Triggers: Death

Prologue

The recovery pod let loose a sharp hiss as it opened. Jinzu’s eyes were sore. It took great effort to open them. Each eyelash had formed together. Their oils working as glue to maintain the perfect posture. As the world came into focus, so too did the ringing in her ears. The blaring noises of the alarm ricocheted off the walls of the room.

The walls were lined with screens and machines with all kinds of different text and displays. Some of them denoted with different renditions of; 

OFFLINE

The incoherent strings of thought whispering to life were chaotically delicate. Her first attempt at movement was met with the stiffness of... How long had she been in the pod? The second attempt proved more fruitful, with her motion prompting the shackles to open with yet another hiss.

From the moment she first flexed her calf muscle she cried in pain and fell to the hard floor of her metallic prison. She pushed herself up from the ground and onto her knees. The attempts of her movement were further restricted by the tightness of her clothing. It was clearly designed to adhere to the form of the person, but was too small for her figure.

A headache was rooted deep within her skull. Each pulse of her heart amplified the pain, sending it farther down her spine. She got to her feet and uneasily meandered over to the monitors on the far wall from her pod. As she walked, she once again noticed the skin tight clothing clinging desperately to her body.

Jinzu’s gaze flickered between the screens, years worth of medical information, their shifting data streams barely making sense through her groggy state. Vitals. Neural scans. A progress bar blinked insistently on the largest monitor—Upload 80% Complete. The destination field made her stomach twist—her.

A shiver ran down her spine. How long had she been in the pod? She forced herself to focus, trying to grasp what the data meant, but an ache pounded against her skull. The room felt suffocating. Whatever was happening—whoever had orchestrated it—she wasn’t in control.

Notes from the Author

When I first undertook the immense task of compiling our planet’s history, I believed it would be the crowning achievement of my life’s work. But I did not anticipate the Council’s decree—Project Mercator, the transmission of our history to Earth. The moment I learned of it, her priorities shifted entirely.

Eridia’s place in the universe is but a single note in the vast symphony of time, yet few civilizations have shaped the stars as profoundly. Nowhere else have beings of all systems, planets, and races coexisted in such harmony—or struggled so fiercely to preserve it.

Eridia’s formation was made possible by a singular, defining truth—its atmosphere has no spatial limits. This, I suspect, will be the most difficult concept to convey to the Humans of Earth, whose understanding of existence remains bound to the rigid constraints of three-dimensional space. But to explain Eridia is not merely to describe its physics. It is to unravel the purpose behind its creation.

The Gilden civilization met its end with the close of the Star Seecher era, its grandeur reduced to ruin. At its height, the Gilden ruled from Aurum, the shining seat of their empire—an unrivaled center of science, culture, and governance. Yet power is seldom gained without conflict, and the Gilden forged many enemies in their ascent. Their rule was justified through faith. To them, conquest was not ambition but duty, sanctioned by the Seven Knights of Harmony—their celestial patrons, revered as the keepers of peace across the stars.

I will not burden you with the full account of the Gilden’s transgressions, but let history remember this—peace, when built upon subjugation, is no peace at all. The Gilden had their methods of silencing opposition, and under their rule, dissent rarely took root. Perhaps it was the absence of those who might have resisted. Perhaps it was the lingering fear they left in their wake. Either way, their dominion was seldom questioned—until the day it was.

As we usher in a new era—one where Earth at last awakens to the truths beyond its fragile skies—we must hold fast to Eridia’s mission: equity and justice for all. The biases we carry, the quiet contempt we may harbor for the people of Earth, must not cloud our purpose. If Eridia is to be what it claims—a beacon of unity—then we must extend that unity even to those who have only just opened their eyes to the greater universe. It is my hope that the words within these pages, whether read by Humans or otherwise, will serve not only as a record of history but as a mirror—one that compels every reader to examine themselves, their place in the stars, and the legacy they will leave behind.

What makes us the righteous keepers of the universe? Are we qualified to set the expectations for a civilization to enter the harsh political landscape of the universe? Is the title “Keepers of the Universe” sustainable? In a sense, what did the Gilden call themselves in their prime?

The defining characteristic of Eridia's inspiration lies in the autonomy afforded to each individual in determining their own future. In a society where equity prevails and information is freely accessible, we are entrusted with the collective responsibility of preserving these principles. The duty of being an informed and educated citizen is significant, yet it is a burden borne collectively by all. No civilization is without its challenges, and it is crucial to acknowledge this truth—both in the present and as we look toward the future.

Eternally questioning,

Adzalvius Poieo

Jinzu

The long hallway behind the door offers little comfort to Jinzu’s scattered mind. She takes one look back at the room, then steps forward into the uncertainty of the corridor. Colored lines adorn the walls and floor of the facility. Each one ending with an arrow and a word as the destination.

Central Command

Medbay

Officers’ Quarters

Kitchen

Elevator

Central Command is found at the end of the pink line. There are no decorations on the walls of the halls as she goes through them. Only the lines dare to break from the metallic monotony. The occasional sound comes only from the alarm still blurting out its heinous melody. The red lights that were in the medbay are strewn around the interior and serve as the only light sources as she walks.

At the end of the pink line there is a door. Instead of opening for her, as the one did inside of the medbay, it stays very shut. A terminal to the right of the door reads;

Insufficient Power

A few buttons are illuminated, one of them labeled;

Prioritize Connection

She presses it quickly and the console gives a short beep. A whirring sound emanates from the wall and suddenly the door opens. Inside of the room there are many screens flashing with different text and pictures. In the middle of the room there is a large table that serves as a horizontal computer screen. There are holographic images floating about of the facility. No surroundings are apparent, but there is a large red symbol on an area of the map labeled power generation . She touches that point and a display pops up.

Generator damaged. Main power distribution network offline. Unable to distribute full power generation through alternative wiring. Repair equipment located on Deck 2 in Room 354. Please consult with the engineering department.

She consults the map for a way to Deck 2. If there is anything that can help her learn more about her problem, it will need power to do so. Using the map she finds that she can find the elevator if she takes a different turn than the one she took before from the medbay. Before she leaves Central Command she steps over to another terminal. A crew manifest sits there patiently waiting to tell her what she already knows: the only name on the manifest is her own.

After a few deep breaths she heads to the elevator. Following the green line down the hallway takes her past a couple of rooms with names on their doors that must have been offices for the people that worked here. The red lights guide her to the elevator doors, and she presses the call button which illuminates with a blue glow. After a few short seconds there is a chime as the elevator door opens.

The wall opposite the doors of the elevator is only glass. The outside is mostly dark with little flecks of light passing through the veil. She isn’t sure where she is, but the night sky is beautiful regardless, however as she approaches the glass to get a full view of her surroundings the lack of ground sets her heart on fire. As she looks out into the vacuum of space, she feels more trapped than ever.

Before she can allow herself to sink too far down into a pool of dread she presses the button and heads to Deck 2. As the elevator lowers her chest sinks further into depression. Even the cheery chime notifying her of her arrival does no good to lessen the uneasiness. A couple of steps forward and the nauseousness kicks in, but before her legs give out, she soothes her mind with the hope of answers. Deck 2 is just as much of a maze as the first, but there are more rooms. Following the descending numbers from the elevator she eventually finds Room 354. The engineering department’s headquarters are quite unorganized. Documents lay across the tables and chairs are out in the middle of the room. There are a few lockers in the back with names and pictures on their doors.

On the door of the farthest locker from her there is a note with a small drawing of a family. In the handwriting of a young child there is a message left from her to her father.

We miss you back at home, Dad. I know you’re out there fighting the bad guys, but I can’t help but wonder why you can’t just stay here. What did they do that was so bad that they needed to take you away from me? I’ll be waiting for your return.

Love,

Keemia

The softhearted words of this young girl manages to brighten Jinzu’s spirits. This ship was clearly used for more than just her containment. Who were they fighting? A nearby cabinet holds repair equipment. Inside is a gun-like tool which she removes from the cabinet and pulls the trigger; small flames shoot out from the end. The rather advanced welder will surely assist her in repairing the ship’s generator. Luckily, a small manual lies at the bottom of the same cabinet.

The information within proves useful as far as the different modes and procedures for different types of repairs, labels for the different parts of the tool, and just about anything else she’d want to know about it. At least someone knew that it was important to leave some helpful guidance and knowledge. The rest of her time here had just been full of mystery.

She makes her way back to the control room. The blinking emergency indicator is still the most prevalent feature of the map. The blank surroundings now make sense, as space doesn’t offer much variety to demarcate the exterior. However, the emergency indicator is showing exterior damage. She’ll have to head outside.

Among the countless rooms of the ship she finds an armory. Inside there are dozens of lockers, each one of them containing the amenities and equipment of the soldiers that once served on board the great vessel. Many of the locker doors were adorned with the pictures of the soldiers’ families, and the interiors contained memorabilia from their homes. Each of the soldiers was assigned a space suit and weapon.

The space suits themselves were contained in a disc that deployed a pliable shell around the figure on which it was deployed. She pressed the disc to her chest and activated it. A hexagonal pattern envelops her body for a few seconds and then fades to translucent a moment later. The disc, now firmly attached to her chest, sports a pocket for the tools she is bringing with her on her excursion.

The airlock is only a few doors down from the armory. The short journey there grants her little time to realize the implications of what she is about to do. She could say with sincerity that she had no desire to do a spacewalk under any other circumstances. The inner doors of the airlock open as she approached. In their size and thickness they take a few seconds longer to open than the other doors she has passed through.

The inner airlock doors seal shut behind me. The pressure equalizes, and gravity fades. A countdown begins. She exhales sharply, gripping the metal railing beside me. Every instinct in her body screams to turn back, to stay inside the ship where there is air, sound, and warmth. But the outer doors hiss open.

Beyond the threshold, the universe stretches out in an infinite black abyss. The stars, so distant, feel frozen in time, unmoving. The sheer depth of the void makes her stomach churn. The glimpse she caught earlier had given her false confidence, and now that the depths of infinity lay in front of her, she feels smaller than ever. Indefinitely exposed.

The suit’s magnetic boots held her steady, anchoring herself to the exterior of the ship. She takes a careful step forward, then another, before finally releasing her death grip on the railing.

Taking a slow breath, she moved forward, pulling herself hand over hand along the ship’s hull. Ahead, a jagged hole in the generator causes sparks to fly violently. A medium-sized rock had ripped through the protective plating, leaving exposed wiring dangling into the vacuum. She steadied herself. One wrong movement, one careless push-off, and she could drift into nothingness. She gives the asteroid a tug, and it flies out into the void. Rebalancing, she draws the repair tool from her suit’s storage pocket, the manual’s instructions flashing through her paranoid mind. Step one: Secure the site.

She grips a loose panel and attempts to snap it back into place—but the impact has twisted the metal. A grimace hits her face. This wasn’t going to be easy. The ship’s electromagnetic shielding flickers as the damage continues to interfere with power distribution. Gripping the jagged metal edge while pulling, her suit’s viscous characteristics contort with her figure as she forces the plating back into position. A moment of weightlessness overtakes her as her boots lose grip, and her stomach lurches violently. Her hands scramble. A desperate, frantic grasp—then contact.

Her gloves lock onto the edge of the hull just before she can drift away. A sharp breath rasps through her helmet. “Focus,” she mutters to herself . With renewed determination, she ignites the welder. The blue flame flickers before stabilizing, cutting through the void like a beacon. Carefully, she moves the torch along the edges, fusing the plating back together.

She works quickly, sealing the final gash in the paneling. The last of the sparking wires secured, the power grid stabilizes.

Then—

A shadow flickers across her visor. Her breath stills. A movement—small, fast—just at the edge of her vision. She whips her head around. Another rock, tumbling slowly in the distance, passes by the hull. She lets out a shaky breath, forcing a short laugh at her own paranoia. Just a rock.

As she approaches the gargantuan doors, the ship’s airlock pulses green, signaling that power has been restored. Her fingers ache from gripping too tightly. Every muscle feels stiff. After the tedious, white-knuckled journey back, she finally allows herself to exhale, her posture easing for the first time since stepping outside.

With the ship now fully functional, the command center had fully flickered to life. She is greeted by an AI as she enters.

“Greetings captain. Welcome aboard the great Corondia, I am Minstrel.”

A blob-like entity hovers over the main console in the middle of the room.

“A captain, huh?”, she says with a sneer, “That’s what I am?”

The AI’s form contorts and ripples, processing her words.

“You are Jinzu, savior of the Uru people.”

She blinks. “Savior? I need a savior more than those Uru guys. Get me off this ship.”

Minstrel’s digital form flickered, adjusting its tone.

“Your father, Aelorin Prophirae, was a top advisor to the council on Aurum before its fall.”

Clenching her fists, Jinzu asks “Aurum. What the hell is Aurum?”

A long pause.

“The seat of the Uru Empire,” Minstrel admitted. “Or rather... it was.”

A slight crackle in its voice made it sound almost remorseful.

“Jinzu, you were meant to inherit a legacy. But the war changed everything.”

Her mind reels. The upload. The missing memories. The mission she never agreed to.

“Then tell me,” she says, straightening her back. “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“I sense some elevated emotions, so I won’t ramble. In short, I will help advise you on your way to the restoration of the Uru race. In order to get started you must rally some allies to our cause. Your father had told many of them to wait at Oasis in system 651-122025. Should I set our course?”

With a nod of her head a thrumming starts as the ship accelerates. On one of the monitors to the left, she watches the exterior camera’s view. The jump to lightspeed warps the stars into linear trails. In a flash all of the stars are gone, and the silhouette of a planet obscures the view. The system’s star peeks out from around the right side of the planet. The star’s brilliant blue glow serves as a backdrop for countless ships entering and exiting the planet’s atmosphere.

“Shall I direct you to the cargo bay captain?” Minstrel asks.

A puzzled look crosses her face.

“Why would I need to go there? Can’t you just put us down on the planet’s surface?”

“The Corondia is too large to enter any public spaceport. You will need to take a shuttle.”

Minstrel directs her to the ship’s large hangar. Inside, countless ships await to serve anyone in need of transportation. The most common model has a door to the back with text on the side.

Midas Technologies - AU196

The model number’s yellow color accents the deep black of the hull. The wings of the aircraft culminate in thrusters at the end of each of them. The back door automatically opens as she approaches and boards the ship. Inside there is a medium sized space with lockers along the walls and seats that would suffice for about a dozen people.

She takes her seat in one of the chairs in the cockpit, where Minstrel kicks in and prepares the ship for take off. As the electronics boot up for the first time in ages, mechanical noises emanate from every direction in the cabin. Short whir after long hiss awaken the beast of a machine and the thrusters activate. They ferry out of the ship and head towards the planet.

About the Author

I started writing recreationally during COVID and found myself mapping out a storyline for a long work with multiple entries and side stories. I am inspired by writers like J.R.R. Tolkien, Philip K. Dick, and Frank Herbert. As far as literary devices, I am a writer that likes people to reread. Many of the details are pivotal hints to the larger story, and I use allusion, imagery, and foreshadowing throughout the entire piece. You will also see blatant rhetorical questions asked about in universe events that may pertain to the world we live in today. This sets up the events of the novel The Eridian Scrolls with the introduction of the setting and timeline. The story has changed throughout the progression of the novel because I have found other images or questions that I want the reader to see/ask about themselves or the world we live in.

Instagram: @theshortirishman

Cover design created using Canva design tools.