the smell of stars
This is an old short story I wrote about eight years ago that I’m fond of, but I never shared publicly. Most of the story is pretty drab, unfocused, or silly. But, I like it in particular because it was the first time that I was able to write an action sequence that sounded any good (in chapter 5). I’ve always found it nigh impossible to write something that sounded action-y or face paced.
Like, what does it mean for text to “feel” like it’s fast or intense? Words are always read at the same speed by the reader. I can see the visualize the action shots but how do you translate that to text? With this short story I was finally able to have a little of that action in my writing.
I think it worked because the action sequence focused a lot more on the cacophony of the situation that unfolded, in both a visual and auditory way. Or, maybe I still don’t really understand why it has a little bit of that essence.
Anyway, no better time than now to share, I suppose. Please enjoy.
1
The smell of sweet, sunny flowers flitting in the wind wafted across the riverbank. Fragrance weaved between spindly branches and thin trunks of fragile trees. It slid over the cold, clear water that melted from white glaciers and it flowed along the river, gliding smoothly when the water did and mixing with mist when the water churned. The scent found itself around a lone soul, who rested on a boulder next to the river while looking at the clear, pale sky.
She lay silently, peacefully looking at the dim stars which grew less visible with every passing minute of sunrise. Her eyes strained to see them clearly and the frown on her freckled face deepened as she found them harder to see. Hands tightened into fists, clenched together as the light blew away the fierce beauty of the stars. Her heart ached. A tear fell from her jade eyes, trailing a path down her cheek before settling into her long, dark hair. She reached for the stars she could no longer see, an outstretched hand grasping for anything to hold onto.
It felt as though the stars would never shine again, even though common sense told her otherwise. Every week, she would pack her bags in a panic then rent a car to drive out of the light polluted city, a place she always hesitated to call her hometown, and when she finally arrived the stars were always there.
The next day, she went back to work. Back to normal.
2
At work, she was one of many engineers who worked on the Nakoruz, a cutting-edge cargo delivery spaceship. Schematics of it printed on paper were strewn across her desk. Not many people used paper anymore but the ease and familiarity of it made long trips to the only printer left in the brutalist building worth it. A mysterious issue surfaced from time to time and it was easier to check for possible problems with all of its systems mapped out in front of her.
The office was unnecessarily large. Once, the size of the building seemed appropriate for the many people who used to be employed here, but a rise in intelligent automation made many of those jobs obsolete. Although many employees whose jobs were still relevant worked in clusters dotted throughout the building, Juno was one of the few that preferred to work in solitude, away from any large groups. It was more quiet and peaceful here, a silence broken with the soft sound of footsteps plodding by the many empty, uniform offices.
“Juno.” A coworker stepped inside, holding the usual mug of hot chocolate. “Ivan wants to see you.”
“All right,” she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. The papers were shuffled into a messy stack before she stood up and brushed her hair aside. “On what pretense?”
“Didn’t say.” The coworker frowned momentarily then nodded, motioning towards her as a gesture of importance and urgency. “Said he wants to see you real soon.”
Ivan went to many parties and often found himself as the center of attention. He told irresistible jokes, the kinds you couldn’t help but laugh at. The kinds you wouldn’t expect to come out of the mouth of someone so well-groomed. He had a way of speaking with strangers that turned them into friends and dependable allies. He pursued these excursions to forget the work he did here. In this place, he wore a stern face and his otherwise attractive social demeanor was gone.
“Thank you for coming, Juno.”
“What do you want?”
“Please, take a seat.”
His office looked stark and empty, as usual. Spartan and immaculately clean. The desk and chairs sat in the center of the large, oversized room, their designs and intricate carvings strange and out of place in the utilitarian space. Different even from the uniform Ivan himself wore. The office of Workplace Management wanted to throw it out but he kept it because it was as old and dated as he. Deciding it was not worth their time to go against his stubbornness, they labeled the archaic furniture in the database with the HISTORICAL IMPORTANCE marker.
Juno took a seat on one of the cushioned chairs. Ivan looked at her gravely with his cold gray eyes and stroked his white, frizzled beard.
“We need you to fly the Nakoruz.”
Juno’s eyes widened and memories of looking at the stars just a day prior flooded back. She took a sharp, surprised breath and felt as though the air in the room was suddenly several degrees colder. Skin prickled with anticipation. The stars! Oh, how she wanted to be among the stars.
“You… what?” she stammered in disbelief. “What happened to the pilot?”
“Dead.”
“Backup personnel?”
“Also dead. The rest of them don’t know how to fly it and the launch is in two days.”
When the Nakoruz hit headlines, it changed the entire playing field for orbital cargo delivery. It could deliver ten times the cargo and it used hydrogen fuel, which was significantly cheaper to produce. This was an unusual fuel choice and it resulted in the engines behaving differently from the usual rocketry that most pilots were trained with. Every part of the craft was different to accommodate the unusual engines, most importantly making the controls unusable by any pilot who would have otherwise been suitable for the job.
Ivan continued speaking.
“I don’t know what idiot scheduled our pilot and our backup pilot on the same test flight, but they did.” He grimaced. The next day he would root out every possible source of information in a methodical, precise manner. If no one fessed up. They usually would.
A gnawing worry started to irritate her. The Nakoruz also wasn’t ready for flight, pilot or no pilot. There was a significant problem somewhere in the system. Juno bit her tongue. If Ivan wanted it to fly, it would fly. She would just need to hope there would be no problems.
“Look,” he said, after a pause, “you’re the only one I can send that not only knows how to fly but also knows how the Nakoruz works.”
“You know that isn’t acceptable. Workplace Management would definitely not allow it.” Silently, her heart screamed in protest. Why argue? It’s not like Ivan cares about Workplace Management.
“I talked to them.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, you want to go, don’t you?”
“My days of being a pilot are over.” Her mouth operated separately of her thoughts. The twinkling of stars and the smell of flowers and ice filled her mind. Say yes.
“I know you don’t accept that. You go every week to the dark sky preserve, don’t you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Her tone became angrier, despite her feelings. A sea of lights stretching in every boundless direction, empty space weaved between the stars. Different from the claustrophobic closeness of society.
“Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with it.” He leaned forward in his chair, slightly off of the seat, and pointed his finger at her. A lot of money rode on this cargo delivery and his voice sounded low and gravelly. “But I know you got a job here because you had the talent and the conviction. Most pilots who get their license revoked usually can’t bear to show their face around here any more, but you’re different. You stayed because you still wanted to fly, didn’t you?”
The air silenced itself. Ivan’s eyes searched Juno’s for some kind of reaction, but there was none. It was only a minute later that she slowly began to betray a smile.
3
The next day, Juno found herself in the simulation room. An attendant stood near a machine. She soon became aware that he was talking to her even though he was only continually muttering to himself.
“…Ivan would have rather given you the license yesterday, but his power doesn’t supersede that of the Commonwealth.” Perhaps the slight smile on his face came from the thought of Ivan not getting his way this time. “You’ll have to take a license test like other pilots that are given another chance. Well, you know, this doesn’t happen very often. Not often at all.”
The attendant continually frowned and complained to himself as Juno seated herself in the simulator. He seemed rather cross, but it wasn’t clear if his frustration was from the fact he hated his job or if it was because he had plenty of other, more important work to do. As she stepped through the pre-flight checklist, he grumbled about the number of tasks she would need to complete.
Juno remembered now why she never visited the simulation room even when her legs itched to fly. The attendant would never shut up.
“I’m sure you’ll do just fine, seeing how you’re, you know, the famous ex-pilot of Fenri. Even if it has been quite a few years. Just don’t do anything stupid.” The attendant didn’t even face her when he said this, instead choosing to speak in the complete opposite direction. Meanwhile, Juno secured herself to the seat and fitted the helmet, paying more attention to her routine than the man’s idle and vapid banter.
If she said a word, it would spring him into a renewed sense of enthusiasm. The last thing she wanted was for him to tell her how he would have done this or how she shouldn’t have done that. It’s hard to do the right thing in a situation like that. Everything seems easier in hindsight. Juno didn’t want to remember; it was just over now, filed away neatly in her mind like the files in the Workplace Management database. Finally, the simulation doors closed and she sighed in relief as the attendant’s voice became a dim, then silent noise.
Several hours later, she emerged from the simulation machine. Thanks to the previous night’s practice, every single test was passed without much trouble. She frowned. The attendant’s incessant murmuring could be heard again.
“Very good, very good.” He clapped almost caricaturally as Juno walked toward him. “You did very well. Here’s your license.”
The attendant held out a card but leaned in closely and clenched his hand tightly when Juno tried to take it. Suddenly, his laissez faire attitude sunk beneath deep ocean waters. His brown eyes locked with hers and a voice as sharp as obsidian knives sliced the air.
“I wouldn’t get on the Nakoruz tomorrow if I were you.”
Then, he let go of the card and for the first time was silent. Juno looked at him, then the card, and then the attendant again.
“What’s wrong with you?” Juno said. The attendant pursed his mouth into a straight line, shook his head, then paced around the room talking to her as if he were lecturing a child.
“Do you know what’s on that ship? One hundred metric fuck tons of explosives. Maybe two. No, not meant for you. You know why Ivan is so interested in having that shipment go out tomorrow? He’s getting paid a lot of money under the table because the Commonwealth needs it to stick it on an uprising on some poor unfortunate planet somewhere, probably Cerberus. Those rebels are a lot smarter and more powerful than Ivan or the Commonwealth think. Why do you think both of the Nakoruz pilots are dead? That’s no coincidence.”
“You’re some nutjob, aren’t you?” Juno crossed her arms. It was not long since the monthly training about terrorists and rebels. Nothing he said made any sense. The rebels set up base far away from here and none of their activities took place in any system five light years in any direction. Besides, it was more likely for an incompetent employee to schedule the pilots incorrectly than it was for rebels to be infiltrating the company system.
“Like hell I am.” The attendant spit on the ground. “I just hear things but it’s not like I’m ever in a situation to do anything about it. Everyone around me is too stupid or too busy stroking their egos. Anyway, look. I would book it out of the city as fast as I could. Keep your feet planted firmly on the ground, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Ivan would kill me.”
“Then the rebels will.”
4
Juno felt the blood pumping in her face. Last night, the attendant’s words played back in her head. It was all extremely improbable, but it all stuck around anyway like food stuck between teeth.
It shouldn’t even matter anymore. She told herself. There’s nothing I can do about it now.
The engines roared behind her and the whole vessel shook.
Besides, the rebels are too far away from here.
She tried to scrunch her face and nose to avoid smelling the spent gunpowder. It was all sun-scorched dust from landings on rocky planets. Not from the engine or the explosives in the cargo bay. The explosives were imaginary anyway; their existence was only supported by her paranoid mind. They don’t exist. The cargo had to be inspected before it was loaded. Protocol had to be followed.
Trying to not breathe was a futile task though, as she found herself compelled to respond to air traffic control as the spaceship fired itself off the landing pad and into the sky. Every sentence she spoke was followed by a breath laced with burnt smoke as she tried to supply her body with oxygen under the heavy weight of g-forces.
Slowly the void above her grew bluer and then darker in color. The invisible weight on her chest lessened and Juno squinted her eyes as pricked dots of white appeared in the dark black. She could almost see an ocean of stars and boundless horizons. Suddenly, a bright red flashed beneath her. A computerized voice briefly stated the reason for failure.
Juno cursed. Just my luck.
The dashboard indicated signs of the elusive problem she was trying to fix before they left. She wasn’t able to fix it in time but since it didn’t happen very often, the launch was still given the green light.
Thankfully, since the main lift off stage was complete, she could go into the engine room to start trying a few troubleshooting steps. With luck, the problem could be amended quickly.
She unfastened herself from the seat, ignoring the ship’s warnings and flashing yellow lights. Kicking herself towards the door, she felt the weightlessness hug her body. She sighed and swept herself towards the corridor in an almost graceful dance.
Inside the engine room she opened the control panel and reset the engines. Then, she started running through the checklist.
Fix #1: Open the safety shutoff valve. Power off ETS. Open switch 3. Power on ETS. Turn on the engines… Fail.
Fix #2… Fail. Fix #3…
Fail. Juno sighed and tousled her hair. She continued down the list of items that were once clues for how to fix the ship. Fix after fix failed to restore power to the engines. While jumping back and forth in the room, to open this valve or to close another, she found herself repeating the numbers, steps, and results out loud to herself. Maybe I’m becoming like that damn attendant.
“Fix number 34…” Suddenly the ship quivered and shook. The once eerily silent engine room roared to life. Blue, glowy light peeked out of cracks in the machinery. She inhaled deeply. “…success.”
On her way back to the cockpit Juno couldn’t help but notice the door to the cargo bay was slightly ajar. She lightly fingered the opening of the doorway, sporadically removing her hand from it as if it were burning hot and then returning her hand to it. Eventually, her hand firmly clamped the frame of the doorway and she pulled herself inside.
It wouldn’t take long to take a look. Besides, autopilot is on.
Each package had a scannable code on the side containing myriads of information. Each had the same destination. Cerberus.
5
LOCATION: INSA STATION A304
Ivan tapped his finger angrily on the desk. Not too long ago, Juno burst into the temporary station office demanding an explanation.
“Why am I carrying five hundred metric tons of hydrogen explosives? The shipment wasn’t even cleared under the correct cargo delivery license. No one checked it for security risks. No one!” Juno took in a deep breath as Ivan drew his crossed arms closer to his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You shouldn’t have checked the cargo. You know pilots are not supposed to do that.”
“Look, I don’t care what the hell it is you want me to ship, but we need to have the cargo shipped under the correct license.” She prodded the palm of her hand with a pointed finger. “We had these licenses put in place for really good reasons. You know…” Suddenly, Juno stopped and bit her lip.
“You know that the Nakoruz program is running on a deficit? That cargo is going to get the program out of the red and into the black.”
Juno paused briefly before snapping back at him.
“Protocol is more important.”
“Think carefully about what you are about to do, Juno.” Ivan growled. “Don’t make another mistake. You’ll never be able to fly again.”
Both looked at each other, jade and crimson eyes never breaking contact, daring the other to step down. Finally, it was Juno who broke eye contact.
“You’re never going to get that cargo.” She shouted behind her as she started to walk away.
“You’re not going to get away,” Ivan shouted. “Your pilot license is revoked.”
Juno stopped just short of the door and turned her head just enough so she could make direct eye contact with Ivan. Her eyes burned with fire.
“It takes four hours for the system to update.”
Within minutes, Juno found herself running on the dock alongside the APHELION, the name of the Nakoruz ship. She could hear the pier door closing behind her and smiled as they locked into place, glowing with red that she could see reflected on the slick, smooth floor. I can run faster than that, Ivan.
She unlocked the cabin door and inserted her pilot license. The systems lit up and an approval sound glowed. With a start she powered the engines. A fiery roar erupted from behind and shook the seat and controls as light filled the dock. Shouting from outside emanated quietly through the window of her cockpit and the ship groaned as electronic locks detached itself with a loud clack and crackling static from the hull. All of the cargo was still loaded and none of the CLASS ACTION 6 piers were designed to handle oversized loads this big. Hastily, the ship fell to the bottom and scraped along the floor of the hanger as she reversed and swung the nose of the ship around. A deep, reverberating sound shook the air and holograms on the ship’s dashboard flickered. The heavy blast doors of the hangar groaned, but she already knew they would be too late. Several loud whining of engines erupted around her. More shouting.
The APHELION burst out of the station, bringing with it a cloud of broken metal, concrete, and glass. Shockwaves from the oversized Nakoruz thrusters rippled through the dust and jets of air spit out from newly made cracks in the station. Other smaller attack ships followed swiftly, deftly dodging the debris.
The pursuers simply followed her; they couldn’t open fire because of the explosives she was carrying. Juno maxed out the thrust power of the ship but even then willed the ship to go faster. If one of the attack ships closed the gap and managed to dock, it would all be over. She felt herself pressed against the back of the seat from sheer acceleration, eyes drawn to the radar, measuring the distance between herself and her pursuers, always failing to tell if the gap was getting larger or smaller.
After what seemed to be eternity, one by one the ships were forced to give up and return to the station. Some followed for too long and Juno watched as those pilots struggled to thrust back the way they came, spending what leftover fuel there was. Soon, she found herself alone among the stars.
She still felt tense even though by all accounts she was free. The empty space surrounded her and massaged her muscles. The ship’s overdrive thrusters were powered down. Her breath slowed and her sweat evaporated. The ever present weight of acceleration on her chest was gone and she found herself involuntarily leaning forward in the seat. What could she do now? She was definitely fired.
With alarm, she looked down at the dashboard and grumbled in disgust. The ship wasn’t refueled when it was docked at the station. She slumped back in the chair. With only that much left in the ship’s tanks, there was a slim chance she would be able to redirect to a safe location. She cursed. Ivan was one step ahead. Again. Suddenly her decisions seemed unplanned and reckless, even though she gave them so much thought before she demanded answers.
But… maybe being out in space wasn’t so bad after all. The view from the cockpit was a scattered sprinkle of stars, constant pinpoints of light. Nebulas colored the otherwise apparent black darkness with rich saturation. The view was impossibly fascinating and breathtaking, even though it was a familiar view to her eyes.
She sighed and her eyelids felt heavier, already almost half closed. She curled up, surrounded by the emptiness of space, and peered out of the cockpit.
It was a long day and she would have plenty more time to be with the stars. Here, after all, the sun never rose nor set and there were no clouds to obscure the view. The stars would always be there and she would probably die watching them while drifting through space. A slow death. Juno sleepily grabbed the bars along the corridor as she pulled herself towards the sleeping quarters of the ship. Once again, the cargo bay door caught her attention as she crept by.
The cargo bay.
Her eyes perked up and she struggled the door open.
The hydrogen.
She smiled.
The ship can be refueled.
