Spark in the Stars

by Foster Bridget Cassidy

  She nodded. “I’m going to bed now too. I’ll get you up in time for a bite to eat.”

  “Thanks, Angela.”

  It was Gin’s turn for the ladder, so he took to the metal rungs. At the bridge, he exited and started for the elevator. Nearly there, he glanced around the room, looking for Captain Lian. Gin spotted him immediately. He stood by his table, his eyes glued to Gin.

  Gin quickly looked away, afraid the captain was still angry. When he risked another glance up, Captain Lian still gazed at Gin. His face appeared calm, not angry, but the captain was obviously good at keeping his emotions in check. In fact, like this, with the crew all around, and the metal stations fanning out from his epicenter, Captain Lian seemed to be radiating power and competence. His gently folded arms gave off an air of superiority. His keen green eyes held intelligence and a hint of cunning.

  Hell and high heaven. The captain is gorgeous!

  Gin almost ran into Syrin as he waited for the elevator to descend to their level. Luckily, Syrin spun around in time and stopped Gin with a gentle hand. Face burning with embarrassment, Gin cast another glance at the captain. He was still looking.

  “I think Captain’s ready for round two, Temina,” Angela whispered to his left.

  Jumping, Gin turned on her, his stutters unintelligible.

  She laughed, then followed Syrin into the elevator.

  Gin didn’t have the guts to turn around for one last glance.

  The elevator doors shut and the metal tube shot up.

  “Hey, guys,” Gin said hesitantly. “Would you mind calling me Gin? It’s one of the nicknames my dad gave me, and it’s a lot more comforting than Temina.”

  “Sure,” Syrin said immediately.

  “How is Gin short for Temina?” Angela asked.

  “I, uh, I’m not sure. He died when I was eight. It’s an old family tradition, but I don’t know its roots.”

  Angela nodded. “Sorry for your loss.”

  Gin shrugged.

  The elevator door opened at Stop and Syrin got out. “I’ll be quiet coming in so I don’t wake you. I’m going to call home before we jump.”

  “See you,” Angela said with a wave. Then she tapped the button for Bunks.

  “You like him,” Gin observed.

  Angela’s shoulders stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

  “When he mentioned calling home, your eyebrows twitched. He has a lover back there?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No, he doesn’t. He calls to check up on his siblings. You heard him, fifteen in the litter.”

  “What’s stopping you from making your move?”

  “His family’s traditional. They’d never tolerate him being with a human.”

  “Hm,” Gin said, fingering his hair band. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. And his family is very important to him. He’d never choose a relationship that would put any sort of distance between them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not the only one on this ship that’s not getting laid. In fact, you might be the only one currently getting some.”

  Gin shut his eyes tight. “I didn’t do anything like that with the captain.”

  “Oh, then what other reason did you have to visit his room?”

  “It was an emergency call from my sister, if you must know. Everything’s all right now, but the captain allowed me some time to sort things out with her.”

  “She was pissed you’d abandoned her?”

  “Pretty much.”

  The elevator door opened and they went to their bunk. Gin wasted no time in stripping off his clothes and sending them down the laundry chute. He changed into a grease-stained shirt from home and a pair of faded jogging pants. The room was a little cold.

  “You’ll get the lights?” he asked as he climbed into his bed and shuffled under his blanket.

  “Got it.” She hit a switch beside the door, then the sounds of her climbing into her bed reached his ears.

  “Good night, Angela,” he said.

  “It’s about ten in the morning.”

  “Good morning, Angela.”

  She chuckled. “Good morning, Gin.”

  Chapter 11

  GIN PULLED on the hem of his jacket, delaying as much as he dared. He’d have to go in sooner or later. It made no sense to dally. But summoning the courage to go through the door was harder than he’d imagined.

  While he still struggled with himself, the door opened, and Doc stood on the other side.

  “Hello, Gin,” she greeted happily, reaching out to grasp his elbow. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  Gulping audibly, he allowed her to pull him into sickbay.

  “Have a seat,” she instructed, gesturing to a chair.

  He glanced around the room, noting one figure on the farthest bed. Doc noticed his stare and answered his unspoken question.

  “Stomach flu. Usually at port we get a few cases of these kinds of things. Easy fix. A quick brew of peppermint and ginger. He’ll be up on his feet in another hour. But for now, keep your voice down so he can nap.”

  “Sure, Doc.” Gin sank into the chair and gazed up at her. She appeared perfectly human, but the knowledge she was Quifante made Gin think he could spot a difference. Her hair, long and graying, lay flat, except for a little fringe on her forehead that curled under. Green eyes, nearly as bright as the captain’s, regarded Gin with interest.

  Like the first time he’d visited here—had that only been two days ago?—his throat felt tight and dry. “Uh,” he said, “you wanted to talk to me?”

  She smiled, but it looked more predatory, a dog showing its teeth as a warning. “I’ve been monitoring your activity with interest.”

  “Doc, you vouched for me! You can’t possibly believe I’m dangerous.”

  “Not dangerous to the crew, no. But dangerous to yourself? Yes.” She picked up a paper off the counter and scanned it. “You’ve slept eight hours, total, since you’ve been aboard the Bethany. You do realize humans need eight hours each day?”

  “But, Doc, the engines are fascinating. And I have so much left to learn.”

  “And,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “you’ve neglected your thirty minutes of cardio every other day. I’m sure you’ve been warned about how life in zero gravity affects a body.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You,” she cut in, “are the Class Three Mechanic. You are the most senior member in the engine room. You set the example for the others. You are the standard to which all those below you should be held.”

  Gin lowered his chin.

  “Especially considering the trouble you’ve already caused, I expected you to be a model crewmember. What can I say to convince you to follow the rules?”

  When he looked up, her gaze was on him.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

  The smile she flashed was a lot softer, friendlier. “Good answer. I want you to sleep at least five hours between each shift. And you do need thirty minutes of cardio.”

  “Yes, Doc.”

  “I’m glad we had this chat. Now, run along.”

  Gin hesitated. He’d wanted to sit down and talk candidly with a humanoid. There were plenty of opportunities with Syrin in the engine room, but then, Gin didn’t want to turn it personal. And their meals afterward were usually filled with sharing strange or funny stories, not the time for a serious discussion on prejudices and unfair treatment. Doc, however, could handle the tough subject matter, he was sure. “Uh, Doc? Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “Is it about your symptoms?”

  He tilted his head. “Symptoms?”

  “Lian said you call it a spark. Though the technical name is kiipina.”

  Gin’s mouth fell open. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your electrical discharge. It’s quite common for youths to lack the control needed to keep it from interfering in daily life. Your parents died while you were still so young, but I’m
surprised your sister didn’t teach you.”

  “Doc, you’re not making any sense. Temmy doesn’t have the spark like I do. Neither did Mom or Dad.”

  She fingered her chin. “So the trait must go back several generations and skipped all but you. How interesting. I wish I could look more closely at your genealogy, to see where your Valkean blood came from.”

  “Valkean?” Gin squeaked. “As in the humanoids from the far reaches of the Aldebaran star system? You’re crazy, Doc!”

  She blinked at him several times, all signs of polite curiosity gone. Her gaze bored into him. “Gin, are you saying you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “One of your grandparents, or maybe even great-grandparents, was a Valkea. Your symptoms align with their maturity rate—though yours is a bit wild yet due to your… lack of knowledge.”

  Gin laughed. His head rolled back and his full-bellied guffaw echoed off the metal walls. His stomach hurt from the tremors and he had to lean over to support his body. He wheezed until water leaked from his eyes.

  He’d almost fallen for it. He’d almost taken her bait. No, he was wise to her tactic. He’d experienced it firsthand when forced into the physical. But he’d also heard whispers of others avoiding Doc at all cost. Because she liked to play pranks.

  “Gin?” She touched his shoulder.

  He sat up and let out one final sigh. The tears in his eyes fogged his vision, so he wiped them away with his finger. “That was great, Doc. You almost had me.”

  “Gin?”

  He waved her away and groaned. He’d feel the pain of this tomorrow. His abs would be sore all day.

  “Gin, I’m not joking. Here’s your bloodwork.”

  She grabbed a pile of papers off the counter and gingerly held them out to him.

  She wasn’t joking? He grabbed the papers and scanned them. His name, his weight, his blood type. His cholesterol. Red blood cell count. Protein levels. It was all nonsense to him.

  “Here.” Doc pointed to the bottom where a diagram showed a spiral of DNA. “Of the twenty known races in the galaxy, humans are compatible with half. Humans, Quifante, Valkea, Toltec. We all share the same number of chromosomes and have very similar genomes. This detail is the leading factor in many races believing in Pip—or one of the other celestial deities. It’s too much a coincidence for these races to develop hundreds of light years apart and still be able to procreate.”

  Gin couldn’t seem to draw air into his lungs.

  “If you look at this, you can see the human DNA mixed with Valkea DNA. Since your parents and sister don’t have the kiipina, it shows the gene is further back in your ancestry pool. You really had no idea this was a possibility?”

  Gin stared down at the red-and-blue spiral. This was not happening. It wasn’t possible. His mom’s parents had lived in Tallahassee all their lives—they’d come from a long line of farmers. And Dad’s parents had moved to Tallahassee from Atlanta when Dad was little. Their parents, though, could have come from anywhere. He had no way of knowing how far back this went.

  “It’s not true,” he said weakly. “You faked these papers. You’re trying to trick me.”

  She gripped his wrist and he flinched from her touch. Still, she didn’t pull away. “I’m not, Gin. I honestly didn’t know you were unaware. This complicates things. No wonder your spark runs wild.”

  Gin stood up, his legs so shaky he almost collapsed back into the chair. “I need to get out of here, Doc. Can I go?”

  “Of course.”

  He wobbled to the door.

  “Come back if you want to talk, Gin. I can help.”

  He waved a hand but didn’t comment. A mix? He was a mix? So was Temmy, but her genetics weren’t as screwy as his. Mom or Dad? Which one of them had given him this damned blood?

  In a daze, he made his way up to his room. Betha and Tesseen were in bed, sound asleep. That meant it was first shift still. It seemed he was in sickbay for hours, but maybe only a few minutes had gone by.

  Stripping off his clothing, Gin piled them beside his bed. He climbed under the covers and with the darkness to hide him, he gave in to his weakness. His whole body shook and he clamped his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

  A mix. How was it possible?

  He stayed curled under the blanket even when Betha and Tesseen rose for their shift. Even when Angela and Syrin came to rest themselves. He wanted to sleep, to go to a place where he didn’t have to think about anything, but his mind couldn’t surrender to the release. It kept repeating over and over, I’m a mix.

  It wasn’t that being a mix was a bad thing. Oh, many people back home had a narrow view on the subject, but Gin’d never believed it himself. No, the problem was he thought he knew himself. To find out he had blood inside his body that had been born under the orange light of Aldebaran was surreal. His mind could not grasp the possibility.

  My spark. All this time I’ve known it is real.

  What was he supposed to do now?

  Chapter 12

  LIAN LEANED his hands against the table, adrenaline pumping blood quickly through his veins. Before him, the beautiful and terrifying tendrils of the wormhole swirled. The binders revealed the view, and everyone except him averted their eyes. He never missed a chance to look upon such a sight, despite how it upset his crew.

  The swirling bits of black and gray were an illusion, added by the architects to define the wormhole from the space around it. To Lian, it looked like the hand of Pip, stretched out in welcome. He firmly believed the celestial god aided the architects in this work. Connecting the star systems brought the many species together, allowing them to spread goodwill and unity deeper into the galaxy. Lian, himself, felt like an orchestrator in that grand scheme, being one of the few within Regulation to offer the branch of peace to their fellows among the stars.

  Trish laughed at him when he spoke of such things. Doc did too, though she at least tried to hide it. Even in the face of their ridicule, he still felt close to Pip in moments like these. As the ship moved toward the wormhole, Lian could swear he felt the god’s touch upon his heart and soul.

  Gin would love to see this, Lian thought suddenly, his eyes roaming over the different tendrils as they shifted from gray to black to blue, then back again. That first time, in the pitch, Gin had stared out into the darkness with awe, not shying away as many other humans did. The mechanic would appreciate this beauty and mystery.

  Lian almost tapped on his call badge to ask Gin to the bridge, but hesitated. It would all be over in a matter of seconds; he wouldn’t make it in time. Besides, it would look odd for Lian to summon the man here. Maybe it could be arranged for the trip home.

  “Can we close the binder now, sir?” Trish asked.

  Giving himself a shake, Lian stood up completely. They’d passed through the wormhole successfully and the dark expanse—with a light sprinkle of faraway stars—filled the view.

  “Go ahead, Commander.”

  The rest of the crew shared a sigh of relief. Trish pressed a series of buttons on her console and the binder slid shut. When he’d been aboard the Olton, serving under his mother, Annie, the binders had been open constantly. The crew adjusted, in time. Lian could apply the same tactic with this bunch, but thought they might mutiny if he tried.

  Gin really would enjoy it. He’d have to find an excuse to get the mechanic on the bridge sometime soon.

  “Captain?” came Mother’s voice from the badge on his wrist.

  “Go ahead, Doc.”

  “I was wondering if I could speak to you in private.”

  He nearly smirked. She’d timed her request until after the wormhole. She knew he enjoyed watching. “How private?”

  “It’s about Gin.”

  Lian stiffened. Had the mechanic finally shown his true colors? Was he trying to kill them all?

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” Mother added, rightly guessing where Lian’s thoughts would go first. “It’s about his bloodwor
k.”

  He hesitated. Things on the bridge would be in flux for the next few hours due to the wormhole. They lost two months, Earth time. Communications would be processing now. Important information may be coming from Headquarters at any moment.

  In a very uncharacteristic tone, Mother said, “Please?”

  The plea in her voice convinced him it was important. “I’ll be right there.” He turned to Trish. “You have command of the bridge till I get back. If any messages from Admiral Alejaro come through, patch them to sickbay.”

  Trish nodded, not looking up from her screen.

  Lian headed to sickbay. He expected Gin to be in one of the beds, sick from the way he’d been pushing himself. Doc had shared her report on the mechanic’s activities since he was outed as a fraud. He wasn’t sure why she was in Gin’s corner so swiftly. She never took to new recruits like this.

  No, Gin wasn’t there, but Angela was. She sat on the edge of the closest bed, chewing on her fingernail. When he approached, she looked up at him as if noticing him for the first time.

  “Angie? You okay?” He pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

  She sighed heavily and her shoulders slumped farther. “I’m fine. It’s Gin I’m worried about. He hasn’t eaten all day. He got out of bed for a few hours to do a shift in the engine room, then he left real quick. After a few minutes, I went up to bunk to check on him and he was back under his covers, shaking.”

  Lian glanced at Doc. “Is he ill?”

  A sad smile curved up Doc’s lips. “Not sick, no. Something much worse. I tried to help him yesterday, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Since Angie’s brought it up as well, I figured it was time to get you involved.”

  “Why involve me?”

  Now it was Doc’s turn to sigh. “Patient confidentiality being what it is, I’m not at liberty to say. However, since Gin made a point of waking Elliot who was in here recuperating from stomach flu, I’m sure the gossip will be all over by tomorrow.”

  She paused for dramatic effect. “Gin is part Valkea.”

  Lian was grateful he already had his ass planted in a chair. Gin a mix? But he’d grown up in the most distant place within the whole Federation. Humanoids didn’t wind up in such locations.