sprang up, trade routes expanded, turning this into a obsolete stop on the proverbial Route 66.
One upside to the location and aging outpost was its old-world feel, a sanctimoniousness and antiquity I adored. Some days I’d emerge after a long session in the data archives, steeped in nostalgia for galaxies extinguished before I’d visited, longing for a simple life before space travel and universe-sized expectations. Then I’d stumble across a piece of data documenting a transformational decision that had impacted millions of galaxies and my determination to be the pearl would be renewed. My position was a gift and for all that nostalgia looked wonderful with a backward glance through the lens of knowledge, living it was quite a different thing. A thousand years from now another pearl would think the same of my life, and a thousand years after her another would think the same…on and on into perpetuity. Life was what we made it in this moment and no feeling of fullness ever came from wishing for a past we couldn’t have or a future we couldn’t see.
I breathed deep, inhaling the peace that surrounded the moments before the presentation started. Fransín and I paused at the transporter dais and she tucked a wisp of hair into my crown. Her body stiffened and she leaned away from me, frowning and intent on something showing on the monitor above my head. “That’s not a Samarian fleet ship.”
M leaned closer and his fingers flew across the controls as he zoomed in on the image of an old freight ship docked at a buoy on the field's edge. His body pulsed with light like a Foley star shower. I’d never seen him this excited. Not even the night he’d watched Fransin navigate through an ice storm. “Is that—holy shit. That’s Dirk Battleship!”
My jaw dropped. No way was the universe’s most notorious mechanic infiltrating my final presentation. “It can’t be. You’re mistaken.” Never mind that the monstrosity parked in front of us was so far from a Samarian fleet ship that I couldn’t ignore the obvious, much as I wanted to.
“Yeah. Yeah! It is him! Look!” Fransín pointed. “That’s his ship number.”
If she swooned, I’d smack her. I’d seen her datamags detailing his exploits and photoshoots. Dirk wasn’t just a mechanic, he was a species all his own. M grinned and steered closer, circling our ship behind the rusted rear fender.
Fransín hurried over for a closer look. I followed, hoping to see him backing off the buoy.
“See there?” M said, his voice higher than normal. “Dirk stole the wing from a Crown Felder, bolted it on to replace parts he’d needed for a 350Z.” M sighed. “Quite an impressive decision. His mechanical skills are legendary.” M sighed, like this had been some world-changing operation.
Dirk Battleship was legendary, all right. As far as I was concerned, he was the scourge of the universe and I’d instantly regretted wasting data minutes looking him up years before I’d become the pearl. From what I’d found, he’d forsaken all his schooling—something unheard of since the galactic decree that all members attend ten years of post-elementary education. Not only had he skipped critical schooling that could have trained him for no less than a dozen critical galactic positions, but then he’d skipped three generations in hyperspace while apprenticing to be a mechanic. He'd also slept with females from too many planets to count; I was surprised he didn't have all his conquests listed on his bumper.
“What is he doing here?” I crossed my arms and glared through the monitor. No one was allowed on the space station during the presentation except me and the candidate.
“I am unsure. Would you like me to hail him? I can signal him on the communicator. It would please me to discover his reasoning.” M was exuberant like Dirk was a Hemperklu Nobelauriate.
My jaw dropped. His unadulterated glee for my surprise guest was almost troubling. M was the one who
One upside to the location and aging outpost was its old-world feel, a sanctimoniousness and antiquity I adored. Some days I’d emerge after a long session in the data archives, steeped in nostalgia for galaxies extinguished before I’d visited, longing for a simple life before space travel and universe-sized expectations. Then I’d stumble across a piece of data documenting a transformational decision that had impacted millions of galaxies and my determination to be the pearl would be renewed. My position was a gift and for all that nostalgia looked wonderful with a backward glance through the lens of knowledge, living it was quite a different thing. A thousand years from now another pearl would think the same of my life, and a thousand years after her another would think the same…on and on into perpetuity. Life was what we made it in this moment and no feeling of fullness ever came from wishing for a past we couldn’t have or a future we couldn’t see.
I breathed deep, inhaling the peace that surrounded the moments before the presentation started. Fransín and I paused at the transporter dais and she tucked a wisp of hair into my crown. Her body stiffened and she leaned away from me, frowning and intent on something showing on the monitor above my head. “That’s not a Samarian fleet ship.”
M leaned closer and his fingers flew across the controls as he zoomed in on the image of an old freight ship docked at a buoy on the field's edge. His body pulsed with light like a Foley star shower. I’d never seen him this excited. Not even the night he’d watched Fransin navigate through an ice storm. “Is that—holy shit. That’s Dirk Battleship!”
My jaw dropped. No way was the universe’s most notorious mechanic infiltrating my final presentation. “It can’t be. You’re mistaken.” Never mind that the monstrosity parked in front of us was so far from a Samarian fleet ship that I couldn’t ignore the obvious, much as I wanted to.
“Yeah. Yeah! It is him! Look!” Fransín pointed. “That’s his ship number.”
If she swooned, I’d smack her. I’d seen her datamags detailing his exploits and photoshoots. Dirk wasn’t just a mechanic, he was a species all his own. M grinned and steered closer, circling our ship behind the rusted rear fender.
Fransín hurried over for a closer look. I followed, hoping to see him backing off the buoy.
“See there?” M said, his voice higher than normal. “Dirk stole the wing from a Crown Felder, bolted it on to replace parts he’d needed for a 350Z.” M sighed. “Quite an impressive decision. His mechanical skills are legendary.” M sighed, like this had been some world-changing operation.
Dirk Battleship was legendary, all right. As far as I was concerned, he was the scourge of the universe and I’d instantly regretted wasting data minutes looking him up years before I’d become the pearl. From what I’d found, he’d forsaken all his schooling—something unheard of since the galactic decree that all members attend ten years of post-elementary education. Not only had he skipped critical schooling that could have trained him for no less than a dozen critical galactic positions, but then he’d skipped three generations in hyperspace while apprenticing to be a mechanic. He'd also slept with females from too many planets to count; I was surprised he didn't have all his conquests listed on his bumper.
“What is he doing here?” I crossed my arms and glared through the monitor. No one was allowed on the space station during the presentation except me and the candidate.
“I am unsure. Would you like me to hail him? I can signal him on the communicator. It would please me to discover his reasoning.” M was exuberant like Dirk was a Hemperklu Nobelauriate.
My jaw dropped. His unadulterated glee for my surprise guest was almost troubling. M was the one who
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