beneath her boots, the mesh floors hummed faintly with kinetic energy—a reminder of why every step mattered in humanity’s fragile dance atop decaying infrastructure that had long outlived its intended expiration. Constructs of metal and desperation. What was left after three centuries of constant expansion and collapse.

At the heart of the station, the Council chamber gleamed in cold perfection, bathed in pale blue holograms and twinkling star charts suspended in impossible detail. A half-circle of representatives murmured as Saria approached the podium. They glanced at her outfit—not sleek like a diplomat’s robe, not sharp like the armor of an Elite Enforcer, but something unapologetically functional and worn by battle. She could see contempt bleeding into some of their eyes but chose to meet their stares, chilling them into instant silence.

“You’re late, Commander Vyn,” one of them sniffed. An elder with cybernetic eyes that whirred mechanical irritation. “Our... deliberations run on tight schedules.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, her jaw clenched as though grinding mastic through faux politeness. “The Skailsi don’t schedule their incursions. Nor do mercenaries or, frankly, the oxygen shortages spreading across eight sectors. I’ll keep my briefing short—since you seem pressed for time.”

Eyes narrowed. Tension grew thick enough to taste. And behind her calm exterior, Saria loved it. Conflict became her as much as survival itself.

With a flick of her wrist, she activated the datapad embedded in her sleeve. Holographic footage filled the chamber, showing images of vibrant alien ecosystems scorched down to bone and ruin. “Three stations in the Verdant Arm have fallen. No warning, no distress beacons. I dispatched my reconnaissance team to investigate; the findings were... incomprehensible.”

The images shifted—once-flourishing habitats now drained of all organic material, as if consumed down to the molecular level. Gasps rippled through the chamber. Even through her composure, Saria felt her throat tighten as she let the silence unspool long enough for unease to fester. “This isn’t war,” she finally said. “It’s extinction. And morale is fragile enough without rhetoric from this Council about keeping appearances tidy.”

Another councilor—a willowy woman wrapped in metallic red silks—slowly shook her head. “Are you suggesting the Council redeploy resources to investigate this anomaly? Our resources are already—”

“You misunderstand,” Saria cut through, her voice sharpening against the walls. “Investigating isn’t optional. Preparing for this as a... galactic inevitability is.”

Lines of impatience etched across the councilors’ faces. The elder with cybernetic eyes leaned forward. “And if it turns out to be natural phenomena—planetary degradation due to overmining, for instance? What you’re proposing would destabilize our operations entirely. Fear can be as destructive as reality, Commander.”

Saria met his mechanical stare unflinchingly. “I suggest, Councilor, you chew on that idea for a moment longer before jumping to conclusions. And if your jaw gets sore from all the thinking, I can recommend an alternative workout for it.”

A tick of laughter erupted from the younger representatives, quickly quelled under the elder’s withering glare. But Saria caught it—an ember of rebellion smoldering in the cold bureaucracy. Enough embers ignited wildfires, she thought. Enough fire forged change.

As the Council hummed with repressed arguments

As the Council hummed with repressed arguments, murmurs, and indecision, Saria pivoted sharply and strode toward the exit, her back straight and her boots echoing purpose in each step. At the threshold, Alecto pulsed within her wrist. “Commander Vyn, shall I consider that meeting a success?”

She allowed herself a rare, wry grin. “A spark, Alecto. And you’d be surprised what small flames can do.”

Beyond the chamber, space stretched like eternity itself—a canvas of stars awaiting their next brushstroke. Saria Vyn walked into it with her jaw set, her resolve unbreakable, and the faintest trace of mastic-flavored rebellion lingering on her breath.

It wasn’t just survival anymore. It was the shape of the future itself.

The Source...check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: What's the Deal With Fitness Chewing Gum Benefits?

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