The Star Bell (The Cendrillon Cycle Book 3)

by Stephanie Ricker

  After a moment’s debate over whether to give up her existing plans for the evening, Elsa decided to kill two snow geese with one stone. “Want to join us for a gathering this evening?” she asked. “I’d love to introduce you to my friends and catch up on the last nine years.” Seeing someone from Anser did her homesick heart far more good than she would’ve imagined; she was reluctant to let that feeling go.

  Godfrey tapped the controls to open the hatch and stepped through into the airlock. Elsa followed, and the hatch slid closed behind her.

  “Sounds good,” he said over the rush of atmosphere entering the airlock. After the pressure and atmosphere had equalized, the opposite airlock doors unlocked. Godfrey tapped the controls with a gloved hand, and the door slid open, letting in the light and noise of the Sovereign’s hallway. Elsa pulled off her helm as she stepped through and took a deep breath of good, clean, recycled ship’s air.

  “How was it out there?” asked a familiar voice to her left.

  Elsa turned to see Karl Tsarevich, a big smile on his face. That, she had to admit, was nice; he always looked as if seeing her brightened his day. Then again, he seemed to be unfailingly friendly to everyone else aboard the ship, so maybe everyone else got a grin like that too.

  She made a face. “Horrible, at first. I got stuck halfway up the sail, and Marraine had to talk me down.”

  He didn’t laugh at her, and she was grateful for that too. Instead, she heard genuine sympathy in his voice. “Whoa, I’m sorry; sounds like a rough shift. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She searched for something, but came up empty. If the problem were so easily solved, she would’ve found the solution by now, after several nights lying awake agonizing over it. “I really don’t think so. I either need to get used to it or find a different line of work.” She turned to Godfrey. “I hope you’re right—that I really will get used to it the way you did. Godfrey, this is my friend”—she only stumbled fractionally on the word—“Lieutenant Karl Tsarevich. He’s the reason why my cinder crew and I are here on the Sovereign, after the temporary decommissioning of Tremaine Station.”

  Was it her imagination, or did Godfrey seem to freeze for just a second at the mention of Tsarevich’s name? Perhaps that wasn’t so surprising; the Tsareviches did have quite the reputation. She’d been rather awestruck herself at first.

  She turned back to Karl, who had a big, welcoming smile on his face. Blast it all. He really was just that friendly. She covered her irritation up under a layer of forced cheerfulness. “Karl, Godfrey and I grew up together on Anser. He’s one of the Strelka riggers helping to train the new crewmembers. We just happened to run into each other today after almost a decade.”

  Karl reached out to shake Godfrey’s hand, smile still firmly in place; the gesture emphasized the height difference between the lieutenant and the taller rigger. “Welcome aboard! We’re so grateful to you folk on the Strelka for helping us out with training. It’s a pleasure to meet another friend of Elsa’s. We’re just about to get dinner. Would you like to join us?”

  Godfrey had no answering smile to give in return. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, sounding anything but pleased. “Thanks for the offer, but I need to get back to the Strelka this evening.” His answer was curt to the point of gruffness.

  Elsa raised an eyebrow in surprise, but she decided not to comment on Godfrey’s rapid change of plans. “Now that I know you’re on the Strelka,” she said, trying to push the conversation through to the other side of the awkward moment, “we need to get together before we all leave the star bell. Are you free tomorrow at all?”

  “I think so,” he said briefly.

  Elsa smoothed out the frown she could feel forming on her face. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t be more aloof if he tried. “I’ll send you a message later, then,” she said, giving up on drawing him out for the moment.

  He nodded and strode down the corridor towards a small knot of Strelka riggers that had congregated near one of the other airlocks.

  “I’m sorry, he—ah—he’s probably tired,” Elsa told Karl, feeling the need to apologize for her friend’s behavior.

  “No worries,” he replied, clearly unbothered. “I’m glad I saw you, but I’m on my way to the bridge. Catch you later tonight?”

  “Yes, you will.” She gave him a mock salute with her helm, pleased that he seemed to be looking forward to the evening with the ex-cinders. They were a tight-knit group—perhaps intimidatingly so to an outsider. As evidenced by Godfrey, not everyone was so thrilled to meet her adopted family of friends.

  Later that evening, Elsa dragged herself into her quiet cabin, heaving a sigh of relief so deep it seemed to originate in her toes. The crewmember cabins were more spacious than was typical on a Fleet ship, perhaps, but the Sovereign wasn’t fully staffed by any means. Even a new crewmember like Elsa had a small sitting area—which the ex-cinders took full advantage of. Elsa enjoyed not having to share a room, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had a noisy roommate anyway; she slept too hard at night, exhausted from trying to conquer her fear and cram as much new knowledge in her head as possible.

  The ship’s orientation meant that the light from the star bell pulsed into her quarters, brightening them every few seconds. She stood at her window, watching the old space artifact. The bell shone with its own allure, a mysterious piece of technology older than the governments ruling the stars. It was the last marker of civilization, the jumping-off place between the known and the unknown. She had dreamed of this moment when she herself would have the chance to see what lay beyond the bounds of known space. Now that she was in the moment, she didn’t have a clue what to do. She truly didn’t know whether she was capable of adapting to this new way of life, and the uncertainty terrified her.

  She turned from the window and shrugged into her long, dark Fleet coat. Unlike Marraine, she was rarely cold aboard the Sovereign, but the novelty of wearing the uniform she had yearned for as a child hadn’t worn off yet. She glanced at herself in the mirror. The coat made her look slightly taller—but not by much. She made a face at herself in the mirror. She felt like a child playing dress-up.

  Her door chimed, and she shook off her feeling of being an unqualified imposter and let her friend in. Bruno was the first to arrive, and he gave her a swift hug.

  “Sorry you had such a rotten day.” He shot her a rueful look. “I know this isn’t quite what you had in mind when you joined.”

  Elsa waved him off, unwilling to go into her feelings on the matter any further at the moment. “It’s fine. I don’t want to think about it tonight,” she said briskly. “Have a seat wherever you like.”

  Bruno gave her the look that meant he was completely unfooled, but would respect her desire to avoid the issue a little longer. Elsa decided he and Marraine were rubbing off on each other more than she was comfortable with.

  Bruno, unlike Elsa, wore the Fleet coat as though he were born to it. Elsa fixed him with an envious stare as he adroitly flipped the coat out of the way before sitting down on her couch.

  Gus arrived just then, with Marraine and Jaq trailing behind. Whenever the two of them were together, they moved about half as fast as each did individually, it seemed. Elsa smothered a smile at the sight of them mooning over each other and resolved to chat more with poor Gus, who had to be feeling left out. She noted with approval that Bruno immediately called him over and struck up a conversation.

  “I brought the last of the wisp wine,” Marraine announced, holding up a half-empty bottle. Elsa fetched the Fleet-issued cups from her storage cupboard, and Marraine divided up the light beverage from her homeworld.

  Elsa only realized she had been listening intently for her door chime after she jumped as it rang one more time. “Could you pour one more cup, Marraine?” she asked as she moved to answer the door.

  Karl stood outside, another smile from his seemingly inexhaustible supply on his face. “Hello!”

  Was he ever unenthusiastic? She�
�d yet to see it. “Thank you for coming,” she said, reining in her excitement. “Marraine was just sharing some wisp wine with us. Like a glass? Well, cup,” she amended. “No fancy glassware for the likes of us.”

  “Of course! I’ve never had wisp wine before.” He moved inside and immediately greeted the others, thanking Marraine for the wine, asking Bruno how he liked being a bosun, and generally being as friendly and agreeable as a hund puppy. It would be disgusting if it weren’t so endearing.

  Elsa retrieved her own cup and sipped the wine slowly as she sat down, watching her friends as they ranted or marveled about their day, depending on temperament. The wine hummed against her tongue, a barely-there sensation. She was content to sit in silence and bask in her friends’ presence; nothing was required of her here, and she could be as quiet or talkative as she pleased.

  Even though Karl was a much newer addition to the group, his presence there felt natural, she observed. Whatever awe might have clung to the lieutenant had quickly dissipated in the face of his friendliness. Bruno already felt comfortable ribbing him—too comfortable, Elsa noted with narrowing eyes. She’d never had to scold Helias Vogel for overprotectiveness when it came to the boys in his daughter’s life; she had been too focused on her Fleet studies as a teenager to care much for romance. But she might have to have a word with Bruno about playing nice with her current gentleman caller.

  Gus and Jaq seemed to think Karl had earned the right to join their little group by his willingness to take them aboard as crewmembers, and Marraine didn’t know enough about Fleet hierarchy to know whether she should feel awe in the first place. Elsa suspected it wouldn’t have mattered if she did. Marraine wasn’t one to be a respecter of persons.

  Jaq picked up her cinder helmet, which she had put on one of the shelves near the sitting area. “You still kept this?” he teased, tossing it to Gus, who promptly dropped it on the floor instead of catching it.

  “Of course,” she said, holding her hands out towards Gus for him to throw it back to her. He threw it to Bruno instead, who tossed it over Marraine’s head—she looked mystified by this whole thing—back to Elsa. She put it back on the shelf. “It was custom made for me,” she said, “and I have a lot of good memories associated with it. Working with you clowns, for example. Besides,” she continued, flicking a glance at Karl, “it has my initials written inside.”

  He smiled at her brilliantly. Stars, that man did have a lovely smile, even if it was a trifle overused.

  Marraine ran her long, slim fingers along one of Elsa’s shelves, frowning at what she found there. “Tremaine Station was sooty because of the cendrillon mining,” she said, “but why would there be soot here?”

  “Oh, it’s just dust,” Elsa replied. “I didn’t clean much before unpacking.”

  Gus came up behind Marraine. “Did you all hear? The Sovereign is leaving to go explore our first new planet this week.”

  “Dust on a frigate?” Marraine looked confused.

  Elsa was too intrigued by Gus’ words to comment further on the cleanliness of her cabin. “How, by all the stars, do you always manage to be the first to hear these things?”

  Gus shrugged. “I’m good at making friends, and I’m nosy. It’s a good combination.”

  A surge of excitement filled Elsa. “Do you know exactly when we’re leaving the star bell?” She couldn’t wait to see her first unexplored world.

  “Mmhmm. Well, I have a good guess,” he amended. “I’m betting it’ll be in two days. One of the Strelka riggers told me that’s when they’re all heading back to their ship. We still need more training—”

  “You got that right,” Bruno interjected.

  Gus continued smoothly as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “—but word is that the Strelka was sent to shuttle an ambassador to Benizara. They’ll be passing close to the star bell afterwards, and by then we’ll have a chance to take our shakedown cruise to the first new world Captain Tsarevich wants to investigate. We’ll come back to the star bell to make our first report, and the Strelka can provide any last-minute rigger training if we haven’t worked out the kinks yet. Then we’ll head back out for the rest of our mission.”

  Elsa had mixed feelings about that. She was so excited to explore her first world, she could barely keep still at the thought. But the idea of a short, tentative trip out past the border followed by a scurry back to the protective boundaries of the Common Union felt like cheating. “The reason the Sovereign is under-crewed in the first place is because she was intended to be gone for a year-long voyage,” she protested. “I don’t understand the hesitancy in getting underway now.”

  Bruno was shaking his head. “Politics getting in the way, I’ll wager. I wondered how Tsarevich had managed to get approval for such a long voyage, taking one of the Fleet’s best ships so far from Common Union space. Sounds like they want the Sovereign to stick a little closer to home after all.”

  Elsa exhaled in frustration. “What are they afraid of? The peace with the Demesne is as steady as it’ll get. A ship with the Sovereign’s capabilities is wasted, just patrolling for pirates.”

  So engrossed was she in the discussion, she had half-forgotten Karl’s presence. She blinked in surprise as he joined the conversation. “Believe me, I understand and share your frustration,” he said, “but it’s more complicated than you might have heard. Aye, the peace is steady—for the moment. Only because the Demesne and Common Union have agreed that fighting wastes more cendrillon than it’s worth. But there are a lot of folks who believe that sharing the rights to cendrillon won’t last. The black market for cendrillon grows day by day, and every time a new mining world opens up, even if it’s in Union space, tensions rise. We’re always half-afraid the Demesne miners will come in with cannons blasting and just take it over for themselves. Cendrillon has been discovered on Corbenek, which is near Benizara. The Tremaine Mining Company starts mining there in just a couple days.”

  He looked earnestly at Gus. “Your news is correct, but the ambassador transport is just the official reason for the Strelka’s presence in that area; the Common Union is sending her as a reminder of what we can do. The Strelka’s smaller than the Sovereign, but she’s faster. She can reach Corbenek with time to spare if there’s trouble, but they want the Sovereign—the bigger, albeit slower guns—waiting in the wings in case she’s needed. Sending two frigates straight to Corbenek would look too aggressive.”

  Gus was listening so hard Elsa feared he’d fall off his chair. There was nothing the man liked more than a bit of intrigue. “I heard the Strelka’s captain isn’t too happy about the babysitting duty,” he added.

  Karl snorted. “I’ll bet not. We’ve had to do one or two runs like that in the past, and they’re deadly dull. A waste, as you say,” he told Elsa, turning back to her. “But the Fleet is a political tool for the Common Union as much as it is an organization for exploration and scientific research. My father can’t refuse an order from the Union.”

  Bruno arched one bushy eyebrow. “Can he not? I seem to remember Captain Jacob Tsarevich making his own rules much of the time in years past.”

  Karl’s lips thinned. “My father has a certain colorful reputation, it’s true. But in recent years he’s been less likely to rock the skiff. Getting this mission required a hefty amount of currying favor and good behavior. He’s not likely to ruffle any feathers at this stage.” He shrugged helplessly. “A short cruise it is, then. Not that it’ll be that bad,” he added. “We’re still going to a completely unknown world. No one’s ever been where we’re headed.”

  Gus eyed Karl shrewdly. “It seems I don’t need to make quite so many friends for the sake of information, with you around,” he commented.

  Karl smiled, but this time the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Keep your friends, Gus. I can’t always share everything I would like.”

  The mood in the room had changed, and Bruno stood, clearing his throat. “Well. Maybe you young folks still have energy, but I’m tired. T
ime for me to head out.” He threw an arm around Elsa’s shoulders and gave her forehead a quick kiss. “Thanks for a great evening, Elsa. See you tomorrow.”

  The others took their cue from Bruno and said their goodnights. As the ex-cinders filed out, Karl bent down to look at Elsa’s model sloop on a shelf by the door. Its tiny space sails were unfurled, about to take flight. “This is beautiful,” he said, and Elsa was inordinately pleased by the genuine admiration in his voice.

  “Thank you. My mother and I made that not long before she died. I didn’t take much with me from Anser, but I made sure to take that.” She reached for an old leather hund collar hanging on a hook. “And this. Kaver was the lead hund in my father’s sled team when I was growing up. The hunds were a part of the family.” She sniffed the collar and wrinkled her nose happily. “Still smells like dog, to be honest.”

  Karl reached out to run a finger along the worn leather in her hands. “I think it’s wonderful that each thing in your cabin has a story and means something,” he said quietly. “Reminds you of a loved one or an experience. So much better than impersonal, purchased furnishings. I never understood the appeal of that.” The innocent bafflement in his voice made him sound younger than his years. “What is this?” he asked, pointing to a dull lump of ore on the next shelf.

  Elsa grinned and picked up the chunk of metal, tossing it briefly in the air. “This, my friend, is cendrillon from my very first haul on Rhodophis.”

  His face lit up. “Really! That’s fantastic. I’m glad you were able to keep it.”