Story Summary: Current sub-plots in the story: Ren has decided to let Markus remain as Captain until he’s older. Falor and Tarek were sent to retrieve the baby formula. Maera is supervising the refueling of pods. Saline has been called to the Bridge to take over counseling the survivors Kallae is being held under suicide watch. Cirres is under supervision and restricted to the Bridge and Staff areas. Current condition of the Morning Star: The first ring has been destroyed. The second ring is critically damaged. The fuselage suffered severe damage at the ring couplings. The Sun Shield generator is operating at minimal power. There are 625 escape Pods with 2,500 survivors, all children. The Pods are now docked in the cargo bay outside the bridge. It has been 10 days since the disaster that crippled the Morning Star. A search of the ship has found no additional survivors.

Kallae’s wings spread out into the darkness as he soared over a wasteland of sand and rock. He was a raven, proud, strong, and swift of wing, with a glint of the moon reflecting in his eyes as the heat from the sand rose and lifted him into the sky. He scanned the terrain below, searching… searching… for something… a voice perhaps, singing to him from the darkness. A song of anguish and despair, calling, pleading, “Come, we are here.” The wasteland below grew into cliffs, and canyons, and all the hidden places of the desert. Kallae pulled his wings in tight and dived for the ground, the wind rushing past him, a thunderous roar in his ears as he descended from the night sky. He opened his wings and let the air fill them until at the last moment he pulled out of the dive and raced across the wasteland. “Come, we are here,” the voice sang to him. The desert became as a graveyard, the bones of the dead covered the sand, bleached white and barren of the living flesh they once wore. The urgency of the voice called to him, sang to him, pleaded with him as he flew through the night. The voice was joined by other voices, all singing a desperate song of hope. The bones became as a mountain rising in the darkness. He beat his wings and followed the mountain up towards a lone figure. Kallae rose above the figure, a boy, and beyond him was a frozen lake, fed by a frozen waterfall flowing over cliffs into the lake. The boy spread his wings. “They gave themselves for us, come, we are here.” Kallae’s eyes flew open as he bolted upright in the bed, his body covered in sweat and trembling. Sarek, sitting in a chair next to the bed, lowered his book and frowned. “Another nightmare?” asked Sarek. “No, not a nightmare,” replied Kallae. “I was Dream Sharing, they’re alive.” Sarek set his book aside and stood. “I’ll send for Saline.” “No, no, please, I’ll be good, no more sedatives,” pleaded Kallae. Sarek looked down at Kallae. “Nobody has Dream Shared in 400 years, not since we left Daria. The scientists say Dream Sharing was caused by something environmental on our home world. Once we launched, that was it, nobody ever Dream Shared again.” Kallae lay back down and rolled over to face the wall. “I’m being good, see, it was just a nightmare. I was confused.” “Rositites don’t lie very well,” said Sarek. “I’m sending for Saline.” Kallae stared at the wall. It wasn’t a lie, he was being good, right this second, and it had been a nightmare, and he was confused. “I want to see my brother.” “Not right now,” said Sarek. Kallae heard the door open, then Sarek speaking with the guard in the hall. Kallae rolled over so he could time his plan perfectly. He waited until the guard started to walk away, then jumped out of the bed and ran to the door as Sarek was turning around. Kallae slammed and locked the door. He would only have maybe 30 seconds, if that, to complete the plan. Kallae was a maintenance intern and knew where the emergency tools were kept almost everywhere on the ship. He pulled open the hidden panel over the wet bar the Captain normally kept refreshments for private meetings with his officers. The emergency tool kit was still in the small compartment; Sarek had removed everything from the room that he thought Kallae could use to hurt himself, but he hadn’t known about the tool compartment. Kallae pulled the tool bag out and found a screwdriver, then put the tool bag back and closed the compartment. He wasn’t going to escape, but that wasn’t his plan – if he’d wanted to escape, there was a way, but that wasn’t his intent, yet, he might need the tools again. They would find the screwdriver, but they wouldn’t know where he’d got it from. He knelt next to the grav-plate in front of the door and used the screwdriver to remove the artificial gravity-making steel plate. Sarek was shouting at him from the other side of the door, and would soon just break it down. Kallae pulled the grav-plate away from the door, then threw the screw driver under the bed. They would probably find it, but maybe they wouldn’t. Kallae flinched and jumped to the side as Sarek kicked at the door. Kallae pressed up against the wall next to the door before reaching over and unlocking it with a click. Sarek pushed the door open and charged inside, but where he expected there to be gravity, there wasn’t. Sarek’s momentum took him across the zero-gravity area Kallae had created, but the sudden unexpected loss of footing caused him to trip and tumble into the room. Kallae jumped across the zero-g space in front of the door and out into the hall. Kallae’s eyes widened when he saw the guard had turned around and was barreling toward him – Kallae turned, and ran. “Cirres! Cirres!” Kallae shouted as he ran. He knew they were keeping Cirres in a room nearby, but he wasn’t sure where. Cirres wasn’t locked down like he was, but was still under supervision, and was restricted to the Bridge deck, but at least he had some freedom; Kallae was on complete lock-down. A side door to one of the Officer’s quarters opened and Gaethon stepped out – it took a moment for Kallae to realize his feet were no longer in contact with the ground as the big G-Ball player snatched him up. Gaethon held a hand up to stop the charging guard. “Kael, were you really planning on tackling a 13 year old to the ground, he’s not on the 10 most wanted list?” Sarek charged out of the Captain’s Cabin. “Do you know what he did?” “I imagine something clever,” replied Gaethon. “I turned my back on him for a second and he locked the door on me, then he removed the grav-plate from in front of the door so I’d trip when he unlocked the door.” Gaethon’s eyes shifted to Kallae. “Where’d you get the tools to remove the grav-plate?” Kallae ignored Gaethon and wiggled around to see inside the room. Cirres was standing inside looking sad. “Cirres, they’re alive… I saw them in my dream…” Gaethon twisted Kallae around by the shoulders. “We sent three-hundred people into the maintenance tunnels to search after your first dream, there’s nobody alive down there.” “I saw a boy standing on a mountain of bones… and there was a frozen lake behind him… and a frozen waterfall… and…” Gaethon held Kallae firmly and motioned for Sarek to come get him. “Kallae, there’s only seven days of oxygen stored in our armor, and even if someone had found a hole to hide in, they ran out of air three days ago. There is nobody alive in the tunnels.” Kallae tried to break free from Gaethon. “I’m telling you… they’re alive… Cirres… you have to believe me… you have to find them…” Sarek took hold of Kallae. “What do you want me to do with him?” Gaethon looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “When I went to search the hospital for pain medication for Ren’s dislocated shoulder, I saw a bed in the emergency room with restraints. He’s clearly a danger to himself, and others. Ask Chief to turn the power back on to the hospital and take him there. We need to keep him restrained.” Kallae got an arm lose and took a swing at Sarek, but the former G-Ball player was too fast and the punch went wild. Kallae continued to scream. “They’re alive… they’re alive…they’re alive…” Gaethon stepped back inside the room with Cirres and closed the door to muffle most of the sounds of Kallae’s incoherent screaming. “He’s not well,” said Gaethon. “I know.” Cirres dropped his eyes to the floor. “There’s no way anyone can still be alive down there, and I know now it’s not our fault they died, but Kallae isn’t going to listen to anyone until I go and look.” “It might be too soon for you to go down there.” “What if it was your brother?” asked Cirres. “You’d do anything to help him, I know you would, because you’re Gaethon Hawk, the greatest G-Ball player there’s ever been.” Gaethon chuckled. “Woah, little brother, slow down, I’m getting dizzy up on that pedestal you’ve put me on.” “It’s true, you’re even better than Markus,” said Cirres. Gaethon raised a brow. “When you’re trying to get a favor from someone, never talk bad about their best friend, or anyone else.” “I wish you were our big brother, then we’d know that kind of stuff.” Gaethon laughed. “There you go, that’s better.” “So, you’ll let me go?” “Yes, but not alone, I’ll take you.” Cirres grabbed his armor off the charging station and headed for the door. Once in the hall, he turned to the left and started towards the Bridge where his Pod was still docked. “Other way,” said Gaethon, turning right and heading for the rear airlock where the Bridge Staff normally kept their Pods docked. Cirres stopped and turned around. “Huh? But my Pod is… ohhhh… we’re sneaking away.” “We’re not sneaking,” replied Gaethon. Cirres ran to catch up with Gaethon. “I’m a Rositite, I know sneaking when I see it.” “There’s no reason to upset Markus by going through the Bridge,” said Gaethon. “Unless you want to explain to him what we’re doing.” “Nope, I’m good with sneaking,” said Cirres with a grin. Once the airlock cycled, Cirres pulled himself out into the zero gravity. His mouth fell open as he saw the tangled mess of at least fifty or sixty abandoned Pods hanging in the air. “Holy Ancestors!” “The Pods docked in the closest berths belong to the Officers the Captain called to help defend the Bridge,” explained Gaethon. “The Captain must have known the attack was coming. All the other Pods belonged to the traitor rebels.” Cirres pointed at one of the Pods docked near the airlock. “That’s the Senior Master Maintenance Chief’s Pod. He should have been in the tunnels?” “We found him in the hall with a big wrench still in his hand, and a dozen bodies around him. I think he was the first to see them coming. I’ve never seen liquid armor dented before.” Cirres dropped his head. “He always carried that pipe wrench with him. Rositite gangs use the tunnels to transport black-market supplies, they call it the Dark Highway, but Senior Chief won’t let them use the sections we occupy. A gang tried to come through once… big mistake, they never tried again. He was strong, stronger than even a Holentite. A Pod slipped off its cradle once and crushed a mechanic’s leg. Senior Chief lifted the corner of the Pod up all by himself so we could get the guy out.” Gaethon studied Cirres’ face. “Are you okay?” Cirres looked up at Gaethon. “I’d give anything to hear Senior Chief yell at me again for doing something stupid.” “What do you say we take his Pod?” “Yeah, I think he’d be okay with that.” Cirres took the controls of the Pod and headed up to the Maintenance tube to dock with the track that would take them the rest of the way. He had to take his time docking, and managed to do it with only a slight bump. Kallae did most of the flying and was better at it, but Cirres had taken the training course and was certified to use the rail tubes also. Gaethon watched with fascination as they sped along a rail system that most people had forgotten even existed. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,” said Gaethon. “Dad said that three-hundred years ago there were public pod-trains for everyone to use, but for some reason they stopped, and then people forgot about them. Dad says that every generation is losing a little bit more of the technology we had when we launched. He said that by the time we get to the new world, we’ll have to toss ropes over the side of the ship and climb down to the surface, because there won’t be anyone left that knows how to fly a Pod.” “I hope it’s not that serious,” said Gaethon. Cirres shrugged. “I don’t know, but there’s huge Cargo Ships stored in the bow to transport all the excavation and building vehicles to the surface, but I don’t think there’s anyone left that knows how to fly them.” Cirres slowed the Pod and exited out into the lower maintenance tunnel. “Okay, this is K Sector. Kallae and I already walked through J Sector and didn’t see anything, so we’ll start here.” “You know a lot about the ship,” said Gaethon. “My family has been Maintenance since the First Generation.” Cirres crawled out of the Pod first and inhaled deeply as his armored boots clanged against the steel deck. The toxic gas cloud had dissipated, mostly due to the work of Chief Gillian restoring some limited power and using the air fans to push the deadly cloud out into space. What little residual that remained left a metallic taste on the tip of Cirres’ tongue, but other than that, the wholesome scent of tools, grease, and generations of men, women, boys, and girls of the Maintenance Division filled his nostrils with the scent of… home. Yes, this was home, this is where he belonged. He glanced at the many cargo doors, machine shops, cages of tools, and then back to Gaethon. “What’s with all the checkmarks?” The search party left a checkmark everywhere they searched,” replied Gaethon. Cirres walked along the corridor, occasionally opening a storage locker, or a cargo bay. He tried not to look at the bodies, most of which the corrosive gas cloud had already stripped down to bone. “We still have clean-up to do,” said Gaethon. “We’ll get volunteers to take them to the morgue and have the remains cremated.” Cirres shook his head. “No, that would take months. We’ll use a transport sled and take them to M Sector, that’s where the recycling furnaces are. We can be done in a week.” “Are you still okay?” asked Gaethon. There was a tightness to Cirres voice, a tone of one too young that has seen too much, but otherwise he spoke with clear resolve. “They’re my brothers and sisters, they need me. I’m okay. Their ashes will mix with the new steel we make to fix the ship. They’ll be part of the Morning Star forever.” Gaethon nodded, but it isn’t what he would have done. The Holentites would have had a ceremony, and speeches, and sworn oaths to the Sun God that they would survive, and build a great monument to the fallen when they reached the new world, but Rositites were much more practical. The Rositites understood better than anyone that there were no renewable resources aboard an intergalactic starship on a journey of nearly a thousand years across two galaxies. The Rositites wouldn’t even waste the ashes of their dead. “Do you need to see any more?” asked Gaethon. Cirres knelt to straighten the body of a man wearing armor now badly corroded. The rank on the armor was that of a Master Maintenance Chief. It was as clear to Cirres what happened as if he’d been here and witnessed the tragedy. The Master Chief had led a group of interns into this cargo bay, but the door was damaged and wouldn’t close. The man had died valiantly trying to close the door ahead of the gas cloud. “We can go, there’s nobody alive down here,” replied Cirres. Gaethon and Cirres headed back to the Pod, their boots echoing through the maintenance tunnel as if they were intruding on a sacred place. They were nearly back to the Pod when Cirres stopped to look at two bodies sitting against the wall next to a round hatch. “What is it?” asked Gaethon. “Poor souls,” said Cirres. “Look, they have a wrench. That’s a bolted on hatch, not a hinged hatch. Even if they’d gotten inside in time, they wouldn’t have been able to put the hatch back on from inside; the gas cloud would still have gotten them.” Gaethon went and kneeled next to the hatch, then reached out and twisted at the nuts securing the hatch with his fingers. “Cirres, there’s no checkmark, and these nuts are only finger tightened. The search teams didn’t look in here. What if they weren’t trying to get into this access tunnel, what if someone else went in, and they remained out here to put the hatch back on? Where’s this tunnel go?” Cirres brushed at the soot covering a plaque above the hatch. “Oh, this is the access tunnel to the agricultural water reservoir.” “Let’s take the hatch off, I want to see inside,” said Gaethon. “We can’t, not now with the hull breeched. The tunnel on the other side leads to the water reservoir, and above that are the grates that water runoff flows back to the reservoir to be filtered and reused for watering the farm fields the next day. You guys pressurized the maintenance tunnel, so with the other side not being pressurized, it would take a crane to pull that hatch off, and then we’d lose air in here.” “Humor me, I’ve got a hunch,” said Gaethon. “It won’t do any harm. If it’s not pressurized in there, we won’t be able to get the hatch off, but if it is pressurized, the hatch will fall off.” “I told you, it can’t be pressurized, the grates are open to the Ring Habitat. When the hull breeched, it would have depressurized in the water reservoir and this tunnel access like the rest of the Ring.” “Cirres, the incident happened at 5:16 a.m., right? They water the fields at night, so a lot of water would be flowing back to the reservoir. Get it?” Cirres shook his head. “Umm… no, I don’t understand.” “When the hull breeched, the water would have flash frozen, creating a seal across the drainage grates, and remember what Kallae said, a frozen waterfall flowing into a frozen lake.” Cirres eyes widened with understanding. He didn’t hesitate and started twisting the nuts off. When the last nut was removed, the hatch fell forward and onto the ground. Gaethon looked into the dark access tunnel. “The question now is if someone is in there, why didn’t they use their radios?” “I know that one,” replied Cirres as he crawled into the tunnel. “The entire ring and fuselage was between them and the evacuation fleet, their radios couldn’t reach, and then by the time we started coming back to the ship, their armor didn’t have enough power left to work the radios.” Gaethon crawled in after Cirres. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, their suits ran out of air three days ago, and even with the residual air in here, it might not have been enough.” “I know, I know, I promise I won’t freak out, but if there’s a chance, we have to check. Hurry!” They crawled through the dark for what seemed hours until at last Gaethon saw light, and that Cirres was further ahead then he’d thought. By the time Gaethon crawled out of the tunnel, Cirres was already down at the edge of the reservoir where a group of people were lying huddled together. One of the people sat up, and Gaethon saw movement from the others, then saw what Cirres was doing. Cirres was going from person to person plugging his emergency oxygen hose into their suits and sharing his air. Gaethon tapped his radio to activate it. “Markus, this is Gaethon, over.” An angry sounding Markus replied. “Did you take Cirres to the Maintenance Tunnels? I told you he was not to go there. I’m very disappointed in you.” “We found survivors, send help.”