HMS Valediction

Chapter 22.3

There are people here. Earth people, maybe. Men and women of all ages peer around corners and whisper behind their hands as we pass. Many scatter when Captain Moon storms through, but still, many are too curious to go too far.

We arrive at a large double-door. When both slide away, I'm treated to the most beautiful view I've ever seen.

Windows. The entire room is painted with the shades of the galaxy as if the room is lit by star power alone. Celestial bodies crowd the enormous view to peer back at me. I stagger back when I enter and am engulfed.

It's a clearer, better view than my secret room on ARC10. The gelatinous window's hazy picture is pathetic in comparison. I really have been flying blind.

We didn't need eyes. The Xani flew for us. Here, however, this ship needs a guide. These people are treated with the universe and I envy them.

Beside the door, I notice a small copper plaque.

HMS VALEDICTION

"Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,

To venture on wider seas

Where storms will show Your mastery;

Where losing sign of land,

We shall find the stars."

- Sir Francis Drake 1577

I puff up a bit knowing what I'm reading. "That's a nice poem."

Moon doesn't respond. He takes is place behind a glass console and taps at something with his black-gloved hand.

"Poetry. It was outlawed on Earth, but it looks like you guys still like it here. That's cool."

My prompt is met with more silence. We're completely alone here.

"Are you taking me to my baby now?"

Moon's fingers curl into a fist against the glass. "Do you ever shut up?"

"You said you knew where my son was. If you're not going to respond to pleasantries, we're getting down to business."

"I don't have anything to say to you right now. Or keep pissing me off, it's really up to you. But if you decide to continuously flap your lips around and add to the hot air in the room, I'll throw you in the brig." He swipes something across the surface of the console. "You can talk all you want down there."

"Commander Janika Lorn!"

Spinning around, startled at my name being said with such joy and confidence, I find two strangers approaching. The one whose arms are outstretched toward me seems to be the one who shouted my name with such exuberance, I have a sudden strike of anxiousness. Have I met this man before and don't remember it?

His tidy officer's uniform is vibrant enough to blind me. His jacket and pants are a soft blue. It, like the ship, can't be compared to anything else I've seen on my home planet. It's like a blueberry that didn't finish turning blue. Or maybe like the hottest color of fire when it's closest to the wick.

I don't know. Dean's the poet, not me.

His silver buttons match his hair in color and sheen. Everything is slicked so perfectly, I wonder if he was cut from pure steel. Contrasting his gray hair, his face is youthful and full of jubilant carelessness.

I try not to laugh out loud as his medals and badges glisten under the soft lights of the bridge. They're trinkets — useless baubles. I turn to Moon who stands tall and backs away from the duo. He falls back into the shadows, not a shiny bit on him.