"Jim, I just don't know." Sarah held the glossy white and cream colored brochure for the interstellar academy in her hand. Pictured center front were a group of kids Jim's age, smartly dressed in uniforms and standing at attention; and from just looking at Jim now, he didn't fit in there.
But looking across the table at her no longer little boy, where fear used to be, stalwart determination had taken it's place. Delbert's previous words about character building months in space rang in her ear once more. Jim, who had very nearly flunked out of high school was now composing his entrance essay just across the table in jutting, tilting script.
"The application fee alone is ginormous, Jim. You know how tight we are." The small amount of treasure Jim had brought back was enough to pay the workers and buy material for the new inn, was very nearly gone.
"Besides, your arrest record is longer than my arm. They aren't going to let that slide." Sarah sets the brochure down on the knotted wooden table among the breakfast crockery. She hadn't intended for her words to sting, but she saw Jim's arm flex beneath his sleeve.
Jim stares across the table at his mother, his eyes a mixture of irritation and resolve, a mirror image of his father twenty long years in the past. "I'll get in, I have to. The Captain is one of their most accomplished alumni, and she already said she'd vouch for me."
A pair of shuffling, yet strident footsteps alerts the pair to the off duty captain, dressed simply in khakis and a long blue oxford shirt. It was becoming less and less rare to see her out of uniform, as she was still on leave, more the woman than the captain now. A gentle smile accompanied a low, accented "Good morning," and Sarah's eye catches a cream colored envelope in her hand. The blue waxen seal showcases a barren tree on the front, Amelia's personal stamp, poured by her very hand.
"Enclose this letter with your application, James." Her claws slide the thick envelope across the table slowly, and her green eyes meet his. Jim's brow quirks up, and though his thanks isn't audible, the minute nod of her head means all the same. Sarah had seen with the eyes of a mother how far her son had come, but this once-stranger had given him something she could never provide: guidance.
Sarah snaps out of her thoughts, turning to the Captain. "Are you having anything this morning?" It wasn't uncommon that Amelia wouldn't eat breakfast, but for how small she was, Sarah couldn't help but to try to encourage her.
When Amelia requests only a small bit of sweet grass tea instead of coffee, Sarah's brow quirks but she says nothing of it. She pretends not to notice the way Amelia's delicate hand had settled on the back of her neck, fingers working the taut muscles around her ears, a tell if she ever saw one.
A clean brass kettle is set on the fire, and she locates the tins of tea in the now stocked and organized kitchen. The Captain had written was she was sure was a shining letter of recommendation, but without the fee, Jim was just short of acceptance. Her thoughts turn towards Delbert, the gentle, bookish man that had become like her brother, and had already taken them in. He could easily pay the meager fifty sovereigns, but Sarah felt guilt even still at asking him.
The kettle is whistling before she knows it and Amelia is grateful for the tea, her ears fanning in approval.
"So Captain, how are you settling in?" Sarah sat back down, dusting her hands on her skirt.
Amelia nods, her fingers still curled around the steaming mug. "Quite well, thank you." Her clipped response is nothing less than polite, exactly what Sarah had expected of her.
"Jim!" She cries, looking at his essay, "I told you to write in cursive, you're going to have to start over."
Amelia's head pokes up from her tea, "James, if the entrance board can't read your handwriting, you haven't a chance in hell of getting in."
Tossing the pen on the table, Jim sits back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to do, take a handwriting course?"
Amelia seems to chew on this a moment and she shakes her head, turning to Sarah. "I've got a much better idea, actually."
Jim's head drops to the table after she exits the room. "See what you did? This is just one more thing she's going to nag me about now." Sarah laughed, it was true. Amelia had drilled him endlessly on posture, speech and combat drills, preening him into the perfect academy applicant. Jim had resisted it all from the very start, in his typical headstrong fashion that reminded her so much of Leland. But Amelia's stubbornness was nothing compared to his willpower.
Jim would not come to this life easy, his past was peppered with incidents best left exactly there, and Sarah worried for his future. He would journey far, and risk much, but the promise of finally finding his place would be all the drive he needed.
Amelia returns with a large volume on aeronautical flight patterns, plopping it in front of Jim. "Copy the first chapter and have it on my desk tomorrow morning, and we will see if your handwriting improves." Sarah scours Amelia's stony face for any sign of emotion playing on her sharp features and Sarah is unsurprised to see that Amelia is serious.
Jim's brown eyes bug out at the big blue book, and he looks up at her, his mouth agape in shock. "You aren't serious."
Green eyes light up in amusement, "I think you know how serious I am, James." and she drains whats left of her tea quickly.
"M- Mom!" he splutters, "You gotta do something!"
The two women share a look, both pairs of lips upturned in mutual understanding. Sarah had to side with Amelia, she hadn't been wrong yet.
"I think it's a good idea, Jim."
Later, Sarah watches Amelia drift into the library distantly, dropping into her favorite loveseat. She knew once Delbert approached and knelt in front of her that it was wrong to keep looking, but the friend in her wanted to know that Delbert and Amelia's courtship was going well.
From a distance, Sarah watches Delbert's hand settles on the crown of her head affectionately- a sign of comfort, and he wore a smile that she hadn't seen since before Abagail.
They sit together with Amelia's long legs slung across his lap and her nose in his collar. It's a serene morning, and Sarah realizes with some joy, that he is finally happy, but her gut twists when her thoughts drift to that of her very estranged husband.
When he had left on that cold morning with his bag slung over his shoulder, she had begged him not to go. The war effort had plenty of young men already, surely they could do without him. He had responded with a snort; nothing could snuff him out.
His pride had carried him far away from her, but Sarah would cling to those early, tender years like a lifeline, waiting for the next beat.
Delbert thinks about a pale goldenrod color over breakfast. Soon it would be time to choose a room for the nursery, and although he is certain on one in particular, Delbert isn't sure about making decisions like this without Amelia's input.
When it was finally time for the babies to come, how was he supposed to take care of all of them? Would he forsake his career and juggle five infants while desperately praying for his wife's safe return? Wartime casualties weren't anything out of the ordinary, what if he had received a visit by two uniformed strangers? His whole world would end, right there.
"Sarah," Delbert starts, Looking across the table at his long time friend. "How am I going to do this without her?"
Delbert had been reduced to tears three times already that morning, and as Sarah passed him her handkerchief, she suddenly sorely missed his wife.
"I'm sorry," he hiccups, drying his eyes. "These mood swings are vicious."
Sarah chuckles in sympathy, putting her teacup down in its saucer. "I remember the morning Leland left. I had no idea how I was going to raise Jim and run that inn all by myself." Pursing her lips, she continues.
"You found me in the kitchen, scrubbing that pot within an inch of it's life and singing along to that wretched country music record that Leland liked so much."
Delbert laughs, peeling back the years in his memory. "It started skipping on the last track."
Sarah flung the soapy pan at the phonograph in the corner, smashing the horn. "Go then, Leland! Go fulfill yourself or whatever!" She had sank to her knees in the kitchen, attracting the attention of the guests.
"I'll just raise our son alone!" Voice quivering, she sobbed openly on the floor. So consumed in her grief, she hadn't noticed when the door opened and Abagail's husband had stepped inside.
"Sarah, Sarah!" He knelt down beside her, wrapping his arms around her. "Shh, shh. It's okay, I'm here." She had quieted against him, and her watery brown eyes looked up in gratitude.
Sarah takes his large hand in hers, smiling up at him. "You stepped in, and you've been by my side ever since. We are family, and I will always be here for you and these kids." Her words hit home, and his chocolate brown eyes were swimming.
"I'm so very glad we met, Sarah."
The hug they share is familiar, until Sarah feels the pups flush against her midsection. "Delbert, they're moving!"
When Amelia steps on deck, the ever present night is one of the only things to greet her. Since departing from the warm nebula that had become their region of space, the sailors didn't like to be out on deck. The lamps burned low, providing just enough light to see by, but not enough to illuminate the murky space just beyond the railings. Some things were better off unknown, and in the black of space, Amelia shuddered mentally at the creatures that could be lurking just out of sight.
Green eyes sweep over the deck, blinking at the total absence of the weird. As they had sailed further into enemy territory, incident reports had flooded into her inbox. Tentacles were seen slithering up the side of the ship, and in the very next moment had completely vanished. Food in the commisary had spoiled, long before it's date, and items around the ship had disappeared, only to be spotted again in the most bizarre of places. It would be one thing, if it was just a few sailors; or even only her first mate. But everyone, herself included, had witnessed a number of strange happenings that could no longer be written off.
Shaking her head at the magnitude of the situation, she steps into the bridge.
"What do we have, men?"
"It's a rogue planet, ma'am." The helmsman, a talented Arcturan navigator, pointed towards the bow of the ship.
"Another?" Amelia scrutinized the display, looking for machine error.
Past the milky glow of the brass lantern, a black frozen world sat in the otherwise void space. Perhaps a drifter, who had wandered too far from the tidal pull of it's mother star and was lost to the ocean of space.
"That makes thirteen, ma'am." Seargant Samuels was chosen to replace her first officer, and she looked over at the squat Cragian with inquisitive eyes. Samuels was a midnight basalt mountain sitting in the first officer chair, his bulk nearly overwhelming the frame. Amelia is surprised when she doesn't see Chester's visage on this other face, perhaps that ghost had finally gone to rest.
Averting her eyes, she pokes at the displays in front of her. How the planet got here was less puzzling than the small crafts they had found on the surface.
What business could anyone have on a desolate wasteland world as this one? Could they be smugglers, hiding under the cover of eternal night? Or perhaps just another colony of drifters, somehow perpetually on the brink of starvation?
Thirteen orphaned planets, and not a single star to be found yet, there were more questions here than answers.
"Have we picked up any life forms on the planet?"
The science officer, a stubby human, pulled a readout from a nearby machine. "All our scans were able to pick up was an energy barrier on the west pole. This could indicate civilization, though what could survive here, I'm sure I don't know."
Amelia gets to her feet, pointing at Samuels. "Go down to engineering, find two capable midshipmen and suit up in thermo gear." Her orders don't need to be accompanied by justification or reason, and Samuels nods, lumbering towards the lift.
Amelia looks at the planet, and the eastern pole aglow in a magnetic storm. Samuels wasn't Sterling, and she doesn't cant- trust her life in his hands.
Walking down to the medical lockup rooms, she stops in front of Sterling's door, fingering the small brass key in her pocket. She had told him that he was compromised, and he was. But she would play the hand that she was dealt. And if that meant taking Sterling with them, it was what she would do.
"Get up, man." She strides into the room quickly, finding him laying on his side in the bed.
He rolls onto his back, snorting. "What could you need the crazy guy for?"
Amelia's hair stood on end, but Sterling didn't need her wrath again. Breathing deeply, she sits beside him on the small mattress. "We found a rogue planet with evidence of ongoing civilization. With your previous history in the area, you are the best hope we have of gaining any actionable intel."
Sterling sits up, meeting her level gaze. "You want me to go on a surface mission?"
"I need you to pull yourself together, Sterling. Whatever is happening to you is going to happen. The best we can do now is adapt to changing circumstances." She might have been safer to leave him in here, but he was the only light she had.
He seems to consider her words, his silver eyes so unsure in her gaze. "I have performed my duties to the best of my abilities, my entire career. I escaped their prison, but they still hold me, even now."
Amelia grins at this, her green eyes flecked with excitement. "I'm counting on that, Sterling."
"What's the plan?" He asked later in the gear room.
Amelia buttons up her long thermal coat as she speaks "Our mission is reconnaissance. We have found an odd energy signature on the eastern pole that may indicate civilization. The six other ships with us are sending teams into this city using multiple access points."
"Threat detection," says the armory officer, loading magazines into his pockets. "if there are people down there, they know more than we do, and that information may cost us."
It had been some time since Sterling had felt the cold steel and wood at his hip, and he pulled at his uniform shirt again, straightening the lines.
"We won't be but a few kilometers away, but the terrain does not look very easy. Stay sharp down there, lads. The slightest mistake could kill someone."
Once geared, they file into a shielded scout ship and are soon whizzing towards the planet at a breakneck speed. Passing through a small asteroid belt, the vessel crests in high orbit over the slick, glacier covered planet.
"Look at that," Just off the bow, six moons rode in escort beside the planet, each a marbled, luminous ghost in the sky. This planet had continued to astound them.
"Should a rogue planet even have moons?" Terry, an engineer sat in the back, his long nose poking from his parka.
"Is it really the weirdest thing you've seen in the last little while?" Amelia hadn't stopped to think about the absurdity of it all until this second, and she chuckled, looking at a distant purple horizon.
The small ship pierced the atmosphere and instantly, a yellow sky and blue clouds engulfed them. "My word, what have we here?" Six pairs of eyes looked upon long stretches of purple forests, thundering black mountains and green, rolling oceans. It looked like a paradise.
They put down in a field of neon flowers, and Amelia strips her thermal gear down to her black undershirt, slacks and boots, and she watches the other five copy her.
"Make sure to grab all the survival gear, we aren't coming back until we have what we came for."
Amelia is the first out the door and into the lush, purple grass. It's soft, dewy strands are pliant beneath her, and wave in the light breeze.
"Keep it tight in, men. Don't get lost." With that, the six start through the plain, towards a thick, aubergine treeline.
The hike is hours long before they feel like they have made any real progress. As the six moons dance in the sky alone, they found no one else on the planet. The vessels that had shown up on earlier scans vanished from their charted positions.
After six kilometers, they come to a long gorge, cut deep into the land and completely flooded by a churning, putrid sea.
"Shit," Samuels curses, kicking the dirt. "what now?"
"We don't have the gear to do a swim and honestly I don't think we have the strength for one either." Sterling looks around at the haggard hikers, long past exhaustion. Admiral Smollet had knelt in the sand like dirt, looking down into the canyon with her scope.
"We've got something down there,"
A large stone obelisk had been erected in the center of the black river, and as her eyes locked onto the strange runes cut into the surface of the stonework, she felt her eyes begin to droop.
"Mayhew, what do you make of it?" She watches his brow furrow until he finds the obelisk, and his face goes ashen.
Sterling has seen these symbols before, their familiar curvature cut into his memory long ago. "They called this one a Gug." The word is oddly familiar on his tongue, like it had been dancing there his entire life.
"They are traps, designed to lure in it's prey then feed off of their dreams. After they have fed enough, they reach out and infect the space around them." He looks around at the alien landscape, at what should be a black, frozen wasteland. "We will soon succumb to it, if we haven't already."
His crewmen react with horror, but when he meets Amelia's eyes, he finds curiosity. "Well, if that's what's to be done, it must be done."
She turns to the armory officer, "Len, can you level that column?"
Len looks up from the dirt, a couple of cherry bombs in the palm of his hand. "Well, if that river is flammable, and it looks like it might be, we may just need a few of these."
Terry looks over at Len with a raised brow. "Just what in the hell makes you think that river is flammable?"
"Well what do you think, in your professional opinion, ensign?"
Terry pushed the glasses up on his nose and pulled a notepad from his belt. "Let me do the math here."
Sterling however, was halfway into the gorge, propelled forward by an unknown energy.
"Mayhew!" Amelia yells from the top of the canyon, "What the devil are you doing?"
The group watches on hooks, as Sterling seemingly skims over the small sea, gliding towards the green obelisk. Above them, the sun had darted behind navy blue clouds, and it's like time just stops. In the echo of the valley, Amelia's eyes zoom in on the column, it's runes glowing a bright blue.
Sterling, now an iridescent, glowing white light, reaches for the column with pulsing fingers, the gritty stone giving way beneath his touch. The column fractures quickly, and all anyone can recall upon waking in the scout ship is the tang of ash on their tongues.
AN: Yay, we finally got to the real meat of the plot! At last!