Epilogue Day One
SIX DAYS LATER
Tavi was cleaning up the music system’s logs after the week it had endured.
The Captain’s birthday had pulled music into the library as if on overdrive, the emergency request during the Korallis mission had forced him to override half the program’s safeguards, and somebody in the Wetlands Habitat had played “Eye of the Tiger” fourteen times in one shift.
In other words, typical routine maintenance for Tavi's program.
He was halfway through the Observation Room’s playback history from the week when one entry stopped him.
00:57:18.442 — Playback complete: “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.”
00:57:19.731 — Playback initiated: “Into the Mystic.”
Source library: Charlie Wickett.
Initiating user: none.
Tavi stared at the final line.
Then he reloaded the history to see if the information would populate.
Nothing changed.
“Hey, Maren,” he called. “Come tell me I’m being dramatic.”
Maren looked up from the propulsion console. “Do you need evidence? I have plenty of evidence to provide if you need proof you're walking drama."
“Ha ha, very funny," Tavi said. "Just come here.”
She crossed the bay and leaned over him. Her shimmer brightened as she read the log, the violet-gray light moving quickly across her eyes.
“Huh, that's strange," she said. "But isn't that just autoshuffle doing its job?”
“That’s what I thought. But check this out.”
Tavi opened the selection tree beneath the entry.
"So, you can see here that the program’s randomization seed generated a completely valid library address."
"Charlie's Library," they said in unison.
"The timing and everything is correct. The next song had been selected exactly as the software was designed to select it."
"Okay, so, where's the fire?" Maren asked.
"The fire is that the next song was selected appropriately, it just wasn't the song that played."
Maren turned her attention to Tavi.
"Come again?"
"The next song selected wasn’t 'Into the Mystic.'"
Maren turned back to the screen and went very still.
“The algorithm requested a different track,” she said.
“Yep.”
“But the room played this one?”
“Right again.”
She reached past him and expanded the system record on the screen. The evidence was pretty clear. There was no additional datapad, no voice command, and no manual addition to the queue. Not even a remote authorization from another part of the ship.
“Corrupted index?” Maren asked.
“I thought of that. If that were the case, it would’ve opened the wrong file under the right title.”
Maren studied the record again.
“Three separate system actions with no initiating command.”
“Exactly.”
Her shimmer flared once, bright enough to catch against the console display.
"I even checked the audio relays, the room-routing network, the library server. There's nothing in the service connections,” Tavi added.
“Well then, Tavi, you know what I have to say?” Maren asked.
Tavi lifted one shoulder.
"You're not being dramatic."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Maren."
"Anytime."
They both stared at the console display screen again.
“Old ship?” Tavi added.
Maren kept looking at the entry for another moment.
“Old ship,” she agreed.
Tavi flagged the event as an unresolved playback anomaly, assigned it the lowest diagnostic priority, and closed the file.
Maren’s shimmer held bright for three more seconds before it dimmed. The moment disappeared with it, and she archived it perfectly behind her eyes, where nothing was ever truly lost.
The ship hummed around them, old and steady.
The Emberkind felt exactly as it always had.
? EMBERKIND CV-0417, SECTOR HALCYON, REGION 5 ?
SIX MONTHS LATER
On the evening of what would have been New Year's Eve 1990 on Earth, Charlie sat at the desk in Reyna’s quarters with a piece of paper in front of her.
Just one
Completely blank.
And entirely too bright.
The paper had come from Orion. The pen rested beside it, made of dark metal and worn smooth near the grip. There were tiny stars set along the barrel in a pattern Charlie still couldn’t name. But all that mattered was that it was Reyna’s star pen. A loan for the task before her.
Charlie had been looking at the two items for several minutes.
Across the room, Charlie watched Reyna close the report she’d been reading and set her datapad aside.
She’d changed after dinner. Her captain’s jacket was hung up, the rank pin set on the small table by the closet. Just Reyna in a tank and soft cotton pants, her lilac hair let loose, cascading around her neck and shoulders.
Charlie still hadn’t gotten used to being allowed to see her like this. But she fully planned to make a serious effort over the next hundred years.
Reyna crossed the room and stopped behind the chair. Her hands came down on Charlie’s shoulders, slipping down and around Charlie to pull her close. Charlie raised her hands to hold Reyna's arms, the soft rose of her markings shimmering against her fingers.
Reyna's lips pressed a kiss to Charlie's temple.
“So," Reyna started, her lips next to Charlie's ear. "What's the verdict? Are you taking Orion’s advice tonight? Or Kess’s?”
Charlie looked at the paper.
“Does it matter? They basically suggested the same thing.”
“They did not,” Reyna scoffed, biting Charlie's neck gently. Charlie hummed in response.
“Well, Orion told me to write a letter.”
“Right, and Kess told you to find somewhere safe to put what you’re carrying. Metaphorically."
“Exactly, that is absolutely the same assignment. One of them just gave me office supplies.”
Reyna’s mouth curved against Charlie’s temple.
“That is an alarming interpretation of medical advice.”
“Then Kess should be more specific.”
“She is the most specific person I know.”
“Not about feelings. About feelings, she becomes annoyingly philosophical.”
Reyna laughed softly. Charlie felt it against her neck.
"Well, she knew how I felt about you before I even let myself think about it."
Charlie turned around to face Reyna, her face just a few inches away.
"Right, I forgot about that," Charlie murmured before leaning forward and kissing Reyna gently. "I stand corrected," she said against Reyna's mouth.
"Mmm, I'll tell her when I see her next that I got you to concede."
Charlie smiled, then turned back to the paper and pen before her.
Reyna’s hand slid along Charlie’s shoulder and down her arm until it reached the bracelet at her wrist. Her thumb passed over Helen’s knot.
Blue. Green. Gold. Red.
Charlie turned her hand beneath Reyna’s and caught her fingers.
“Do you want me to sit with you while you do it?” Reyna asked.
“Yes.”
The answer came out before Charlie could make it sound less immediate.
Reyna’s fingers tightened around hers.
“But only if you work on something too,” Charlie added.
“Why?”
“Because I don't want to come off as too needy.” Reyna laughed softly. "Not to mention, it would feel weird to have you watching me."
“I wouldn’t watch.”
“You’re the captain of a starship. Watching people while pretending not to is at least half the job.”
“It is not.”
“Forty percent?”
“Charlie.”
“Fine. Thirty-five, but I won’t go any lower.”
Reyna leaned over the back of the chair and kissed her. Slow and soft and entirely captivating.
When Reyna began to pull away, Charlie followed. Reyna smiled while her hand came up and held Charlie’s cheek, kissing her once more. Shorter this time, but somehow no less complete.
“I have reports,” Reyna murmured against her mouth.
“Perfect.”
“They’re extremely dull.”
“Even better.”
“You will complain if I begin sighing.”
“I will not. I happen to like your sighing. It's some of the best on the ship. You sigh like the Coalition has personally offended you.”
“The Coalition usually has.”
Charlie smiled.
“Then we have a plan.”
Reyna kissed her once more before straightening.
She collected two datapads from the table and brought the room’s second chair over to the desk. It fit beside Charlie’s with barely enough space between them, their knees touching once Reyna sat down.
Reyna opened the first report.
Then she reached for Charlie’s hand. Charlie went to her.
“I’m right here,” she said.
Charlie looked at her and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek before nodding and turning back to the desktop.
She let Reyna’s hand go and picked up the star pen.
Charlie lowered it to the page.
Dear Kit,
She sat with that for a second. Then she continued.
So. Guess what happened to me?
I got thrown across the universe, Kit-Kat. I'm not even exaggerating.
There was an accident at the lab that morning, just as I was finishing the message on your machine.
One second I was there and the next I was on the floor of a kitchen of a spaceship.
Yeah, you read that right. A starship called the Emberkind.
I was completely covered in cake batter.
It was a whole thing. I'll tell you about it someday, in person, because I plan to tell you all of it in person, and I'm going to make you sit through every boring part.
I'm alright. Actually, I'm better than alright.
I'm part of a crew, a real one, on a spaceship, Kit-Kat.
I have a whole family of people from worlds you and I used to make up stories about, and they took me in, and kept me.
I'm one of the chief engineers. Can you believe that?
I run the entire engine room with my two co-chiefs, Maren and Tavi.
Me, Kit. The girl who couldn't keep a houseplant alive is keeping a starship in the sky.
The problem is, I can't come home. I want to say that plainly.
But it's not by choice. It's that something happened to me out here, something to do with how I got here.
Now, I don't age the way humans are supposed to.
Instead, I age more slowly. Much slower, in fact.
It means Earth isn't a place I can go back to without causing more trouble than I'm sure you can imagine.
You want to know something funny? I brought your music with me. Completely by accident. But Kit, I have to tell you about this because it's the best thing I've done out here. And it's completely your fault.