The Artemis Voyager was a dream stitched together by stubborn hope and equations no one fully trusted.
A spacecraft born from a dying Earth's desperate prayers, she moved like a slow, glimmering bullet across the ink-black canvas of space, her hull whispering against the endless dark.
Inside, Nova Caelum floated gently through the long passageway, a tablet clutched to her chest, boots softly thudding against the magnetic floor. Her hair, a soft halo of dark curls, bobbed with every lazy movement. Beyond the nearest observation bay, an entire galaxy spun lazily — a pinwheel of molten light and endless night.
"You're up early," came a voice, rough and half-amused.
Nova turned.
Kai Reyes leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk playing tug-of-war with the exhaustion in his face. His uniform jacket hung open, and the stubble on his jaw suggested he'd skipped more than a few official grooming checks. His eyes — sharp, hazel, laughing even when he wasn't — studied her like she was more interesting than the entire Milky Way outside.
"Couldn't sleep," Nova said, tucking the tablet under her arm. "Kept thinking about Planet 4C."
Kai chuckled low in his throat. "You mean the Deathball?"
Nova narrowed her eyes. "It's not a deathball. It's a lush, viable M-class planet with breathable atmosphere and liquid water."
"And a higher-than-average chance of creatures with six mouths eating our faces off," Kai added helpfully.
Nova fought a smile and lost. "Your optimism is overwhelming."
Kai pushed off the wall and ambled toward her, steps easy, loose, the way only a man born with too much charm for his own good could walk.
But Nova had known Kai long enough to recognize the cracks beneath the swagger — the restless fingers, the quick glances at the walls, the unspoken weight of years traveling too far from home.
"We'll be landing soon," she said, mostly to fill the silence stretching between them.
He nodded, his expression tightening. "Yeah. Scouting parties tomorrow. Guess we finally get to meet the neighbors."
"For better or worse," Nova murmured.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the world beyond the glass — stars, galaxies, infinity itself — fell away.
All that remained was the small, electric space between them.
Kai's voice softened. "With you on my team? I'll take my chances."
Nova felt the words bloom in her chest like a slow sunrise, warming places she'd locked away long ago.
She looked away first, heart thudding traitorously against her ribs.
There were rules, of course.
Crew members weren't supposed to feel.
Not this much.
Not this close.
But somewhere between Earth and Andromeda, rules had started feeling like ancient myths — beautiful, distant, and easily forgotten.
Nova cleared her throat, breaking the spell.
"Get some rest, Reyes. Big day tomorrow."
He held her gaze a moment longer, as if debating whether to say something dangerous. Then, with a lopsided grin, he turned and strolled away.
As his footsteps faded down the corridor, Nova pressed her forehead to the cold glass and whispered into the void,
"Don't do this to me."
The stars offered no reply.
They never did.
---
The shuttle's descent was rough — like being cradled by a drunk god who didn't believe in seatbelts.
Nova's fingers gripped the side harness as they plummeted through the atmosphere of Planet 4C. Clouds the color of burnished copper streaked past the windows, broken only by flashes of strange bioluminescent storms below.
Beside her, Kai whooped like a kid on a rollercoaster.
"You're enjoying this?" she yelled over the groaning metal.
He flashed her a reckless grin. "It's the closest thing to surfing I've had in three years!"
Nova rolled her eyes. "I hope you remember that when we're clawed apart by alien velociraptors."
Kai tilted his head thoughtfully. "Would make a hell of a vacation story."
The shuttle slammed against the alien ground, skidding for several agonizing seconds before jerking to a halt.
Silence.
Nova exhaled slowly, unbuckling herself. Her body thrummed with adrenaline, her heart pounding in her throat.
Through the reinforced glass of the cockpit, the new world unfurled — vast plains of violet grass, mountains floating impossibly against the horizon, and trees whose leaves shimmered silver-blue under a sun that was somehow both too close and too far.
It was breathtaking.
It was terrifying.
It was beautiful.
Kai stood beside her, his face unusually serious now.
Without thinking, Nova reached for him, her hand brushing his sleeve.
Just enough to feel he was real. Solid. Alive.
He didn't pull away.
Instead, he smiled — not the cocky grin he reserved for jokes and danger, but something quieter.
Something only for her.
"Ready to make history, Caelum?" he asked.
Nova swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded.
"Yeah. Let's go find out what dreams — and nightmares — are made of."
---
They moved carefully through the alien terrain, scanners humming in their hands, suits sealed tight against unknown pathogens.
Nova tried to focus on the readings: rich oxygen levels, mineral traces, even organic lifeforms in the near distance.
But she kept catching Kai watching her.
Not with impatience.
Not even amusement.
With something else.
Something weightier.
It scared her more than the idea of an alien ambush.
Finally, when they stopped to catalog a cluster of glowing flora, Nova couldn't take it anymore.
"You're staring," she said without looking at him.
Kai shrugged, unbothered. "You're... different down here."
She turned, frowning. "Different how?"
He hesitated — a rare crack in his usual smooth delivery.
"Up there, on the ship... everything's sterilized. Controlled. Predictable."
He gestured around them — the impossible landscape, the surreal colors. "Down here, you're... alive. Like you were born for chaos."
Nova laughed softly. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or a warning."
Kai stepped closer. So close she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint scar above his brow he never talked about.
"It's both," he said.
"But mostly a compliment."
And just like that, the walls she spent years building cracked a little more.
---
They set up camp near the river — a glistening ribbon of silver winding through alien grass.
Nova sat outside her tent, knees pulled to her chest, watching two moons rise — one pale blue, the other the color of spilled wine.
Kai sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed every now and then.
Silence stretched between them, warm and heavy, not demanding to be filled.
Until Kai finally spoke.
"They want someone to stay behind."
Nova blinked. "What?"
He stared straight ahead, jaw tense.
"Command Center sent a message. Preliminary readings are too important. They need a permanent research presence. Someone to establish a base."
Nova felt her stomach drop.
"But — but the rotation—"
"No time," Kai cut in. His voice was rough. "Radiation storms expected within two months. If we don't establish now, the planet might be off-limits forever."
She shook her head. "So what? We take shifts. We draw lots. It's not—"
"I volunteered," he said quietly.
Nova's breath caught.
"You what?" Her voice cracked.
Kai finally looked at her. His face — normally animated, boyish — was heartbreakingly still.
"I figured..." he said, forcing a smile, "you're the best xenobiologist on the ship. You belong out there. Discovering. Cataloging. Changing the world."
"And you?" she demanded, voice shaking.
"What about what you belong to?"
Kai exhaled a slow, ragged breath. "I think... maybe I found it."
He reached out, hesitated for a second like a man touching fire, and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.
The touch was featherlight. Reverent.
Like he was memorizing her.
Nova's vision blurred.
"This isn't fair," she whispered.
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
Somewhere overhead, the stars kept spinning.
Somewhere, a hundred light-years away, Earth kept turning.
But here — here on a lonely, unnamed planet — two hearts collided in the dark, desperate gravity of love.
Nova leaned in before she could talk herself out of it, her hands gripping the front of his jacket, pulling him down.
The kiss was messy and fierce and aching with everything they didn't have time to say.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Nova pressed her forehead to his.
"You idiot," she whispered.
"I would have stayed too."
Kai laughed — a broken, beautiful sound.
"Yeah, but you're smarter than me."
They sat there, clinging to each other, as the alien night swallowed them whole.
Tomorrow, they would tear themselves apart.
Tomorrow, he would stay and she would leave.
But tonight, they were together.
And sometimes, in the vast cruelty of space, that was enough.
---
"Even across galaxies and lifetimes, some promises are made not in words — but in the heart — all "In the Name of Love."