"Come back here, you little shit!"

‘The little shit’ ran and ducked into the hall closet, but her father yanked her to him before she could hide in the dark pile of musty clothing. She screamed, and thrashed her legs as he grabbed her. Clutching her long, black hair with an iron grip, he dragged her the long ten feet into the kitchen. The cheap lighting cast a harsh net over them. His face bubbled red with anger.

"I told you a million times not to eat in the living room" (his daughter realized belatedly that she had left the remains of a pork bun on the edge of the coffee table. It must have fallen on the rug. She eyed the trail of crumbs on the kitchen floor. Seemed like her father had stepped right into it).

She began to howl as a dull, rhythmic beat arose from the pounding of his fist onto her shoulders.

"Shut the fuck up!" he cried. Yanking her head back by her hair, he slapped her soundly. The palm of his hand repeated its course beyond her ability to count; soon her cheek was inflamed with red, and blood dribbled down her chin.

His daughter whimpered and moaned. Without warning, her father dropped her to the floor. Stomping over to the counter area, he began to rummage through the drawers. Soon he charged back, armed with a meat mallet. His daughter cried out with terror and pain as he assaulted her backside over and over. The points of the mallet breached her thin beige shirt, and soon drew blood.

"What a goddamn idiot you are! Do I know you?" her father yelled as he hit her. "I’ll bet your whore of a mother screwed some dumb shit and passed you off as mine. Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re going?"

She had tried to crawl away. He grabbed her shirt and slid her back towards him. Turning her roughly over, he began to use the mallet on her face and head.

She was all of twelve years old.

At this point, she was too shocked to cry or react any further. Her mind started to drift away. She retreated to that quiet place, the sanctuary from her father’s rage. His voice faded, and the light around her seemed to dim. The beating didn’t surprise her, but the intensity did. She always tried to be a good child, a respectful child. But it was difficult when your parents were poor and overworked wretches slaving away in the colony mines. Sometimes she just forgot to do (or not do) things.

A sharp pain in her side brought her back to stark reality. She was vaguely aware that it might be from a broken rib. There was a metallic taste in her mouth. Suddenly, another voice joined her father’s.

Groceries dropped, and spilled across the floor. She experienced a temporary respite as her mother drew away her father’s rage. When her mother tried to pull him off, he straightened up and launched her against the kitchen table. It cracked under her weight. He began to pummel her with his fists.

Their daughter lay on the floor in a daze. Tattered breaths issued from her mouth. It hurt so much to breathe! Her mother was begging her to run, to get out and find help.

But she ignored her. Instead, she crawled towards her parents, who were by this time embroiled in a brawl near the center of the room. A sizzling pain rocketed up her left arm when she leaned on it. With some difficulty, she drew herself up. Then she fell forward, and latched onto her father’s ankle with her teeth.

He cursed, and felled her with a blow to the head. Barely conscious now, she collapsed face down on the floor. Her father began to assault her anew, and the tiles were soon crimson with her blood.

But at that moment, her mother slipped in between them. Shielding her daughter with her body, she pleaded for her husband to stop, even as he dug the blade of a knife repeatedly into her back. Eventually, her cries melted into whimpers. She exhaled her last breath after the knife pierced her lungs. Finally spent, her husband sank down beside her, leaving the knife buried up to the hilt in ragged tissue. Blood gushed from her back like a fountain. It was impossible to tell where mother ended, and daughter began.

The monitor reflected brightly in the lenses of Dr. Zuran, a man in his early fifties. He adjusted his glasses and turned to his wife, a gray-haired woman of medium build. Both wore gray lab coats over their clothes.

"Did you see this item, Doctor?" he asked her. He motioned for her to join him and pointed at the screen. She read the article before her:

After finishing, Dr. Zuran folded her arms and looked thoughtfully ahead. "I think she’ll do quite nicely, Doctor. What about you?"

Her husband was nodding as she spoke. "I couldn’t agree with you more. She’s perfect. Just the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. Let’s make the call, then, shall we?

Night reigned forever at Icarus Base.

It had been a particularly long one this evening, though one tended to blend unnoticed into the next. Sanada made his way to the base’s satellite hangar, where several pilots had just returned from test flights of various prototype fighters. His footsteps echoed dully as he strode quickly on.

The rumble of jets, and the clatter of equipment being moved reached his ears long before he reached the entrance. Snorts and chuckles permeated the air as the pilots bantered with one another. Sanada turned his head this way and that as he searched for one in particular. He waved and tossed out greetings as he walked to the far end. Coming upon one of the newest, most advanced prototypes, one that he had been helping to develop, stirred in him a modest pride. He could barely see his reflection on its dark exterior. Ducking under a wing, he found the pilot tinkering with some of its innards.

"Suya," he said to her, "I have some news. Or rather, it’s the lack of news that concerns me."

She flashed a pair of cobalt blue eyes at him to indicate she was listening, and continued with her work.

"Communications just told me that Daedalus Base missed their check-in."

Suya paused. A chirp from the console indicated the calibration was off when her hand stopped.

Sanada continued. "I’m sure it’s nothing. They were probably caught up in some research and forgot."

Suya pursed her lips. "The Doctors don’t forget."

Sanada lightly cleared his throat. "I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, I thought it might be prudent for you to investigate. There’s a ship that leaves at 0500; it can drop you off a few mega-meters away—"

"That’ll take too long. I’ll leave in a couple of hours." She threw down her tools and leapt up into the cockpit to begin a systems check.

Sanada climbed up behind her. "But Suya, it wouldn’t hurt to give them a little more time. Don’t be hasty!"

She turned to him with a wry smile. "You know better than to argue with me," she murmured.

Sanada could sense her awareness of him ebb as she faced the console and powered up the plane. He nodded, and edged back down to the floor. As he walked back to his office, he had the sinking feeling that destiny was calling her away.

Daedalus Base was one of the most outlying space research installations. It was there that Earth Defense Command sponsored some of the more delicate—and classified—military experiments. It was small both in size and population, never housing more than a few hundred staff and support crew. It hosted one of the most advanced set of facilities ever developed. It was also one of the oldest, and yet few in Command even knew of its existence.

But Suya knew—it was where she had grown into adulthood. The Doctors had educated her, sculpted her, and helped train her to become a consummate fighter pilot. With Sanada’s help, a fighter plane was built and adapted to her particulars skills. At this juncture in time, she had been at Icarus Base for nearly two months to try out some new features. The test runs had been successful, and Suya found herself enjoying the improved speed capabilities. It was the only way a nearly day long journey like this would have been possible.

Her thoughts drifted to the circular pendant that was attached to a chain around her neck. One of the Doctors had given it to her before she left for Icarus.

She found herself wanting to touch it even then, but it was buried deep under her clothes.

Suya increased her speed.

She knew something was wrong the minute she began her approach. Daedalus had a particular pattern to its lights. Suya knew it like the back of her hand, and was dismayed at the breaks in the pattern she detected. No one responded to her hail, either, not even the automated security system. Suya dived and swirled among the various outcroppings and junctures. Her alarm grew as the number of blast marks along the exterior accumulated when she flew by.

Daedalus Base had been under attack. Whatever defense it had tried to muster had clearly failed.

Suya cursed, and steered toward the landing strip. Radar hadn’t picked up any hostile or unusual ships, so she figured it was safe to investigate on foot. The hangar door slid open, and invited her in as it had always done. She taxied the plane inside.

A scan revealed that the hull integrity of the hangar had been compromised, so Suya kept her helmet on. Drawing her weapon, she began a methodical search. What shocked her (more than she cared to admit) was the number of bodies she encountered. Dead bodies. People she had known and worked with. She turned away in grief as she passed faces etched with bulging eyes and gaping mouths, frozen with terror.

Heading inward, Suya found that the interior was intact. She released the faceplate to improve her peripheral vision. Whoever attacked could still be lurking, whatever the radar might have indicated. She was gripping her gun so tightly it hurt. Alarm grew with every door she opened, and every room she checked. Soon she decided to just make a run for the main laboratory.

The recessed lights in the corridors flickered dangerously close to oblivion. Metal in the structure around her creaked and moaned; it was like being in the belly of a giant mechanical whale. The main research facility was the hub of the entire base. Suya found the lack of bustle near its entrance unnerving, and raised her weapon as she neared.

The double doors had been torn asunder. Scorch marks decorated the walls in sunburst patterns. Suya crept slowly through the doorway, her eyes flitting rapidly from side to side. She began to assess the damage. Despite the dim light, she could see that the expansive vault of a room had been thoroughly gutted. Hardware, software, all had been taken. What scraps had been left were little more than a bin’s worth. Suya thought she detected signs of a struggle. Some kind of dark stain dappled parts of the floor.

The bulk of something large against the far wall drew her forward. Suya gasped when she reached it. Thirty or so of the base’s engineers and scientists had been dumped into a pile. Limbs, blood, and guts were enmeshed like a plate of rancid meat. Suya felt sweaty and nervous, but she had to know if the Doctors were among the dead. Steeling her body, she forced herself to look at each face (what was left of them, anyway). Her breathing eased as she ruled out their presence there. Nevertheless, it was some time before she felt calm enough to back away, and find her way to the Doctors’ private quarters.

Suya took B lift down to the residential level. She trotted the fifty-yard distance, and was soon at the door. She had lived with them for a time, when she was younger. Suya keyed the lock with her thumb.

The door wouldn’t budge.

In panic and rage, she punched out the lock panel with her left fist. A second hit exposed the array. Suya quickly hotwired it open.

The first thing to assault her was the smell. Damp and metallic, it was a familiar scent, albeit a distinctly unpleasant one. She strode through the suite, calling for the Doctors as she went. You locked yourselves in; tell me you locked yourselves in, hammered away the urgent thought. Suya found the couple in the study. They were seated in their respective favorite chairs, each facing a computer console. A desk lamp burned brightly on a table to one side. Suya’s sigh of relief sounded loud to her in the stuffy atmosphere of the room.

"Are you all right?" she said, and stopped short between them. She nearly slipped in a pool of blood at her feet, and when she turned the chairs around, cringed at the sight before her. The Doctors were slumped in the chairs like sacks of potatoes. Their throats had been slashed, and their midsections eviscerated. It was the scent of their blood that hung in the air.

Stricken with grief, Suya stood before them for a long time. A deeply buried part of her wanted to cry, but she would not. The Doctors had made her too strong for that. But she would get revenge. Gently, she turned the chairs back round to their former position. She would have to send an SOS for help, because a rigorous investigation of the attack by the EDF was inevitable. Suya felt exhausted, and wanted to sleep, but it would be some time before she would feel as though she could let down her guard.

Exiting the quarters, she went to Communications. It took her ten hours of gritty sweat and effort to make the repairs, but she fixed the main antennae array to the point where a strong enough signal could be sent. When she was confident it was working, she returned to the Doctors’ quarters. Collapsing on her old bed, she slept. And waited.

A deafening cheer broke like a thunderstorm across the auditorium. The Class of ’34 waved and shouted at the onlookers as they filed out in double rows. Family and friends filtered out to the nearby pavilion that was set up for reception and pictures. A crisp, sunny day had greeted the Academy that morning as it gave birth to that year’s crop of fresh faced cadets.

"They sure are a rowdy bunch," Kodai Mamoru said to his mother as they waited their turn to leave the aisle.

Yuki smiled. "Not as rowdy as some other classes," she murmured.

"Yeah, that’s right! Miyuki’s was out of control!" he responded in mock agreement (he knew she was referring to his year).

When they reached the aisle, Yuki pulled on his arm. "Actually, I was going to join your father," she said, and gestured to the stage where Kodai had been sitting.

"You go ahead," said Mamoru. "I’m going to find some cadets to torture!"

Yuki gave him a look that said Please try and behave, but it got mixed up in the smile on her face.

Mamoru made his way to the pavilion. After a few moments of head swiveling, he spotted Aihara Kylie chatting with a few other graduates. He went up and tapped her on the shoulder. Kylie’s face brightened when she turned around and saw him. Mamoru gave her a congratulatory hug.

"You’re dad’s speech was great," she told him. "How’s Miyuki? Is she on her honeymoon?"

Mamoru nodded and grinned. "I got a message from her yesterday. She’s a pretty happy customer! She asked me to tell you congratulations."

"How sweet!" Kylie’s attention suddenly wavered. "Good grief, is that my dad? Hide me for a minute." She ducked behind Mamoru and pulled him a few paces away. She tucked her arm through his as they strolled. "He’s been bragging about every grade I ever made to anyone who’ll listen." Kylie rolled her eyes. "How embarrassing!"

"Well, that’s what you get for being top of the class."

Kylie snorted. "No kidding! Oh, and speaking of top, I heard Ari and Matoko did it on the roof of the science building last night. Cedro knows more about it; I have to find him."

Mamoru laughed. "Is there anything about Academy life you don’t know?"

"Um, let me think…no. So, are you seeing anyone?"

He sighed. "Nah. To be honest, Kylie, I just can’t find anyone as exciting as you!"

"Oh, I’ve got just the thing for that! Come to the club tonight. I know like, half a dozen girls who’d give an arm and a leg to go out with you. I’ll introduce you around." She squeezed his arm when he hesitated. "Come on, it’ll be fun! Bring that navigator friend of yours." Kylie winked at him. "Don’t you just hate it when your reputation gets the best of you?"

Mamoru responded with a knowing look. Just then, they heard her name being called.

She made a face. "Duty calls, I guess." She spun around with a sparkling smile. "Coming, Dad!" Kylie started to sashay back to her family. "I’ll see you around ten," she called to Mamoru over her shoulder.

He waved good-bye, and made a few more rounds among the other graduates he knew. Several hours of hugs and handshakes later, Mamoru beat a path back to try and find his parents. En route to the main building, he was stopped by a young ensign, who saluted and handed him an envelope. Mamoru stood in the embrace of the late afternoon sun as he opened it. A grin spread across his face, and he could barely keep from letting out a whoop of delight. He read the orders again to be sure, but there was no mistake.

He would ship out with Yamato in less than a week.

"Ow, stop! You’re pulling on my skin." Jun Kazama slapped gently at the hand of her fourteen-year old sister, who was trying to help her zip up the back of her uniform. Jun’s orders had come that morning, and she was the first in line to pick up her shipsuit. Yamato’s new Radar officer rushed home to change, and now her civilian clothes lay scattered about her bedroom.

Kimi sat down on the bed in a huff. "I think you had too many sweet buns this morning."

Jun clucked at the implication about her weight. She pulled the zipper up, and stood looking at herself in the full-length mirror. Stroking her ample hips, she twisted and turned to see how the material hugged her curves. Running a couple of fingers through the cluster of short, dark curls on her head, she said, "That shows what you know. Men like something to hang on to."

Kimi just rolled her eyes.

Balaji Singh rubbed his chin while staring intently at the monitor. He was sitting in the Academy’s main science lab. The orders for his first assignment, a deep space training mission aboard the battle cruiser Yamato, lay nestled in his lap. He had wired his family in India the news an hour ago, but a news item of a different sort in one of the science journals had diverted his attention. Earth No Passive Victim of Solar Storms, NASA Says, read the title. Balaji made a note of the highlights:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The Earth is no passive victim of solar wind, but in fact reacts so strongly to this superheated gas it helps create space storms that disrupt electricity grids and satellite and radio communications, NASA said on Thursday…Scientists at the U.S. space agency said they were somewhat surprised by the data from NASA's Imager for Magnetopause to Aurora Global Exploration (IMAGE) spacecraft, which has been watching what happens when solar storms hit the planet…The solar wind blows constantly at an average speed of 250 miles per second (400 km per second)… It has long been associated with geomagnetic storms on Earth… IMAGE has allowed scientists to see the other side of the storms, from space…When it plunges into the atmosphere, strong currents are generated. They transform the mid-latitudes from their usual calm state into kind of a maelstrom that has direct effects on daily lives. Such storms have knocked entire power grids offline and can interrupt radio broadcasts and satellite signals—including global positioning satellite or GPS technology.

The article went on to report that military scientists had noticed an increase in the frequency and magnitude of the solar winds recently. It might be nothing, Balaji thought, but he saved the article, as he thought the situation might warrant additional scrutiny in the future.

A day had passed since the graduation ceremony. Thirty-year old Dr. Akisada sat in the commissary of Central Hospital early in the morning. Tufts of his dark hair stuck out haphazardly; it had been a busy night. As he had gone off shift, Dr. Kodai had personally handed him his orders, a matronly look of pride accentuating her features. He sighed, and stirred his coffee round and round, drops of it spilling unnoticed over the side. What a way to break in my degree, he thought, fingering the deep red scarf he customarily draped about his neck to keep it warm. My own clinic, a bloody thousand miles from the nearest consult. But I can’t imagine there’d be anything more than a stuffy nose or aching stomach. Akisada hoped his inexperience didn’t embarrass him too badly, conveniently forgetting exactly how competent his superiors thought him.

Finishing his coffee in two gulps, he left for some much needed sleep.

"No, no, no, you’re not going to rope me into bringing that onboard for you," Cedro told Kylie. He frowned at her through the monitor while continuing to comb peaks of his blonde-tipped hair upwards. She had phoned him within minutes of receiving her orders, and they decided to collaborate on their packing.

Kylie was stuffing far more (100% more) civilian garments than she would need into a duffel bag. "Oh, come on," she said as she sat on it, "it’ll be fun! You’ll wish we had them the second we’re in flight," she added, referring to some risqué electronic party games she owned.

Cedro’s own bag was on his dresser in the background, the contents of the drawers spilling outward like a waterfall. He pointed it out to her. "I don’t have room for anything except regulation possessions. And neither do you, Senorita Loca!"

Kylie groaned. "Oh, all right!" She stopped bouncing, and decided to start her packing over again. After dumping out the clothes, and sifting through the immense pile on her bed, she held up a small box. "Hey, how about this, then? It’s just some snacks." Kylie winked at him. "I know how much you like parties!"

"You’re going to get me into some spectacular kind of trouble," he mused, contemplating her image on the monitor. He pursed his lips. "Okay," he said, after a moment of consideration. "Hey, Kylie," Cedro called, his voice echoing from off camera, "should I bring some different colored dyes, maybe one for each week?" He reappeared juggling six bottles of hair dye.

Kylie grinned. "Not unless you want the Captain running after you with a pair of scissors! I heard she’s fair, but strict." Kylie looked up to see her father enter the room. He nodded a greeting to Cedro. "How’s it coming along?" he asked.

"Dad, I need another bag!"

Aihara glanced about the room. "I should think so!" he said with a wink. "Be right back."

Cedro looked at her enviously. "Your dad is so nice," he told her. "With mine, if I make a mistake, I’m the biggest disgrace on the planet, you know?"

Kylie edged close to the monitor, and began twisting a lock of her short, straight brown hair into a curl. She gave her best friend of three years a sympathetic look. "You’re one of the best cadets to graduate from the combat division in years, and you know it. I’m proud to serve with you. Besides," she said with a flip of her bangs, "if you’re with me, you can’t help but look good!"

Cedro looked at her in mock disbelief. "You’re silly, and stupid, that’s what you are!" He threw a t-shirt at his monitor, blocking the screen.

Kylie collapsed backward onto the bed, shrieking with laughter.

The last of the crisp, tart wine coursed a pleasant path down Hachinoko Ayana’s throat. She savored the fragrant drops, as they would be her last for some time. Sharp gray eyes peered out from under the wide, salt-and-pepper curls of her hair. The fifty-eight year old had warmed a corner seat in one of Command’s officer’s lounges for nearly an hour. It was suffused with comfort lighting, and lent conversations there a mellow tone.

A party of five had come through the door just then. Hachinoko knew or had served with four of them, and she ticked them off in her head as they appeared: Nambu, Ota, Tokugawa (soon to be her Chief Engineer). Kodai Susumu was also among them, looking as handsome as ever, she thought, with a full brown beard gracing his rugged features. Their eyes met, he nodded at her. Hachinoko raised her empty glass with a tiny smile. She felt sure of the thought that had passed through his head: Take good care of her. Hachinoko also thought he looked rather wistful, as if he’d rather be commanding Yamato in her place, or at least serving as Combat Chief. It’s just a training mission, she thought, as though he were listening in on some sort of private channel only they two could access. Hachinoko stifled a chuckle as she realized how insane that would make them.

She was looking forward to the trip, though, despite any lingering guilt that she had wrested the chance from anyone else. Indeed, she felt more the opposite. She was glad someone had finally noticed her after so many years of quiet servitude, valor in battle, and stout dedication. One tour of duty on Yamato was all she would have asked for; the only one she needed, and then she would retire.

Pushing away her glass, Hachinoko stood up, and smoothed her peacoat. She was enjoying a nice buzz, and didn’t care if anyone saw her sway. Her feet threaded a careful avenue across the carpet, and she purposely avoided Kodai’s party, which had taken a table across the room. The eve of takeoff was approaching, and her time felt precious.

Hachinoko turned right as she passed through the doors, and just narrowly avoided bumping into an eager-faced cadet. Hachinoko eyed him guardedly, as it seemed like he had been loitering in the corridor. Her hunch proved correct when the dark haired young man caught up with her. His brown eyes, and lopsided smile showed he recognized her, but she couldn’t place him. I would remember that nose, she thought, not too unkindly, as it was rather prominent.

He saluted clumsily as he tried to face her and walk backwards at the same time.

"Uchira Shinjirou, Captain!"

Hachinoko saluted smartly back, and stopped walking. Her quizzical look prompted him to respond.

"I’ve been assigned to Yamato…navigation," he told her.

Hachinoko wondered at this premature announcement. Her voice carried only a mild hint of sarcasm (after all, she was a cadet once, too). "How absolutely special! Sorry, but I’m fresh out of prizes right now."

Hachinoko started to walk away, but soon became aware that Uchira seemed to be keeping a tag on her. She kept going, but a sideways glance invited him to approach her again. "You have a question, then, Uchira?"

"Sir…uh, ma’am, I was wondering how soon can the crew actually board?"

"Meaning, can you have a sneak peek?"

Uchira failed miserably at containing his excitement. "Well, sure, why not?" he said, with a mouth-splitting grin.

"See if you can keep up with me then; I’m headed that way now."

Uchira grinned broadly at the Captain’s back, and assumed a cavalier stride as he followed her.

The day of the launch dawned like a rousing chorus, a veritable cornucopia of pomp and circumstance. Hundreds of family members and onlookers gathered at the underground dock to see off the crew that consisted largely of cadets. Trumpets blared, voices clamored, and confetti soared as Yamato’s young new crew marched forward into her waiting arms. The bridge officers, flanked by Kodai Mamoru (Combat Chief), and Navigator Tanaka Isao, stood well pressed and at attention near the base of the angled stairway; they awaited the arrival of Captain Hachinoko.

They all felt and displayed their giddiness unabashedly (with the exception of Tokugawa. The launch brought back vivid memories of wars gone by, and he was lost deep in thought); many an excited glance, or whispered remark glided up and down the line of them.

Frantic movements a few yards away caught Uchira’s eyes. "Say," he asked, poking his head forward, "who’s that guy with the camera?"

A man in his early fifties wielded a small digital camera, and was snapping away as though the eyepiece were glued to his face. He stood far closer than even the press was allowed. He called for the officers to look his way.

Kylie heard him, looked over, and gulped. "Oh, no, that’s my dad!" She tried to maintain a professional mien through a pained expression. "I can’t look at him. Is he done, yet?" she asked through the corner of her mouth. The others near her just giggled.

The buzz increased when Mamoru announced that the Commander’s entourage was approaching. As Daijiro Todo neared, the bridge crew could see that Mamoru’s parents flanked him; all three stared forward as they strode on in resolute fashion. Mamoru felt Kylie nudge his arm as they approached, and the pair exchanged excited smiles.

Captain Hachinoko appeared, and took her place by Mamoru. A microphone was propped up near the group. Todo stood in front of it, and cleared his throat. The cheers died down, and the crew was rapt with attention as he encouraged them to have a productive mission. He wished them well in an efficient, heartfelt speech. The last of his words were punctuated by a passionate outburst of applause. The launch horn sounded, and the crew began to disperse as they headed into the ship.

Cedro waited for Kylie as she rushed over to hug her father. He noticed that Mamoru lingered as well, in order to have a few private words with his parents. The elder Kodai spoke intently to his son, and pressed a hand warmly onto his shoulder. Yuki stepped forward to shamelessly embrace him. When Mamoru and Kylie caught up with Cedro, he pretended not to notice their flushed faces and somber expressions.

Slapping an arm simultaneously onto their backs, Cedro spoke with a wink in his voice. "I know you two have a lot to learn, but never fear, for I have a lot to teach you!"

The trio’s laughter echoed brightly off of Yamato’s hull as they made their way inside.

With a blast of her great engine, Yamato burst cleanly from the ocean’s depths, and maintained a steady path out of Earth’s atmosphere. Hachinoko bade the crew to take a few moments to look back upon the planet’s gleaming form, and to acknowledge those who had made their current mission possible.

Mamoru was heading to his quarters after his shift ended, when a call of his name issued from one of the rooms he had just passed. He turned around to see Kylie’s head sticking out of her doorway. She motioned frantically for him to approach her.

Mamoru sauntered over. "What is it?" he asked.

Kylie pouted. "Wouldn’t you know it? I brought the wrong bag!"

"What do you mean?

"I don’t have my uniform!"

Mamoru looked her up and down. The red ascot lay drooped in a disheveled fashion about her neck, but he thought she still looked smart in the white mini-skirt dress uniform. "I hate to disappoint you, but you’re wearing it."

Kylie stomped her foot. "No! My shipsuit! I ended up with my dad’s portable radio instead (he kept following me with it at the dock; I didn’t even want the thing!). I am in so much trouble when the Captain finds out. Can’t you think of some reason we have to go back?"

Mamoru burst out laughing, doubling over to the point of having to lean on his knees for support.

Kylie shot him a scowl. "Oh, you’re no help at all!"

Mamoru wiped at his eyes, and, still chuckling, walked away with a wave.

Thus began weeks of an intensive training regimen. Yamato soared into a course that took the crew beyond Earth’s Solar System, and into quiet sectors here and there, which, while isolated, were perfectly suited for cadets trying out new skills (and old mistakes).

It was early evening, and still a few hours away from shift change. The Captain was at dinner. Except for Tokugawa, the core senior officers manned the bridge. Each had the task of running their respective systems checks before the Captain returned. Cedro had discovered a glitch, and Mamoru was at his station providing consultation. Kylie sat hunched tightly over the communications board; apparently making delicate adjustments with a knob.

Jun yawned as her fingers tapped lazily at her console. "I know this is for our own good, but it’s so boring. How much longer?"

To her right, Balaji turned and offered a sympathetic smile. "I imagine we can make our reports soon. Each ship we serve on will be different, you know, so it’s important to know this like the back of our hands while we have to chance to learn. My roommate at the Academy told me about a time his brother was serving aboard the—"

Jun waved her hand at him. "Some other time, Balaji. I’m not that bored!"

Uchira cackled, and ignored the science officer’s dirty look.

"Hey, everyone, check this out!" Kylie announced, and motioned for them to listen. Five sets of eyes stared at her curiously as she depressed a button. While the volume increased, a wicked grin spread across her face. The dense, rhythmic-driven sound of an ensemble piece gradually filled the air. Kylie wiggled in her seat with excitement.

"Oh, that’s so great!" Jun said, while clapping her hands in delight. "How did you do that?"

Kylie beamed at her. "I piggybacked the signal from a satellite. The music is probably being broadcast from the nearest base. What good taste they have!"

Kylie boosted the signal and increased the volume, sending staccato notes surging through the air. When she turned around again, Mamoru was standing above her with his hand extended.

"Do you swing?" he asked with a smile.

Her sly look shot upward, and a mischievous glint flashed from her eyes. "Does the sun rise in the East?"

Slipping her hand in his, she jumped up and let him lead her toward the center of the bridge. They kicked out their limbs in a concerted rhythm, swaying this way and that as they danced to the beat. Reluctant to be left out, Jun beckoned to Cedro, and they quickly followed suit. The music increased to a frantic pace. Neither Tanaka, nor Balaji could be enticed to join in, but Uchira leapt up and bounced around as though he were in a mosh pit. Crashing through Mamoru and Kylie, he landed on the floor with a thud but charged right back up again. Kylie started to laugh so hard that she began missing steps. Mamoru pulled back and launched into a routine he had seen at a club one night back on Earth. Faster and faster he moved, accompanied by cheers from the others as they half-watched while continuing to dance themselves. Kylie was spinning around with Jun when, through eyes bleary with dizziness, she spotted the Captain descending onto the bridge.

"Oh, damn it," she muttered, and shot over to her console to stop the music.

The silence jolted everyone in its abruptness.

Mamoru was the last to regain his composure. "Hey, what happened? Oh." He met the Captain’s gaze. "Shit."

The officers scuttled back to their stations. Cedro was breathing hard and couldn’t stop laughing. He kept his face deliberately averted while he tried to calm down.

The Captain didn’t say anything immediately. None of the officers dared even to turn their heads.

Do we pretend to be busy? Do we sit still? Jun wondered.

Hachinoko waited until nothing but the low-grade hum of the equipment could be heard. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Well, ladies and gentlemen! Now that I’m confident you know how to have a good time, why don’t we see if you’re as talented at a full-scale battle simulation?"

A uniform groan surged across the bridge.

"Now, now," Hachinoko admonished, "you deserve it after all your hard work. No doubt the rest of the crew will thank you for it! Kodai, initiate battle sequence Zeta."

A few minutes into the preparations, Kylie received a private text message from Mamoru that read: It was worth it!

She risked a glance at him. He was looking over his shoulder at her. Mamoru gave her a cheery wink before turning back around.

Several more battle drills were required over the next several days before the Captain was sufficiently satisfied by the crew’s performance. The first free evening saw an exhausted plethora of crewmembers laying about the recreation room. Over coffee, Tanaka and Mamoru were compiling the training report in the relative quiet of one of the corners. Every once in a while, Tanaka would glimpse past Mamoru’s shoulder. After about the fifth time, Mamoru looked at the navigator curiously.

"Somebody after you that I should know about?"

A bashful look crossed Tanaka’s face. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You’re usually a lot more focused than this. What’s up?" Mamoru turned around to scan the crowd. People milled about singly or in pairs. Across the room, a large group sat talking and laughing. Nothing unusual. He turned back round with a grin. "Or should I be asking, who’s on your mind?"

Tanaka grunted, then smiled. He passed a hand through his light brown hair. "I have to admit, I was a little envious of you the other day on the bridge."

Mamoru smirked. "When I got us all into trouble?"

Tanaka waved a hand. "No. I mean when you were dancing with Kylie." The navigator’s eyes drifted away again, to settle on the subject in question who sat amongst the group behind them. She was chatting away like a hummingbird. Tanaka sighed wistfully. "She’s so cute!"

Mamoru’s jaw dropped. He tried to keep his voyeuristic eagerness at bay. "You like her?" he asked casually.

Tanaka shrugged. "A little." He laughed after Mamoru kicked his foot. "Okay, a lot!"

"Well, she’s all yours."

Tanaka looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

Mamoru leaned back in his chair and stretched. "Really. I practically grew up with her. She’s more like a sister to me."

Tanaka looked thoughtful as he absorbed the information. "I wonder if she’s dating anyone," he mused.

Mamoru scratched at his head. "I don’t know; that’s a good question. Let’s find out!" Twisting around, he knelt on the chair and cupped his mouth. "Hey, Kylie!" he shouted. A few heads swiveled in his direction.

Kylie turned her head and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" she said with a drawl.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, not at the moment." She absentmindedly smoothed out her hair. "Who wants to know?"

"Oh, well, ah—"

Tanaka suddenly reached across the table and yanked him down out of Kylie’s line of vision. "That’s good, that’s enough! Shut up!"

"Hey, what are friends for?" Mamoru asked. He started laughing. "Lemme answer her question!"

Before he could elevate himself again, Tanaka leapt across the table and wrestled him to the floor.

"I’m only trying to help!" Mamoru blurted out, and used his legs to squirm out of Tanaka’s grasp. By this time, he was laughing like a hyena. The men and women nearby looked on with bemusement, not quite sure of the joke but wanting to be in on it. A few were cheering, and had already made bets on the winner.

"You’ll thank me for it, I swear! Hey, Kylie, c’mere!" Mamoru said with a gasp.

Tanaka clamped a hand over his mouth. Before Mamoru knew what was coming, he lay face down on the floor, and Tanaka had locked him into a hold. "Okay, okay, I was just kidding!" Mamoru pleaded, his laughter making feeble any attempt at escape. His face had turned a light shade of crimson.

Kylie sauntered by at that point with an entourage in tow. Slowing down, she looked at Tanaka approvingly before continuing on. When she was out of sight, Tanaka released the beleaguered combat chief. He stood up with a wry smile, and extended a hand to Mamoru. "I think I’d like to try something a little more subtle."

The pair resumed their seats. Mamoru smoothed out his hair and uniform. "My friend," he said with a wink, "I’m here to serve!"

He glanced at the clock on the monitor between them. "But we better finish this report up first."

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