Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) (14 page)

Merlo nodded. Branwen’s opinion of it sounded fine to her, though she supposed she might miss the excitement, eventually.

“Just the same… I think, when we land at The Bazaar, I think I shall buy one of those energy shield things. I did not enjoy getting shot very much.” She grinned at Merlo with the same apparent humor she’d maintained about her injury since first coming back to consciousness.

Merlo shook her head, blinking away a bit of surprise.
Oh. Right. Of course she doesn't have one of those
. Everyone she’d ever known back home had one automatically, built into their suits. “Probably a solid idea, Captain.” She paused, looking toward the place Branwen had been shot, and only realizing after a moment that it probably looked like she was just staring blankly at the Captain’s breasts. “Um, how is it feeling, Captain? Your wound? Zimi said it was healing up pretty well so far, but… Well, how does it
feel
? Are you feeling better?” It was something she didn’t have a very good personal frame of reference for, considering how quickly her own body healed.

Branwen snorted at her, and countered. “How’s your arm?”

Merlo blinked again, looking down at the body part in question. She hadn’t even thought about it until now, not for quite a while at least. She hesitated, then drew her lips into a thin line, momentarily annoyed with herself, her training, and her secrets. She reached down with one hand, put her fingers to her uniform, and with an action that was as much a mental command as a physical gesture, peeled the dark material of the armored suit away from her forearm. Even with that, it peeled away slowly, as if reluctant to go. Underneath, she showed Branwen, there was nothing but a tiny, thin white line of a scar, barely even visible. “See? It’s fine.” She released the suit, and it rolled quickly back into place of its own accord, resealing as it went.

She looked back up into Branwen’s face as her Captain gave her a flat, deadpan expression. “What? I, um, yeah. Not supposed to heal that quick, huh?” The Captain nodded her agreement, not changing her facial expression in the slightest. Merlo sighed again, but figured talking about it a bit more wouldn't hurt anything; after all, it was obvious now, right?

“It’s the suit,” she almost blurted out. From Branwen’s slight head tilt and furrowed brow, she could see that that didn’t help much. “The suit. It’s made up of nanotech: very tiny machines.” She quickly clarified to the Captain. “Um, so small you can’t see them. Like atoms, or our body’s cells.” Happily, the Captain nodded slowly at that, as if understanding,which was good because they were already nearing the extent of Merlo’s knowledge on the subject. “And they’re small enough that they can actually go in, and repair the wound, like, um, a-” She cast around for some sort or analogy they’d both understand. “Like people doing hull repair on a ship! Just
much
smaller.” She looked up at Branwen, a hopeful expression painted across her young face.

“Ah. I believe I understand,” the Captain replied after a moment’s hesitation, as if thoughtful, probably processing the idea.

“Yeah. They’re, um, they’re stored in here, actually.” Merlo turned her back to the Captain, raising her hair out of the way a bit.
Geeze, I don’t remember this stuff growing so quick,
she thought
.
Parting her hair like that revealed a strange, metallic port in the back of her head, set into the top of her spine, right below the base of her skull.

Branwen bent down to take a closer look at the solid, round port. It was about three centimeters or so in diameter. She knew the Captain had to have seen it before now, and was just glad that she hadn’t felt the need to quiz her about it like the Altairans had.

“Huh. I thought that was some sort of jewelry, or possibly part of your uniform.”

“Nope. It’s, well, part of my body, actually. Uah!” Merlo jumped, making a sudden noise as Branwen grabbed hold of the piece of metal jutting a few millimeters or so out from the nape of her neck.

“Yeah, seems pretty attached.”

Merlo whirled to face the Captain, making an indignant, if playful, face at her. She let her hair drop to once again cover the port for her suit. “Hey! What if you’d pulled it out or something?”

Branwen's wide grin just grew broader. “If that were possible, then it is the first thing you should mention when you show it to someone,” she replied, bursting into a session of short lived belly laughter.

For a minute, Merlo couldn’t help but join in. It felt pretty good. As the Captain’s laughter fell into coughing, her eyes eventually settled on the older woman’s wound, hidden under the bandages, coat, and clothes wrapping the Captain’s bust. She sobered and raised an expectant eyebrow at Branwen.

She shrugged in reply, unbothered, winding down on her mirth as well. “It is fine, really. I feel a little short of breath sometimes, and feel a little weak sometimes too. The wound on my back is still sore, but not much to really speak of.” She shrugged again, as if really having nothing more interesting to say about it. “It will pass.”

Mero struggled to understand; for a moment she almost asked Branwen what it had been like to feel being shot, to not just, well, start healing up automatically. To not know how, or if, you’d get fixed. She wondered idly if Branwen would have a scar, and if it would bother her if she did. But, in the end, Merlo didn’t like thinking along those lines any more than she would have really liked to ask the questions. Losing one Captain had been almost too much for her as it was. Instead, she saluted again, crisply this time. “I’m glad, Captain.” She raised the datapad indicatively. “I should still go put these in though, you know? I’ll see you at dinner.”

Branwen nodded, and Merlo retreated with quick strides from the Captain’s thoughtful, deeply contemplative expression.

6.1
- Branwen

The next day, Branwen stood behind Merlo and watched the pilot cruise easily through the traffic and toward the docks at the second world in the Kepo system, Kepo-Analun’te… something-something Bandazar.

As much as Branwen had tried, she couldn’t even manage to pronounce the trade world’s whole name properly in her head, and knew for certain she’d just embarrass herself if she tried to stumble through saying it out loud. She liked to imagine that she was not alone in having that difficulty; she assumed there was a reason most people simply referred to the world as “The Bazaar.”

Grip tight on the back of Merlo’s chair, she continued to watch as The Bazaar grew and grew, rapidly devouring the open view in front of her and Merlo with its looming mass as they entered the atmosphere and headed toward one of its many star docks. Like the first planet in the system, Kepo Kepoa, which was the original home of the Kepo, it was mostly a desert planet. However, unlike other worlds in the cluster that were mostly desert, like Koltan, neither Kepo world was short of resources.

Branwen knew that Kepo-Kepoa had plentiful oasis scattered across its single supercontinent, with countless islands and atolls strewn across its massive ocean. The Bazaar, by contrast, was a tiny world, with more land masses but also more mountainous areas, as well as many rivers criss-crossing its surface. Branwen didn’t know how it had come to be, though she made a mental note to read about it later; at some point the Kepo had converted the majority of The Bazaar to its current iteration as a ‘trade world,’ where almost anything legally tradeable was for sale
somewhere
on the planet. Of course, many Kepo also made the world their home, either living in or near the shops and facilities, or in those odd, sandy-colored mud-brick homes she’d seen on a previous visit.

She could no longer see the more vibrant, blue and green halo of the third inhabited world in the system, a small garden world referred to as Kepa'ohalei. Despite being a fully livable garden world, the Kepo seemed to generally prefer the warm, dry climate of their other two worlds for actual habitation. They had long ago converted Kepa'ohalei into a sort of vacationer’s paradise, making it a premium destination for travelers from every planet in the Altairan Alliance. Well, save Fade, of course. Indeed, it was the most popular holiday location across the whole of both the Dreamcatcher and Chimera star clusters. She hadn’t been to Kepa'ohalei personally, as of yet, but had heard others speak rather fondly of its balmy, breezy islands, fancy housing and hotels, and Kepo-constructed tourist attractions.

Being a world based around trade, the now-massive tan and blue orb of The Bazaar had an expectedly large amount of traffic going to and from it. As she watched their approach, Branwen’s nerves had her clutching the back of Merlo’s seat with one white knuckled hand as she observed the girl threading between ships of all shapes and sizes, all the while totally relaxed. To Merlo, she supposed, this must be routine; but to her, it was always nerve wracking. And that was exactly why she kept on gazing forward, because this time was less daunting than the last, which was less than the time before, and so on.

In due time, Merlo guided them through the relatively turbulence-free descent through the atmosphere, the ship’s front viewscreen going temporarily digital as the outside of the ship heated up from the friction of reentry. The pilot’s hands slid and danced with skill and comfortable ease across the lights and levers of the controls, pausing here and manipulating there. For a moment, Branwen stopped looking at the approach and watched Merlo instead. She honestly always enjoyed watching an artist, a professional, absorbed in the joy and nuance of their craft, whatever it might be.

A gentle impact rolled through the ship and a distant echo of metal on metal heralded the
Destiny’s
segmented landing gear extending to support the ship’s weight. Out the window, she could see the star port’s heavy bracing arms extending to settle against the
Destiny’s
steely carapace in the fore and aft. The deep rumble and pressure of the engines’ blast subsided, indicator lights across the bridge’s displays settling into steady, pleasant blues and greens, their meanings ever a mystery to the Captain.

Branwen looked down at Merlo and cleared her throat. “Well, let us get to it.”

“You got it, Captain.” The girl nodded, settled her controls into their final positions, and was quickly out of her chair.

Branwen tapped the buttons for the ship-wide com system, announcing their arrival and getting her crew moving in the right directions. She set Mr. Leonard into motion calculating repairs and preparing for maintenance and refueling, though she was certain he knew what to do by now as well as she did; then she called for Zimi to come help them unload.

Merlo would do the delivery, and she’d let Zimi browse for more jobs and potential passengers; the girl was so friendly, she was the natural candidate for it. People reacted to her more positively than they did to Merlo, and Branwen had difficulty finding work without having to repeatedly reassure people concerned or obsessed with her Fade origins. Mr. Leonard, it went without saying, wasn’t really an appropriate choice at all for that type of job, even if his expertise wasn’t currently required elsewhere.

After releasing the controls for the com, Branwen made quick strides towards the cargo bay, but, by the time she got there, Merlo had already vaulted down the stairs and unloading was underway. Zimi had cautioned Branwen against strenuous activity, like trying overmuch to keep up with Merlo. The young pilot seemed to have tons of energy; maybe she got some of it from that mystical space armor of hers.

Branwen simply shook her head.
Young people.
She started down the stairs, watching Zimi hover around making helpful gestures while Merlo strode about and efficiently did most of the work. Merlo left Zimi standing and holding an armload of durable woven straps but otherwise unable to help, despite her best efforts.

Striding over, Merlo gave Branwen a crisp salute. “Think we’re ready, Captain, but our little transport isn’t going to cut it for a load this big and fragile. I’m going to go rent a bigger one with a lifter. We’ll get this loaded up and I’ll go drop this cargo off and collect our payment.” Branwen wondered idly when the saluting had started, and barely gave a nod in response before Merlo was off, hopping easily down from the
Destiny’s
ramp onto the docks before the metal walkway even had time to settle securely onto the ground.

Branwen and Zimi shared a look as she departed, Zimi seeming impressed (or perhaps intimidated) by Merlo’s work ethic, and Branwen simply amused. “Well,” Branwen announced, “It seems she has this well in hand. Let us prepare everything else.” The pair of them went to work, getting the cargo and the cargo hold in general ready for Merlo to come back, as well as preparing everything for the hopeful load of goods that would come soon to replace the Panacea.

They chatted as they worked; Branwen had noticed that Zimi enjoyed hearing the stories and tales from Branwen’s past, and she was likewise impressed with how much Zimi knew for her age. For seventeen winters, the girl had seen a lot of places, travelled to a lot of worlds. Mostly, as Merlo would call them, ‘backward’ worlds: frontiers and harsher climates where people couldn’t find it easy to survive. The girl had been to those places, and had tended to the people, healing their ills and teaching them what she knew of animal life and herbology, learning in return, and then moving on. As far as Branwen knew, this was her first ‘stable’ job that wasn’t just to pay her transit from one system to another.