Chapter 3

The shuttle was already humming when Sandy and I climbed aboard. I scanned the seats and immediately spotted Maya. She was sitting near the back, right by the window, with Tyrone right beside her. They looked comfortable, shoulder to shoulder like old friends.

She caught my eye as I stepped on, surprise flickering across her face before she smiled softly. I gave her a nod back, trying to keep it cool, but inside, something was buzzing.

Sandy pulled me toward two empty seats near the middle.

The shuttle wheels rolled for three hours before they pulled up at the resort just past nine in the morning. It was sleek, silver, and government-marked, like everything else in our lives lately. Outside the window, I caught a glimpse of the campground: pale concrete buildings arranged around a central lawn, dotted with fire pits and folding tables.

“Try not to look so serious,” she said, tossing her overnight bag over one shoulder. “You’re not here to study orbital warfare.”

I grunted and followed her out into the sunlight. The air smelled like pine and heat.

A few other pairs milled around by the check-in kiosk, guys and girls, dressed. I recognized many faces from school. Three guys I’d seen in the class. A girl from Sandy’s social circle.

My eyes caught two adults standing near the registration desk. They were the teachers from school who came along as chaperones. The woman’s figure stood out immediately; she had large breasts that hung low but were undeniably sexy, her presence confident in that subtle way that turned heads. The man was in his late forties, but still looked sharp, clean-cut, fit, with that quiet air of experience.

A young organizer in a Democracy Youth jacket scanned our IDs and handed Sandy a welcome pack. “Later, you’ll be assigned to a tent of six, mixed gender. The first orientation session is in the main hall in thirty minutes. Follow the signs and enjoy the morning; the physical activities start after lunch.”

I glanced at Sandy, who gave me a sly smile. “Random tent assignments, huh? That’s ... interesting.”

We made our way into the main hall, a big open space with floor-to-ceiling windows letting in the bright afternoon sun. No chair was arranged, just empty space, in a loose semicircle facing a small stage where one of the organizers stood, already setting up a projector.

The room buzzed with low chatter as everyone found a place to stand. The organizer started with a quick rundown of the trip’s purpose. Then came the cabin rotation explanation again, followed by some basic safety tips for the upcoming activities. No long speeches, no lectures, just sharp, clear instructions.

During the orientation, I saw Sandy go off. She didn’t say anything, just spotted someone in the crowd and started walking. I followed her with my eyes as she was heading straight for Maya.

Sandy tapped Maya lightly on the arm, and the two of them leaned in close, talking low. Maya looked surprised at first, then amused. She laughed at something Sandy said, her body language relaxed but alert.

I couldn’t hear them from where I stood, but I saw the way Maya glanced past Sandy once, eyes flicking over to me. Maya smiled politely. She said something, shrugged, then both of them laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was friendly or conspiratorial.

Finally, Sandy patted Maya’s shoulder, said one last thing, and turned back toward me.

“What was that about?” I asked as she reached me.

Sandy smirked. “Just telling her to go along with our cover.”

“Really?” I gave her a look. “What did she say?”

Sandy raised an eyebrow. “Relax...”

Before she could answer, the organizer called us together for the game briefing.

“First game,” the organizer announced, standing in front of the projection screen, “is a colony management simulation. Twenty participants will play as founding members of a frontier settlement. Your goal: survive, grow, and maintain internal stability.”

Everyone shifted slightly, the buzz of curiosity rising. The big table was set up in front of us, covered with tablets, counters, name tags, and a glowing digital map of a fictional world.

“But first,” she continued, “you’ll each pick a professional role. Choose wisely. Every job matters, but not every job will be valued equally when things get tight.”

We approached the role board in groups, scanning the list. Each title came with a brief description, expected contribution, and a color-coded tier: Resource, Stability, or Defense.

I glanced at Maya, and she stepped up confidently and selected Infrastructure Planner. Of course. Tyrone grabbed Firefighter, a well-rounded role in crisis response. Sandy went for a nurse.

I hovered for a moment, then picked Military Strategist. Not sure if it will be useful in the colony, but it fits me.

Back at the table, the first rounds were a breeze. We set up water treatment, deployed farm bots, and organized initial housing. The infrastructure and med teams worked like a dream.

Then came the Production Crisis. Sudden system failure. Food units dropped by 30%. Power rationing. Basic medical kits ran out. Organizers then called for a vote.

“The colony can’t support all current roles,” the organizer explained. “You need to vote one person off. Consider your survival priorities.”

Someone across the table started: “We haven’t had any hostiles. No sabotage. No military threats. Do we really need defense right now?”

As a few heads nodded, I looked around, not surprised. I’d been quiet most of the game, no threats to respond to, and no crises to manage. I hadn’t claimed any resources to build defenses because, honestly, there hadn’t been a need. I glanced at Maya. She didn’t say anything.

When the vote came down, I was out. I leaned back and folded my arms, watching the simulation play out from the sidelines. After that, a crisis hit nearly every round, and players kept getting voted off one by one.

Fourteen rounds later, the Alien Encounter Event hit. The colony had no defensive structures, no response strategy, just an admin managing security bots and a single aircraft pilot trying to set off the defense. Chaos followed. Systems failed. Infrastructure fractured. Half the colonists “died,” and the rest were captured as slaves.

When the simulation finally ended, the organizer clapped once. “Debrief time. What did you learn?”

There was a long pause. People shifted, avoiding eye contact. A few of the survivors from the final round looked downright embarrassed. Then Ms. Rita, the civics teacher who’d come along as a chaperone, spoke up from where she’d been sitting off to the side.

“You over-invested in infrastructure and logistics, hoping for rapid growth,” she said. “The colony looked great, until it didn’t.”

“Exactly,” said another voice. Tyrone stood with his arms crossed, thoughtful. “We treated security like a luxury instead of a necessity.”

Maya stepped forward. “The military isn’t always active, but it’s not optional. It’s like a fire extinguisher, you hope to never need it, but you’d be a fool not to have one ready.”

The organizer nodded. “Anyone want to summarize what that means in a single sentence?”

I cleared my throat. “Well, speaking as the Military Strategist, you all voted out in round two; suffer not the xenos to live! Having a plan to wipe them out should probably be on the table next time.”

A few people chuckled. One or two clapped. A few people nodded. Someone muttered, “Damn right.”

The organizer gave a dry smile. “Well. That’s one way to put it.” He checked his tablet. “Let’s have lunch before we move to the next phase.”

The buzz of the cafeteria was a welcome break after the intense simulation. Long tables filled with chatter and clinking trays stretched across the room, the scent of grilled vegetables and synthetic meat filling the air. Sandy dragged me over to a free spot, and I dropped my tray with a sigh.

Before I could settle in, Maya appeared with Tyrone by her side. “Mind if we join?” Maya asked, flashing me that easy smile.

“Not at all,” I said, trying to sound casual.

Tyrone pulled out the chair next to Maya. “Hey, Paul, right? We might have met before. Maya mentioned we might bump into each other at her place.”

I blinked. “Oh, yeah. I usually go there for...”

Maya cut in, “ ... fucking my mom.”

Tyrone’s eyes widened slightly, then he grinned. “Oh, cool. Maya shared me with her mom a couple of times, too. Haru is just as sexy as sex as her daughter. And, you met Sandy there, too?”

I nodded, trying to play along. “Yeah, she’s ... uh.”

Sandy quickly jumped in. “Yeah, we’ve had a foursome with Maya’s parents few times. That’s how we got to know each other so well.” She winked at me.

Tyrone leaned in. “So, you guys became ... fuck buddies?”

Sandy smirked at me. “We’re just trying to make some civil points. Paul wants to get into the Helldiver Corps, right?”

Tyrone nodded. “Yeah, man. I’ve got the same dream. But, uh, sorry about knocking up Sandy. I need those points too.” Tyrone then nodded at Sandy. “By the way. Thanks for letting me know about your pregnancy; it means a lot. I’m actually applying to Helldiver school right now.”