HMS Valediction

Chapter 25

Peering through the porthole in Moon's dropship, the same one that tendered me from my marketplace doom to the HMS Valediction, I catch a first glimpse of the planet that will host me for whatever ridiculous distraction Moon and his crew have cooked up. My skin itches and my guts crawl as my brain spends its unoccupied time counting the seconds wasted on this pointless mission accomplishing nothing. I'm sitting here, strapped into a chair, flying onto an unknown planet away from my ship, my people, my family, and my son to play a fucking game.

I will escape. I'm not participating in whatever this is. I will find a way out.

I exhale loudly and watch the horizon race toward us. I focus on the new planet so my nerves will settle.

The planet's surface is wrapped in water—it's an enormous runway of gray-blue ocean rippling beneath Moon's vessel. The nearly cloudless sky reflects the darkness of the water, tinting the planet in hazy steel. There's not a single stick of land in sight. Nowhere to run once I hit the ground.g I suck at swimming.

Averting my gaze from the outside, I scan the cabin for anything helpful. Moon's dropship doesn't share the same bedazzled affinity of the HMS Valediction. It's loose-screwed and rugged with bizarre, offbeat parts. The bucket seats aren't even a matching set and nothing is that royal blue and silver that seems to be the ever-present motif of the HMS Valediction.

His ship is sleek on the outside—looks just like it belongs as part of Teeno's premium fleet, but on the inside, wires with janky add-ons bulge from their boxes. Residue from busted weapons stains the interior. The seats are covered by what I can only assume are laser burns.

One corner draws my attention for the first time. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of rolls of paper. Stupid, stupid paper. My finger tingles at the memory of slicing it open after attempting to tear open the packet from our Homecoming read-in—an event that feels like a wispy memory from ten lifetimes ago when I was still Captain Janika Lorn of Earth's Militia.

Some of the paper is bolted into the bulkhead, flattened and arranged together displaying one large image. Thousands of dots fill the papers with lines connecting clusters of dots to words.

"What's that?" I ask, jabbing a thumb over my shoulder, pointing at the paper-covered area. Sitting behind Moon, I wait for him to turn around and acknowledge I've spoken. He does nothing.

Nuna, in the co-pilot's seat on his right, shifts to follow my point. She grins. "Those are maps."

I look again, squint harder and try to make out familiar lines from the maps I've used before. "I can't make out their location. Wouldn't it be easier to make them digital so you have access on command?"

Moon doesn't answer.

Once again, Nuna shifts more to fully face me. "Captain Moon has no need for these maps anymore. He keeps them for sentimentalities."

Moon adjusts his grip on the helm. "Shut up, Nuna."

I'm still confused. I don't think I'll ever get a straight answer out of these two without someone sliding into a private joke. "Why don't you need the maps anymore?"

"I memorized them," he says.

"So what are they for? They don't look like any roads I've seen before."

Moon chuckles once with his note of superiority. "And how many roads have you walked on since leaving Earth? Those aren't maps of terrain, fool."

I gasp. "Those are stars?" Leaning back farther in my chair to get a better look, I strain to see their patterns and shapes. "You've memorized the stars? How is that even possible?"