The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Forty-Five: The Celestial Sanctuary

"The Order of Riiva is not to be trusted. Long has it existed, since before even the Synatorium's Founding Charter was written at Vylensus by Kol Vau Sonnem. It has never been beholden to any oversight by any of the governments it has outlived. Make no mistake, those Scholars are planning something, or are hiding something, and whatever it is likely won't be as good for the commonwealth of the galaxy as they claim."

—Former Dyarch Erus Etimin, in a personal correspondence to Chidron Vali T'Lohar

Zaina Quin's eyes opened to a normal day. A beam of light shone through the glass window above her bed and hovered. A familiar aroma wafted into her nostrils, that of her mother's roasted garden vegetables. The shuffling and clinking of pots and pans came from downstairs—her mother and siblings were making breakfast.

Her stomach grumbled. Oh, perfect. I feel like I haven't eaten a hot meal in days.

She sat up and stretched before opening the window. A bright, familiar sun was ascending, shedding its warmth onto the endless fields of gently swaying grass. The plains extended toward the picturesque, white-tipped mountains obscuring the horizon. The sky was perfectly blue and clear of clouds. She opened the window and took a deep breath through her nose, inhaling the sweet scent of wild grass and flowers.

Zaina grinned. It's good to be here—home.

A familiar voice entered her ears. "Zaina, breakfast's ready! Come on downstairs!"

Mom. It felt like she hadn't heard that voice in forever. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes.

"What's wrong with me?" she asked, wiping her eyes on her shirt. Everything in her room was in its proper place—nothing was physically wrong, but—

A blurred robotic voice chirped in the background. "Here! Here!"

For some reason—something she couldn't quite put her finger on—she wanted to stay in bed. There was no hurry, after all. This would all still be here when she woke up again, right? She was home where she belonged.

With a smile, she closed her eyes and leaned back. A breathy, relaxed sigh flowed from her lungs. Then, with a snap and a plunge, she fell out of her dream.

The back of her head slammed against something cold and hard as she woke with a start.

"Ow!"

Rubbing a fresh bruise, Zaina propped herself up. She was back on Gir's ship. No Quin family—no Demelia. Only Gizmo chanting the word, "Here!" repeatedly.

She frowned, her shoulders slumping. That's right. It's gone.

A torrent of bad memories flooded her mind—images from the final days of her homeworld and her stay on Otmonzas. In the span of a month, she'd fought an ancient monstrosity to save her planet, and been tricked by a pirate into joining a heist. She was carrying a dead lancer on board—one she helped kill.

I have a feeling this isn't going to go well.

The ship hummed softly on low-power mode. Zaina had fallen asleep on the floor—her neck felt like it had been cranked. At least it wasn't as bad as trying to sleep on the uneven row of polysynth chairs lining the cabin.

Gizmo, Gir's glyph, happily danced about and emitted happy beeps. "Yay! Hooray! We're here! Here! Here! We're here!"

Zaina snapped out of her fog. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring her throbbing head, and surged toward the pilot's chair. The hyper-glass panels were weirdly angled in the cockpit, so she strained her already sore neck to get a good view.