Chapter 2
TWO
NAVIRA
The sound of heels clicking against tile cut through her brooding like a knife.
Sharp, purposeful steps that didn’t belong in an aquatic center.
Navira looked up to see a petite woman approaching, her snow-white bob perfectly styled despite the humidity in the air.
She wore a designer pantsuit in bright yellow, and confidence radiated from every precise movement.
“I was wondering how long it would take you to realize you still belong in the water.”
The woman’s voice carried a warmth that felt oddly familiar, though Navira was certain they’d never met. Her eyes were an unusual shade—bright blue that seemed to shift toward gold in the fluorescent light.
“I’m sorry, but the pool is closed to visitors.” Navira stood, instinctively pulling her towel tighter. “If you’re looking for public swimming—”
“Oh, honey, I’m not here for a workout. I’m here for you.” She extended a manicured hand. “Gerri Wilder.”
Navira shook the offered hand, noting the woman’s surprisingly strong grip. “I don’t understand.”
“An elite coaching position. Off-world assignment. One month contract working with swimmers who make your Olympic teammates look like they’re treading water in molasses.
” Gerri’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “The dean recommended you personally. Said you were the only coach on Earth qualified for this particular challenge.”
The words hit Navira like a rogue wave. “Off-world? As in...”
“Another planet, darling. Nova Aurora, to be specific. Gorgeous place—pink oceans, purple forests, two suns that make the sunsets absolutely divine.” Gerri spoke as casually as if she were describing a vacation resort in Florida.
“The swimmers there are... let’s call them advanced.
They need someone who understands water the way you do.
Someone who’s felt what it means to be truly alive in it. ”
Navira’s mind reeled. “This is insane. You’re talking about space travel, alien swimmers—”
“Shifter swimmers, technically. Though I suppose that’s splitting hairs.” Gerri waved a dismissive hand. “The point is, they need a coach who won’t faint at the sight of a few extra teeth or fur. Someone with your particular... resilience.”
“I don’t even know who you are.” But even as Navira spoke the words, something deep in her chest stirred—a flutter of excitement she hadn’t felt in years.
“Fair enough. But you know who you are, don’t you?” Gerri stepped closer, her gaze unnervingly direct. “Former Olympic gold medalist. Current coach of champions. A woman who’s spent five years playing it safe because she forgot what it feels like to take a real risk.”
The observation landed with startling accuracy. Navira felt exposed, as if this stranger could see straight through the careful walls she’d built.
“The dean really recommended me?”
“He couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the job. Said you had the skills and the spirit for something extraordinary.” Gerri’s expression softened slightly. “The question is, do you still have the courage?”
Navira stared at the water again, remembering Jenna’s words about choosing to stay small. The safe life she’d built suddenly felt suffocating, like a perfectly tailored straitjacket.
“When would I need to leave?”
“Tomorrow morning, if possible. Nine sharp at the power plant on the edge of town.” Gerri’s smile widened. “I know it sounds unconventional but trust me—I’ve been doing this for a very long time.”
Every rational part of Navira’s brain screamed warnings. This was madness. Impossible. Dangerous. But beneath the fear, something else pulsed—the same wild excitement she’d felt standing on the blocks before her first Olympic final.
“The dean really spoke highly of me?”
“Couldn’t stop singing your praises.” Gerri’s eyes flashed bright gold.
A smile spread across Navira’s face. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. You won’t regret this, darling. Sometimes the universe knows exactly what we need.”
Before Navira could respond, Gerri was already walking away, her heels clicking a staccato rhythm of certainty.
Then she was gone. Navira stood alone beside the pool, staring at her reflection in the still water.
For the first time in five years, the woman looking back at her seemed familiar—not the careful, controlled coach she’d become, but the fierce competitor who’d once believed anything was possible.
Navira turned and rushed to the locker room to shower and change, her body charged with potential. But before she could reach the showers, Jenna intercepted her.
“Okay, spill. You’ve got that look—the one you used to get before big races.”
“A woman just offered me a job coaching swimmers on an alien planet.” The words sounded absurd even as Navira spoke them.
Jenna’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
“One month contract. Elite swimmers. The dean recommended me personally.” Navira tightened her towel around her waist. “I said yes.”
“You said—” Jenna grabbed her arm. “Navira, that sounds completely insane. Alien planet? Who was this woman? Did you verify anything she told you?”
“No. And yes, it’s probably insane.” Navira met her friend’s concerned gaze. “But Jen, when’s the last time I did something that excited me? Really excited me?”
Jenna’s expression shifted, understanding flickering in her green eyes. “Five years ago.”
“Exactly. Five years of safe choices and careful plans and wondering what happened to the person I used to be.” Navira felt something loosening in her chest, like a knot finally giving way. “Maybe this is exactly the kind of insane I need.”
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. I need to talk to the dean, pack—”
“Go.” Jenna stepped back, her concern melting into excitement. “Go be the Navira who jumped into that pool at five years old and never looked back.”
Thirty minutes later, after Navira had showered and changed, she strolled into the dean’s office. Dean Morris looked up from his paperwork as Navira cleared her throat.
“Ah, Navira. I was hoping you’d stop by.” His smile held genuine warmth. “I trust Ms. Wilder found you?”
“She did. I wanted to thank you for the recommendation. It sounds like an incredible opportunity.”
“I couldn’t think of a better person for such a unique position.
” He leaned back in his chair, studying her face.
“You’ve given so much to our program, Navira.
Your dedication, your knowledge, the way you’ve mentored these young women—it’s been extraordinary.
But I’ve also watched you these past few years, and I think.
.. I think you need this as much as they need you. ”
Wow, could everyone see how unfulfilled she really was?
“You’re a champion, Navira. Not just because of what you accomplished in the pool, but because of who you are. And champions aren’t meant to play it safe forever.” His eyes twinkled. “Go show them why everyone here admires you so much.”
“I won’t disappoint you, sir.”
“I know you won’t. You never have.”
Navira smiled and turned away, leaving the dean’s office with a renewed sense of confidence.
Before long, the heavy glass doors of the administration building swung shut behind Navira, and the autumn air swept across her face.
But she barely noticed. Her mind churned with impossible questions that felt suddenly urgent and real.
What does one pack for another planet?
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it sent electric anticipation racing through her veins as she crossed the campus quad.
Students clustered around, their laughter drifting across the manicured lawns dotted with maple trees blazing orange and gold.
Normal college life. Normal Earth life. Everything she was about to leave behind.
Pink oceans. Purple forests. Two suns.
Gerri’s casual descriptions replayed in her mind as her feet found their familiar rhythm on the sidewalk leading off campus. The mile walk to her townhome had always been her decompression time—a chance to transition from coach mode back to herself. Tonight, each step felt charged with possibility.
Elite swimmers who make Olympic athletes look like they’re treading water in molasses.
What did that even mean? Her imagination conjured images of impossibly graceful beings cutting through that pink water with supernatural speed and power. Would they be human? Would they have gills? Scales? Gerri mentioned a few extra teeth and fur, but that seemed odd for the water.
The questions multiplied as she turned onto her tree-lined street, where Victorian townhomes stood like colorful sentinels against the darkening sky.
Her own home—a modest two-bedroom painted sage green—came into view ahead.
Navira’s pace quickened and soon she stood at her front door, her hands shaking slightly as she fumbled with her keys, adrenaline making her fingers clumsy.
When she finally swung open her door to reveal her carefully curated space—neutral walls, comfortable furniture, framed photos of swimming victories that now seemed like artifacts from another lifetime—she let out a loud sigh.
“Okay, Amaryllis,” she said aloud, her voice echoing in the quiet entryway. “Time to figure out how to pack for this adventure.”
She bounded up the stairs two at a time, energy crackling through her system like lightning in her bloodstream.
Once in her bedroom, she yanked open the closet and dragged out her largest suitcase—the one she’d used for international travel back when the world felt infinite and her life was actually exciting.
The familiar weight of it in her hands sent memories flooding back.
Airport gates. Hotel rooms in foreign cities.
The electric atmosphere of competition venues.
She hefted the suitcase onto her bed, then grabbed a second one from the back of the closet.
If she was doing this—really doing this—she wasn’t going unprepared.
But what kind of climate awaited her on Nova Aurora?
Gerri had mentioned two suns, but did that mean constant heat?
Did the planet have seasons? Weather patterns?
“Focus on what you know,” she muttered, pulling armfuls of swimsuits from her dresser.
Competition suits, training suits, bikinis for outdoor swimming. If she was coaching elite swimmers, she’d need options. Her hands moved with efficiency, folding and arranging, but her mind raced ahead.
What if the water composition was different? What if their swimming techniques defied everything she understood about hydrodynamics?
The thoughts should have intimidated her. Instead, they made her pulse quicken with anticipation.
She grabbed workout clothes next—moisture-wicking tops, athletic shorts, yoga pants that could transition from pool deck to whatever passed for social situations on an alien world. Then casual wear: jeans, t-shirts, a few dresses that made her feel confident and capable.
As she worked, folding clothes with steady hands that betrayed none of the restless energy building in her chest, reality began to crystallize.
It’s only a month. A temporary assignment. A chance to do something different.
But even as she thought it, she knew the words were a lie.
This felt enormous. Life-altering. Like standing at the edge of something vast—the same sensation she’d experienced in those breathless seconds before an Olympic race, when the world simultaneously narrowed to a single lane and expanded to encompass infinite potential.
She paused for a moment, a silk blouse half-folded in her hands, and stared out her bedroom window. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose. Her reflection ghosted in the glass—pale and uncertain, but with something fierce flickering in her blue eyes.
For the first time in years, something inside her felt genuinely awake. Not safe. Not certain. But vibrantly, dangerously alive.
And somewhere deep in her bones, in the place where instinct lived, she knew she wasn’t just leaving tomorrow. She was being pulled toward something that would change everything.