Kiseleva pounded on the door. “Open up immediately!” she called through her system, letting her voice flood into the room beyond.

Behind her, a dozen drones and three more Response officers stood ready in full gear.

The door opened, and Cathal Sair looked out at them, surprised.

“Oh, hello. What can I-“

“Where is the fire?” Kiseleva demanded, pushing in past him.

She scanned the room – and saw the large metal bowl with the small fire burning within.

That was it?

The alarm that had summoned her had been severe – any open flame was a major danger on a ship. But the system had indicated that the fire was uncontrolled, not . . . just a fire bowl.

But it was still an open fire, she reasoned, annoyed at the system, herself, and the Priest all at once. It couldn’t stay.

“Put it out,” she ordered.

Drones swept in, spraying a solution onto the fire that doused the flames with a great hiss.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sair said, his words somewhat stern. “We are merely holding a ceremony!”

“There are no open flames allowed on the Craton,” Kiseleva said. “Not without special permission and precautions.”

Sair took the words in unhappily, but nodded. “I am sorry, I was not aware. I did not mean to cause trouble, officer . . . ?”

“Kiseleva,” she supplied. “You do understand that this is a hazard on board a starship, do you not? A fire can spread within a vessel and if it reached oxygen tanks it could be disastrous. Or if our atmosphere was of the wrong mixture, it could have ignited the air itself.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I am afraid that those possibilities had not occurred to me,” Sair replied. “On Gohhi there were no such stipulations.”

Which, Kiseleva knew, was part lax rules and part because Gohhi couldn’t possibly have controlled people enough to prevent them from making fires – let alone the people who liked to smoke some sort of drug. They were forced to use an atmospheric cocktail more conducive to an open flame.

The Craton‘s atmosphere was not in danger of exploding, but an open flame was still not allowed, with very few exceptions.

“If you had wished to have a fire, you would need to apply with Administration and special accommodations could be made,” Kiseleva told him.

“I deeply apologize,” Father Sair said, offering a bow.

She still felt displeased, but accepted his bow with a nod. “For that reason we will not press any charges – normally an unregistered fire is a misdemeanor.”

“Are you certain that is right?” Sair asked. “I am willing to accept punishment for my actions.”

She regarded him with an annoyed curiosity; did he want to be punished?

“I am making the call,” she said flatly.

He nodded. “Then I thank you. May I still apply for permission for the fire?”

“No,” she told him. Then, feeling that perhaps it sounded too harsh, as if a punishment, she added; “Due to the holiday, Admin is closed for anything except emergencies.”

“I see,” Sair replied, seeming for the first time upset. “Does it make a difference if it is an important part of my religious observance of the holiday?”

“Not really,” Kiseleva replied. “Religious groups are considered a form of club or interest group, and must follow normal operating hours.”

Sair bowed his head. “I must see what substitute I can come up with that will be acceptable, then.”

“A holographic bowl,” Kiseleva suggested. “They can be quite convincing. If you require heat, some can provide that functionality. Simply go down to the nearest Requisition Depot. If you have the Ex, you can get one.”

“Will the price be higher due to the holiday?” Sair asked.

“We don’t raise prices arbitrarily,” she replied.

The drones began to lift up his fire bowl, and he watched with concern. “Do I lose my bowl as well?”

“They will clean and remove the soot that could be hazardous and then return it,” one of the other officers said.

“Please be careful, it is a blessed bowl,” Sair said quickly, worriedly.

“They will treat it with the same care they treat all things,” Kiseleva said, heading for the door. “Which will be more than adequate for its safety.”

She headed to the door, looking back. Automatically, she was about to wish him a nice holiday. But seeing the look on his face, she thought it might come off as mocking.

Without anything else to say, she left.