An hour after that...

  Grease under his nails, and ratchet in hand, Aster tightened the loose fitting of the balancer– a gauge that transmitted to the cockpit what angle the landing prongs were locked at, and how much weight they were bearing. 

  The day had gotten warmer, but the wind still whistled over the plains and up under the Passerine's belly, where Aster did his best to keep the stray pieces of silvered hair out of his eyes while he worked. 

  He'd rolled up his sleeves as he worked, displaying the distinct Fletric ‘V’s’ on his wrists as he fought with a bearing that refused to be tightened. Readjusting his hold on the tool, Aster lamented the amount of grease that had spread over its surface in his current attempts at ship repair. As he thought, the bolt that he had been trying to fasten hit him above the eye, and the tool dropped from his hand with a curse. 

  Captain Rigg stepped back from the landing ramp and clutched his stinging temple. 

  “Stupid, no good, keffing ship!” he hissed, aiming a heavy kick at the landing strut. “Is everything trying to kill me?” 

  He heard footsteps behind him. Captain Rigg moved a baleful eye to the intruder as he rubbed his temple sorely. 

  Zara surveyed him as he clutched his head painfully. Tiredly, she leant against a landing prong. “Where’s Tzir?” 

  Captain Rigg turned away. “Getting our proof of payment,” he muttered. “He’ll be back– I hope.” 

  Zara flicked her eyes to the balancer, then back to Aster. “Do you need help?”

  Captain Rigg eyed her. “No, I just–” he turned back to the ship. “I just need to think.” 

  The medic yawned, looking out from under the ship to the lonely, salty fields. “Want to tell me why you’re upset? Or… not really?” 

  Captain Rigg shook his head, kneeling down to where the bolt and his tool sat happily on the concrete of the warehouse roof. “I’m not upset,” he said.

  “Yes. You are.” Zara paused. “Xander… told me what happened.”

  With an exasperated breath, Aster fastened the bolt back onto the balancer with small, complicated movements. “Fine. Great– go talk to him about it, then. Or help with the crates, or… be useful in general.” 

  “I lack the constitution for physical labour, Captain,” Zara said. “So I came out here to guess... You bullied the kid to tell you what really happened… and it turned out to be worse than you thought… and now you’re moping, right?” 

  Aster screwed on another bolt. “I’m not moping.” He sighed, grease covered hands becoming motionless for a small moment. Aster threaded a nut along the bolt shaft, voice low. “Why was I the only one who was bothered about being lied to?” 

  Zara tilted her head. “Because you’re the most sensitive old man I’ve ever met.” 

  Aster fastened on another disobedient bolt. “You’re being unhelpful.”

  Zara spread her hands. “Look, I get it– it’s rough, but you can’t help what happened… You're not the Allmaker, Aster.”

  After a little, she dropped her hands, taking a deep breath in. “Sometimes… stuff like this happens. Dreams are… postponed. People move on after they get hurt. It happens.”

  “Well, it shouldn't–” he said as he twisted another bolt tightly. 

  “But it does,” Zara asserted, pushing herself from the landing strut she was leaning against. “And the best we can do is to look after our people, which you're doing, and you have done, and you will continue to do, because that’s who you are, Captain Rigg.” She folded her arms.“I’m not gonna let you spiral into one of your month-long pity parties because someone– on some random planet– got hurt.”

   Zara stopped for a moment, surveying him as the noise of crates being loaded above them thudded against the thick, reinforced metal of the Passerine.

  “What makes you think you’re responsible for any of this?” Zara asked at last. 

   “I… ” Aster started helplessly. He put his other hand in his pocket, feeling the sharp, jagged edges of the Kletisian as he pulled it out. “I don’t know,” he confessed quietly.

  The wind from the plains swept up around him, filling in the gaps in his silence like bad putty on wet concrete. 

  Zara moved quietly to stand beside him, looking at the figure; it was an Orthropian, it's crab eyes staring up at them. She looked up at him. Her voice was remote– toneless. 

  “A Sentinel?” 

  “They’re not called that out here,” Aster corrected. “They call them Kletisians.” 

  Zara’s frown was deep, and very, very troubled. “Where did you get that?” 

  Captain Rigg transferred it to his other hand– away from Zara– as he examined the pieces. “It’s the reason I knew she was lying. All day, I’ve been trying to figure it out. And I couldn't help but think… What makes a kid so angry that she wakes up to break this– of all things?” He looked up, gazing out from under his ship to the blinding plains of salt, minerals, and skeletons of a thousand living creatures long past. 

  “What would make you angry at a caretaker of the universe?” He looked down at the Orthropian Kletisian. “Except that they had failed in their task somehow?"

  Zara remained silent for a long moment. Finally, she moved, reaching out and closing his fingers around the pieces. 

  “The Kletisians are gone, Aster. It’s... just us, now.”

  Letting her hand slide, she nodded to his closed fist. “Get rid of that. Get our proof of payment. Get the Passerine back to Lisk.” She turned away. “I think it’s time we put Covien behind us.” 

  Aster heard her pause, physically, and verbally. 

  “All of Covien.”

  Zara’s footsteps faded away, leaving Aster to stare lifelessly at his closed fist, alone underneath the bird-like transport he had come to call home. 

  He found it an odd feeling, to have his entire existence above him, contained within a metal box, like a tin can– or a crate. 

  He couldn’t decide whether the cold wind that was encircling him was comforting him, or taunting him– and he couldn’t decide which he thought he deserved, either. He couldn’t decide anything. In fact, Captain Rigg suddenly found it very hard to think, at all. Because one, demanding but singular, question was racing through his mind, that blocked all others out.

  Why did Evren West have so many files on her Tab, and why had she memorised them in the first place? 

  And even though this was his only thought, he still found it in himself to be terribly angry for thinking it. 

  Shouldn’t he be worried about his crew? Shouldn’t he be fixing the landing gear? Shouldn’t he be checking things over in the hold? Shouldn’t he be more organised? More focused? Weren’t they on a tight timetable, after all?

  His fingers clasped around the broken pieces, even tighter as Evren’s angry words came back to him like a returning omen. 

  What makes you think anyone can change anything on this planet?

  “This is ridiculous,” Aster muttered, turning to the railing of the warehouse. Drawing close to the edge, he drew his hand back, readying the pieces to throw. 

  Listen to your crew, he told himself firmly. 

  Aster shut his eyes, a foot away from the edge. 

  Let the Kletisian go, he pleaded to his fingers. Just do it. 

  Determined, he opened his eyes, reaching over the railing of the roof and readying his fingers to release. Let go. 

  The wind whistled up the corner of the warehouse, disturbing his hair and coat– but still, he didn’t loosen his grasp. The sun came and went as fickle clouds sped by and left– but still, he held the pieces in his hand. 

  Sea birds cried mournfully above him, mocking the Fletric that stood motionless atop a salt warehouse with a broken toy in his hand. 

  Captain Rigg’s fingers clutched the pieces of polyplast– one eye of pitch black peeking through his grasp and looking at him the exact same way Evren had that morning. 

  Terrified. 

  His shoulders dropped. 

  The Kletisians are gone, Aster. 

  It’s just us. 

  With an exasperated breath, Captain Rigg dropped his hand to his side, Kletisian still in his grasp. Placing his other arm on the railing, he dropped his forehead against it with a hard thump. 

  “It shouldn’t be like this,”  he whispered to himself. “It shouldn’t… be like this.” 

  “If you’re thinking about jumping to your death, I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

  Aster turned, seeing the elderly Tirionian walk up to the railing, resting his elbows on it easily. He, very pointedly, did not look at Captain Rigg. 

  “The roof just isn't high enough to break your neck.” 

  Aster blew out a breath, looking to where Tzir held a thin tablet, glowing light-blue with all the official numbers stamped into it for the salt Aster had paid for. Still leaning against the railing, Tzir handed it to him easily. 

  “You can stop worrying about getting accused of unlawful piracy,” he said, as Aster took it, putting it in his coat pocket. 

  “I’m not particularly worried about that,” Aster said, looking back to the plains. He still held the Kletisian in his hand. He should just throw it and leave, he decided.  

  Tzir nodded, weathered eyes tracing a few Bots on his fields. “Ah, but you are worried about something.”

  As Aster looked over at him quizzically, the Tironian only shrugged. “What? You think you're the first merchant captain to come through here looking like hell?” The older man tsked gently, looking back at the fields. “Everyone’s got a little weight to their shoulders, Captain. But you… you especially.” 

  Aster unclenched his fingers from around the polyplast pieces in his hand. He felt Tzir’s gaze on them. 

  The Tironian tilted his head. “And something tells me it has something to do with that there Kletisian.” 

  Aster stared down at the crabby eyes, trying to get them to stop looking so angry in his head. 

  “I... need to throw it away,” he muttered, trying to take all the emotion out of his voice. “The person…I mean, its owner... doesn’t want it anymore.” 

  Beside him, Tzir laughed like most old men laughed– tone raspy and full of years. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to a Kletisian,” he said as his laughter died away. “Vote them out of the Empirum or throw them from a warehouse roof, there’s not much difference, is there?” Tzir quieted. “Never could quite figure out the logic of that, but, what can you do?” 

  Aster’s eyes flicked from Bot to Bot on the fields, his mind flicking from thought to thought in search of the right word. 

  “I used to think the universe is better off without the magic. Without the supernatural, unpredictable things. And… that makes sense. How can something like the Kletisians steward the Kosmoverse? They were strange. They were different. They were… ”

  He had intended to look back down at the pieces in his hand, but his eyes lingered on his own fingers, instead– the worn fingerprints, the subtle tremors of his indecision. 

  “They were dangerous.” 

  Aster closed his hand around the polyplast. “Everyone says it’s safer without them,” he said after a moment, “but the universe doesn’t feel safer. It feels… unfair.” He shut his eyes, feeling like every thought he’d ever had was speeding through his mind. “They really should be here…”

  Tzir shrugged, still resting against the railing, “Should they?” He asked, weathered eyes scanning the stripped ocean bed. “It’s not so bad with them gone.” 

  Aster glanced at the man for a brief moment, his frown transitioning from weariness to frustration. “Not so bad?” Aster echoed, gesturing out towards the sky. “Have you seen what’s happening out there, right now?”

  Tzir put his hands up defensively, with nothing but a warm smile. “I don’t mean it like so, Captain Rigg. Not like how you see it, anyway.” The old Tironian man returned his elbows to the railing, eyes lost out among the relentless miles of salt, dust, and whiteness. 

“Now, I don’t mean to offend you," he started slowly, "but if you’ll listen to an old man’s two-Disk’s-worth… I won’t say I’m glad them Kletisi-folk are gone, but I won’t say it’s all bad, either.”

  Aster looked at the older man sideways, his face inexpressive as Tzir continued. 

 “Them Kletisians might be gone, but what they stood for, doing good, healing, making peace, that’s up to us now, isn’t it? Now– we can’t just… wait around for someone else to help. We see a problem, we gotta buckle down and fix it ourselves.” 

  Tzir spread his hands. “Maybe we relied too much on other people to be our guides for right and wrong… Maybe those few odd centuries of thinking that somewhere, out there, there was someone doing good, made us think we… just… didn’t have to do any ourselves.”

  Aster looked back down at the pieces, and Tzir continued. 

“And yes, it’s not good what happened to them, but at the same time, them leaving gave us a gift that lasts far longer than any ancient guild of peacemakers…” Tzir hesitated, looking sideways at Captain Rigg. 

  “The chance to do it ourselves,” he smiled. “To be better.”

  With a frown, Captain Rigg finally found the words he had been looking for all day. 

  “That feels like… an impossible task,” the Fletric breathed out. “To fix the universe.” 

  Again, Tzir laughed.

 “What makes you think you have to fix the entire ‘verse, son?” Turning and leaning back against the railing, the Tironian looked up at the towering transport on his warehouse roof. “We just got to find a little piece of it, is all– just one little piece to make better.” 

  Captain Rigg blinked. 

  He opened his mouth, and then shut it. Turning around, he looked at his transport, expression heavy. From where he stood, he saw the Y-sector flame engravings on its hull, the little paintings the crew had added to alongside it. 

  Zara’s scrawling plant, Xander’s symbol of honour, Tarik’s Tironian dawn– all of them. 

 Following the captain’s gaze, Tzir looked up at the Passerine. “I wouldn’t be too discouraged about the state of the Kosmoverse, Cap’n– we still have some good people in it, like your guild. The Freelance Merchants don’t care about colour, creed, crest or flag– they go where they’re needed, and to who needs them. It always reminded me of the Kletisians, in a way. Reminds me that we weren’t left high and dry. That we could still cling to what them folks stood for– even if they’re gone.” 

  Aster cleared his throat, eyes lingering on the pieces in his hand.  “Thank you.  They’re… a good lot.”

  Tzir pushed himself from the railing, nodding to the broken pieces of polyplast with a strange glint in his eyes. “I wouldn’t throw that out just yet– I reckon it’s still got some work to do.”

  Before Aster could respond, Charge's shrill call came loudly from the ship. 

  “Captain? We’re finished here!”

  Aster slid the pieces back into his pocket, gesturing for the Tironian to follow him around the ship. “I have a feeling my crew have finished with your platform.”

  At the ship's entrance, Tzir inclined his head to him. “I guess I’ll be going, and let you lot get back to Lisk, then. You and yours will always be welcome to my fields, Captain Rigg.” 

  “Thank you, Tzir,” Aster replied, returning the small bow. “You’ve been fair and steady. The guild remembers that.” 

  With a smile, the elderly Tironian strode off towards his platform now full of crates, whistling for his three-span-Bot to follow him. Picking up the cable to the hovering platform, it followed his master with load in tow. For a little while, Aster watched the pair dwindle from sight before turning back to the Passerine. Zara and Charge were arguing about how to tie down the salt inside the hold, while Evren sat on the landing ramp, tiredly watching a sand-coloured moth crawl over her hand. She looked up as he regarded them, quickly turning away as her weariness switched to a delayed kind of embarrassment. 

   Xander, on the other hand, was walking towards him. 

  Captain Rigg eyed the tall Light Geodian as he came closer. 

  “Hello, Xander,” Captain Rigg breathed out tiredly. 

  Xander stopped, looking at Captain Rigg strangely. Those hadn't been the words he'd expected to hear, nor the tone he'd expected to hear them in.

   “I…” Xander stopped, twisting around to make sure he was out of earshot from the ship. He focused back around to Aster. “I want to talk to you– I have… I have something to say, now.” 

  Instead of speaking, Xander busied himself with rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. 

 Aster waited. He waited as the birds overhead cried their songs, and the sound of Tzir’s mutts faded away completely. He waited as Xander wordlessly translated his thoughts out of his mother tongue and into the one they shared. Finally, Aster stopped waiting and sighed. 

  “Speak,” he said, using the Xenophosi dialect that was native to the younger man.

  Xander looked up, surprised. “Really?” the Geodian asked hesitantly in his own language.

  Aster nodded, tired, and Xander continued, spurred on by the permission to forsake the messy, shared language of Entrillia. 

  “I’m sorry,” Xander started. “I’m sorry… about the Lightcore. I’m sorry we didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry I lied about it and told you I stole it to do the right thing, when the truth was– I mean, is– that I did it… because I was bored. You were right, and I didn’t want to admit it.”

  Xander trailed away, looking down. “Lou Koval must have somehow found Evren because she was with us… and I can’t help but think Evren’s troubles are because of me. Zara made me apologise in the bin of trash, but I didn’t mean it ,then.” Looking up, he assumed a look of earnesty. “But I mean it now. From now on, and to the best of my ability, you have my word and honour as a Tenth Ring fighter that I’ll do my best to support your decisions.” Xander paused. “Even if I don’t not like them.”

  Captain Rigg shook his head, turning to look over the salt fields as he hid a smile.

  “And how many times did you practice that?” he asked slowly, voice low and toneless as he switched back to General. 

  Xander shuffled to stand next to him. 

“Twelve,” the Light Geodian muttered.

  All the while Xander had talked, Aster couldn’t help but want to interject, but now– in the silence between them– Aster knew what he wanted to say, but found those words impossible to speak. Instead, he voiced another thought that came to his mind. 

  “Do you remember when you were learning General, Xander?” 

  Xander looked up, tilting his head. “Yes, I do. Very vividly. You and Zara were very strict teachers.” 

   Aster found the line between the clouds and the horizon with his eyes, getting lost in the mesmerizing nothingness of salt and sky. “Do you remember when… I was teaching you how to argue?” 

  This time, Xander laughed. 

  “Yes, I do.” He quieted, but still held the tone of his chuckle in his voice. “Having an opinion, standing my ground… as a slave, I remember finding that the most uncomfortable thing I had ever had to do.” Xander hesitated a moment, a shy kind of smile creeping across his face. “I’m sorry it has not worked in your favour?”

  “I’m not sorry about that,” Aster said, turning to face the ex-gladiator. “I’m glad we’re different. I’m glad you’re here. Even when you argue.”

  Xander went to speak, then shut his mouth. 

Somehow, Xander Nemeshainci had a way of saying nothing but still adding to the conversation– like the small look of gratitude that he gave Captain Rigg. It was small, and subtle, but was worth more than a thousand of his over-pronounced words. 

  Captain Rigg nodded, accepting the expression silently. 

  “Hey! When you two old ladies are done gossiping,” Charge shouted from the hold, “can we go?”

  “Oh, go prep an engine, or something!” Aster called in annoyance, frown directed at his impatient second engineer. “I’ll be there in a second!”

  Turning back to Xander, he lowered his voice. “Listen, you don’t have to apologise for what’s happened here, because, Lightcore or no Lightcore, it’s not your fault.” Aster paused, still looking up sideways at the tall gladiator. “But that part about supporting my unpopular opinions…” He cast a glance to where Evren sat on the landing ramp, moribund. “Does that still stand?” 

  Xander hesitated, confused. “Yes?” 

  Captain Rigg slapped his deckhand's shoulder, walking towards their ship. “Good to know.”

  Like raindrops against weathered glass, the knock on the door of the navigation room was quiet and unobtrusive. 

  Captain Rigg tore his gaze from the coral box perched between the two fuel gauges, hands dropping from where he had been resting his chin on his fingers.  

  Twisting around in the pilot’s seat to see who had knocked– a sound that seldom occurred on his door– he found Evren poking her head around the metal, eyes flitting around the room uncertainly. 

  He looked away, blowing out a breath as he hid behind the bulky pilot's chair. She’d come to shout at him some more, he thought, this wasn’t good. 

  He wondered if Evren had seen him, and then immediately kicked himself. Of course she’d seen him, how could she not have?

  After five breaths and a long, silent moment, Captain Rigg poked one eye out from behind his chair to see what Evren thought about his cowardice. 

  To his surprise, Evren had no thoughts on the matter at all, simply because the girl hadn’t seen him. Instead, she muttered to herself as she looked around the navigation floor for something, most likely assuming herself alone. 

  Scratching her head, she wandered further into the room, brown eyes searching the floor for some lost treasure. Finally, the small Geodian pulled her eyes from the ground, glancing around the room. It was like she was seeing it for the first time as brown, stunned eyes traced every edge, every console, every star chart and every book spine– at least twice. 

  She looked to the shelf on her right, focusing on the plethora of books upon their weathered brackets: leathers and polyplasts, data chips and even Tab-books that displayed moving pictures on their heavy pages and holographic letters on their spines. 

  “Woah,” she breathed out, taking a step back from a bookshelf to survey it in all its glory. Bumping into the desk in the middle of the room, she reached out to steady herself, left hand brushing over the control panel for the projection unit. 

  Above her, the nav room sprang into soft, pearly light, forming a holographic system from halfway across the universe. 

  The girl took a step back, fear replacing her awe in a heartbeat, and drawing her hands to her chest, she backed away from the projection.

  As the projection started to move– mimicking natural orbits, lightyears away– Evren’s eyes darted from planet to planet, star to star, little cogs working to process what was happening.

  Finally, she realised what she had done. One bandaged foot after the other, Evren found herself back at the edge of the desk, the things she had been searching for now forgotten as she stared, listless, at the white, pearly planets that encircled the nav-room. 

  Captain Rigg had been about to move, but suddenly, found himself unable to. He wanted to speak, but something greater than his will kept him motionless and silent. He had to admit that he wanted to know what Evren was going to do next, and despite his attempts to quell the emotion, he was curious. 

  The projection flickered– a small hiccup in the stream of data, and after a moment of hesitation, Evren ran an unsteady hand through the holographic reconstruction, the stars and nebulae breaking apart under her touch, only to reform as her fingers passed through, like a revenant crowd parting for nobility. 

  She released a breath, some of her tension leaving with it.

  From his seat, Captain Rigg’s brows drew together as he tried desperately to remember the last time he had seen anyone so absorbed in anything. 

  “Do you know what that’s called?” Aster asked.

  The reaction from Evren was far from what he'd expected. The small girl acted like she'd just been stung by a Scelirian wasp, holding her arms above her head as she yelled in a startled panic, jerking away from the projection.  “I-didn't-mean-to-touch-anything-I'm-sorry-I'm-sorry-I'm sorry–”

  Captain Rigg eyed her, wordless. She slowly lowered her arms, looking out from over the bandages to gauge Captain Rigg’s expression.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you finished?” 

  Evren dropped her arms the whole way, clearing her throat. 

“Sorry, um… I think so.” She straightened. “Your medic said we’re getting close to Lisk… so I was just… looking for my Tab before I went.”

  Captain Rigg turned back to the steering console, flicking on auto control and pushing himself from his seat. “You seem like you know it,” he commented tiredly. “The sector.” 

  He stepped down from the helm, Evren eyeing him strangely, like the suspicious  waterfowl would eye him back on Furl– caught constantly between wanting something from him and trying to decide if he was trustworthy enough to take it.

  Finally, Evren looked down. She appeared embarrassed– which was absurd to Aster for some reason. Wordlessly, she shook her head. 

  Captain Rigg tilted his own. “Why do you feel like you need to lie about how smart you are?” 

  “How… how do you know that I’m lying?” she asked smally, but firmly. “I’m… just a mechscrubber– I really could be quite stupid and- and you wouldn’t know.” 

 Captain Rigg sighed. “Oh, I don’t know,” he intoned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small data Tab, turning it over in his fingers as Evren watched it like a hawk. “I have a hunch. About… ninety eight percent of a hunch, actually.” Captain Rigg threw the device back to its owner, who caught it quickly. 

  The small Geodian cleared her throat. “Oh. Right. The… tests.” She looked up at Captain Rigg. “I can see why you think that I’m smart, but I really just needed something to pass the time– I’m not smart like that– it’s just– we’ll I’m quite stupid, actually– there was this one time–” 

  Captain Rigg returned his hands to his pockets. 

"It’s a Navigators' test,” he said, turning to face the projection. “Made by the Entrillian Transport guild– for second year cadets.” 

  After a moment of silence, he looked back at her as she processed what he said. 

  “You have a very odd way of being stupid, Miss West.” 

  Evren was motionless for a small moment behind him as he turned back to the projection, folding his arms as he studied it. After about ten seconds, she shuffled closer, watching the projection expand and move like it was breathing. 

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably. 

  “I’m sorry about… about the Kovals' thing…” she said. “I can get a little obsessed with… taking care of myself.” Her fingers busied themselves with worrying the case to her Tab– and Captain Rigg found himself wondering who had put all the files on it for her.

“It’s how I was taught to survive here,” Evren finished quietly, now fixated on her Tab.

  Drawing his eyebrows together, the Fletric assumed a gentle frown. “I can’t really blame you.” He inclined his head to the side. “Considering how poorly I've received help in the last interphase.” 

  Keeping her steady, earth-coloured eyes on the device , Evren shrugged. “It’s, um... Well. It’s a hard habit to break, so don’t beat yourself up too much.” 

  Captain Rigg watched her for a few moments more before he spoke. 

  “Was it our Lightcore?” he asked. “Was that how they found you last night?” 

Evren stiffened, glancing up at him briefly. “What does it matter?”

He wasn't expecting such a reaction. Captain Rigg thought back to the odd locks of his odd little hangar. First replaced, (obviously, he saw now) by Kovals when they were searching for the Lightcore, and then broken into by none other then a very scared maintenance hand trying to get away from them. In Aster's experience, it was only extreme strength or terrible fear that could break a lock from the inside, and looking at Evren's stunted form, he realised which it had been.

 Watching his expression change from worried to confused, to worried again, Evren breathed out, seeming to give up. “I mean... They won’t come for you, if that’s what you’re worried about. They were only... watching the hangar to look for me." She folded her arms, muttering as she looked away, "Apparently, you’re not important enough to make an example of.” 

  “And you are?” Captain Rigg asked curiously– then realised how insulting the words could appear, and hurried to clarify, “If Lou Koval was angry at being stolen from, why not come for us?” 

  Evren looked like she was about to formulate either a lie or an excuse– but after a moment of stale hesitation, she ended up rubbing her fingers into her face. 

“You know what, Captain Rigg? Because Offworlders leave and no one can see what he’s done to them. I’m…” Evren looked down, fingering her empty pocket. “I’m staying here. I'll make a good reminder, at least for a while."

"Was the ticket the only thing they took?" Captain Rigg queried.

Evren rubbed her right wrist, like she had been rubbing it all day. "Uh, well. They took my poncho, and..."

There was something else the small girl wouldn't say, but Captain Rigg was learning not to press. He opened his mouth to ask another question, when Evren spoke.

"You know," Evren mused almost to herself, "they took two of the most important things to my survival. My poncho, and my ticket. But to be honest..." Evren trailed away, chuckling.

Aster frowned. Maybe the day have work had been too much to ask of the girl. "What?" he prompted.

Laughing to herself heartily, Evren bent over, shaking her head as she shook with amusement. "You know what made me the most angry?" She straightened, still laughing. "I left my plant behind! And Lou Koval took my book--" Another round of laughter echoed through the nav room. Evren was nearly beside herself. She wiped a tear from her eye, "And I don't even know how to read!"

She composed herself enough to straighten with another chuckle. "Just an old, blue book with a white bird on it. It was probably older then me, and the plant was probably a weed, but..." Evren stilled, her mirth draining away like sunbeams from an evening sky. "But they were mine," she finished smally, lost in the projection. "I think Lou Koval knew that. And... I think that's why he took them."

Aster broke the silence that followed as he shifted, eyes glancing to his many bookshelves. "A blue book with a bird?"

Evren nodded, eyes far away. "Yeah."

  The Captain looked away, frowning. He blew out a breath, thinking of Evren's words, and the mechanic that had challenged them the night previous. “Well, I’m starting to think the Koval family has a very unhealthy relationship with power.” 

  Evren thought about it, processing the words and their meanings. “That’s… one way to say it. ” 

  Captain Rigg sighed, placing both hands on his desk, looking into the pearly light. Nebulae stretched from one end of the room to the other, and anomaly warnings filled the space in between. He narrowed his eyes slightly. 

  “Tzir Tarngai said it was the Astrostorm that made people desperate here,” he remarked thoughtfully. “But this sector– the Ti’ineavi Belt, has some of the oldest, most dangerous astrostorms– and I’ve been there, and they’re not like Covien– at least, not all of them.” 

  Evren materialized by his elbow. 

“The-the Ti’ineavi Nebula?” the small girl queried, switching her gaze from captain to the projection at a comedic rate. “This are the Ti’ineavi Nebulas?”

  "It's 'nebulae'." Captain Rigg raised his eyebrows. Now he really was curious as to why the projection had taken her so. “I thought you had recognised them?” 

  Evren paused, sounding somewhat disappointed. “Yeah well… it’s just… Is this all of them?” 

  “Oh, Evering, no–” Captain Rigg corrected. He toggled the control panel to broaden the sector, sending the concentrated stars and nebulae out to the corners of the room, making way for half a dozen burning stars, all surrounded by informationals and warning signs, and belts and fields and planets, and even more premature stars. 

  Aster took a moment to take the sector in. “These… are the Ti’ineavi Nebulae." 

  When Aster looked back to Evren, she had taken a step back from the desk. Turning in circles, the small Geodian surveyed the sector as some unseen ghost stole all emotion from her face. 

  She turned in a circle once more, closing her mouth every time she opened it to speak. “Everings Lights…” she finally managed to say, looking at the numerical symbols that separated each body. “It– it’s so much bigger than I thought it was…”

  Captain Rigg watched curiously as Evren moved from projection to projection. 

  “This is Erune, and that’s a Siren path, and that’s a symbol for an unstable star.” She stopped short of a break in the nebula– nothing more than a small hole that two planets rested as sentinels on either side of. She pointed a grubby finger up at them, excitement teeming in her voice. “No way… Is that Cantos Prime?” Her finger moved to the other, her voice rising in pitch. “Tel Avit?” Suddenly, she dropped her hand, holding it to her chest as she took a step back.

  “The Keepers of the Medium,” she said aloud, looking around the sector. “They're out here… In the west.” 

  Captain Rigg blinked in surprise, pushing himself from his desk.

  “Yes, well– where else would it be? The Ti’ineavi barrier nebulae is what starts the Blue Fringe.” He gestured through the projection, and the unit recognised the movement to focus closer on the two planets. 

  “The sister planets keep the nebula from forming there, creating a hole for a kind of laneway. That's how we get in and out of the Blue Fringe– it also has one of the highest starway tolls in the Empirium.” 

  Evren looked up at the starway, head to one side as she studied it curiously, and Captain Rigg continued.

  “It’s an influential part of the Medium, as well as being considered the most dangerous sector to contract hop in–” 

  “Astrostorms; biggest threat.” Evren shuffled next to him, counting off on her fingers. “Camouflaging Great Sines; less of a threat?... Sun-eating Yddr'ak, those weird planet-sized-jellyfish-whatever-they-are–” 

  “Keragi Sweepers?” Aster offered flatly. “The ones that… can digest entire freighters?”

  Evren nodded, continuing in some tired form of excitement. “Yeah, those ones. Uh, let's see– Sirens,  Neburay flocks by the millions, wild stars that emit unstable conductivium–” She looked up at Captain Rigg. “And–and entire systems that no one's ever set foot on because they’re too far deep into the clouds.” She blinked. “Untouched by Scelira and Entrilia.” 

  Captain Rigg shut his mouth. “Yeah…” he said. “Yeah, they are. Some of them.” 

  As he looked down at Evren, she seemed to be thinking about something else. “Wait,” she said, turning to Captain Rigg. “Is… this where the Passerine is going?” she asked. “Is this where you’re taking the salt?” 

  “We have many options,” Captain Rigg lied, not sure why he was doing so. “But… yes the Ti’ineavi sectors… could use salt. They don’t have much.” 

  Evren seemed to think about it. “Why don’t they have any?”

  Placing his hands back on his desk, Captain Rigg looked briefly at the red, faded book he had returned to his bookshelf, then the projection. He answered the girl quietly. 

  “The Empirium doesn’t consider these planets profitable enough to establish a steady trade route here. No wheat, no salt, no medicine– barely any aid.” 

  Captain Rigg breathed out. “Too far to help, too weird to trust. Damned by their own circumstance, some say.” 

  Evren shifted beside him. “Sounds like they need the Freelance guilds,” she said, sparing a shy look at Aster. “You know– real merchants.” 

  The Fletric found himself searching for a joke, sarcasm, or some kind of double meaning in the small Geodian’s eyes, but to his surprise and mild discomfort, he found none.  Instead, he saw something else– the briefest glint of excitement. 

  Finally, he shook his head. 

  “I have a question for you,” Captain Rigg said, folding his arms and turning to face the small Geodian fully. “And it’s pretty important for me to know before we get back to Lisk.” 

  Evren West seemed to be the description of hesitant and unsure, but nevertheless, the small girl swallowed, nodding for Captain Rigg to ask his question. 

  “Why…” Aster started quietly, still looking down at Evren as his day-long curiosity got the better of him, “did you learn all this?” He gestured around the sector. “And-and why does a mechscrubber know the difference between unstable and stable conductivium? What was the point?” 

  The nav-room clicked and hummed passively as the small Geodian stood, silent among a tapestry of stars that flickered around her. The plains sped by like thoughts unspoken, draining the sound from the room as the answer required was not given. 

  Evren shifted, fingering her Tab as she looked down. 

  “I don’t know,” she said at last. 

  Captain Rigg suppressed most of his sarcasm in his next comment. “You watched a projection on the Tranquilian sectors thirty seven times, and you ‘don’t know why?’” 

    Evren shrugged– a seemingly indifferent sort of gesture. Something kept her eyes down, like she was physically incapable of looking at Captain Rigg. 

  “I don’t think you’d understand,” she mumbled, “it’s–it’s pretty silly.” 

  Aster suppressed all the further sarcastic comments that flooded his brain. “Try me,” he said instead, waiting.

  After glancing at Captain Rigg to guarantee the sincerity of his statement, Evren cleared her throat, trying to formulate the right words. 

  “My friend– he told me it was a waste of time. But… there’s this silly dream I have,” she started to explain, “that when I’m older, maybe a little smarter, too, I could see and find all those places– the ones that people were really afraid of, because…” she rubbed her right arm uncomfortably. “Because they were different.”

  Looking up, Evren managed to keep her voice level as she studied  the planets and their orbits– stars and their children. “And, I don’t know…” she reached out and touched one gently. “Maybe one day, I’d fear the Void so little I could explore it, too. I could make people less afraid.”

  Aster shifted against his desk, watching the girl trace a small orbit with her fingers, the white stars parting for her shaky, bandaged hand. 

  Again, silence emerged, watching the conversation like an odd, mildly unwanted third party. 

  “A silly dream, huh?” Aster echoed. 

  With his words, the girl looked down. She lost her look of awe, dropping her hand from the pearly light and putting it in her empty pocket. “Yeah.”

  The slide of metal made Aster look up as Zara poked her head into the room. 

  Evren, like she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to, stepped away from the desk and made a bee-line for the door. “I found my Tab,” she told the medic, brushing past her hurriedly. “I’ll go… I’ll go put it with my crate– sorry.” 

  Before Captain Rigg knew it, it was just him and Zara in the room. Aster looked back to the place Evren had been standing, mulling over her words. He needed to ask Evren more questions, and Zara had interrupted. 

  “I didn’t know she was up here,” Zara said, closing the door behind her. “I didn’t mean for her to bother you–” 

  “She wasn’t bothering me, Zara,” he said, the words sounding a little more forced than he wanted them too. 

  Zara raised her eyebrows. 

  “Okay, that’s fine.” The Avaiyyatian moved to a smaller, bench-like desk that was set into the wall, opening a small, inset lockbox at about head height. “I was actually just coming to get the money to pay her, since she’ll be leaving as soon as we land.” 

  Zara took a long, wooden box from the wall, counting out Pieces into a small bag she took from her pocket. “Xander is pretty sad, though. I fear we’re in for a few weeks of moping.” 

  Captain Rigg kept his eyes on the projection– rippling and moving– like a creature restless to act.

 “He told me he would support all my decisions from now on,” Captain Rigg intoned, placing both hands on his desk. 

  The sharp clink of metal on metal told Aster that Zara had shut the lockbox. 

  “I think that’s better for everyone,” Zara said, turning to leave. “I’m glad you two could finally find something to agree on.” 

  As soon as the door to the nav-room closed, he pushed himself from the desk and strode to one of his bookshelves. 

  He had work to do.

 Captain Rigg rushed down the hold stairs, trying to unstick his fingers from one another as spilt glue hardened against his skin. 

  “Where’s Miss West?” he asked urgently, stumbling down the last few steps of the hold ungracefully. 

  Zara looked up from double checking the fastenings on the large stack of salt-laden crates, almost needing to double take at the captain’s expression. She pointed listlessly outside of the ship. “She left?” 

  Xander turned as Aster entered the room, but he kept his eyes on the ground, as if it could hide the fact that he had unshed tears building up around them. “About ten minutes ago,” he said, miserable. “We already paid her, like… you wanted.”

  “She’s gone?!” Aster shrieked, rushing across the hold. “No, no, no– you guys weren’t supposed to pay her!” 

  As Captain Rigg jumped past Xander and onto the landing ramp, the ex-gladiator caught a glimpse of Aster’s expression. Suddenly, something clicked in Xander’s eyes.

  “We didn’t?” he echoed, hope rising in his voice. 

  But Captain Rigg didn’t answer him, because he was already out of the ship, running across the dented steel floor of hangar 42. 

  Behind him, the light of Veini shone into the landing bay, casting a strange glow and even stranger shadows that seemed to shift as clouds interpreted the light. 

   Ten minutes, Aster repeated to himself, where would Evren go in ten minutes? He racked his brain, but came up with nothing. 

  She could be anywhere, he realised as he approached the broken door. She could be halfway up to Surface Side by now. Hell, she could have even gone downwards into The Shaft, and then he’d really never find her. 

  He was too late, and he knew it. He cursed himself, swinging the mismatched doors (he wouldn't be fixing) open. “Damn your theatrics, Aster Rigg!”

  He stumbled onto the road outside, scanning the passing crowd for a shoulderless red shirt or a head of unbrushed hair. 

  Bots, Covienians, and beetles was all he could find. He looked up the road, seeing no glimpse of her, and pursed lips. Making an anguished sort of noise, he turned to his right, side-stepping Bots and people.

  “Excuse me,” he tried to ask in vain to each passerby attempting to get home in the evening rush. “Have you seen a small Geodian? She’s… very short. About ten minutes ago? She’s wearing bandages all up her arm?” 

  The Covienians ignored him, or simply shook their heads in annoyance from being bothered. 

  Captain Rigg found himself getting more and more frustrated, wondering how anyone could stay sane living with the most unhelpful people in the Kosmoverse. He reached the end of the street, out of breath. Resting his hands on his knees, he watched as the small Registry where he had taken his batteries yesterday closed. The metal folding shutter was pulled down from the roof, slamming into the concrete bench with a resounding slam.   

  She’s already gone. They paid her, and she’s gone, and that’s it. 

  He looked down, drawing in a breath as he cursed silently.

  Good job, Aster. You were too late to change anything. 

  After a time, he straightened and turned– running into someone who had been standing motionless behind him. 

  Evren.

  She had her grey bag over one shoulder and her crate in one hand. All of her possessions tucked under her arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Miss West!” Captain Rigg burst out, more than startled. “You… left.” 

  Evren nodded slowly,  “I did.” 

  Captain Rigg threw his hands up, guffawing. “I mean, without saying goodbye? I was– I was going– I mean…” He dropped his hands, straightening. “Well, you’re here, now.” 

  Evren watched him curiously, dropping a hand from where it had been clutching a small, star shaped pendent around her neck.

 “What are you doing on the street, Captain Rigg?” she asked. “I thought you and everyone else was getting ready for your trip to Novasena?” 

  Captain Rigg opened his mouth, then shut it. He was still partially out of breath from running, and he told himself he needed a minute. To buy time, he cleared his throat.

“Where was your transport taking you, Miss West?” 

  Evren blinked. “Eve.” 

  “That’s a…” Captain Rigg blew out a breath. “That’s a long way from here,” he remarked. 

  Evren couldn’t help but give a nervous, slightly concerned smile. “That was the point.” 

  Captain Rigg finally got a hold of his thoughts. 

“What are you going to do now?” he asked seriously, looking around the street briefly to make sure no mechanic was watching them. 

  Evren did the same, too, but something told him she was checking for something else.

  “Well, find a hole big enough to hide me, and pray that Lou Koval forgets I exist.” 

  Captain Rigg searched her face, wondering if she was joking. “No…” he said at last. “I don’t think you should do that.” 

  Evren looked back at him, confused, and perhaps, mildly annoyed. “Well, what would you have me to do?”

  “I think you should take the money that Zara gave you, and I think you should– carefully– buy a coat and some shoes, and then I think you should sneak back to hangar 42 and be here at sunrise because…” he trailed off. “Because that’s when we’re leaving. Because you’ll need a good coat and some good shoes for where we’re going, and because…”

  He put his hand into his pocket, removing the figurine and holding it out to Evren. It was the crab-like Kletisian, of course– but this one, it wasn’t broken. Glue had filled the spaces where anger had broken it apart, and while it might still have been quite battered, it was whole. 

  “Because it’s not a silly dream,” Captain Rigg finished. 

  Evren stepped closer, her confusion fusing into something else. She looked down at his hand as something stole all the emotion from her face. Looking up, she looked marginally terrified for some reason. “What are you saying?” 

  Captain Rigg looked around the street. “Well, I’m saying that contract hopping is nasty work.” He looked back at Evren. “I’m saying it takes guts.” 

  Evren straightened. “Well, I'm strong.” 

  “I’m saying it takes intelligence.” 

  Evren gestured to herself clumsily. “Well, I’m kinda smart.” 

  Captain Rigg surveyed her.

  “And I’m saying it takes spirit.” He took the small Geodian’s hand, placing the Kletisian on her palm. “But if this interphase proves anything, I already know you’ve got that, kid.” 

  Evren looked down at her figurine, holding it close to her as she drew in a shallow, delighted kind of breath. “You wouldn’t have to feed me– I could eat crisp’a’snacs, and-and, sleep in the hold!” She looked back up at him. “I’d be– I’d be invisible!” 

  Captain Rigg held up a hand. “You’d be worked hard–” 

  Evren nodded violently as Captain Rigg continued.

  “And you’d be helping everyone– Tarik, with the engines, Xander in the hold, Sevus in the kitchen.” Captain Rigg dropped his hand. “And… I could even teach you a thing or two about navigation– seeing as you seem to have the knack for it.” He gestured down the street, to his hangar and the ship within it. 

  “You can work for passage, and we'll take you all the way to the Medium. From there you can contact your family and meet them in the Kore.” Aster looked around the crumbling street, rust and weeds growing in any place it could. “They'll be no more hiding. No more crackers. No more mech-scrubbing.” He looked back at Evren. “And you’ll be…” 

  Be well fed? he asked himself. Be a Farer? Be happy? He didn’t know that. You’ll be… safe? He certainly couldn’t guarantee that. But you’ll be a merchant, he wanted to say, like the rest of them. That’s what the Passerine is, and I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you were in trouble before, and this ship, it’s a way for people like you to live, and to not be afraid of living. And to do something that means something. To find new dreams. To make new connections. But of course, Captain Rigg didn’t say that. He said something else entirely. 

  “You’ll… be a good deckhand,” he said, rubbing his neck. “We need one, anyway.”

  Evren looked up at him, then down at the figurine, thinking about something so very deeply. 

  Aster cleared his throat, tucking his hand back into his coat pocket.

   “Be kind to that,” he said as she examined the Kletisian. “It may be broken, but… it’s doing its best.” 

  Evren looked up at him, wordless. She then reached out and did the last thing he’d expected her to do. 

  She poked him. 

  Captain Rigg looked down at his arm, then back to the Geodian, an eyebrow raised. 

  “Are you a figment of my imagination?” she asked suspiciously.

  Captain Rigg folded his arms. “Unfortunately, no.” 

  She nodded, running a hand over her head. “Oh man, then this is real. This is strange. This has never happened before– I mean, I imagine sometimes that people talk to me, but not like this– I mean this is different. This feels real–” 

  “Miss West?” Captain Rigg interrupted her. 

  Evren looked up at him, eyes wide, and her mouth a thin line of a very intense emotion that looked like a cross between excitement and fear. 

  “Is this… something you might want?” 

  Evren nodded rapidly. 

  “Do you think you’ll be ready to go by tomorrow? Do you think Kovals' will look for you again?” 

  “There’s no way they can find me twice– I’ll be ready tomorrow. I promise.” Evren nodded, concentrating. “Shoes and coat.. I can do that.” She took a step away, almost skipping backwards down the street. “I’ll be here– sunrise! I… I promise-I promise–I promise!”

  “Just one promise will do if you keep it!” he called after her. 

  “Okay, I promise!” And then the girl was gone, disappearing into an ocean of Covienian faces and dust and beetles, springing down the street like a stray tumbleweed. 

  Captain Rigg sighed deeply, now alone on the street. He turned back around, and slowly weaved his way through the crowd– hands in his pockets and his mind far away. 

  What an odd creature the Geodian was, he found himself thinking. 

  Perhaps as odd as the rest of his crew. 

  Captain Rigg strode back to his hangar as the sun peaked below the horizon, nearly out of view. Stepping back into the ship, he found that the supplies had been delivered while he was away, and all his crew were in the hold sorting through the crates of food and consumables. Captain Rigg inhaled, briefly studying each of his crew members before looking back at Xander. 

  The Geodian  looked up from a packet of Rester squares, a question on his face. 

  Aster cleared his throat. “Crew.” 

  They stopped, turning to him. Tarik eyed him through her thick goggles. Zara looked him up and down. Sevus snatched the Rester squares from Xander’s hands, wordlessly berating him for trying to eat the supplies. Charge was on top of a barrel of milk powder, and he twisted to see the captain better. 

“Oh, Captain– where have you been?” he asked. “We were looking for you.” 

  As Aster quickly thought about how he was going to tell them, Xander straightened slowly, a beaming smile breaking across his face. “You didn’t,” he said, in the best form of disbelief anyone could have. 

  "Did what?" Charge demanded, looking between captain and deckhand.

  Captain Rigg nodded slowly. 

  “I… hired Evren West as our second Deckhand.” 

  Charge fell off his barrel, only to struggle to his feet seconds later with an enraged, horrified yell. 

  “You did what?!” 

  Aster decided that pandemonium was a very stale kind of word to use for what happened next, but it did well to convey the wide array reactions inside the hold of the large, twin-engine transport that he called his home.