Bella Starr

The next day came like any other, but the expectations were anything but normal. As with the moment before the space jet took off from Earth and I ended up at Neptune Shores, I peer over a giant precipice, into the great abyss beneath me. In particular, that abyss is the next step in my life, what I've worked for. As I approach my workstation in the debarkation bay with the airlock to my left and the passage to the general concourse to the right, my insides tremble. The water in that abyss might drown me.

I breathe in and exhale.

The most challenging thing I've ever done is live on a space station. Of course, staying at a beach resort is anything but difficult. Truth is, I've lived a charmed life. I have wealthy parents. I'm valedictorian of my senior class. My aspirations are enormous, as big as the stars, like joining the Interstellar Navy and traveling to Alpha Centauri. But my life is about to change. Forever.

My contract with Neptune Shores expires today, bringing an end to my senior year of high school. I officially graduate when I get back to Earth. I completed the twelfth grade at the space station and worked as a tour guide when I wasn't in class, in exchange for my diploma and a university scholarship when I return home. My college degree is a requirement to apply for officer school, something I have to do before joining the Interstellar Navy. Neptune Shores rewarded me with this unique opportunity because of my grades, but I chose this route because I wanted to get away from home and experience the freedom of space. I have lofty dreams, and I didn't want to sit around on Earth with an entire galaxy to explore.

Today, I'll board the space cruise ship, the Celestial Sea and begin my journey home. Thanks to the ship's antigravity engines, the three billion mile trip will scorch through the solar system at a small fraction of the speed of light.

Since I left Earth, the Celestial Sea has been in every conversation. This is the spaceship's maiden voyage, the first ever cruise ship of its kind. The vessel is two thousand feet long, a few feet longer than the height of the Interplanetary Trade Center building on Mars. The spaceship's creator, the Space Venture Corporation, has lived up to its promise to give Earth's billionaires a luxury cruise with slingshots around Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus, culminating with a visit to its all-inclusive beach resort.

And I get to catch a ride back to Earth on this majestic spaceship. But first things first.

As I near the tour guide counters, my stomach rages. Even worse, it feels hollow, like the resort might leave a void in my life. I fantasized about getting on the cruise ship last night, but now I feel a strange sentiment about it. I remember how excited I was to leave Earth and venture here—frightened and excited was more like it—and now I'm headed home. Back to a normal life. To walk the aisle and get my high school diploma. Then university life. College exams. Dorms. All that. It's puzzling how two competing emotions can tear me apart—excitement and fear, all at the same time.

Halo will go back to school in Japan. Astra will attend classes in Seattle. Caprica, the East Coast, NYU. And I'll be moving to Stanford. At least that's the plan. Things will change and I have to accept it.

The conduit for that change has almost arrived.

Through a giant viewport in the debarkation bay, I watch as the Celestial Sea grows larger in the distance. From the front, the spacecraft has an enormously wide bow that curves at the bottom like an ocean-going vessel, only it dwarfs anything on the sea back home. From where I stand, the underside looks like solid steel painted dark blue. As I scan higher up, I see three rows of round portals, and above that, two rows of oblong portals.

Through the oblong ports, people stand and gaze out, and others move around inside. Above those floors, an array of green lights flash on and off. While I watch, the lights switch to red. I assume it's a signal to the resort that they're decreasing speed and preparing to dock.

The bridge towers over the rounded bow, a wide line of square windows forming an enormous rectangle spanning the entire width of the ship. At the highest point, the leading edge of a transparent dome comes into view, covering the top of the vessel all the way to the stern. They call it the Sea Breeze Deck.

To my left, a tiny pilot craft that looks like a fly next to an elephant sweeps around in a wide arc and zooms into position in front of the gargantuan vessel. I assume the pilot craft is in communication with dock officials inside Neptune Shores.

Halo walks up beside me, hands clasped behind his back. "It's magnificent."

I offer him a sidelong glance. "It is. I researched the specs on the ship last night. The trip back to Earth takes about a week. It's a straight shot. No sights to see, I guess."

"We'll be approaching two percent the speed of light. On the scale of the universe, that's slow, but for our solar system, it's screaming fast."

His gaze turns to the ship and then whips back to me. "Oh, and I read something about the ship. You'd think going that fast they'd have to worry about micrometeoroids and small asteroids blowing holes through the hull, but the way the gravity drive works, at the stern it produces an antigravity push for accelerating through space, and at the front it creates an invisible bubble of antigravity that repels the small stuff. They can pinpoint and navigate around the big stuff in the Asteroid Belt. It's fascinating."

"Very," I say. "And the rest of the ship, the interior decks, have artificial gravity. Something to do with a magnetic field."

"Similar to Neptune Shores." He chuckles. "To think we'll be home in time to graduate high school and start the fall semester in college."

"Just in time."

Outside the resort, the Celestial Sea looks larger as it draws closer. The ship is almost as long as the resort is wide. The crescent moon space station measures over two thousand, six hundred feet from one tip to the other. That means the station is over six hundred feet wider than the length of the cruise ship. Basically, I'm witnessing two massive objects docking in deep space. In the history of space exploration, no one has ever tried this.

Caprica and Astra stroll up to my other side. Their gray tour guide shirts, butterfly collars and name tags, extend down over their navy blue slacks. Everyone wears the same uniform, but only Caprica's blue hair accents her apparel uniquely, just a shade lighter than her trousers.

"Whatcha think about the ship?" I catch Caprica's eye.

"It's big and dark blue. Kinda shiny with the way the resort lights reflect off the tinted windows."

"I suppose they went with that color scheme to make people think of the ocean."

"Makes it hard to see against the blackness of space." Astra's eyes appear locked on the slow-moving ship. Her hair, dyed white and cut short with a stylish wave in the front, contrasts with her smooth brown skin. "So this is our ride home. It beats the transport we took out here."

"That's an understatement," Halo says.

On the port side, fitted between two rows of viewports, the vessel's name appears in white letters. The words Celestial Sea contrast with the dark skin of the exterior.

"It's colossal," I say.

The ship glides through the vacuum of space, growing to fill the large viewport window. On the starboard side, the pilot craft flashes a white light and buzzes in front of the ship. Over a pair of loudspeakers, a fog horn blows, the deep bass blasting over the open space of the debarkation bay. Given that sound doesn't carry in a vacuum, the Celestial Sea has to broadcast the warning horn through its comm system. This is the most dangerous moment in the docking procedure. If something goes wrong, if the cruise ship's autopilot can't calculate the shrinking distance between the two skyscrapers in space, it will collide with Neptune Shores, breaching the hulls of the station and the ship. For an awful moment, metal would crunch and tear and then silence would shroud everything as we lose pressurization. The contents of both objects would get ripped from their hulls and spilled into a lifeless void. Maybe the containment airlocks might activate and save thousands, if they can steer the ship away from the resort in time. But more than likely, everyone would die and no one would live long enough to tell how it ended.

My heart jumps at the sobering thought.

The Celestial Sea looms larger. Its port side expands to fill every window in the debarkation bay, stretching as far as my eyes can see. The fog horn wails, startling me. I raise my shoulders like I'm about to shrug, but I keep them high as my head and neck sinks, like I can hide and cower from the ship's immenseness.

The vessel creeps closer, ten feet away... eight feet... six... three...

The fog horn blasts again. This time I cringe.

Halo smirks, drawing a backhand from my fist.

"If that thing crashes into us and cracks us open..." Caprica says.

"I know," I reply.

Astra shrugs. "I'm sure we have nothing to worry—"

The ship's airlock makes a jarring impact with the resort's exterior. Hatch to hatch. Airlock to airlock. A vibration rattles through the station, rumbling through my chest and stomach.

Caprica punches Astra in the arm. "Don't jinx us."

"I'm not, I was just saying. Geez."

"Well, don't."

Nassan Jondu, our supervisor, clears his throat, like he always does when he wants to get our attention. "Are you people going to stand there and ogle? Or get ready for the storm that's coming when the passengers disembark?"

"He's got a point," a man says, standing next to Jondu.

I've never met the resort manager of Neptune Shores, not personally, anyway. I've only seen him patrolling the station, surrounded by an entourage. His name is Grayson Flux, a towering man in a black suit with a thick gray beard and a British accent. He carries himself with an air of confidence and suspicion, and when he speaks, his voice grumbles like he despises everyone.

"Take your positions." Flux claps his hands. "Chop chop. Pronto."

I bolt toward the guide counters. Halo, Astra, and Caprica follow closely. Along with the other six tour guides, we slide behind our slanted podiums, holographic tablets ready for use. I suspected we'd get a visit from Grayson Flux. This is the biggest moment of the resort's history.

To my right, a red light flashes over the main airlock. It repeats, on and off, and then it turns green. Air hisses as the station's atmosphere floods the narrow corridor linking the resort and the ship. I wait for the inevitable moment, and then it happens. The airlock doors open.

A crewman in a white sailor's suit marches out and stands to the side.

I gasp. The next two people who exit the ship are not passengers, not normal ones, anyway. Walking out and veering over to meet Grayson Flux is none other than the president and CEO of the Space Venture Corporation, one of the most powerful individuals in the solar system, Electra Draco. Her personal assistant trails in her wake, someone I've read about and seen in a Space Venture press conference, a curt and straight-lined man named Cygnus Lo. I recall his brief speech and introduction of Electra Draco when they announced the inception of the first ever space cruise ship.

The CEO and her assistant shake hands with Flux and pace away, passing through the entrance to the main concourse where the shops and food court are located. Nassan Jondu nods to us, standing to the side with his hands clasped in front of him. Then the storm comes as passengers enter the bay with excitement and loud voices.

I sigh with a mild grimace. Our final assignment is going to be a doozy.