The galaxy was vast, but humanity was alone.

By 2183, Earth's reach stretched beyond its home system, but only just. For the last 30 years, the dream of space colonization had become reality, yet with it came new struggles—territorial disputes, resource wars, and the unrelenting question of power. The frontier was expanding, but at a cost. For every world that thrived, another stood on the brink of rebellion.

For nearly a century, Earth had reigned as the undisputed center of human civilization. It had claimed dominion over the fledgling colonies scattered throughout the solar system, governing them through the Systems Alliance, an entity born from necessity. At first, it had been a coalition—nations uniting to safeguard humanity's place in the void. But as the colonies grew, so too did the Alliance's influence. It became more than a guiding hand. It became a force of control.

Earth claimed it was a peacekeeper. But peace was an illusion, held together by fragile diplomacy and warships stationed in high orbit.

Mars had been the first colony to break free. Once dependent on Earth for survival, Mars had outgrown its parent. Terraforming had transformed its crimson deserts into a self-sustaining world—thriving cities, controlled atmospheres, artificial oceans. No longer an outpost, but a rival.

In 2175, that rivalry turned into something else. The Martian government formally declared independence, severing its ties to Earth, rejecting the Systems Alliance's rule. It had been a long time coming—tensions had simmered for years, political disputes turning into embargoes, embargoes into skirmishes. When the announcement came, there were no negotiations, no warning. Mars had made its decision.

The Systems Alliance refused to recognize its sovereignty. And Mars refused to submit.

For the first time in history, Earth was at war with its own colony. And it would not be the last.

The Martian Defense Forces, once an auxiliary branch under Alliance command, had grown into a formidable military power of its own. Armed with cutting-edge technology, superior fleet tactics, and an entire planet willing to fight for its freedom, Mars was no mere rogue state—it was the single greatest military force in the system. And it was winning.

Earth still held power, but its grip was slipping. One by one, the outer colonies—fragile settlements on the fringes of civilization—began to defect. Some out of loyalty to Mars, others out of desperation, knowing that the Alliance's control was weakening. The frontier was unraveling. Rebellions were growing. Entire sectors were turning against Earth's rule.

War was inevitable. And yet, even as humanity turned on itself, the universe remained silent.

For all their ambition, for all their reach, humanity was still a whisper in the dark. No alien voices answered their signals. No lost civilizations waited to be uncovered. No threats loomed beyond the ones they created for themselves. The cold void beyond the solar system was vast, empty—silent. But silence did not mean safety.

In the midst of war, the Systems Alliance had not forgotten its purpose. Beyond Mars. Beyond the rebelling colonies. Beyond the politics of a fractured civilization—one truth remained:

Humanity had to expand… or die.

Even as the frontier unraveled, the Alliance still looked outward. Amid conflict, they reached for hope. And from that hope, they commissioned a ship: the Pathfinder.

Once known as the SSV Normandy, a state-of-the-art warship forged for Earth's defense during the outer colony rebellions, the vessel had been reborn. Sleek and dangerous, its silhouette still whispered of battle—but its name told a different story.

Pathfinder.

Not conqueror. Not destroyer.

A seeker.

Its mission: to push beyond the known. To chart new systems. To secure a future for humanity in the vast, indifferent dark.

Inside Alliance Dry Dock-07, Arcturus Station high above Earth's moon, final preparations were underway. The Pathfinder sat in its berth, its reinforced hull absorbing the station's artificial glow, a sleek silhouette against the endless black. The ship's drive core pulsed for the first time, sending a faint vibration through the decks—a heartbeat, signaling its readiness.

And at its helm stood Captain Kristian Andersson. At 37, he was young for an Alliance captain. Not the youngest to ever hold the rank, but young enough that it raised eyebrows. Command of a ship like the Pathfinder was a post that officers waited decades for. But the Systems Alliance didn't care about tradition.

Not long ago, this ship had belonged to someone else. Captain Jane Shepard had commanded the Normandy since its construction three years ago. A veteran of Earth's colonial wars, a leader respected across the fleet, Shepard had shaped the ship into more than just a vessel—it had been hers.

Andersson had been her second-in-command, her executive and strategic officer. He had served at Shepard's right hand, learning what it meant to bear responsibility.

Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, everything changed. Shepard was gone. Promoted to Admiral. It had been a well-earned ascension—Shepard was a career officer whose name carried weight. The Systems Alliance wanted her at the helm of something bigger. Andersson barely had time to process the news before his own orders arrived.

Commander Andersson, effective immediately, you are to assume command of the newly sanctioned SSV Pathfinder. Report to Dry Dock-07 for final clearance. A field commission of Captain has been issued. Congratulations.

A simple message, delivered in cold, bureaucratic text. No transition period. No ceremonial handoff. One moment, Andersson was the XO. The next, command was his.

The truth was, he wasn't sure if command was what he wanted. Andersson was a soldier, a military tactician. He could command on the battlefield, but the bridge of a starship?

He had been trained as an N7—one of the best, part of an elite corps built for the front lines, the ones who got the job done no matter the cost. But now? Now, he was in charge of a ship meant to be humanity's ambassador to the unknown. A vessel meant to explore, not protect. To chart new frontiers, not fight wars.

He hadn't asked for this. The Alliance hadn't given him a choice. And yet, as he stood on the bridge, staring out into the endless black, he felt something else.

Not fear. Not doubt. Anticipation.

Because beyond the war, beyond Mars, beyond the breaking colonies—there was something else out there.

The Pathfinder was ready. The crew was assembling. Soon, they would break free from the comfort of dry dock. Beyond safety. Beyond certainty. Beyond anything humanity had ever known.

Their mission was clear: chart new systems, establish colonies, seek out new life and new civilizations, secure humanity's place among the stars. A noble vision—but the reality was far less romantic.

The Pathfinder would go beyond the war, beyond Mars, beyond the breaking colonies. It would seek a future untouched by conflict.

And yet, Andersson knew the truth.

Wherever humanity went, war followed.