Stars the Color of Honey (Andromeda Valley #1)

Prologue

(Just Outside the Helix Nebula)

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Fatal Error. Fatal Error. Fatal Error

The screen glows up at me, a blinding, accusatory beacon in the dark cockpit of my ship. Moments ago, the universe had blurred outside the window as the ship sped across the vastness. Now, there is only the black void of space. Stars haloed in blue and gold gases, littered across the dark.

Two million light-years from home. One failing ship. A crew of fifty, all of their lives in my hands.

Time to be the captain I have trained to be.

I reach out the tendrils of my mind, the delicate balance of Andromedan pheromones that allow us to communicate without speaking. They unfurl into the cabin. Out into the corridors. Through the labyrinth of the ship. Through the floor and into the lower decks. They reach and stretch and— contact.

I send out words, a command. Engineering. Report.

The response crackles immediately through my head, an old familiar chemical interplay.

Sir. Propulsion system failure. Soon, the engine will seize.

My head fills with a swarm of bees, an oppressive buzzing sound, blocking out all other thought. The engines will seize . Two million light-years from home. Their lives, my hands.

Breath catches in my throat, a shard of glass. I swallow around it.

Understood , I respond, and I cut the connection.

Our research vessel had so much left to explore. So many more worlds to study and document. So much more we could learn.

Instead, it ends here in the infinite blackness.

Closing my eyes against the burn of tears, I reach out again, this time for my first officer. My oldest friend.

Ja’Lin , I call.

Sir , he responds, his voice a crisp, clear electrical impulse in my mind. Ours has always been a strong connection.

I begin to form the pheromonal signal to explain—

—and then the screen chimes out an alert.

A navigational beacon. Two million light-years from home, and a beacon calls out to the ship, its computational language recognizing ours, kin across galaxies. One small blue light on a vast dark screen, swelling and pulsing.

My heart in my throat, I lunge for the control panel.

A map glows out from the navigation system. On it, a planet. A small, blue planet and it looms closer as my ship continues to drift. Its light spreads out into the cabin, casting it in the color of water.

The screen blinks with a single word: Earth

To the right of the image, the navigation algorithm scrolls through the list of place names, safe sites at which to land— Atacama Desert. Sanzhi District. Longyearbyen —until it latches onto a location and the chiming noise goes wild: Andromeda Valley.

My mouth tugs into a smile. I can't help it. Andromeda Valley . Something in that place is calling out to us. It must mean something .

I could ask Ja’Lin for advice. I could consult the archival databases, if they’re still operational. I know the protocol like I know my own heart. I have followed it my whole life.

Or.

Or , for once in my life, I can trust my gut. I can take a risk.

Soon, the crew will move into full response mode. Soon, my first officer, Ja’Lin, will be at the cabin door. Soon, the fates will decide if I have served my crew well as their leader, or if I have failed us all.

Soon ...but not yet.

In the moments before the engine dies completely, I make my decision. I steady myself with a breath. Then I enter the navigational coordinates, pointing us toward a destination on Earth’s northern hemisphere.

Toward a place with a familiar name.

Gravity grabs the vessel and tugs.

“ Shin’Ah , take us home,” I whisper as we crash toward the surface of Earth.

Just before contact, we pass over a sign and the control panel translates it for me:

Welcome to Andromeda Valley! Roswell of the North!