Chapter 12 – Perspectives
I awakened from morning noises in the Hammerstar’s high bay, my neck stiff from sleeping against Peregrina’s bulkhead. The ship’s lights had shifted to morning mode, casting an odd contrast against the eternal twilight beyond. My tablet showed 0630 local time, and my body felt every minute of yesterday’s marathon inspection.
“Guys! I’ve found our engineer!” Tài’s voice rang out as he descended to the lower deck, tossing me a pastry that vaguely resembled a croissant. “The undergrads at Zhankya University know how to party. You missed a hell of a night.”
I stretched, wincing as my joints protested. “Someone had to make sure this bird wouldn’t blow up mid-flight,” I quipped, hoping humor would mask my exhaustion.
“While you were tinkering with pipes, we were living it up,” Gulliver added, following close behind Tài. “There was this one girl who could recite the entire periodic table while doing handstands. Now that’s what I call talent!”
“Sounds... educational,” I said, taking a bite of the surprisingly good pastry.
“Educational? It was legendary!” Gulliver’s eyes sparkled. “They had this drinking game where you had to match molecular structures. Every wrong answer meant a shot of something they called ‘neutron juice.’ I still can’t feel my tongue.”
Tài shook his head, grinning. “You should’ve seen him trying to explain quantum entanglement after his fourth shot. Pretty sure he invented a new branch of physics.”
“My personal favorite,” Gulliver interjected, brushing off Tài’s teasing with a casual wave, “was this AI game where it projects your memories onto a wall. Everyone tries to guess the story behind them.”
“And why, exactly, would anyone want to do that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“In theory, you pick what to share,” Tài explained. “But after a few drinks, it turns into the galaxy’s most efficient self-shaming machine.”
The morning banter continued for a few minutes while I enjoyed my breakfast. Tài and Gulliver climbed back to their stations while I remained on the lower deck finishing the report.
Cirakari was the last one to enter the ship, looking impossibly fresh despite presumably joining last night’s debauchery. Her sharp gaze found mine, and I instinctively straightened.
“Report, Fred?”
I cleared my throat. “I’ve completed a thorough inspection of the entire thermal management system. Every component is within specifications, and there’s no sign of physical damage or wear.” I pulled up the diagnostic data on my tablet, holding it steady as I presented the findings. “The piping network, heat exchangers, and all auxiliary systems are functioning normally.”
Cirakari nodded slowly. “The software analysis from the Broodmother came back clean too. No anomalies in the control algorithms or system protocols.”
“Then it’s confirmed,” I said, meeting her gaze. “The failure was entirely my error.”
A brief silence settled between us, broken only by the distant murmur of Tài and Gulliver’s voices drifting down from the upper deck.
Cirakari broke the quiet with a softer voice than usual. “About yesterday—”
“No need,” I cut in, standing a little straighter. “You were right. I should have come forward immediately when I suspected my mistake.”
She tilted her head slightly in an unreadable expression. “It wasn’t just about protocol,” she said evenly. “Mistakes happen. But the sooner we confront them, the easier they are to correct.”
“I understand,” I replied. “It won’t happen again.”
Something flickered in her eyes—respect, perhaps, though fleeting—but she kept her composure. Her gaze swept across the room, gathering the attention of the rest of the crew.
“Guys,” she began. “We’ve got news from the Broodmother. There’s heavy resupply traffic up there, and we’re looking at a delay of at least eight hours before we get a docking slot.”
Tài groaned from his seat at the console. “Eight hours? Fantastic. More time to contemplate life’s mysteries while staring at metal walls.”
“Or,” Gulliver chimed in, a grin creeping across his face, “we could finally settle the debate about who’s better at predictive orbital plotting—me or the ship’s AI.”
“The AI,” Cirakari answered dryly, without missing a beat.
Gulliver feigned a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. “Cirakari, I’m wounded. After all we’ve been through, you’d side with a machine?”
“I side with efficiency,” she shot back with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
Tài nodded to me. “What do you think, Fred? Gulliver’s ego or cold, hard algorithms?”
I shrugged, grateful for the lighter tone in the room. “As an engineer, I have a soft spot for cold, hard algorithms.”
Gulliver threw up his hands in mock exasperation. “Even you, Fred?”
Cirakari raised a hand, silencing the banter. “Eight hours is not much, but since we already have everything settled here…”
“More shore leave?” Gulliver perked up hopefully.
“More shore leave,” Cirakari confirmed. “Tài, Gulliver, show our engineer around. He’s seen enough of Peregrina’s innards to last a lifetime.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“The First Habitat!” Tài exclaimed, suddenly animated. “I’ve always wanted to see it.”
✹✸✶✸✹
As I descended into Zhynka, the distant hill view dissolved into an immediate, living landscape. The glowing veins I’d seen from above were pedestrian walkways, softly lit with bioluminescent strips that pulsed in rhythm with the city’s heartbeat.
Up close, the buildings proved more organic than imagined. Their surfaces radiated a subtle warmth from integrated thermal systems. Plants weren’t mere decoration but a symbiotic network, as Tài explained excitedly, they were genetically modified to mass produce oxygen.
The air carried an earthy sweetness, cut with ozone from the twilight aurora. Citizens moved like a fluid through pipes, their clothing echoing the city’s natural aesthetic. A vendor’s bio-synthesized cart offered steaming spiced roots, while children played in the parks.
“First stop,” Tài announced as we approached a massive structure that dominated the city center, “The original lander,” Tài explained, talking like a tour guide. “When the Overseers first sent colonists here, this was their shelter. Everything else grew around it.”
“Hard to believe this thing carried three hundred people,” I mused, staring up at the structure.
“Three hundred and twelve,” Tài corrected. “Plus supplies, equipment, and enough genetic material to start a civilization.” He was in his element now, gesturing enthusiastically as he spoke. “See those marks on the hull? Those are from the atmospheric entry. They kept them unrepaired as a reminder of the journey.”
We entered through the original airlock, now converted into a modern entrance. Inside, holographic displays showed scenes from the early days of colonization. Tài provided running commentary, his knowledge seemingly endless.
“The first five years were the hardest,” he explained as we passed a display showing the initial construction of atmospheric processors. “They had to establish basic life support while building the infrastructure for expansion. Every breath of air had to be manufactured, every drop of water recycled.”
“Look at these life support systems,” I marveled, examining the machinery. “They were using technology that would have seemed like magic on Earth, but compared to what we have now...”
“Progress marches on,” Tài agreed. “Though sometimes I wonder if we’ve really progressed or just complicated things unnecessarily.”
Gulliver, who had been suspiciously quiet, finally groaned. “One more historic air filter, and I’m chucking myself out an airlock”
As we left the museum, I decided to address something that had been bothering me. “Gulliver, why are you so quick to suggest surrender? Every time things get tough, you bring it up.”
He shrugged. “Look around you. People living their lives, working, studying, falling in love. You think they care who’s in charge? This war, it’s just powerful people playing games with our lives.”
“That’s... surprisingly philosophical coming from you,” I admitted.
“The average person just wants to live their life,” he continued. “Whether it’s the Alliance or the Overseers calling the shots, gravity still pulls down, and bills still need paying.”
Tài shook his head. “You’re assuming the Overseers want to rule us. I don’t think that’s their game.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Think about it. TRAPPIST-1 is 42 light-years from Earth. Maintaining control over such distances is impractical, we need 84 years to send a message and hear its response. No, if they win, they’ll probably just destroy everything here.”
The thought sent a chill through me. “But why?”
“Because we exist,” Tài said simply. “We’re proof that humanity can survive without them. That’s enough of a threat.”
“I mean… why did they colonize TRAPPIST-1 in the first place?”
“Well, I wish I had the answer,” he replied.
We continued to wander around, visiting more landmarks and tasting different kinds of street food. Our tour was interrupted by Cirakari’s voice over our comms. “Time to wrap up the tourism, people. We’ve got clearance for launch in ninety minutes.”
✹✸✶✸✹
Back aboard Peregrina, the atmosphere transformed from casual to professional in seconds. Cirakari’s voice carried through the ship’s communication system, crisp and authoritative.
“Pre-launch checklist initiated. All stations report status.”
“Navigation systems online,” Tài reported from his station. “Flight path calculated and verified.”
“Weapons systems secured and locked,” Gulliver added. “All ammunition properly stored.”
I ran through my own checks, this time making sure I was following the right procedures. “Engineering reports all systems nominal. Thermal management system showing green across the board.”
“Hammerstar Control, this is Peregrina actual,” Cirakari’s voice was steady and professional. “Requesting clearance for vertical launch.”
“Peregrina, Hammerstar Control. You are cleared for launch on Vector Seven. Weather conditions optimal, winds at three knots from the northwest.”
“Auxiliary engines nominal,” I reported, watching the power levels climb steadily. “Thermal systems responding normally.”
“Ten seconds to launch,” Cirakari announced. “All hands, secure for acceleration.”
The countdown proceeded in my head as I monitored the engine parameters. The familiar vibration built through the ship’s frame, but this time I knew exactly what each tremor meant, what each gauge should show.
Peregrina lifted off with a controlled surge of power, rising steadily through Vielovento’s twilight sky. The eternal sunset finally began to change as we climbed, the atmosphere thinning around us until stars became visible in the monitors.
“Trajectory nominal,” Tài reported. “Ascending through fifty kilometers.”
“Thermal systems performing as expected,” I added, allowing myself a small smile of satisfaction.
The ascent continued smoothly, and soon we were in orbit, approaching the massive form of the Broodmother. As we maneuvered toward our assigned docking port, Cirakari received a message.
“Well,” she said after closing the channel, “it seems Grand Admiral Baraka wants to discuss our next assignment personally.” She turned to face us. “Whatever happens next, you all performed excellently today.”
“Does this mean we get another shore leave soon?” Gulliver asked hopefully.
“Let’s see what the Admiral has to say first,” Cirakari replied, but there was amusement in her voice.
As the docking clamps engaged and the ship settled into its berth, I reflected on the past few days. I had made mistakes, yes, but I had also learned from them. More importantly, I was starting to understand my place in this crew, this ship, this strange new world I found myself in.
“Hey, Fred,” Gulliver called out as we secured our stations. “Next time we’re planetside, I’ll show you the real attractions. None of that historical stuff.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve quantum physics drinking games,” I replied.
“No promises,” Gulliver smirked. “But I heard there’s this place where they serve something called ‘positron punch’...”
Cirakari’s voice cut through our banter. “Alright, people. Secure your stations and prepare for debrief. Something tells me our next assignment isn’t going to be a milk run.”
Looking around at my crewmates—my friends—I realized that despite all the challenges and uncertainties ahead, there was nowhere else I’d rather be. The perpetual sunset of Vielovento was behind us now, but somehow, I knew we’d be back. After all, every sunset, even an eternal one, promises a new dawn.