Reborn as a Spaceship

We decided to go to the trade hub without warning, without ceremony. It was a whim, really or perhaps a quiet desperation. After everything we'd faced, I just needed to know if some part of our old world still existed, if anyone else from our missed us at all.

"They won't be expecting us," Laia murmured beside me, her new body leaning comfortably against the bridge railing. Even now, her posture still felt slightly unfamiliar, though her expressions were as sharp as ever. "Is that wise?"

I glanced at her, offering a small, weary smile. "Probably not. But I'm done calculating every step. Let's just see what happens." I also suspected that if I gave them a warning they might hide something from me.

The Arbiter dropped silently from dimensional space, settling into real-space orbit just beyond the hub's outer perimeter. The moment we reappeared, sensor data poured in, flooding our displays with a dazzling array of movement.

It was chaos, yet beautifully controlled.

Massive cargo vessels blinked in and out of short-range jumps, linked together like trains spanning hundreds of kilometres. Freight stations sprawled across the void like great metallic reefs, bustling with constant motion. Ships, cargo drones, and shuttles swarmed the orbital station, now grown into something far larger than the modest hub we had left behind. Industry on a scale I'd scarcely imagined.

Stewie stepped forward, eyes wide with astonishment. "It's thriving," he whispered, awe edging his voice. "Did they really manage all this without us?"

I nodded slowly, my gut tightening. "Looks like they didn't need us after all."

The thought brought mixed emotions pride, regret and perhaps even envy. Was this always what our dream would become? Self-sufficient, prosperous… without needing us?

This was supposed to be my hard power. Something I could use to enforce my judgements but I could tell already it wasn't mine anymore.

Our comms flash to life, a brisk, unfamiliar voice cutting through my thoughts. "Unidentified vessel, you've entered restricted space. Identify immediately."

I exchanged a brief glance with Laia before responding, "This is Lazarus aboard the Arbiter. Requesting permission to dock."

Silence stretched over the line. I caught Wayfarer's reflection in the viewport; his avatar stood quietly, watching everything unfold with detached curiosity. The silence felt too long, awkward.

Finally, the voice returned, softer but wary. "Lazarus? You're… you're supposed to be dead."

"I've heard that a lot lately," I replied dryly. "But no. We're alive. Mind letting someone know we're back?"

Another hesitation, then: "Docking clearance granted at bay twelve. Management has been informed."

I couldn't leave the ship, but the Arbiter's external sensors painted a vivid image as we approached. The bay was sleek, expanded and transformed entirely from the humble docking ring we'd once built. Brightly lit advertisements flashed across reinforced bulkheads; crews moved briskly, disciplined, unfamiliar.

Lynn stepped through the airlock, flanked by two security officers I didn't recognise. Her red hair was shorter now, styled with precise angles that matched the sharp lines of her tailored suit. Corporate. Polished. Nothing like the woman who used to join us for meals or help with our trade deals.

Lynn was the first to greet us or confront us. She wore a tight-lipped smile, the kind that stretched but didn't soften her eyes.

"Lazarus," she said, her voice carrying across the bay. "When they told me you'd returned, I thought someone was playing a cruel joke."

"No joke," I said, stepping forward. "Just us. In the flesh."

Her eyes cast over our group, cataloguing each face. "You're back. Thank the stars. We were worried." But there was no warmth in it. Just a practiced civility, masking something cold and brittle. She hadn't even commented on Laia's new body. I knew things were not going to end how I wanted them to.

"Were you?" Laia asked, her tone less than neutral but her eyes fixed on Lynn's face.

Lynn's smile tightened. "Of course. When you disappeared without a trace... well, what were we supposed to think?"

"That we'd return," I said simply. "Like we always do."

"Three years, Lazarus," Lynn said, voice low and tight, vibrating with the strain of holding back everything she really wanted to say. "Three years, and not one damned word. Do you have any idea what that did to us? To everything we built here?"

She'd thrown me off balance, and from her expression, that was exactly what she intended. I hadn't expected open arms, but this felt colder, harsher. She wasn't just surprised we'd survived but she seemed actively disappointed by it.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Before I could reply, heavy boots echoed across the polished floor behind her. Kel pushed past the security guards without apology, his rough features lighting up with genuine surprise and relief. He looked older, hardened by responsibility. He didn't hesitate as he wrapped me in a fierce hug that would have crushed the air from my lungs if I had any.

"You absolute bastard," he laughed roughly into my ear, his voice edged with relief and disbelief. "I can't believe you actually made it back."

I returned the hug, clinging to his warmth. It steadied me. "We always do, don't we?"

Kel pulled back, his smile fading slightly as he glanced toward Lynn. A silent tension passed between them, heavy and telling. "Where the hell have you been, Lazarus?" Kel asked, eyes glancing back to me. "We thought Laia's people had done you in."

I shook my head wearily. "It's complicated. Let's just say we're lucky we made it back at all."

Lynn cleared her throat sharply, pulling our attention back to her. "Maybe we should move this touching reunion somewhere more private. The docking bay isn't exactly appropriate."

We moved to the central conference room. Lynn took her seat at the head of the table, clearly asserting her authority. "Well?" she asked, her tone clipped, eyes sharp. "Are you planning to explain yourself? Why you abandoned us?"

I had to hold myself back, and I could feel the tension rising in the others.

"We didn't abandon anyone," I replied evenly, refusing to rise to her bait. "We got caught in a temporal distortion. A few weeks for us became years for you. We had no way to communicate."

I'd concluded they weren't allies, so I refused to provide further information.

Kel leaned forward, a frown creasing his brow. "Where and how?"

Laia spoke calmly from beside me, her eyes fixed pointedly on Lynn. "Following a lead about how to protect the planet we took ownership of."

"The planet you chose not to share any details about," Lynn interjected bitterly.

"It was need-to-know," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The less you knew, the safer you were."

"Need-to-know," Lynn echoed sarcastically. "Funny how none of us apparently needed to know anything, yet we were the ones stuck holding everything together while you chased shadows."

I took a breath, frustration simmering. "Look, I'm sorry things went sideways. But we're here now."

She laughed sharply, bitterly. "Here now? What exactly does that mean, Lazarus? You think you can vanish for years and just waltz back in, expecting everything to go back to normal?"

I ignored the sting in her words, pushing forward. "Where's T'lish? I want to speak with her."

Lynn's posture tightened immediately. Her eyes looked away, uncomfortable. "She's gone. Left months ago. Research mission or something. Didn't leave specifics."

I shook my head. "T'lish would never leave without proper protocol. What really happened?"

Kel shifted uncomfortably. "It wasn't exactly… planned. She disagreed with some changes around here."

"What kind of changes?" Laia pressed, voice soft but piercing.

Lynn's jaw clenched visibly, her voice flat. "T'lish had issues with our new trade partners. She couldn't grasp the bigger picture."

"And what exactly was this bigger picture?" I demanded.

"Survival," Lynn snapped, voice brittle as ice. "Expansion. Stability. We didn't have the luxury of your idealism after you disappeared."

A cold pit formed in my gut. "So you pushed her out—the one person I specifically left in charge."

Lynn's eyes flashed dangerously. "We didn't push anyone out. She chose not to adapt. She left on her own terms."

The atmosphere thickened sharply. Beside me, Stewie finally snapped, stepping forward with fire in his eyes. "What is wrong with you, Lynn?" he shouted, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "They're finally back! After everything, they're alive and you're treating them like intruders?"

Lynn rose slowly, her voice icy and controlled. "Watch your tone, Stewie. This isn't your ship anymore—it's my station."

"Your station?" I echoed incredulously. "I built this place, Lynn. My resources, my contacts—"

She cut me off sharply, voice rising in fury. "Your resources? Where were your precious resources when supplies ran out? Where were your contacts when the Meridian Coalition threatened to shut us down? "

Her voice cracked, suddenly raw. "I'm glad you're alive. But the universe didn't stop spinning just because you vanished. I did what was necessary. I kept us alive."

"At what cost?" Laia asked quietly, her words slicing through the silence. "This station was built on principles. Not profit. Not political survival. It was a place to give us some power"

Kel sighed deeply, rubbing his face wearily. "We did what we had to do. None of you were here. You don't get to judge how we managed without you."

"We're not judging," I said quietly, though the tension in my voice betrayed my lie. "We just want to understand."

Lynn laughed bitterly, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Understand? Here's what you need to understand. Me and Kel, we grew up, Lazarus. We gave up your fairy tales about changing the galaxy, and we focused on what worked. We adapted."

"By partnering with who, exactly?" Laia interjected coldly.

"By surviving!" Lynn shouted, slamming a fist onto the polished table. "Something none of you were here to help with!"

"This seems less a matter of survival and more a case of corporate greed, the station was stable when I left." I stated calmly, I could tell already money and power had taken away the Lynn we used to know.

"You know what your problem is, Lazarus?" Lynn finally said, voice shaking with restrained anger. "You always thought having a grand vision was enough. That you could disappear for years, come back, and pick right back up like nothing had changed—as if we'd just been holding our breath, waiting for the great Captain Lazarus to save us."

"That's not fair," I started, but she cut me off harshly.

"Fair? You want fair?" Lynn spat, her voice trembling. "I've spent three years patching together what you abandoned. Three years of sleepless nights, impossible choices, ugly compromises. And now you're back to judge me because I didn't run your precious station the way you would have?"

Kel stepped between us, hands raised pleadingly. "Lynn, enough. This isn't helping."

"No," I said firmly, holding Kel's gaze. "Let her finish. I want to hear all of it."

Lynn's eyes burned into mine. "Your dream was beautiful, Lazarus. But it wasn't sustainable. Not here. Not in this galaxy, with every power against us. We either adapted or we died. And yes—I chose to adapt."

"Adapt," Laia echoed bitterly. "You mean surrender."

Lynn's glare sharpened into a blade. "Call it what you want. At least I didn't vanish. At least I kept us alive."

As she spoke, I sensed Laia's subtle shift beside me, felt her silent indignation. She could still access the station's systems. I knew she could shut it all down if she chose. Part of her clearly wanted to.

But we weren't here for revenge. Not yet, at least.

Instead, I turned quietly to Lynn. "Jack—is he here?"

Her eyes met mine, a brief flash of something close to regret. "Jack left a message before he disappeared. Said you'd understand it."

And just like that, my hopes for a way to salvage this and have a peaceful transfer of power shattered like glass.