[1/3] Ch 0 In a Galaxy Far, Far, Beyond the Veil (Patreon)

In a Galaxy Far, 

Far Beyond the Veil 

Story Starts

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Chapter 0 - 

I’m Bored!!!

Harry eased the speeder into the bay, thumbing the key fob as the doors ground shut behind him. The depressurisation cycle kicked in with its familiar wheeze—metal groaning, seals hissing, pressure equalising.

He watched the console on the far wall cycle from amber to green, signalling breathable atmosphere. Only then did he reach for the release on his helmet.

The rebreather hissed as it depressurised.

Everything here depressurised. It was the theme of basically living in a rusty, dusty—

An unintentional rhyme.

Harry shook his head and clicked the chest release on his suit. More hissing. More depressurising. ‘Figures the theme continues.’

The body suit loosened as he shrugged it off, letting it pool at his feet. The material vanished before it hit the ground, leaving him standing there in nothing but boxer briefs.

‘Such a busybody.’

A wave of his hand, and fluffy slippers encased his feet. The kind you nick from five-star hotels. Well, recently seven-star hotels were on the rise.

Four thousand years, and only recently had seven-star hotels started popping up outside of the United Arab Emirates.

There was one in orbit, actually. The nearest one to Mars, at any rate.

He was on the team currently building a resort hotel at the fourth district biodome. Next week they’d receive the harvest from 10 Hygiea and start filling the pools. Actual asteroid water, filtered and treated. The marketing practically wrote itself.

Harry looked down.

‘Oh—’

Still naked. Save for the fluffy slippers. The type you’d nick from five-star hotels. Well, recently seven-star—

Harry shook his head at his cyclical thoughts. Another wave of his hand. His boxer briefs loosened into regular boxers, then joggers materialised over them, followed by a plain white t-shirt.

He stretched, vertebrae popping as he worked out the kinks in his back. His boss Minho So was a slave driver.

They’d had him optimising the atmospheric controls all week—tweaking them to mimic breezy tropical weather without the brutal humidity. Harry had rebuilt the sensors from scratch and coded a custom interface to handle the temperature gradients, atmospheric pressure variances, and moisture distribution.

‘Thank fuck for AI.’

At least he hadn’t started from nothing when building the interface. Just had to edit the generated code, which had only cost him several cans of what was essentially paint thinner in sugar-and-caffeine form—otherwise known as Red Bull. If he wasn’t what he was, he probably would’ve died of a heart attack. His recent relationship with that palpitation-inducing beverage, chased with Firewhisky, should have killed any normal bloke three times over.

‘Three years’ worth of Firewhisky left in supply.’

Once their stores dipped to two years, they’d have to make the trip back to Earth. Even with the rapid march of science, the journey still took two years—Mars to the Moon station first, or to the relay positioned at the opposite point of the Moon’s orbit for when it swung round the far side of Earth. Then the final leg down to the blue-green planet.

The living quarters opened before him as he stepped out of the bay. Soft lighting. Climate-controlled air that didn’t taste like recycled metal. Home.

“Bloody merde! Putain de bordel!”

The bright, husky voice rang out from the bedroom.

“How can I be cheating when you have your anti-cheat directly on the kernel! C’est pas ma faute if your noobs are so bloody predictable I can tell where they are before they spawn! Connards!”

Harry walked past the white owl perched near the viewport. Gold and red feathers caught the artificial light—a colour pattern inherited from her parents. She cracked one amber eye at him, judged him adequately returned, and went back to sleep.

“God! Do I have to make another fucking account—wait, scratch that—I have to source new PC parts because these fuckers tag my hardware! Sacré bordel de merde!”

“Well, at least prices aren’t as exorbitant as they were a few thousand years ago,” Harry said from the bedroom doorway. He leaned against the metal frame, arms crossed, an amused smirk colouring his face.

“Harry?”

The woman on the swivel chair released her mouse and keyboard, bare leg lowering from where it had been propped against the desk. She turned as she pulled the VR/AR headset from her head.

Light pink hair in what they’d explained was a jellyfish cut—short on top, long tendrils framing her face. Heterochromic eyes, one blue, one violet. Heart-shaped face dusted with light freckles.

Then her form shifted.

The pink dissolved into long hair streaked with purple, black, and blonde. Her eyes shifted—heterochromic still, but now flecked with purple, black, grey, and blue. She grew taller, matching Harry’s height. Her face sharpened into something aristocratic. Her body thinned, lengthened.

She leapt into his arms.

“Pan—oh, oops, sorry.” Harry caught himself, caught her. He’d forgotten the standing rule for homecomings.

“Tonks, Daphne, Luna, Gabby, and Vicky—I’m home.”

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To be continued…

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