RIGEL
“Do you have it?”
Rigel imagined the breath of the question in his ear, warming him from the breeze of his pace through conditioned air. The chill throughout the aerospace drome was unnoticeable until the inquiry fired him up and tingled his skin. The question having tugged at his conscience, he ducked into one of several nooks along the corridor. The innocent tone of her voice could have also filled him with self-doubt, with his sneaking around. Her eagerness and hopefulness needed an answer. The right answer, he sighed, for the wrong answer would be an undesired conversation.
Rigel firmed his arm around an elongated box at his side. “I have it.” His voice hushed before he made a quick peek up and down the corridor’s length. “Ordered as specified. Or as I ordered, to your specifications.”
“Good.” Her relaxed tone eased Rigel. “Is it pretty?”
Rigel uncurled a broad smile as he leaned against the nook’s inner wall and held the box before himself. Even in the nook’s shade, the corridor’s dim lighting shone its ribbon’s satin sheen and loopy bow. “That remains to be seen.” A haphazard glimpse of the nook’s sealed entry to the farer’s lounge reminded him he was about to infuriate his father. “Where are you?”
“I can’t believe this is really happening.”
Rigel pushed himself off the wall by his back and stood as straight as his face had become. Another peek down the corridor, to the hangar’s main entrance. “I’m about eighty meters from changing my life forever.” Rigel tucked inside the nook again. “Our lives. As planned. After four years of virtual dates and video chats, it’s now or never.”
“I know.”
Rigel pressed the box at his side, looking to the window wall opposite the nook, questioning himself. His shadow faint on the glass, and it obscured his desire and anticipation to deliver the box in person. “Are you still up for this?”
“I am. I’ll be waiting for you at Daphnis. As planned.”
“I’m on the way, then.” Rigel strode on. “I’ll check in once I’m in Jovian space.”
“Okay. Keep to this network link. Relays will redirect it to Daphnis.”
Rigel grinned in admiration of her tech savvy skills, which enabled them to connect outside of normal channels, unmonitored and without a record for his father to discover. “I won’t ask how, but may—”
“Maybe when I am seen.”
Rigel chuckled. “Okay. I’m looking forward to doing so.”
“Be safe, Rigel.”
“I will.”
“I love you.”
Rigel halted a few meters from the hangar. “I love you, too, Carina. See you soon.”
“En.”
Rigel tapped at his right ear, ending the communication.
Staring at the double doors of the hangar, it was now or never. His father, a shrewd businessman, would realize what had happened after the fact, for as many times as they had fought about Rigel’s future. Rigel just hoped borrowing his father’s prized asset would be valuable enough to spare him. His father would destroy the flier with him in it and write the incident off as an accident, and buy a new one, if he refused to return with it.
~ * ~
“Notify the Skipper.”
In Rigel’s ear, Paul’s breath had been heavy, but his voice subdued and carried an ambient echo. Such was helmet speak. Rigel squatted at a small, squared opening in the bulkhead to the warp drive compartment. By the brightness of light waving and flickering inside the compartment’s dimness, Paul made his way out. Surprised by the hurling of a tool kit through the opening, Rigel had fallen back onto his hands and buttocks. He had been quick to his feet as the senior engineer crawled out.
“The collider is secured.”
Rigel, wide eyed, received Paul’s displeasure with his rise before him. He would rather face an actual desert bear disturbed from its slumber than be scolded by disappointment, or to be reprimanded by the captain. “Must I be the one to tell her?”
“Your father’s weight had you assigned to this ship.” Paul glanced at the tool kit at their feet. “As an ensign at that. Taking responsibility will go a long way toward you captaining a ship of your own, which is what he desires for you.”
“I know.” Rigel sighed, squatting to pick up the kit. “I’d rather pilot a flier than a ship this big,” he said, standing. “This is too much, for me.”
Paul rested a hand on Rigel’s shoulder. “A flier would be a prudent way to become a farer. As it is, you performed the maintenance inspection. While I should have followed up, I trusted you did proper and thorough job.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Rigel observed his shoulder after Paul removed his hand. His suit now just as smudged and grimy, as if he had brushed up against the ring accelerators a few times or balanced himself against the Elemental Separation Unit. Given the tightness of the compartment.
“It’s not like the antimatter containment had failed and blew us all to Kingdom Come. Or caught the Skipper or XO on the head, if we would’ve lost gravity.”
Rigel grinned at Paul’s more humorous disposition. “Fortunately.” There was sense of comfort exhibited by most farers, with the realities of space travel or warp technology. “The AG generators are on reserve supply.”
“Well, do me a favor?” Paul’s smirk disguised his seriousness. “Don’t kill me over your bleeding heart. Torque the collider to spec next time. Before you rush off for some virtual meet up.”
Embarrassment warmed Rigel’s face, and he turned away from Paul while handing over the tool kit. “Yes, sir.”
“What service are you dating on, by the way?” Paul took hold of the kit.
“Space Brides.”
“Oh, that serious, huh? I guess if I didn’t like my father arranging my marriage, an antimatter failure would definitely get me out of it.”
Now Paul was just being cheeky, as Rigel stared at him in frustration.
“But running away from someone chosen for you, I’m not so sure about.”
“My father wants to keep the business in the family, and I’m not interested in marrying a third cousin.”
“Think about your practicality.” Paul walked past Rigel. “It does come from him. Besides, cousin marriages are commonplace. That’s why laws exist for it. Human beings have to survive in space some kind of way.” Paul had paused at the egress of the engine room. “Before you commit to anything virtually, just think about if you’re being selfish or not. I hear those sun-boats races on Earth are quite the ceremony.”
Rigel turned to Paul. “They are. At least mine will be, with the one I truly love.”
The discomfort of Paul’s scoff and scrutiny and his mocking smile made Rigel shrink inside his spacesuit. “Well, while you’re dreaming, report to the Skipper the cause of Sumra Solstice stalling out of hyperspace. It’s lucky she was on the bridge to keep us from running into an asteroid. So soon after leaving Earth, too.”
Rigel hated being reminded of the consequences of his neglect.
“Be sure to tell her why, too. She might sympathize with you. Might. Then as the XO directed during our briefing, be sure to check the hold, to make sure our passengers are…comfortable. Do I need to come behind you with that? Or maybe Knight should escort you?”
“No, no.” Rigel released a breath after his fervent rejection of the master-at-arms. “I can manage the passengers.”
“Okay. The Skipper will be furious if they awake before we arrive at Saturn.”
“Yes, sir.”
The egress whisked open with a hiss. Rigel nodded to Paul’s lasting stare, before he had stepped over the knee-knockers of the threshold and disappeared beyond it.
Paul’s exit from the primary engine room prompted Rigel to squat at the warp drive compartment, and tapping on the side of his helmet, he poked its beam and head inside the space. Perhaps he had looked for courage from the imagined lair of the desert bear, to help him face the Skipper. Seeing the illumination of the collider and hearing the hum of the accelerator rings assured him Paul had addressed the system’s malfunction. That withdrew his inspection, and he closed up the compartment and secured its entry with a few touches to a panel adjacent to the opening.
Around the corner of the bulkhead, from the warp drive compartment, Rigel approached the circumference of the engine room’s main system, the torus rings. From the main level, he observed each of the other eight levels which enveloped and nestled the three-ring structure in the middle of the ship. The collider and ring accelerators were much smaller than the actual rings, and even compared to the components output of power, too. Though the structure’s initial spins were slow from the antimatter feeding into it.
The whomping of each ring across his presence took Rigel’s breath. If there were any one part about the size of the Sumra Solstice which frightened him most, it was the massiveness of the rings. If the torus ever failed while in motion, the outcome would be more catastrophic than the chain reaction of escaping antimatter. No way he could phantom the responsibility of commanding such a sizable piece of technology.
It would be a matter of a few minutes before the quantum computer optimized the spinning of the Solstice’s rings. Then an opening in space-time would be created at their center. The negative pressure inside the spinning would pull on and widen the warp field around the opening, and when the distortion in space-time expanded beyond the rings to encompass the entire ship, the Sumra Solstice would resume its voyage to Saturn.
The warp drives of star fliers, on the other hand, were less intimidating. Fliers also kept Rigel’s fascination with faster-than-light travel. It just seemed better to tear a small hole into space-time and zip through it rather than an obtrusive, large one.
The Solstice lurched and Rigel was quick to catch the handrail, adjusting his footing for balance. Activity at the engine room station, a level below him, suggested the bridge had been informed of the warp drive’s restoration. The Skipper had ordered the ship’s acceleration with its conventional thrusters, as managed from the secondary aft engine room. The Sumra Solstice needed to achieve terminal velocity in order to travel hyperspace and slingshot passed light speed.
Rigel carried on as well, exercising the option to check on the ship’s passengers before reporting to Skipper. Besides, as he exited the main engine room, the hold was on the way to the bridge. It would be good to report a positive status on the passengers, to offset his mistake, and perhaps appease his father, he had hoped. The Skipper would have to report the incident to his father, the shiplord, who owned the ship after all. He and the crew were just all on the payroll of the family business. It was what paid for the Sumra Solstice.
Though unparticular about the practice of the business, Rigel only fancied the nepotism for it allowing him to become a farer. He had determined to earn his place in sailing the stars. Despite his rank giving him quite the advantage over the other fifteen farers aboard. Shipmates whose sightings in passageways became infrequent with his transition to the lowest deck.
Crossing the last hatch to the hold, Rigel saw Knight. He had postured with an inflated chest after pushing from a slouch against the bulkhead. A real desert bear if there were ever one aboard. Paul must have notified him. Rigel sensed he was always being tested in some way by the senior officers.
Rigel inflated his chest as he approached the master-at-arms. “Chief.” His voice carried through the long passageway, leading him to stand squarely before Knight. “I have to check on the passengers.”
“I just did.”
“Good. When I report to the Skipper, I can validate your inspection. With mine.”
Knight’s narrowing eyes reminded Rigel of the two’s precarious relationship. It was one thing to be an ensign of equal rank to the lowest ranking executive officer, but after Knight had professed his opinion about him and started a brawl between them during a return trip to Earth from the outer region, his defeat by Rigel had left him sour. On many levels, especially as the Sumra Solstice’s security officer.
Knight insisted his drunken stupor at the time had been to his disadvantage. His intoxication, however, proved irrelevant. Rigel had been justified in defending himself. Having held his own against Knight’s fury and skills, most of the crew now gave thought to any idea of confronting or taunting Rigel over his familial connection.
Locking eyes with Knight, all Rigel could think about was a flier’s crew accommodation. Two people, the most required to fly one. Unlike a ship.
“Stand down,” he said with quiet insistence. “I need to report to the Skipper.”
“Tell the Skipper—”
“I will tell the Skipper only what I have inspected, Chief, or would you like to accompany me, and we both can report to the Skipper?” Rigel suspected Knight had more routine matters to tend to other than harassing him over the passengers.
“Right.” Knight stepped aside to Rigel’s relief. “You’ll find the passengers secure then. I’m going to inspect the launch bay.”
Passing Knight, Rigel envied his inspection tour. The Sumra Solstice carried two fliers in its launch bay. “Have fun.”
“I shall. Care to join me in the gym when you’re done?”
Rigel halted at the hold’s entryway and turned his head to his right shoulder, with a slight pivot of his body, and he side-eyed the Chief. “Maybe. Let’s talk over lunch, after we make good on our delivery.”
Knight chuckled. “Sounds fine.” The Chief stomped off, the clanging of the grated floor fading with each step.
Rigel sighed, deflating his posture after Knight left the corridor silent. He placed his right hand on the biometric panel next to the hold’s entryway, and once the instrument beeped and the door clanked and hissed open, a rush of frigid air spilled over him. A chill ran up his legs and across his spine to which a shiver had shaken off. With the air, the hold cast its bluish-green lighting upon him. The clubs at home were more inviting, he thought with crossing the threshold.
The meager lighting darkened with the hold closing after him. By the illumination of faces and data displays lining the walls of the rectangular space, he was able to see his way to the AI station in the opposite corner. The station monitored and regulated the stats of all the pod occupants. Procedure required him to first check on the twenty-five passengers from it, particularly their stasis.
The manifest of the station and the numbered pods helped him identify which person was consuming too much of their oxygen supply, perhaps stuck in a nightmare, and required neural sedation. They all needed to remain relaxed while in hypersleep. From the ages of the people, though, Rigel disliked the thought of children being regarded as adults. Even though that’s what they would become. Adults. Eventually. To serve Earth’s colonies in Jovian space.
Except for the one passenger who was a year away from becoming of age. Pod twenty-one. He took note of her name. According to her information, she was a few years younger than him. Rare for a passenger to be older than fifteen.
Alas, the family business. All the passengers checked out at the station. Rigel began his visual inspection of Earth’s most valuable commodities. Children. Sometimes the seeds of distant worlds. Often the replenishment and expansion for colonies. So precious were they, Earth had decided they must be preserved from time itself, no matter how much time warp drive technology shaved off planetary trips. Migrants had to arrive at their destination as young as possible, grow and acclimate to their new environment, and ensure Earth’s prosperity. Someone had to transport them. Though, the current task had made Rigel less proud. Still, he was a farer. While he could argue the pros and cons of transporting children, it was widely understood from his father to the lowliest farer knowing too much about passengers was bad for business.
Circling the room, ten pods against the left wall, five along the back, he came to pod twenty-one, and a breath escaped him. Amazed by the beauty of passenger twenty-one’s sleeping, with a thin, dark bang crossing the length of her oval face, her ivory complexion most reflective of the pod’s interior red lighting, Rigel stepped toward the chamber and rested his forehead against it.
Closing his eyes, he ignored reason, ignored the odds of an actual connection being slim to none, and even ignored the coldness of the glass nipping his forehead. For the moment, he listened to the pattering of his heart. Its beat filled his imagination with the inspiration enclosed inside the pod. In his mind, he spoke her name to begin their first conversation. After introductions, they took a walk. A walk along a beach, at sunset. Just him and her under the vastness of a purple sky and the warm glow of Sol glimmering across a calm sea. Their holding hands would lead to her hugging on his arm as she snuggled close.
~ * ~
“Hey! Wake up. We’re here.”
However, it was the clack of the driver’s door which snapped Rigel awake, to the incessant bustle of people about the square. The noise, an unobtrusive alarm of sorts, with people chattering over shopping, clinking utensils and dishes over meals, and the resonance of solar vehicles all roused him from his nap. The baking of breads, the spicy aroma of stir fry, and the fragrance of flora aided in his awakening. Rigel yawned and stretched in his seat. He preferred to stay put and bask in the afternoon sun. Its warmth urged him to ignore everything and remain comfortable in his recline.
“Hey, Rigel. Come on. I found her.”
Rigel raised his seat to his friend’s arduous excitement, squinting and scowling at the same time. “Pleiades.” He yawned again. “If I were interested in a Gaean, I’d just marry Sirius.”
“Your cousin isn’t a bad choice, but don’t worry. This one, she isn’t Gaean.”
Rigel raised an eyebrow at Pleiades.
“Come on.” Pleiades opened the passenger door. “She’ll be waiting to meet you in less than five minutes.”
“What? She who? Here where? On Earth?”
“No. Will you just come on?”
Rigel was unprepared for Pleiades to seize and pull him by the wrist. Stumbling out of the vehicle and even before he could close the car door and recover his balance, Pleiades sprinted him through the busy sidewalk, weaving them through, around people and the outdoor seats of restaurants.
“No more moping around. You’ve been a drag, since your grounding.”
Rigel thought to stop, hold his ground and correct Pleiades. He’d been placed on probation. His father’s recommendation for almost destroying the Sumra Solstice, and the Skipper had only followed his decision. Paul had been right. The Skipper had been lenient; she sympathized with his bleeding heart and only dry docked him, as it was called, for a year. Now, seven months in, he was subject to his friend’s will. A glance skyward carried a longing to be off world and among the stars.
“I know this will cheer you up.”
Rigel almost missed the sign, Space Brides, LLC. “I’m already registered here.”
“That’s not why we’re here.” Pleiades led Rigel through the agency’s sliding doors.
The transition from the bright and warm outdoors to the shaded and artificial lighting indoors had refreshed Rigel as chewing a mint leaf after dinner, by the sight of an avatar chatting with an attendant on duty.
“She is.”
Rigel slipped his arm from Pleiades grip to step forward, awed but unsure about the avatar. When it faced him, its hand wiping a long strand of hair from its face while blinking, the microsecond of its amethyst eyes closing and opening to gaze upon him pattered Rigel’s heart and took his breath. He had remembered her. The passenger…his inspiration which had been sealed in pod twenty-one.
“Carina.” Her name barely a whisper off his lips.
“Oh.” The attendant’s tone graceful, it veiled her surprise. “Have you two met before?”
Rigel sighed with embarrassment, stammering with his words. “Uh, no.”
“What do you mean?” Pleiades stepped up beside Rigel. “All you did your first month back was talk about Carina.”
CARINA
“How does it feel?”
“How does what feel?”
Carina had noted Rigel’s disregard to what was obvious to her, as his full lips wrapped around the mahi-mahi burger. As good as the sandwich looked, ensnared in the claws of his lean and brown fingers, virtual reality for her only offered a faint trace of its smell. Mostly the scent of cayenne and grilled onions. Aside from the pungent freshness of a kale leaf which accented the burger.
Though sharing a bistro which had franchised from Earth to Colony 35 and allowed them to eat together, their impromptu and very first virtual date, so soon after meeting, had been both an opportunity and a precursor for Carina. An interview of sorts. The most pressing question she had for Rigel needed to be direct, if she expected an honest answer.
“How does it feel being a transporter? With placing children into an uncertain life?”
Carina met Rigel’s eyes. He paused mid-bite into the burger. An index finger had risen to ask for her patience, at least until after he chewed and swallowed his first take of the food.
While Carina waited, her server brought and placed before her a bowl of mushroom bisque and buttered garlic bread. The meal quaint compared to Rigel’s, but then resources were limited in colonies. Between the variety of mushrooms making up the soup and its mint leaf decoration, all from hydroponics and flavored by the salt of Saturn’s rings, it was a staple.
Carina picked her spoon and swirled the ring design of sesame crème into the bisque, around the mint leaf. “You placed me into the hands of a souteneur.”
Carina glanced at the shock of Rigel’s wide eyes and bulging cheek of unchewed food. As she sipped her first spooning of the bisque, he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
The sincerity of his apology veiled Carina with a comfort that raised her skin. No one had ever apologized for her experience, let alone a transporter.
“I didn’t know.” With the sense of a but coming on as he resumed chewing and then swallowing while resting the remaining portion of his burger, Carina hoped Rigel let it stop there. “My father’s business,” he continued, both his hands clenched into fists on the table, glowering over the burger. “Most employees don’t question what it is we do. Or why. Not beyond transporting passengers to the outer planets. As contracted.”
Carina smiled. Rigel managed to keep her skin from crawling in frustration with a weak excuse. His honesty and passion were appealing. “I understand,” she said, picking up her bread and tearing a piece from it. “It is fortunate for me that I…exited the cybersex trade.”
“Oh?” Carina met Rigel’s eyes and curious stare. “Exited?”
“I am a smart girl. With skills. My tech literacy allowed me to hack the Planetary Com Network and contact a prohibitionist couple. They helped me escape. Before I was in too deep.”
“Is that why you registered with Space Brides?”
Carina studied Rigel, after dipping the piece of bread. “Partly.” She fed on the bread and its flavor melted her face as much as it had in her mouth.
“Is it that good?”
Carina grinned through her chewing. “It is. You should try it.”
“Perhaps I will. When I visit.”
Carina gave Rigel a shrewd stare. Despite the bistro’s namesake and shared tech between Earth and Saturn’s colony, the limited menu on Carina’s side was arguably a good reason to visit. None of her food choices were available on Earth. Though, she would love it if she could return there. Earth did have the better food. Still, giving Rigel the benefit of doubt, she liked that he wanted to come to Saturn, even if for just the food. Unlike others who were much older and all too often with ulterior motives, he was the first to propose visiting her in person. “Why are you registered with them?”
Carina noted Rigel’s sigh and his following hesitation. His sitting back from the table to contemplate a response could be a merit, or a demerit.
“It’s complicated,” he said, picking up his strawberry blue lemonade, its salted brim sparkling under sunlight.
The observation caused Carina to glimpse the time and the simulated sky. Time passed quicker for her. The colony’s days were fourteen hours shorter than Earth’s, with the sun growing dimmer on her side. The time made her look Rigel over and wonder, just how much older would he be if she were to return to Earth at that very moment.
“It’s okay.” She offered a reassuring smile. “You can tell me. If we’re going to commit to a relationship, I would prefer us to be honest about our motivations.”
Carina was flattered by Rigel’s boyish smile, by his seeming comfort with her.
“When I first saw you, in that pod, I thought I would never meet you after…” He took another sip of his drink, before resting it. “I had wondered how you became a passenger. At first. Then I dreamed of us walking together, on a beach. Holding hands.”
Carina, intrigued by his dream, slid the bisque aside to rest her elbows on the table, placing her chin atop interlocked fingers.
“It was the ideal beginning. To the life I want for myself.”
“For yourself? A marriage has been arranged for you, huh?”
Rigel grinned to her deduction. “You are a smart one.”
Carina chuckled.
“You seem wise beyond your years, too.”
Giggling louder to Rigel’s compliment and him having similar thoughts about her age, Carina countered, “Now you’re just stroking my ego.”
Rigel chuckled. “Is it working?”
The way Rigel lit up to Carina’s broad smile, she was uncertain who smote who. “Well, I understand your situation. I think, we’re off to a…ideal beginning.”
Carina had placed an open hand on the table, and she was pleased by Rigel taking and squeezing it with a warm touch.
~ * ~
“Will the sun-boat race be all that we miss?” Carina enjoyed walking the delta of the Susquehanna River. The virtual deck of the Sumra Solstice did well to replicate the squishiness of wet sand squeezing through her toes. Coupled with snuggling on Rigel’s arm and a light breeze of a long afternoon, she relished the peace of their date. It had made her relaxed enough to talk about their realities.
“It will. If we’re serious.”
“It’s okay. We can have a virtual race. But…”
“I have a plan about work.”
“You do?”
“Mmm-huh.” Rigel’s hum was melodic and comforting. “We’ll start our own business. Rescuing and shuttling passengers back home.”
“Easier said than done.”
It had been a couple of years since Rigel had returned to the stars, and though Carina disliked his occupation, he was her best chance of leaving Colony 35. She tightened her hold on his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. He had become more than a solution.
Perhaps she fell for him when they had gone camping in Sproul Forest and shared a sleeping bag under a starry sky. With only the glow of the campfire’s simmer and their BTUs keeping them warm. If Rigel had indulged in temptation, in her willingness to share herself that night, she would have permitted it just to ensure their union. Even if coitus would have been a placebo experience.
Carina had realized early on after arriving at Colony 35 how a life of cybersex would affect her, and in adverse ways. In anticipation of it with Rigel, she had been nervous and decided detachment would help her. It’s what she had learned to do from virtual hookups. Though, she would have hated detaching from Rigel in such an instance.
She recalled exhaling a deep breath to his choosing to talk about the stars instead. In that moment, she had made the right choice in selecting him. The same night she also learned from him their very names were those of stars.
Hers, Eta Carinae, was a nebula some eighty-five thousand light years from Earth, in the neighborhood of the Milky Way; and his, the giant blue star in the Orion constellation, was closer to Earth, some nine hundred light years. Carina had commented on how their companionship was swirling them to become a binary star. As accepting as they had been of one another. With a hand under his shirt and on his abdomen, the notion had waved a warm tingle of goosebumps from Rigel’s body to her. It caused Carina to snuggle and purr into him. At least she had called it purring. Rigel called it snoring.
As peaceful as camping had been, it was also much quieter than the ocean’s imbibing of the river, with its low tide whooshing over the beach, and the squawking of frigate birds.
The dowdiness of Colony 35 paled in comparison to the virtual representation of Earth being so full of life. All Carina had shared of any real adventure with Rigel was a simulated flight across Saturn’s rings. The farer that he was, he had fun, too. More than she would have thought possible. Seeing him pilot, darting in and out of the fairy dust, as Saturnians called the rings, she had adopted some of his passion for the stars.
“I’m sure my prohibitionist contacts would be willing to help us.” She wanted to keep both of them encouraged about his plan; it was a good idea. “But, we’ll need a ship.”
“I think I can get us one. If I acquire one, can you make it go dark, so it’s not traceable? Or detectable?”
The idea became at least feasible now. Carina liked the challenge of making a flier stealth. “I’m sure I can handle that.” A firm squeeze of Rigel’s hand reassured him. “By the sound of it, you’re really coming to try some bread.”
Rigel chuckled.
“And your father?”
The question had waned Rigel’s joy, and Carina squeezed on his arm to offer a comforting apology. He surprised her by kissing her head.
“Let me be the only one of us concerned about him.”
“En.”
From all their virtual dates, Carina had observed how Rigel never talked about his father. Of course, she had foregone talking about her past experiences as a passenger, and even of her feeling stranded or isolated on Colony 35. Their time together, she realized, was about them bonding, and she fancied both Rigel and their courtship for it. Carina’s optimism would carry over after marriage, especially as partners helping others out of forced servitude.
“If you’re coming out all this way for me, for us…” Carina reached into her pants pocket. “Then I’ll make the arrangements for our ceremony.” She presented Rigel with a piece of paper, folded. “I’ll also need you to bring me something for the occasion. It may make up for the sun-boat race?”
“Maybe. I guess.”
Carina smiled at Rigel’s confusion, from his reading of the note. She was confident he would figure out the simplicity of 175 centimeters and 33-30-36. He was smart, too.
Chiming enveloped them, and after looking about, Rigel said, “Duty waits.”
Carina had stepped away from him. “Call me tomorrow? I may see you then. It’ll depend on my station control shift and possibly my cat sitting for a neighbor, while they are out mining.”
“I will call, but I want to see you tomorrow. And every day after that.”
“Soon, you shall. I promise.” Carina smiled and waved as Rigel’s image faded to him dressed in his spacesuit, before they both became a distorted assembly of light and pixels and disappeared from the virtual deck.
~ * ~
The spacesuit was a cumbersome thing for Carina. She panted under its helmet to ease her nerves. Between structural beams and a view of Daphnis’s landing deck, she floated in the shadows of its processing facility. Having transferred from Colony 35 under the pretense of covering for a friend’s lunar duties, she anticipated a matter of minutes to go by before someone realized she’d gone AWOL. Carina tapped the side of her helmet. “Are you there?”
“About fifteen minutes out.” Rigel’s voice garbled, Carina exhaled with relief, turning to the window and smiling to Saturn’s rings beyond the deck. The Keeler gap between Daphnis and the rings appeared a short distance. “Approaching rings now.”
Excitement coursed through Carina. “Remember, jettison your fuel. Radiate the flier. Let inertia carry you through. All at the moment you enter the fairy dust. Collect and convert as much of it as possible. The rings are an ideal point to throw off anyone that comes looking for the flier.”
“Radiating. Jettisoning fuel. Cutting power.”
“Bear with the cold.” Carina took pleasure in Rigel’s chuckle.
“You’re the engineer. I trust you. Besides, piloting on momentum is fun.”
Carina was flattered by the declaration of trust. “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Elemental Separation Unit is liquefying the fairy dust and refueling the flier. Ten minutes to touch down.”
The vote of confidence and Rigel’s success with navigating the rings warmed Carina. She exhaled some of her nerves with a breath. “Does the flier have a name?”
“No. It’s just a shuttle.”
“Just as well. Small warp signatures are unnoticeable by Colony 35, but if people come looking for it—”
“Oh, they will, knowing my father.”
“They’ll likely track its chem burn to the rings. Because the fairy dust’s elemental composition is unique from Gaean fuel but ubiquitous to space, they’ll hit a dead end—”
“In the rings. Deceptive,” Rigel said. “ESU done. Refueling complete.”
“I was thinking, Orphanus Licht.”
“Say again?”
“Orphanus Licht.” Carina propelled off a beam, out of the shadows to a nearby airlock. “We could name the flier, Orphanus Licht. Orphan’s Light.”
“Sounds nice. Exiting fairy dust. ETA five minutes.”
“I see you. Approach is good.”
As expected, the flier’s exit from the rings was unexciting. From Carina’s vantage view, as she glided to her feet, Orphanus Licht appeared as an unassuming and tiny mass adrift in the Keeler gap, heading for Saturn’s atmosphere.
“The moment I exit the airlock, Daphnis will go on alert. Colony 35, too.”
“Depressurizing the flier. Opening outer hatch.”
“Glide all the way in. By the time Daphnis realizes the flier, we’ll be taking off.”
“Roger that. I have the landing deck in sight.”
Activating the magnetism of her suit’s boots, as to remain affixed to the deck without floating off into to space, Carina paused and said, “By the way—”
“Of course!” Rigel laughed. “It’s strapped in your seat, waiting for you.”
“Good.” Carina smiled, and then she fingered the airlock’s keypad. “It’s now or never.”
“Now or never. Warp drive on standby.”
“Exiting airlock.” Carina depressed the keypad’s green button.
An alarm sounded and the grounds of the facility turned red. Carina hurtled the landing deck. Having treaded by the unloading of a ship, its crew had stood about, confused, until someone pointed upward. They noticed her approach to the flier’s displacement of a few thruster bursts, as it squeezed and set down between two other cargo vessels. Boarding steps extended, Carina strode up into the flier, and it lifted off just as quick as it had landed, with the boarding steps folding inward and the hatch closing after her.
“Pressurizing the cabin.” Rigel’s voice feverish over his control of the flier, steering it clear of Daphnis as Carina floated to just over his shoulder. “Preparing to warp.”
“This thing doesn’t have artificial gravity?”
“Ah!” A quick flick of a switch rested Carina on her feet.
“Thanks.”
The box seated next to Rigel had drawn a smile from her. In haste, she removed it from her place and set it aside. “Give me access to the flier’s mainframe.”
“That switch there.” Rigel pointed over her lap before punching a couple center console keys. “Going full burn to jump.”
Carina strapped herself in as the flier’s acceleration pressed her with gravity, and as she strained for the dash, through tight lips, she said, “As long as you get us out of here.”
Then Saturn, its rings, and the stars were all gone. There was only blackness beyond the flier’s windows and bow. Having warped to relatively safety, gravity had eased and Carina slid her chair to the dash and began working over a keyboard, a display, and a few dials and buttons.
“What are you doing?”
“Fulfilling my part of the plan. Transponder and remote access, disabled. Christening the flier as Orphanus Licht.” With a final keystroke, Carina continued, “And just like that, we have our very own ship. Hidden from all.”
Carina smiled at Rigel’s grin as he pulled up a map. “I’ve a course for home.”
“We’re not going back so soon.” Now receiving Rigel’s curious look, Carina’s smile widened. “Our destination is the Kuiper belt. We’ll wait on Namaka for a while. Until Earth’s perihelion.”
“After winter solstice?”
“Yes.”
“That’s quite the wait.”
“It is.” Carina slid her seat back, unstrapping herself from it. She ungloved her hands and removed her helmet and set the gear left of her seat. Retrieving the box from her right, she met Rigel’s attention with a bewitching smile. “Perfect for a nice, long honeymoon.”
Rigel chuckled with a few nods, as he re-plotted Orphanus Licht’s trajectory.
Carina stood from her seat and headed for the rear compartment. Placing the box on a protrusion of the bulkhead, she unstrapped and unzipped her boots. The composite floor was warm to her feet, as she unlatched, pulled on a few buttons, and unzipped and peeled off her spacesuit.
Rigel had glimpsed her from over his shoulder before he turned in his seat. “Is that all you wore? Under your suit?”
Her back to him, Carina had hooked the hems of her panty to adjust its comfort. “Also why we’re going to Pluto. For clothes. And supplies.”
“Have you thought of everything?” Rigel ungloved his hands.
“Just about.” Carina winked from over her shoulder, reaching behind her to undo her brassier. Letting it slip to the floor, Carina moved the box. “Let’s see what kind of taste you have, shall we?”
Rigel’s smile broadened as Carina first glided her hands along the length of the box. Her eyes were closed to the tactile feel of the gift, and she inhaled as a wave of goosebumps rose across her skin. Its eggshell ribbon soft, and she opened her eyes as a palm guided her fingertips to trace the bow’s tie to one end. “You tied this?”
“I did.” Having removed his helmet, Rigel left it in his seat after standing.
“I guessed right. Farers are crafters.” Carina pulled the ribbon.
The ribbon’s weight slipped it from the box, and Carina separated its cover with eagerness. Her smile widened to the wrapping paper, its flora-folding protecting the content of the gift. The shuffle and ruffle of the paper preceded the brightening of Carina’s eyes. A hand then caught her breath, covering her mouth and nose. Lifting her endowment from the box, Carina spun with it, its silkiness and lace softer and lighter against her chest than the spacesuit.
She faced Rigel. “Rigel Tahtinen, it’s beautiful.”
He leaned against the protrusion, next to the empty box. “Try it on.”
The simplicity of the mermaid dress permitted Carina to slide, jiggle, and shimmy her hips through its narrow waist, marveling at it for fitting her tall and slender frame. She turned her back to Rigel. “If you would, please.”
Even though Rigel was insulated by his spacesuit, Carina’s face reddened with him being so close. The reality of his quickened breath across her neck and down her spine raised her skin. He electrified her when the warmth of his hands rested on her hips and turned her a bit, to align his access to the dress’s zipper. In the stillness of the compartment, her pulse amplified her racing heart, over the slow rise and clicking of the zipper’s teeth, with the brush of Rigel’s knuckles against her back, guiding the closure of the dress around her. After the last click mid back, Carina drew a sharp breath from Rigel placing his palms against her bare arms. Gliding his hands up while stepping and pressing into her backside, she brought her jaw to meet a hand, as he caressed and gripped her shoulders.
The ports, buttons, and pockets of Rigel’s spacesuit were cold and heavy against Carina’s back, but the warmth of his cheek to her right ear was comforting, and desirable.
“What about—”
“Already forwarded.” Carina’s breath matched Rigel’s. “An officiate with Space Brides, they’ve received our documents. They are awaiting us to contact them, at their Neptunian branch.”
“Well, Carina Steorra…” Rigel’s touch slipped away from her. “Seems there’s just one more thing. Something of tradition.”
Perplexed by Rigel’s withdrawal, Carina turned about to find him kneeling with a small box he’d opened to her. She covered most of her surprise with one hand.
The silver band, as modest in design as her dress and with such luster, outshone a star.
“Will you marry me?”
Brought to tears, Carina took Rigel by the wrist and tugged him to stand, stepping into him. She met his forehead with hers, nodding while searching and penetrating his eyes. Delightfully and with a breath of assertiveness to suppress a giggle, taking his face into her hands, she said, “Yes.”
~ * ~ * ~
K. B. Johnson is an independent author and publisher of science fiction and romance. He often combines the two. As Principal Director of Chaos Studio Seven—his platform—he writes short stories and novels by which he provides literary and visual experiences.
A native of Atlanta, Georgia, K.B. received his formal education in art & design and the humanities from Georgia State University, and through his writings, illustrations, and stories, he promotes the liberal arts, social tolerance, and intellectual freedom.
His science fiction collection, Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation (SOTC), earned a bronze medal in the 2018 eLit Book Awards. He has also been published online by 365tomorrows, Reedsy, and commuterlit.com. Once a month he volunteers an article for his local newspaper.
K.B. writes with the purpose of engaging one’s imagination, and he is thankful WolfSinger Publications accepted Sol Maritus and hopes readers enjoy and are inspired by it.