Tila Vasquez ran through the gleaming corridors of the brand new colony ship Rising Star with the intense focus and careless abandon that only an eight-year-old girl can muster.

The one-eyed head of her stuffed bear, forever along for the ride, rocked back and forth with every footstep, its threadbare mouth fixed in a perpetually bemused expression.

Tila danced between a forest of adult legs in sharply pressed uniforms, each one of them crisp and spotless. A sparse canopy of clipboards and portable computers shielded her from the twin tracks of recessed lighting as she ran on toward the bridge.

Near an elevator she hovered beside the grown-ups who had pressed the call button, and pretended not to be waiting with them. When the car arrived and busy, distracted officers shuffled in and out, she snuck in and rode the car to the bridge level.

Mission accomplished.

This particular elevator did not open directly onto the bridge, however. When the doors parted and the crew disembarked, Tila stood alone in the middle of the square vehicle. She crept to the door and peeked left. All clear. She looked right and found herself facing a uniformed figure. She followed the buttons of the shirt up to the face of a member of the Rising Star's security team.

"Hi?" said Tila.

The security officer folded his arms and waited.

Tila considered her options. They were few and she was small, but that was no reason to give up. Besides, she had one powerful weapon which never failed; Tila tried charm. She smiled her biggest, warmest smile and gave the officer a little wave. Thinking this might help her case, she raised the bear's arm and wiggled it too, in her best approximation of a wave. That sometimes helped.

"You again? Don't you ever give up, Tila," he said.

Tila lowered the bear's arm. The smile always worked on her father, anyway, although her mother had become strangely immune to it.

Tila leaned sideways to look past the officer. From here, she could see the bridge doors.

"I still can't let you in, Tila. You know that."

Tila changed tactics. She tried pity.

"I want to see," she pleaded. She pouted and made a sad face.

"I'm sorry Tila, but no. I can't let you through that door."

Tila tried reasoning with him.

"My mother is in there. You have to let me in. She's the captain!"

"I know exactly who your mother is, and that's exactly why I can't let you in."

"Everyone tells me no," Tila grumbled. "I don't like it."

"That's something you will used to as you grow up."

Tila tried bargaining.

"I'll be quick! I won't make a noise. No one will know you let me in," she promised.

"No, Tila." He pointed at every subject in his sentence to emphasise his resolve. "You are not getting on this bridge through that door. Now shoo!"

He pointed at the elevator, and with one hand on her head, gently steered her backward into it. He pressed the button to send her back to the residential decks.

He watched the doors close on a grumpy, determined little face, and suppressed a smile. He had been on the ship long enough to know who this child was—and who her parents were—but this was a critical time for the mission so she was not getting past him today.

Mission accomplished.

Tila glared at the officer as the elevator doors closed between them. She knew the man had duties to perform, but he clearly didn't understand she needed to be on the bridge.

Grown-ups never understood what was important.

"One day I'll be big enough to make you let me in," she grumbled to herself.

Grown-ups were never careful with their words, either. The officer had been clear that she wasn't getting access to the bridge through the door he guarded. He thought that was a statement of fact—unassailable and immovable. Concrete.

Tila heard his words differently. The statement was a challenge. Getting through that particular door wasn't the real goal, and understanding the real goal was important.

In this case, the real goal was to get on to the bridge, and there was more than one way in.

The elevator doors opened. Tila stepped out and found herself back where she started. The corridor was quieter now. The ship's crew were taking final positions. The moment they had all been waiting for was nearly here.

The elevator doors closed behind her. She looked around empty corridor. Newly constructed passageways multiplied in every direction through the maze that was the colony ship Rising Star. Corridors led to every corner of the ship; to living quarters, recreation areas, and medical centres. There were homes for scientists and specialists of all kinds, and if Tila had cared about her science lessons she would have remembered what they were. Physics and stars and... something, but they were boring lessons. They involved sitting still.

Tila preferred to move.

Elsewhere on the ship were the docking bays, engineering systems, greenhouses, waste recycling (gross) and the hundred other departments, subsystems, and teams that were going to be essential for the success and well-being of the Rising Star and her mission. There was a lot to do on a ship this size, and a lot to maintain.

Tila's eyes flicked up to the maintenance hatch in the ceiling, between the twin track lighting. It was far too high for her to reach without a ladder.

Still looking up, Tila casually kicked one of the lower wall panels. Nothing moved. She had seen techs removing wall panels before. How did they do it? She knelt down and pressed her hand against the seam between the panels. Her probing fingertips felt something give in an upper corner. She turned her full attention to it. One corner of the panel wobbled but stayed in place. If she pressed both upper corners at once, however...

The panel came free. Tila pulled it from the wall and examined the framework within. After stuffing the bear down her top for his safety, she climbed up onto the frame, reaching for the upper wall panel. She braced her legs against the lower frame and banged the same two corners on the upper panel with the heel of her hands.

It popped free. She let it fall to the floor and continued to climb using the wall frame and interior pipework as her ladder. She didn't pull on the bundles of cables and fibre optic wiring hidden behind the wall, experience had taught her that they didn't hold her weight. People would shout at her, and her mother would be upset.

Tila pulled herself to the top of the upper frame until she could touch the ceiling. The latch to open the maintenance hatch was within reach, barely, but it was designed for stronger fingers and bigger hands than hers. No matter how hard she pulled, it wouldn't release.

Tila glared at the hatch. This was not a problem she could plead, beg, bargain or cajole her way out of. This problem would only be solved with action.

Tila checked the distance from her perch to the floor and judged it good enough for her plan. She clambered around the framework until she had her back to the wall, wobbled once, steadied herself, let go of the sides, and jumped.

She caught the latch with both hands, and her momentum and gravity combined. Tila swung down with a shriek as the hatch opened. She lost her grip and dropped to the floor and rolled into the wall. She stood up, grinning at her success, and climbed the wall again.

Tila pulled the bear free from her clothing and threw him through the opening. It was a big hatch and a small bear, and it flopped up over the rim of the hatch and went in. Even Tila couldn't miss at this distance.

Tila stretched out one hand. Her fingers explored the rim of the hatch but it was still too far away to get a proper grip. She would have to jump again. Tila climbed as high as she could until her head touched the ceiling. She shifted her right hand higher on the wall frame and adjusted her grip. Tongue out, eyes locked on her target, she let go of the frame, jumped, and twisted one hundred and eighty degrees.

She caught the edge of the latch and hung there, swinging back and forth with a grin on her face, proud of herself. She pulled herself up with a grunt, hooked an elbow over the edge, and with much wriggling, panting, and kicking, scrambled into the crawlspace.

Mission accomplished!

Captain Grace Vasquez turned to one of the two view screens dominated the bridge. These provided Rising Star's bridge with direct communication to her sister ships Far Horizon and New Dawn. The captain stood tall and straight, smartly dressed in her crisp white uniform. Her long dark hair was tied back in a tight braid with not a single strand out of place.

On the screen showing her the bridge of the Far Horizon, Captain Vasquez watched a man bent low over a console as he concentrated on something inscrutable. He rested his chin in his hands and his elbows on the desk as he considered the results of yet another simulation. This was the tenth he had performed that morning. The man's brow furrowed as he read the numbers again, as if further examination could change the calculated outcome.

Grace tapped a control to switch the scene from a wide shot of the Far Horizon's bridge to the personal camera on the man's console.

She knew he was running calculations again.

"How are we looking, Professor?" she asked.

The man didn't look up but took advantage of the distraction to flex the stress from his shoulders before answering her.

"I think it's going to work."

The captain's reply dripped with mock horror.

"You think? Is that the best you can do? This mission has been nine years in the planning, cost trillions, and you think?"

The man looked directly into the camera, into the eyes of the woman in charge of his destiny. His own eyes twinkled. He knew he was fretting over nothing.

"Yes, I know. if I remember correctly, I was planning it while you were having a baby."

"Our baby, Thomas."

"Only according to the DNA. Her spirit is all yours."

Grace snorted at that. Her daughter's spirit was an endless source of mischief and negotiation.

"You are, of course, more than welcome to come over here and check my calculations," he added.

Grace made a show of checking her own console before a smile broke across her face.

"Love to. Can't. Too busy."

Thomas smiled back.

"So we'll stick with my best guess, shall we? It is going to work, you know."

"I know. You wouldn't dare give the Mission Commander the green light unless you were sure."

"You know, it might be too late to make a difference, but I have to confess I never liked the title of Mission Commander for you."

"It is my title, though." She glared at him through the camera, now with a twinkle in her own eye. "You should give it the respect it deserves."

"Oh, I do, I do! But I prefer your other title."

"Captain?"

"Wife. Can I say that, or will I have to answer to your executive officer?"

"I should hope not, Thomas!"

Grace bent over the console and wiggled the fingers of her left hand at the camera. Light flashed from the gold band on her ring finger. "Besides, you're not in the formal chain of command. My XO has no authority over your actions, especially not from this distance."

"I can see him from here," said Thomas Vasquez, looking over his wife's shoulder. "I'm sure he is taking notes."

Grace grinned, stood tall, and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Attention all bridge crew! Anybody wishing to make a formal complaint about the Captain's conduct with her civilian husband while we are still in Commonwealth space should address any concerns to the XO. I will give your concerns my utmost attention when our mission here is complete. Is that understood?"

Her executive officer, a lean wiry man with cropped grey hair and a stern face which masked a wholesome sense of humour, spoke up.

"Captain, by the time our mission is complete we will no longer be under the jurisdiction of the Commonwealth systems."

"Now, now, Emest, protocol must still be followed."

Emest kept his face perfectly straight, revealing nothing. Grace was unconcerned. She had worked with her XO for a long time, and she respected his professionalism. It was just one of the many reasons she had selected him to be her first officer on this mission.

"Yes, ma'am. I also believe that all bridge officers and crew are performing their duties to the best of their abilities and will be unlikely to report any, uh, fraternising at this time, ma'am."

"Understood, Emest. Carry on."

Emest stepped away from the conversation, but not before giving Thomas a swift conspiratorial wink behind the Captain's back.

Thomas pointed at something behind Grace that only he could see on the monitor.

"Your bridge crew might not cause us any trouble, but I see someone who will."

"Oh dear. Do you think it's the little criminal we caught spying on us over breakfast this morning?"

"I do. And I'm beginning to have concerns about the security on your flagship when anyone can waltz onto the bridge when they feel like it. Don't you have a guard on duty?"

The Captain sighed.

"You know that's never stopped her before."

Grace turned to see a dark haired little girl watching from the viewing platform. The girl was searching the room but struggling to locate her target on the busy command deck. Behind her stood a master-at-arms who, helpless in the face of a child immune to the word 'no', shrugged at the Captain, and snapped out a salute.

The girl pressed her small face against the glass barrier. Her quick, excited breaths fogged the cold surface. At last, she found who she was looking for and waved at the captain. She raised a stuffed animal above her head and wiggled its paw in greeting as well.

"Security!" said the captain. "Please stop indulging my daughter."

Tila rode an elevator down to the main bridge level to join her mother. Grace met her at the door with her hands on her hips and barred her way.

"You know you shouldn't be up here, young lady," said Grace. A smile took the edge off her stern tone. This was her daughter, after all, and this was a big day for everyone. "Your father is very busy right now. His work is nearly finished."

"I wanted to see my star," Tila pleaded.

Apart from her hair, Tila looked like a miniature copy of her mother. But where Grace's hair was all neat military discipline, Tila's hair had billowed behind her during her run and it was now plastered across her face. The effect was also spoilt somewhat by the bear hanging from her hand.

Tila spotted her father on the console.

"Hi, Daddy!" She waved vigorously at the screen.

Her father waved back.

"Hello, princess. You're going to be good like we discussed and stay out of trouble in the Gallery, aren't you?"

Tila nodded absently and wobbled on the points of her toes as she tried to get a better view of the control room. She pawed stray locks of hair from her eyes.

"It's boring back there," she said.

"Boring or not, we are going to be very busy in here shortly, Tila, so I need you to leave. Captain's orders," said Grace.

"You can let me stay," said Tila the negotiator.

"I will be in trouble with Emest if I do."

"But you're the Captain!"

"Even captains have to follow the rules, Tila."

"Ugh. Then what's the point? When I'm grown up no one will tell me what to do."

"We shall have to see about that, Tila. We all have to do things we don't like sometimes."

Grace stepped away from her work and knelt in front of her daughter. She smoothed her palms across her daughter's face to part the remaining hairs and finger-combed them back into place. She tucked the last strays behind Tila's ears.

"Soon it won't be boring," she promised. "But for now, you have to watch the jump from the Gallery with the other children. You will have a much better view of the stars from the observation dome there."

On the Far Horizon a technician apologetically ahemed his way to her husband's side.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's time."

Thomas Vasquez nodded. "Time to go now, princess," he said to his daughter.

The technician exchanged more words with the Far Horizon's captain, then spoke into a communicator clipped to his uniform.

"All stations commence final preparations."

Orange hazard lights sprang to life on the Far Horizon's bridge, and simultaneously on the bridges of the New Dawn and Rising Star.

"Time is minus ten minutes to jump. Repeat. T minus ten minutes," announced an artificial voice.

"I'll see you on the other side," Thomas said to his daughter.

Tila pouted, but despite the tiny frown that wrinkled her forehead, her sulkiness was not heartfelt.

Her mother kissed it away. "Come on now, off you go."

Tila held up her stuffed animal for a kiss too. Grace smiled and kissed the toy to indulge her daughter one last time.

"Be good," she said to Tila. "It's going to get very busy in here. You have to go now, honey."

Tila nodded. They had told her this was a very important day, and she had already promised to be on her best behaviour. (Breaking into the bridge didn't count, obviously.) Just like her mother, Tila kept her promises, but Tila decided what was important.

"Look," added her mother, "This will be over soon. When it is, I'll come and find you and we can find your star together. Deal?"

Her daughter gave this weighty matter serious consideration over another frown.

"Promise," she said. It wasn't a question.

Her mother smiled at the way her little girl could take charge when there was something she wanted. Grace wondered if she had been any different at that age. She held her daughter's chin between her finger and thumb and looked her directly in the eye.

"Tila, when this is all over, and we are far, far away from here, I will find you, okay?"

"But—"

"I promise I will find you."

Satisfied and subdued at last, Tila held her mother's hand as they walked back to the elevator together. Grace kissed Tila on the forehead one last time, stood up and pressed the button to close the glass doors.

Sudden quiet enveloped Tila as the door seals muffled the increasing volume coming from the bridge of the colony ship.

"Promise?" she mouthed again at her mother through the glass, in case the first promise somehow didn't count.

The elevator rose swiftly and smoothly, separating them.

"I promise," her mother mouthed back across the growing distance. She blew her daughter a final kiss as she vanished from sight.

The bridge crew sprang into action like a beehive under attack.

Huge overhead screens displayed mission-critical data beneath schematic outlines of the three identical colony ships. Below each schematic, another screen displayed a large translucent cone against a black background. The vertex occupied the lower left of the display with the wide base in the upper right.

The colours graduated from green at the point to red at the base. A sharp, white line sprang from the vertex to the centre of the base and wavered almost imperceptibly, like a nervous conductor before a big concert. Below the cone's base, numbers flashed, too fast to read.

Underneath the three cones, a single ultrawide screen spanned the bridge. On this, the three cone images were superimposed on top of one another. Each white line trembled in time with its counterpart, and as the seconds passed the trembling faded, the images aligned, and the conductor steadied and calmed.

More number sequences bordered the cones on the wide display, but all were close to zero and falling fast. As the numbers crept closer to zero, the images of the three cones sharpened until they were almost a perfect match.

On the bridge of the Far Horizon, a technician addressed Tila's father.

"Sir, quantum cores are in ascendance. We have cross-checked the stochastic simulations and we are holding steady at a ninety-seven per cent probability of success."

"Margin?"

"Less than point one two per cent."

"Thomas?" said the Captain.

"This is as good as it's going to get. What's that phrase you like so much? Now or never?" said her husband.

Grace nodded. She put aside the role of wife and mother, and spoke with a Captain's voice to her Executive Officer.

"Begin final sequence for jump to Baru."

Emest relayed the order into his console microphone.

"We have a go for jump. Repeat, we are go."

A klaxon sounded across the bridge and the upper screens changed to prioritise the schematic displays of the three colony ships.

Around the bridge, crew members began their call and response sequences. Each one could finally perform for real what had only been simulated a hundred times. The stations sounded off one by one, each call bringing the ships a moment closer to their destiny.

"Has fleet network been established?"

"Network is locked and coded, sir."

"Engines?"

"Ready."

"Jump drive is online and operating within normal parameters."

"Gravimetric compensation is available."

"Stochastic models have been confirmed and verified."

"Stellar drift check?" said the XO.

"Confirmed. Stellar-drift calculations have been finalised and real-time simulations are now available."

"Rising Star mass displacement has been confirmed," reported a technician.

"Have our sister ships confirmed final mass displacement?" said the Captain.

"New Dawn mass is in. Far Horizon mass coming through. We are synchronising data among the fleet now," Emest replied.

"Pilot-wave generator standing by."

"Bohr's-field construct is standing by."

The XO turned and made his final announcement to the captain.

"Ma'am, all systems report nominal. We are ready for system jump."

Captain Vasquez nodded. This was it. She looked to her husband on the bridge of the Far Horizon. Even now, in the seconds before they left, he was checking and rechecking calculations. All these years of planning and he was still nervous. Grace pressed the button to open communications to his ship, then crossed her hands behind her back.

"Last call. Are we ready?"

He swallowed, nodded and crossed his fingers.

"It's all down to luck now," he said. "We're as ready as we can be."

Grace squeezed her hands together. She wished it was her husband's hand she held and not her own.

"You don't need luck," she told him, then to her own bridge she gave her last order.

"Begin final sequence."

"Now or never?" said Thomas.

"Now or never," she replied, and smiled at her husband. "I'll see you in fourteen light years."