I dragged my legs over the side of the stretcher, hoping I could walk on my own. I didn’t want a medic to wheel me out in front of everyone like an invalid. That would be a great opener to my highly anticipated victory speech.
The older medic gripped my arm. “Are you sure you want to—”
“I’m fine.” I shrugged her off. My feet tingled, and my knees bowed as I forced my weight on them. Gritting my teeth, I propped myself up with my arms and slowly eased into a standing position. Man, that arachnid poison was strong stuff.
The hatch opened, and a roar of applause erupted outside. My stomach clenched, not from the poison, although the metallic taste still lingered on my tongue, but from nerves. I bet they expected something marvelous, uplifting, heroic, and I had no idea what I was going to say.
Corvus whispered in my ear. “Good luck.”
We stepped into the violet sunlight, and I shielded my eyes against the glare. The crowd was massive, a living, breathing sea of exhilaration. I hadn’t thought about how big our mission had become until now.
Scanning the faces, I recognized my old teachers, a few retired lieutenants, some of my classmates, and Dad. I blinked, thinking I’d hallucinated in the bright rays of ultraviolet sun, but when I opened my eyes again, there he was, tall and skinny with his signature head of curly auburn hair. He stood next to Mom and Solar. All three of them clapped and smiled proudly. Tears ran down Mom’s face, and Solar jumped up and down. It was Dad’s reaction that jolted me right to the heart. He stopped clapping and held up his hand to me, as if saying hello after a long, long time.
Was Dad ready to be a part of the family?
I hoped so. I knew he meant it when he said he was sorry. Hope blossomed in my chest and I wondered if our lives would change: dinners at the table, conversations about little things like how Solar liked to make smiley faces with her fruit peels, or how Mom braided ribbons into her hair at night. I imagined Dad making a funny face, causing Solar to laugh so hard she spit on the table and then all of us laughed harder. Like a sitcom from Old Earth.
Wait a second. Someone was missing. I turned to Corvus. “Where’s Crophaven?”
Corvus waved to the crowd then leaned to me. “He stayed behind to oversee the rest of the retrieval efforts at the crash site. That’s why he wants you to give the speech.”
Thanks, Crophaven. Way to shirk your job on me. As much as I cursed him, deep down I glowed with pride. Crophaven relied on me. I couldn’t screw this up.
Corvus ushered Lyra and me to a platform that must have been erected for the sole purpose of our return because I didn’t remember the airstrip having a stage. Gavin and Alcor were seated in a row behind a podium that had a microphone hooked to the clear glass.
Small scars from the arachnid attack covered Alcor’s face, but he had color in his cheeks. With the scars he looked more like a seasoned war veteran than the young man who thought we were all going to die. He’d changed so much inside and out and I was proud of him.
As I took the last step to the platform, I saluted each one of my team. They saluted me back, then bowed in reverence. When they lifted their heads, their eyes held a weighty respect.
I stepped to the microphone, a small, rectangular box that had so many tiny receptor holes, it intimidated me. My exhaled breath echoed over the masses, and I took it all in. The overwhelming sense of expectation dizzied me and I placed both arms on the podium to secure my weight.
What was I going to say? To buy myself time and adhere to custom, I raised my hand in salute and we recited the pledge of the Guide.
The voices trailed off with the words, “By the Guide, with prosperity and longevity for all,” leaving me a dead silence in which to pour out my thoughts.
Stick to the truth. I cleared my throat. “As many of you are aware, I led a team into the alien craft that hovered over the jungle, mining crystals.”
The silence thickened as every eye focused on me. I wished for someone to cough or a baby to cry. Something.
“We got stuck in their tractor beam and were pulled into an ambush.”
The more I talked, the easier the words flowed. I imagined Mom, Dad, and Solar being the only people in the audience, and I told the story just to them. I described the arachnids, trying not to make them appear too scary, especially for the younger children in the audience, but I wanted the people to know who we faced. Then I spoke of how I lost my team, how Sirius and I sneaked around their ship, how I saw the arachnids’ home planet in the orb, how they spied on our activities on the New Dawn, and how we saved our team and used the eggs to lure them to the pod plants.
Mouths dropped, eyes widened, and some people covered their faces during the creepy parts. Relief loosened me up to speak more freely as they accepted my story, and what we’d been through, with sympathy and open minds.
“Thanks to the efforts of Gavin McGraw, Alcor Dunstable, Lyra Bryan, and Sirius Smith, along with the retrieval crew led by Corvus Holmes and Lieutenant Crophaven, the arachnid threat has been terminated.”
Had it? I had a distant memory of the mother brain screaming into my mind, warning me this war had just the begun. That was only a dream, wasn’t it? Besides, Crophaven worked hard to keep order and peace. He wouldn’t appreciate me putting scary ideas in these people’s heads, especially without proof. Today I had to stick to the known facts.
The facts. As I stared at all of the faces looking to me for guidance, I realized I’d learned more on that ship than plain facts. I’d learned something everyone here needed to know in order for our colony to move forward.
My voice rose. “The battle is won, but there will be others. We must resolve our personal, petty disputes if we’re ever to unify against threats to this colony. We are not at war with one another. Rather, we fight to survive as a species in this chaotic universe.”
Applause rumbled like thunder in my gut. I blushed, bowing my head in gratitude and stepped away from the podium. Corvus took my arm, leading me to a seat. “Great speech. Next time lay off the arachnid poison, though, will ya?”
I gave him a questioning sideways glance, too tired to argue. “Thanks.” My shoulders slumped, and I collapsed into the seat, physically and emotionally drained.
Andromeda ran from the crowd into Corvus’ arms. He embraced her, lifting her above the ground and twirling her around like a perfect porcelain doll. A pang of melancholy hit me. I thought of Sirius still in that alien craft, working hard to fix up the corsair. Was he thinking of me?
The crowd dispersed, and medics escorted me to my family unit, waving people off when they came to congratulate me or ask further questions. The trip through the New Dawn was a blur. After the dim reddish light of the alien craft, I wandered in wonder, as if in a dream where everything was too bright and too clean. Never had I thought of the ship as the sterile, fake bubble that it really was.
“You sure you don’t want to stay in the emergency bay?” The older medic who’d given me the blazer stared at me like I was a newborn.
“I’m fine, really.”
She glanced down at my stomach.
I rubbed the skin regenerator patch. My hand stopped and I shoved it in my pocket. “I’ll call for help if I feel any strange side effects.” Like imagining monks or screaming mother-brains.
“Very well, my dear. Take it easy for the next few days. Drink lots of fluids to flush the poison from your system and no physical exertion of any kind.”
“Yes, ma’am.” In the last seconds before she turned away, I leaned forward and gave her a hug. The medic tensed as if she hadn’t expected it, and I hadn’t expected it either.
Before the mission, I’d never gone around hugging strangers. In a delayed reaction, she put her arms around me and gave me a squeeze. By keeping people at a distance, I’d missed out on a huge part of life.
“Thank you.”
“Take care of yourself.” The medic turned and followed her team down the corridor. They had a long day ahead of them with all of the new specimens to identify and take care of. I didn’t envy her. My work was done. At least for a little while, until the commander assigned me back to my pod extermination missions.
Taking a deep breath, I punched in the code to my family cell. The panel dissolved, revealing silence. No cooking sounds clanged from the kitchen; there were no songs sung by Solar in her whiny voice. Not even a whoop or curse from Dad. I stepped around the corner, thinking my family hadn’t come home from the assembly yet, but they all sat at the dinner table doing nothing. Dad included.
Their heads shot up and Solar shouted, “Nova! You’re home.”
Solar ran into me, knocking me into the wall.
Mom scolded her, “Solar, be careful. Your sister’s been through a lot.”
“She’ll be fine.” Solar pulled away and slapped me on the back. “You watch. She’ll be harping on my math answers in no time.”
Mom came over a put a hand on my shoulder. “We’re proud of you, Nova.”
We? I knew Mom was proud. What I really wanted was some sort of assurance from Dad. I glanced over at him and raised my eyebrows in expectation. He remained seated with his legs propped on my empty chair. Although it was a calm position, his eyes had circles underneath, and he fidgeted with the place mat. I wanted to ask him why he wasn’t busy saving the pixilated world, but that might push him away again. “Hey, Dad.”
He swung his long legs to the floor and rose. “Did you get my message?”
Message? Then I remembered back on the ship in the storage bay. “Yeah.” I’d gotten his message when I needed it the most. “I’m sorry I couldn’t write back.”
“That’s okay. I just needed you to know.”
Mom put her arm around Solar and guided her to her room. “You have a lot of work to get caught up on.”
Mom glanced over her shoulder. “And you two have a lot of catching up to do.” She smiled a secretive smile, and I wondered what kind of talk they’d had while I was fighting for my life.
Dad pulled up a chair. “Have a seat, Lucky Star.”
I sat down, thankful to rest my legs. The trek through the ship had taken a lot out of me. It would be days before I got my stamina back. “What’s up?”
He pushed around Solar’s orange peels, collecting them in a pile. It was the first time I’d seen him clean anything in years. “You being gone has made me think about a lot of things. How I wasn’t there to see you off and everyone else’s parents were and how I’ve been...distracted lately.”
“Lately? It’s been like the last ten years.”
Dad winced and he took a sharp intake of breath. “I know.”
“Why?”
“Your mother and I had trouble getting along when we were initially paired. I understand the purpose of the whole match-making system, but geez, when it paired us together, it was like oil and water.” He shook his head. “I turned to my games instead of dealing with the issues that kept us apart.”
I narrowed my eyes. What could Mom ever argue about? “What issues?”
“Your mom is such a hard worker, and I’m more laid back. The more she pushed me, the more I withdrew. She had big plans for this family, and I wanted to lay low—just do my job and live my life.” He looked at me enviously. “Guess you inherited your work ethic from your mom.”
“Yes, but I got this wonderful auburn hair from you.” I tried to lighten the mood.
He smiled. “You’ve given your mom everything she’s ever hoped for, Nova.”
I gazed at the table. “She deserves the best.” Not someone who’s going to ignore her every waking moment to fly a fictional space ship.
He brought a finger to my cheek. “Hey, now. It’s not that I don’t love her, because I do, and I love you and sister more than all the world.”
I summoned my courage. It was now or never. I might not get him this attentive again. “Then what is it, Dad? Why can’t you be a part of the family with us? What’s keeping you back?”
“Myself?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. From now on, I’m going to spend more time with you guys. You know, have dinner, help out around the house. I thought I’d lost you, and it was horrible to sit around and think of all that time I spent by myself while you and your sister did all the work.”
I nodded, trying to hold back tears. “Good idea, Dad.”
“You keep me to it now, okay?”
I held his eyes steady. “I will. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good.” He patted my hand. “You’ve been my Lucky Star all along.”
“How? We don’t play together anymore.”
Dad’s eyes reminded me of Commander Barliss’ when he gazed at us from his command chair: sad and full of wisdom. “You’ve made me see what’s really important.”