Chapter 2 | Dakota Williamson

  “Oh, Kota, you look great!” Mams pinches my cheek, grinning ear to ear. I try not to wince, but she’s got a strong grip for someone her age. My grandpa chuckles from his chair, watching with a knowing smile.

  “I told you he’d clean up nice,” Pops says, arms crossed over his chest. “Kid’s a Williamson, after all.”

  Mams finally releases me, straightening the collar of my jacket. Today’s the day. The induction ceremony for the 4th Colony’s new military recruits is right around the corner. I glance at the mirror behind her and barely recognize myself in the ceremonial uniform. It’s crisp, the deep green fabric tailored to fit just right. The gold accents gleam under the living room lights. It looks just like my dad’s old uniforms.

  “Thanks, Mams,” I say with a smile, trying not to let my nerves show. I point to a framed photograph on the counter, the one from my dad’s induction day. He’s standing tall in his uniform, grinning in the same way I am now. “I know where I get it from.”

  A familiar pang settles in my chest. My father should be here for this. But he’s not.

  After my dad disappeared, I made it my mission to join the military and find out what happened to him. Maybe it’s foolish since no one’s been able to track him down for over a decade. But I have to try. My grandparents have never questioned me on it, never tried to steer me in a different direction. They’ve been my biggest supporters from the moment I announced my plans.

  Pops sighs, rubbing his graying beard. “Your father was one of the best soldiers this colony’s ever had. Just like my old man, just like me.” He pats my shoulder. “And I have no doubt you’ll carry on that legacy.”

  “Your parents would be so proud, Kota.” Mams steps forward and pulls me into a hug, holding on tight. “And we are too.” I hug her back, feeling the warmth of her embrace. I know they mean it.

  * * *

  The aqua-rail station is packed with recruits and their families, all waiting for the train to the Center Colony. The air is filled with chatter, nervous excitement, and the occasional clatter of luggage being wheeled across the platform.

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  My grandpa has his phone out, scrolling through old photos with a fond expression. Every few minutes, he shoves the screen in my direction. “Look at this one,” he says, showing me a blurry shot of him and his buddies on their own induction day. Their uniforms were a darker shade of green back then- forest green instead of the Dartmouth hue mine and my father’s had been. “Back in my day, the ceremony was a little less flashy. Less speeches, more action. But it’s good to see some traditions still stick.”

  Mams shakes her head. “You say that like you weren’t standing at attention, shaking in your boots.”

  Pops scoffs. “I was composed.”

  “I’m sure you were.”

  The announcement chime echoes through the station, signaling the rail’s approach. “We’ve got a moment before the rail gets here. Let’s take a picture!” Pops says, already opening his camera app. “It won’t be your induction day forever.”

  I nod, standing between them as we pose for the shot. Mams beams with pride, her grip firm on my arm. Pops gives a confident smile. I try to match their enthusiasm, but my mind is already on the ceremony ahead.

  The rail glides into the station with a low hum, water cascading off the sleek metal exterior. Steam hisses as the doors slide open, revealing rows of cushioned seats inside. We step in, finding a spot near the window.

  The aquarails were one of the first inventions they taught us about in school. The colonies are separated by reinforced walls and towering pillars, designed to keep the ocean at bay. When the colonies were first built, those same structures became the foundation for a high-speed transportation system. Water pressure fuels the rail system, pushing the cars along the overhead tracks like veins through the city. The Center Colony is the hub—every train passes through it before continuing to its next destination. Luckily for us, that’s exactly where we need to go.

  The ride is smooth, the faint vibrations of the rail humming beneath my feet. Through the window, I catch glimpses of the ocean beyond the colony walls, shimmering under the afternoon sun. The sight always reminds me of my dad.

  Twelve years. That’s how long he’s been gone. The official reports say he disappeared in action, but no one ever found a body. No traces, no solid leads. Just… gone. I clench my fists, determination settling in my gut. I won’t let his story end like that.

  Twenty minutes later, the rail slows as we approach the Center Colony. The skyline is different here. Taller buildings, flashing billboards, and I sense a bit of authority woven into its architecture. The heart of the colonies. The place where decisions are made, where futures are shaped. And where mine is about to begin.