Spark in the Stars

by Foster Bridget Cassidy

  Once Gin was unbuckled, she grasped his elbow and pulled him to his feet. Her strength surprised him. About his height, she didn’t appear particularly muscular or intimidating. Her crisp uniform must be hiding it all.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He followed her and the captain out of the pitch on wobbly legs. Outside, he wasn’t given a moment to recover from the shock of landing. The sights around him were just as oppressive. Tallahassee had ruins of buildings—left from the era before the Dramman Federation’s strict rule—but even those didn’t compare to the skyscrapers that towered over the paved lot he stood in. Gin had no idea how Captain Hartford even landed on this narrow parking strip. As he gazed up, trying to figure the accuracy needed to accomplish such a feat, Commander Williams pulled on his sleeve.

  “Careful where you walk,” she said.

  A moment later, another craft was settling beside their pitch.

  Gin’s mind boggled.

  “It can be a bit overwhelming,” the captain said, moving to Gin’s other side. The two boxed him in, likely expecting him to faint at any moment.

  The embarrassment that accompanied the thought cleared Gin’s mind. The amazement and wonder still lingered, but he kept it in check, determined not to pass out his first hour on the mission.

  To help him focus, he turned his eyes down, keeping watch on the tips of his black boots. The city still pressed in on him. He could almost feel its many eyes upon his back.

  “Good thing we didn’t land at night,” Williams added. “The lights make it ten times worse.”

  Gin grunted, happy for the small blessing.

  He let his steps match those of the captain and commander. They’d naturally fallen into a steady march. They were Order of Right, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been trained in some of the Order of Valor’s ways. Gin didn’t know how interwoven the armada’s classifications were. The Order of Way was the third and final branch, but each group had suborders within them. School only taught the basics: Valor was the military, Right made treaties, and Way focused on human colonization.

  They moved into the shadow of one of the buildings and Gin shivered. Once he went inside, there was no backtracking. He’d made up his mind to try this, but he still quivered at the possibility of discovery. They wouldn’t go easy on him if that happened.

  Gin risked a glance up when they reached the door to Regulation headquarters. The opening split down the center automatically as they approached. A few people slipped out, going the opposite direction, and another fell in behind them, entering the building, too. The doors led to a lobby—like Dr. Lisst’s office back home, but on an astronomical scale. The desk where a receptioner would sit was nearly as wide as the entire building, and twenty or thirty workers stood behind it. They wore the same gray uniforms Hartford and Williams wore, but they somehow looked different. It took a moment for Gin to realize the subtle difference. The receptioners wore a uniform because it was a sign of their station; they were required to. For the captain and his commander, the uniform was their way of life, a line that connected them back to their ship and their mission. Gin hadn’t realized how well the fabric fit Captain Hartford—like it was an extension of his body—until he had these workers to compare it to.

  They followed the flow of the crowd and joined the end of a queue. A couple dozen people stood before them, but the line moved swiftly.

  “What happens here?” Gin asked, hoping they’d attribute his shaking voice to the unbearable press of people.

  “It should be quick,” the captain said. “We’ve already done the preliminary background check on you. A registrar will check it all over and get your clearance status updated.”

  Commander Williams added, “They’ll need to see your Federation ID card.”

  Gin swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “I, uh, left my ID card at home. I didn’t think to grab it.”

  She shrugged. “Any ID will do, Temina.”

  “Uh….”

  She smirked at him. “You don’t have that either?”

  “There’s no reason to carry any in Tallahassee. Everyone knows who I am.”

  The captain frowned. “It’s not a big deal, Temina, but you really should have realized you’d need it here. Our registrar can pull your record up with your thumb.”

  Gin’s eyes went wide.

  Captain Hartford misunderstood his sudden terror. “It’s not a blood draw, like they used to do. It’s just a scan.”

  A scan would pull up his ID, not Temmy’s. He was screwed. He should have realized he wouldn’t get further than this.

  The line moved and he let himself follow the captain.

  “Once this is done,” Williams said to the captain, “we’ll have to round up everyone else. Milton might be hard to extricate.”

  Hartford scoffed. “I’ll send an alert to Candi the moment we leave. She’ll handle anyone who isn’t on the ship in time.”

  “Sure that’s wise, sir? In her current state?”

  Gin perked up at that. What was her current state? Did she have bionic arms due to a space battle? Or maybe a brain implant to meld her with a Worian monk?

  “I’d be more concerned for Milton or any others she catches,” the captain said. “Her pregnancy has made her more vicious. Plus, the crew is well informed of my desire to leave Earth quickly. I don’t foresee any problems.”

  “You never do,” the commander retorted, but under her breath so Hartford didn’t hear. She met Gin’s eye and flashed him a quick smile. The simple gesture hinted at her personal relationship with the captain. They were friends. Maybe more.

  Gin looked back to the captain, appraising his expressionless eyes and blank face. The hint of humanity he’d shown in the pitch had disappeared. Not Gin’s type of guy.

  Stop thinking about that. The only guys you’ll have to worry over will be your bunkmates in federal prison.

  He flinched at the thought. He was too pretty for jail.

  They moved to the front of the line, then were immediately summoned to a receptioner. An older woman, with a professional smile plastered to her blue-painted lips. “Welcome, Captain. What may I help you with?”

  Hartford handed over the paperwork. “Need to add a crew member.”

  She ruffled through the pages, then gave Gin an appraising look. Did they have a picture already? Regardless, she nodded, then handed the papers back to the captain. Next, she hit a button on her terminal and it printed out a plastic badge that read Temina Oshwald—Visitor. She gave it to Gin and he clipped it to his shirt.

  To the captain, she said, “Head through Terminal Five. The lines are pretty short currently.” Then her smile was anything but forced.

  Hartford failed to see her hopeful eyelash-flutter and turned away with a quickly uttered, “Thanks.”

  Commander Williams rolled her eyes, but followed after him. Gin brought up the rear this time.

  They ventured farther into the building, the crowd thinning considerably. Most flowed through the first two walkways. Gin guessed that was where people wanting to join a colony headed, based on the packs the people carried. So many desperate to flee Earth. Gin couldn’t understand it. Oh, he was anxious to leave, but not for the same reasons as those people. He liked Earth. He liked Tallahassee. He liked his friends and family. If Temmy hadn’t forced his hand, he would have been content to live his life never seeing the far reaches of the universe.

  One group heading through the second terminal caught his eye, a young man with a sack over his shoulder and woman with a baby held tight in her arms, holding hands as they hurried along with the crowd. Taking a little one into space. With human outposts ranging through five different star systems, the need for colonists was high. They gave great incentives for those crazy enough to accept. Those poor people had to be desperate.

  Gin, the captain, and the commander finally reached the entrance to Terminal Five. Captain Hartford pulled a badge from inside Gin’s paperwork and scanned it as he walked by the b
arrier. Commander Williams did likewise. Mimicking his betters, Gin scanned the visitor badge they gave him. No alarm bells went off, so he figured he’d done it right.

  The terminal was a long hallway with an elevator at the far end. The length of it suggested this section had been busier at one point. With the rush for colonists to get off Earth, why wasn’t there an equal amount wanting to join the armada? Maybe he had made the wrong decision. Maybe he should have followed after that couple.

  When they reached the elevator and walked inside, the captain held the door open for two others to join them. Decent of him, especially since he almost shook with impatience. Gin couldn’t discern much about the man, but it was obvious he was in a bad mood.

  The elevator dinged softly, then shot upward. The numbers displayed atop the door blurred as they sped past. It finally slowed around thirty, continuing at a moderate pace—enough that Gin could make out the digits. It eventually stopped at the fifty-second floor.

  Gin hurried out with the others, trying to match the captain’s gait. The room was smaller than he’d anticipated, with low ceilings that pressed down, giving the space an oppressive feeling. Another line formed off to the right, barricaded with metal poles and strips of ribbon between them. Captain Hartford headed that way while their companions in the elevator went left—toward a cluster of tiny cubicles. The soft chatter was like bees around a hive—hinting at the vast number of people hidden by the dividers.

  “Keep up,” the captain said, and Gin realized he was gawking. He gave himself a mental shake and went after Hartford.

  The line was empty, so they were summoned forward as soon as they reached the front.

  “Papers,” the registrar said, holding his gnarled hand out. Their weathered state hinted at a past job that required more strength than passing papers to and fro.

  The captain slid the file across the counter.

  Maybe this is just the way people are in Franklin. Brief, to the point, and with no wasted breath. Gin didn’t like it. A little small talk eased the tension—which was probably why this room felt so stifling.

  The older man, his wrinkled brow scrunching farther as he peered at the print, looked over Temmy’s file.

  Gin could guess what it said. Temmy had excelled in her studies and graduated at the top of her class. She’d been working at the garage since she was eight—Dad trusted her to fix equipment Gin still wasn’t allowed to touch. She was a genius. Brilliant. Perfect.

  “This looks in order,” the registrar said. “ID?” He held out his hand to Gin this time.

  “He doesn’t have it,” Captain Hartford said. “We’ll have to do a thumbprint scan.”

  The registrar glared and muttered about wasting time—which made no sense as there was no one in line behind them—then bent under the counter and reemerged with a circular pad. After he blew off a thin layer of dust, he placed it on the space in front of Gin.

  “Place your thumb in the center,” he instructed.

  Gin fidgeted. Once this went through, they’d see it was really him.

  “Should I wash my hands first? They’re covered in grease.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed even more. “Put your finger on the pad or get out.”

  Hell and high heaven! The man must have been demoted to this lowly position—a spaceliner captain fired in his prime to serve out the rest of his years as a desk clerk. That would make anyone moody, Gin supposed.

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Gin raised his thumb to the metal pad.

  He’d forgotten to touch his rubber bands.

  The spark leapt from his skin and sank into the print reader. It instantly heated up.

  Gin pulled back with a yelp, the device already hot enough to scorch.

  “What the—?” Captain Hartford said a moment before the scanner started to emit smoke. Then the sharp command of a seasoned officer snapped into his voice. “Grab an extinguisher! Quick!”

  The old man scrambled behind him, but it was too late; the alarm overhead already sounded. Naturally, the sprinklers followed.

  Chapter 5

  LIAN USED a frown to cover his embarrassment. He couldn’t believe that the Regulation building itself could have faulty wiring. They were in charge of almost every aspect of life on this planet and to have something like this happen here of all places was shameful.

  The whole building had been evacuated. The ensuing chaos set them back an hour. They eventually deemed the building safe and set electricians to fixing the problem, but that didn’t gain him back his lost time.

  Once they’d been allowed back inside, the registrar had simply pulled up Temina’s records by his ID number—which he obviously knew by heart—and they’d proceeded with getting his paperwork signed without any further problems.

  “Clear for go,” Trish said, flipping the button in the pitch. They shot upward, though not very high. The harbor was only a few kilometers down the road. While Trish navigated the craft through the buildings, Lian cast a glance backward at their newest member.

  “You’re awful quiet,” Lian said. They hadn’t put on their helmets for the short flight.

  Temina glanced at him, but quickly averted his eyes. “I feel bad about what happened, Captain.”

  A curious response, but the man did seem to have a timid streak. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He shrugged.

  “Since you’ve been given the necessary clearance, I can tell you about our mission.”

  That perked him up. He nodded eagerly.

  “We’re heading to the planet Feiwei, the Galactic Coalition’s stronghold within the Adora solar system, to negotiate a peace treaty with the Dalmin.”

  “The Dalmin?” Temina exclaimed. “That’s a suicide mission, Captain! The Dalmin are ruthless brutes who kill everything they see!”

  Lian scowled. “Temina, have you ever met a Dalmin?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then I don’t think you’re capable of saying what they’re like. They do tend to be aggressive—but that could be said about humanity, as well. Many humanoid races thought us brainless barbarians when we first encountered them.”

  Temina’s outrage deflated. “I guess that’s true.”

  “The point is you can’t judge humanoid races based on rumors. I’ve had several meetings with Dalmin in the past, and they are logical and intelligent. They care very much for their society and their people—which all species do.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, Captain.”

  Lian relaxed his features. Temina, though twenty-one years old, still had a lot of learning to do. He’d lived a sheltered life in that decrepit place he called home.

  The problem was Lian had a seasoned crew. Most had served in the Order of Valor before switching to the Order of Right. They were accustomed to the hierarchy of the military, trained to taking commands from one leader. Temina had been living alone with his sister. Lian would have to deal with him differently than his other members until he acclimated.

  “It’s understandable that you don’t know a lot about the different humanoid cultures. We have a library on the Bethany. You can read up on the Dalmin, if you’d like.”

  Temina nodded. “So, we meet the Dalmin and make peace with them. Then what?”

  “A peace treaty with the Dalmin can lead to substantial trade deals between our two races. Federation is particularly interested in trading for information. The Dalmin home world is a rocky planet, full of ores and metals, which they mine. Along with that, they are esteemed alchemists, able to heat and mix metals beyond what our technology allows. Having access to that knowledge would further our goals.”

  “And this is going to take six months?”

  The pitch bumped slightly as Trish landed it. She cut off the engine, then turned to Temina.

  “It gets tricky in space, Temina. When we take the Bloom Wormhole, we instantly lose two months, Earth time. So even the process of going there and back takes four months.”

  Temina wrinkled his
nose. “I understand the properties of wormholes, Commander. I just don’t understand how it could take so long to come to an agreement.”

  Lian said, “There are many protocols we need to follow. Rituals to observe. There’s also the language barrier. I’m fluent in the Dalmin language, but we still need to take our time to avoid misunderstandings. Then we need to establish what we want, and what we’re willing to give in return. It doesn’t happen in a day or two.”

  Temina fondled his hair tie before he unbuckled his seat belt and stood up. “Sounds too complicated, sir. When dealing with tricky customers, the ones who try to haggle over the price of fixing their chaser, we had to stand firm. Not let them dictate or demand.”

  That was an overly simplistic view. “That may be, Temina, but here, the Dalmin are the ones with the information we want. They are the ones who will stand firm.”

  That must have stumped him because Temina raised his fingers to his lips and quieted.

  Trish hit the button to open the door and Temina jumped out. Lian followed, his eyes instinctively finding the Bethany. She was toward the middle of the harbor, with several crafts to her left and right. None were even close to being as beautiful, though.

  Temina took his bag from Trish and hung it over his shoulder. He walked up to Lian. “Which one is the Bethany?”

  “There.” Lian pointed. She was easy to pick out. Her design was very different from the armada fleet vessels. She looked like an inverted bowl, rounded on the top and flat on the bottom. Not fancy, like the Olton had been, but unique and practical. He loved her more than words could say.

  “She’s beautiful,” Temina said, his voice soft.

  Lian felt a small quiver in his heart. No one, besides himself, had ever called her beautiful. He shouldn’t be surprised Temina understood the details and precision that went into a craft like the Bethany. He’d been equally as thrilled just to see the engine of the pitch.

  Lian’s adrenaline sped up knowing he’d soon be home. “Wait till you see what’s inside. She’s amazing.”