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PROLOGUE
higher, higher, higher
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THE jet-shaped shadow of naval aircraft soars over Californian soil, whistling in the air as it cuts a trail in the sky. Sunset has turned into dusk, the first glittering specks of starlight visible on the pale canvas above the world. In one small corner of the planet, in a much-frequented playground, a seven year-old girl sits on a squeaky swing set. Her eyes are trained on this endless expanse above her — she studies it with laser-focused, but most importantly serious fascination.

Celeste knows she has to be up there one day.

She doesn't know how, or why. But the feeling is deep in her bones, her knuckles tightening around the swing's chains as she stares upwards in awe. Maybe it was always going to be inevitable. After all, her childhood consists of being shuttled around naval bases, thanks to her helicopter pilot father. The aviation bug was bound to bite the Sterling children at some point.

Something about Celeste is different, though — she wants more.

Next to her, a muffled mess of limbs squeaks down the playground's tube slide. The plastic cylinder spits out a young boy Celeste knows very well — Bradley Bradshaw. A week shy of his eighth birthday, the boy still has plenty of growing to do, and yet takes quiet pride in being the oldest of the group. And by the group, he means the faces he and Celeste associate with the long days spent waiting for their fathers at naval bases. Bradley likes the responsibility he thinks he has, in all honesty. When he gets out of the slide, he straightens the baseball cap on his head, framing his cautious dark brown eyes.

Bradley squints over at the girl on the swings, watching her skyward-cast gaze.

"What're you looking at?" he asks.

"The sky," she replies simply.

"Huh..."

For the lack of a breeze, Bradley walks behind the girl and starts gently pushing the swing. Celeste's breath catches as every push draws her nearer to the stars, the promise of reaching them appearing at arm's length. Meanwhile, another plane soars over the children from the nearby naval base.

"I figure I'll be flying like them someday," Bradley announces. "Like Mav, and... and like Dad."

"You think?"

"Yeah. I couldn't do anything else. Could you?"

Celeste's lip quivers with a quiet mischief. She pounds her feet against the ground, letting it push her higher up along the swing's pendulum motion.

"I wanna go higher than that," she says.

Bradley consider this for a moment. Then, flabbergasted, he goes: "... What, space?"

"Sure. I'll go to space academy, and before you know it I'll be way, way up there. Just you wait and see."

"Wow, that's kinda—"

"HEY! Whatcha talking about?" says a disembodied voice suddenly. It comes from the boy who just leapt from the monkey bars, and always seems to ride a phantom sugar rush. It might be the only boy Celeste knows better than Bradley — for it's Quincy, her twin brother... yet they could not be more different in temperament. Quincy bounds over to them now with exhaustless optimism, ready to be showered with attention. His t-shirt is lightly dusted from rolling on the ground during playtime, while his hands remain slightly sticky from remnants of melted popsicle juice.

"Celeste's gonna go to space," Bradley informs him, as Celeste comes back down to earth using her feet as brakes.

"For real?!" Quincy's eyes go wide like saucers. "Are you gonna walk on the moon?"

"I don't know."

"Are you gonna find aliens and move to Saturn?"

"Aliens aren't real," Bradley interjects.

"Who says?" Quincy shrugs.

"Quince, I'm not looking for aliens, even if they are real. Also, Saturn isn't habitual," Celeste says, meaning 'habitable'. The seven year-old gently rolls her eyes. She is six minutes older than her brother, and in her own eyes, six minutes wiser. Nevertheless, something about his boundless joy is the perfect counterbalance for her — Celeste never finds herself wishing it away, even on his most irritating of days.

"Anyway, maybe I'll join you. I wanna fly one of those big jets like Uncle Mav does, right Bradley?"

Quincy and Bradley's small hands meet in a giggly high-five. Meanwhile, from the distance another child runs towards them — a young girl with rounded features that shape her twinkling eyes, and the gap between her front teeth that creates a slight lisp when she talks. Her presence by the swings instantly brings an aura of warmth and friendliness, her grin contagious for Celeste as her lips curl into a smile as well.

"Guys, look what I found on the beach! Look here!" Luisa, the girl, announces excitedly. Her freckled face glows with insatiable joy at her discovery. She opens her hands to reveal five small, hand-picked pebbles. Going around the group, she starts distributing them as little gifts, each of the kids examining them curiously. However, when she finds one of her recipients missing, Luisa frowns. "Where's Ryan? Ryan! I got a present for you!"

Luisa goes searching for Ryan, the missing piece of the puzzle, and eventually finds him underneath the slide. The little boy that stumbles out is by far the youngest of them all — five years old, a blue-and-white striped shirt that's sparkling new sits on his small body, matching the wintry blue of his eyes that he got from his father. Luisa, forever the mother of the group at the ripe age of six, ushers Ryan over to the swings with his pebble.

"So, what's going on?"

"We're talkin' 'bout what we wanna be when we grow up," Quincy explains, casting a glance over to the huddle of adults that supervise the kids from afar. Among them are he and Celeste's parents, as well as Luisa's. From there, it gets a little more splintered. The Kazanskys would be a glistening pair, if it weren't for 'Iceman' becoming swept up in his work; instead it just leaves his pregnant wife at the scene. Meanwhile, Carole Bradshaw has no husband to wait for. Not anymore. The children simply understand that once upon a time, 'Goose' was around, and then he wasn't.

And then there's Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. He has always been there, like an ever-present entity since before Celeste can remember. He might as well be like an uncle to all of them, and especially Bradley.

Grinning in admiration at Maverick, Quincy clarifies his point: "We're gonna be pilots. Just like Mav, and Goose, and Ice—"

"Our daddy's a pilot, too," Celeste butts in with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah, but you can't go like whooosh! and wha-pow! in a helicopter, can you?" he replies, while miming the sound effects with highly animated actions. "... But I bet if anyone could do that, it's Mav."

Somewhere between the whooshing and wha-powing, Ryan frowns. "My dad says Maverick's a dangerous flyer..."

"Exactly! That's why he's so cool."

With no pilot for a father, Luisa laughs with an air of grace about it all. "Don't worry, Ryan, I'm not gonna be a pilot either. I'm gonna be a philosopher," she announces with a slight lisp.

Ryan furrows his eyebrows. "What's a philfosopher... phil– philpos—"

"I dunno yet, but it sounds fancy. Quincy, wanna play tag?"

Before she can get an answer, the boy reaches out instantly and taps her arm. "TAG!" he cries out, erupting into fits of laughter as he tears off into the other direction. Luisa chases after him, crying out how unfair it is, while Ryan gets swept up in the middle stomping in their trail. He tries to appear strong, puffing out his chest, but at his age it's an adorable addition to the chaos.

The dust settles... and then there is Bradley, and the space above.

Bradley sits on the swing next to Celeste. Their sneakers dig into the sandy particles underneath, kicking the mini dunes over for something to focus on. For a few moments, the two children sit in comfortable silence — it has always come naturally between them. Her head is forever tilted to the stars, while he casts his gaze towards her and contemplates her big plan. It certainly sounds ambitious, to say the least. Maybe even a little bit dangerous. Then again, the boy can't help worry about these things when he lives with a paranoid Carole Bradshaw for a mother, and a ghost for a father.

     "What if you don't make it?"

     Celeste furrows her brows at him, not quite understanding.

     "What if something happens," says Bradley, "and it means you can't go to space?"

     She almost scoffs at the notion; the little girl doesn't doubt herself one bit, shaking her head with quiet seriousness. "No, I have to get there. I've got it all figured out..."

     Nevertheless, Celeste looks up at the sky again, and she considers this. What would she ever do if she couldn't go to space? She hasn't a clue. Somehow, it looks safe up there. Everything is so vast and just waiting to welcome her. The idea of flying someday has always been a given to her.

     Bradley's eyes fall shyly to the ground for a moment, before crawling back up to her.

     "Either way, I'll be your wingman," he says, after a hesitant pause.

     "You would?" she asks. For the first time since the conversation's beginning, Celeste tears herself away from the sky completely and focuses only on him. It's a hefty promise, for sure. There would have to be a substantial way of sealing the deal. But something in Bradley's voice and his stare from beneath his cap says it all.

     "Sure," he shrugs and smiles. "Wherever you go, I'll always be your wingman."

     "Do you swear on your life?"

     "I swear on my life."

     "Do you cross your heart?"

     "Uh-huh," says Bradley, drawing an X on his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

     Celeste hums in satisfaction. Excluding a pinkie promise, there isn't much else the boy can do to prove his devotion. "Okay... then I'll be your wingman too, Bradley," she smiles.

     The returned promise splashes a grin onto the boy's face. Ignited with playfulness, the two children start soaring back and forth on the swings, whistling past each other at what feel like groundbreaking speeds. The air becomes laced with their laughter and the squeaking of the metal swing set as they cry out:

     "I can swing higher than you!"

     "Just 'cause you're going to space, doesn't mean I can't beat you at the swings!"

Higher and higher and higher...

The sky so close, yet so far out of reach for them both.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

welcome to supernova! this was just a fun little childhood flashback for the prologue, kind of establishing the friendship between the kids (i.e. bradley, celeste, quincy, ryan & luisa) as children, as well as the special bond in particular between bradley and celeste. definitely expect some direct parallels and contrasts when you see the adult versions of the characters. anyway, thoughts on the prologue? hope you enjoyed it.

chapter one is going to involve me having a go at writing a flying scene, and i'm dreading it because i'm scared i'll write the terminology wrong, or accidentally misrepresent how the navy functions... so pray for me?

──

pre-written: december 27th, 2022
published: december 29th, 2022