Chapter Eleven The Day
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Day
Guests and crew alike raised their drinks.
In his dark blue tour uniform, the gold tassels on his epaulets glinting in the low lights, Dad looked regal and welcoming.
He’d braided his dark beard and finished it at the bottom with a golden stud, his hair smoothed away from his face.
He looked ever more like the mythological captain of the Starfarer. He was a storyteller, after all.
Selling the story was half the job.
“Welcome, honored friends, to the Starfarer! Some of you I recognize from voyages we’ve taken before.
Thank you for trusting us enough to return for another trip.
Nossen Vellur, how’s Corellia this time of year?
” he asked a family of Sullustans, all wearing matching long-sleeve yellow jumpsuits, and Nossen replied with a wobble of his hand.
Dad barked a laugh. “I hear you! Weather’s always gonna make things hard.” Then he turned to a tall wolfish woman. “Yurd, how are your pups?”
To which the Farghul replied, “Perfect, now that I’m away!”
Dad toasted to that. I was never not amazed by his attention to people. He remembered every guest who came through his ship and kept their names with care.
Val was wrong. He wasn’t cruel. He didn’t trap me here. He didn’t lord over me.
Dad was just doing his best, because the galaxy was dangerous, and there were very rarely second chances.
“But I also see a lot of new faces in the crowd,” Dad added, motioning to a large majority of the guests, “and it’s a pleasure to have you on board.
Here on the Starfarer we have a tradition.
On the first night of every voyage, we raise a toast to all the people who came before us, to help us preserve our past. The good, we celebrate!
The bad, we remember so we may never repeat it again.
We lose our rights and ourselves when those in power choose to omit or change a narrative, hoping that those of us who lived it will forget.
Because of this, we have a saying inscribed in this very chamber, and I would like to toast to it tonight.
” He turned and raised his drink to the inscription above the doorway into the main corridor, and the rest of the guests echoed his movement.
I raised my drink. Beside me Val patiently ran his thumb around the lip of his empty glass, not bothering to partake. A flicker of anger bloomed in my chest.
“ ‘As long as stories persist,’ ” the captain of the Starfarer said, and the crowd echoed the words like a hymn.
“ ‘As long as stories persist…’ ”
“ ‘So do we who champion them,’ ” Dad finished.
The crowd repeated, “ ‘So do we who champion them.’ ”
Everyone drank. We cheered.
Dad polished off his entire flute in one gulp and raised the empty glass into the light. “This is where I tell you to enjoy the night,” he went on, “to dance so hard your feet are sore in the morning—and trust me, you’ll do that! But if I may have another moment of your time…”
The crowd shifted into silence again, curious. At one of the tables, Maz adjusted her goggles, blinking with those wide, all-seeing eyes of hers. She watched my dad with rapt attention.
I felt dread brewing in my stomach.
Does he know about Sian? I wondered. Was I found out?
“Today I’ve realized just how thankful I am. Not only is it my daughter’s eighteenth birthday, but my only son has come home to help us celebrate it. To Ardent Quay,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. Wait—what? “May this ship always be your guiding star!”
I froze where I stood. My mouth dropped open. That was why Val was here? For my eighteenth? The shock of it—I’d been worried all evening that he was here for some nefarious purpose, but as it turned out, he was just here for…me?
Val elbowed me gently in the side and mouthed, You forgot?
He looked as appalled as I felt. A blush cascaded across my cheeks.
To be fair, my birthday wasn’t the kind of day I liked remembering all that much. If your fondest memory of your birthday was the hours before your mother died trying to get home to you, I would argue that you wouldn’t want to remember it, either.
“To Ardent!” everyone cheered, their drinks high. The colorful lights reflected off of the beautiful glasses, sending sparks chasing across the ceiling.
Daaric sidled up to me, having replaced his dark eye patch with a glittery one for the occasion, and said, “Did you think we forgot? It’s your eighteenth! A big one!”
I tried to rein in my expression. “Then will you let me try some of your Corellian whiskey?”
Daaric put a hand to his lips. “I’ll have to ask your dad.”
Dad yelled, “No!”
Guests laughed.
“Well, then you’ll just have to ask your other dad,” Daaric added with a wink, and finally that made me laugh. I bumped my shoulder against his.
Dad shouted, “I hope everyone’s warmed up to sing a rousing birthday song to our favorite navigator?”
The guests cheered.
“Please don’t,” I begged.
He gasped, acting distraught. “You can’t mean that!”
“We all mean that,” Maeve groused from her spot at the bar, eating a bowl of pipnuts. “I don’t have my singing voice on.”
Kotti shouted, “Just get to the good part, Captain!”
“Fine, fine,” Dad grumbled, and reached into his coat to pull out a box tied with a bow.
It was barely larger than his palm and flat enough for me to wonder what could be inside.
He walked across the bar, filling up people’s glasses with wine as he went, and crouched in front of me, holding out my gift.
“For you,” he said tenderly. “It’s just a small thing.
From your family, your crew, to you. Happy birthday, daughter.
” He bent and kissed my forehead. His beard scratched my skin.
“You better not have bought me anything expensive,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too watery.
There were aws and coos.
Dad liked making a spectacle, though I would’ve preferred to receive this kind of gift in private. Any gift, really.
Telly said, “We would buy you a moon if we could.”
“What would she do with a moon?” Maeve asked.
Veebee gave a wistful sigh from her station by the buffet. “Never see civilization again.”
Entoo chastised her with a bloop from the DJ stand.
I fought off a smile as I peeled back the wrapping. It could be jewelry, but I didn’t really wear any. Some sort of holodrama? A chip of artwork? I really couldn’t imagine in the least what it might be.
I opened the box. Inside was a rectangular piece of metal with the Starfarer’s logo engraved on the front. On the back I knew would be my name—Ardent Quay.
It was a master key to the ship, one that opened every door, every locker, every database.
The only other people who had one were my dad and…Val. Before his was taken away.
My excitement disintegrated.
I stared down at the key for a long time.
Val clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Hey! Look at that. Congrats, snotface!”
I closed the box and held it tightly to my chest. I should have been thankful—honored. I needed to be, but I just felt rotten because I wasn’t. My bottom lip wobbled, and Dad took that as good emotion. He patted my head and rose to his feet again.
“And now let’s get this soiree started! Welcome to the Century of Change tour!” he roared. Entoo spun a bombastic track, and the party twirled into motion again.
I let my eyes blur and told myself I loved the gift.
That I loved the thought behind the gift.
That, deep down, I wanted it. I had to want it. I wanted to want it.
“Excuse me,” I murmured, and fled the main chamber as quickly as I could.
Dad called out after me, but I didn’t stop. Daaric alleviated the tension by joking that I didn’t like to cry in front of strangers, which was true. I didn’t remember getting to the lift. I didn’t remember taking it down.
I didn’t remember anything until I arrived at the door to my room, fumbling for the key in my pocket, but I couldn’t get it out.
So I just shoved the box against the keypad.
It unlocked with a bleep—
Just as a large crash came from the galley. An intruder? A guest? And I remembered with a bolt of dread—
The stowaway.