Chapter 2: Hype

"The Dominion is the architect of destiny. Every role is chosen. Every purpose is true."

The words glow at the top of my screen, a banner in bold gold text, underlined twice for emphasis. They're true, obviously, but a little extra Dominion pride never hurts. It sets the tone. Establishes the mood.

I lean forward, fingers flying across the terminal, posture perfect, expression bright. The chair is too comfortable, designed for long hours of sitting, and yet I can't stop moving—bouncing my knee, tapping the corner of the desk, twisting a loose strand of hair around my finger as I type.

Today is the day my big sister becomes a hero of the Dominion!

I delete "becomes" and replace it with "earns her rightful place as"—it sounds grander, more official.

She will fly through fire to extract the bravest of our warriors, the VOU Vanguard, and bring them back home! She will be a legend!

I pause. Re-read. It's almost perfect. Almost.

A legend.

My fingers hover over the keys.

Is that the right word?

The Dominion has legends. The Forged. The Apex Council. The VOU Vanguard. But Calla? My sister?

She's real. Tangible. She sent me messages from orbit, from her cargo runs, from the vast empty sky she was born to fly. Legends are larger than life. Calla is life.

I shake the thought away. It's a good line. Dramatic. Strong.

She'll like it.

I scroll back up, reading over the rest of the post. It's perfect. The latest in a long, long series of updates chronicling Calla's journey from hopeful to hero.

For years, I've posted every test flight, every training milestone, every accomplishment. Art. Poems. Stories. I made Calla into something larger than herself, something that thousands of citizens now follow.

And today, she takes the next step.

I press PUBLISH.

The screen flashes green. The post goes live.

I exhale, a slow, measured breath, settling back in my chair. The feed refreshes instantly—replies already rolling in.

"Calla Rider! A name for the history books!"

"Glory to the Dominion's pilots! Fly strong!"

"You must be so proud of your sister!"

I smile. Of course I am.

The messages flood in, a stream of cheers and admiration, all echoing the same truth. Calla is destined for greatness.

I open the private messaging tab.

"Calla! You must be so close now! I just know you're going to pass. You're amazing. I can't wait to see you after you pass! I love you big sis and… thanks for everything, I know you're doing this for me. I'm… ashamed of myself and how I acted. So don't sweat it if you don't pass, I'm over it now, and I'll be just as happy to keep writing you poems about cargo runs, ok?"

I read it again. Then again.

My fingers hesitate over the send button.

The words feel too raw, too open.

I should delete the last part. It isn't necessary. Calla knows.

No. She doesn't.

She left six days ago, the morning after my birthday, after I stood in front of the mirror in my Happy Citizen uniform, smiling too hard, trying to convince myself I was happy.

She saw through it.

I hit SEND before I can second-guess.

Still, a tightness lingers in my chest.

I exhale, pushing back from my desk, forcing myself to breathe properly. The air in the house is precisely regulated, enriched with the optimal oxygen balance for clarity and focus. A gentle chime hums from my terminal, a reminder flashing in soft gold on the screen.

Your Happy Citizen Soul-Mate Compatibility Survey is pending. Complete it to fulfill your duty to the Dominion!

I stare at it for a moment before dragging my fingers through my hair. Right. My future. My placement. The two-year process that ends in marriage. I should have started it already—I was supposed to start it on my birthday, six days ago. Now I'm behind.

The thought twists my stomach.

Not because I'm afraid. Not because I'm uncertain. I've known my whole life this day would come just as it does for everyone, well almost everyone, the ninety percent, the Happy Citizens.

I sigh.

No, the feeling is something else—something quieter, something I can't put words to.

I shift in my chair, clicking the terminal off just as footsteps approach. A moment later, my mother steps inside.

No door, of course. There's no need for privacy in a household that thrives on unity. Doors are for married couples, for families raising children. A door would mean there was something to hide, and that would be concerning.

After all, secrecy is the first step to disunity. And disunity leads to chaos.

Somewhere, a bureaucratic drone in an office far away writes down this exact sentiment in a cultural wellness report, ensuring that future generations understand the dangers of excessive personal space.

"Stacy, sweetheart," Mom says, her voice warm, knowing. "I saw your update about Calla this morning. It was beautiful, but you really should take a break. You haven't even started your survey, have you?"

I try to smile, but it feels tight. "I will. Soon."

She hums in disapproval, crossing the room to stand behind me. Her hands settle on my shoulders, a gentle, familiar pressure. Comforting. Overbearing.

"You're just caught up in everything with Calla," she says knowingly. "That's alright. I understand. It's a big moment for her. For all of us."

I don't answer.

Because that isn't the real reason.

The real reason is that I kept waiting. Kept hoping. Just one more day, one more message, and maybe the system would correct itself. Maybe it would tell me there had been a mistake. That I was meant for something more.

But no message came.

And now, I'm late.

"Stacy." Mom squeezes my shoulders, waiting until I look up. Her eyes are soft, but firm. "You've always been such a good girl. You know this is important. You'll have a beautiful life with the person the Dominion chooses for you. But you have to start."

I swallow. Nod.

Because of course she's right.

Everything happens for a reason.

If I was meant to be something more, I would have been chosen.

And if Calla isn't meant to be a hero, she won't pass.

It's as simple as that.

The screen flickers, and my breath catches. A live call. A direct connection.

Then Calla appears.

She stands tall, bright, supremely confident. Her white uniform is crisp, her hair neatly tied back. She looks… perfect. Behind her, rows of Happy Citizens sit in neat formation, smiling, watching. They radiate warmth, unity—just like the recruiting vids.

"Hey, Stace." Her voice is smooth, steady. I cough to hide an expression. She's everything I wished for. "Just got the call. Heading in now."

I grin so hard my face hurts. "You're going to be amazing! I just know it! You're exactly what the Dominion needs, Calla! The Vanguard won't know what hit them."

She laughs, light and easy. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." The camera shifts slightly as she adjusts it, her face coming back into perfect focus. "Wish me luck?"

"Like you even need it," I say, breathless. "But yes, obviously, I wish you all the luck!"

I hear movement behind me. Mom. Calla's eyes flick past me, and her face lights up even more.

"Mom," she says, grinning, "make sure my little sister finishes her survey, yeah?" Her voice is teasing, but there's an edge to it. "I'm expecting a little Calla Junior in three or four years, and she'd better send pictures for me to paste in my cockpit."

Mom laughs, shaking her head. "Oh, don't you worry about that, sweetheart. You just focus on your test." She squeezes my shoulder, and her grip is warm, grounding. Then, with a pointed look at me, "I'll make sure she's a model Happy Citizen."

I nod, automatically. "I'll work just as hard as you. Maybe harder."

Calla grins. "That's the spirit."

I try to hold onto the moment, to burn it into my memory—her confidence, her certainty.

If Calla is certain, then everything is exactly as it should be. I trust her, I should trust me too and my placement.

The screen flickers. Once. Twice. Then cuts to black.

I take a deep breath, "alright mom," I let it back out, "want to help me catch up on finding my soul mate?"

"My darling girl," mom giggles, gosh, I haven't heard her do that since I became the last kid in the house, "I would be delighted!"