Light From Uncommon Stars(73)

“I can’t. I—”

“Hey, Katrina. Who bought you the Cinnabon?”

Katrina lowered her eyes.

“It was the best feeling ever,” she said softly. “Especially at the end. I felt like no one was going to hurt me. I felt safe, Miss Satomi. And powerful. So powerful that I could keep you, and everyone who was listening, safe as well.”

Shizuka Satomi, the girl from Monterey Park, was unable to utter another word.



* * *



Throughout the Classically Camellia Showcase, Lan Tran closely monitored the planet’s social media channels for all mentions of Starrgate Donut. This would be valuable marketing research. She’d classify and archive the mentions of different donuts—glazes, twists, apple fritters, sprinkles, crullers …

At first, there were many mentions of the free donuts, even some photos! But soon, the mentions of donuts dwindled. People mentioned the great music. People gushed about Katrina. Someone posted a photo. She was so beautiful! And there was a photo of Astrid accompanying her. There was another stunning girl named Tamiko Grohl. There were posts about how nice the Pavilion was, photos of friendly dogs. Someone mentioned the boba they had bought at Tea Station. And another posted a video of a man selling elotes from a cart.

But the donut posts dwindled to almost nothing. Lan was stunned. They were handing out donuts in the park! Where were all the mentions?

Lan texted Markus, but Markus did not answer. She texted again.

Finally, she texted Aunty Floresta.

“Perhaps it’s best to discuss this when we return,” was her prompt reply.

That had been an hour ago. Lan kept looking, hoping. But nothing. There were still many posts about the festival and how wonderful the violinists, especially, were. More selfies. And then there were tweets about a fire in Temple City, that the house of one of the festival staff—the emcee—had burned to the ground. But nothing about donuts.

Finally, she noticed one post, a TikTok from a young Toishan family. They had strolled by the park after the festival, and said they were so lucky because the cleanup crew gave them an entire box of donuts, as no one else wanted to take them.

Markus and Aunty Floresta returned to Starrgate and reported to the control center. One look from Aunty Floresta told Lan everything.

Yes, Temple City had paid in advance; yes, they made money. But there was no denying that the night had been a failure.

“Markus. Run a diagnostic on the replicators for any clues as to what went wrong.”

“This is so stupid.”

Lan blinked.

“Markus?”

Markus rolled his eyes and mumbled something else.

“What did you say?”

“I said fuck this!”

“Markus!” Aunty Floresta said. “You are talking to the captain.”

“Captain? Of what? Captain of shitty donuts? We should be helping the Empire!” Markus picked up his coat and walked toward the elevator.

Suddenly, Markus could not move. His entire body was swaddled within a green glow. He struggled, but the glow intensified until he was lifted into the air.

“Markus, that is your captain. And your mother,” Aunty Floresta said.

“Markus, I know it’s difficult to understand, but the Empire is falling to the Endplague. It’s far too dangerous to cont—”

“Then why the fuck are we building a stargate, anyway? What are we even doing here?” He was sobbing as his body went numb.

The glow slowly disappeared, as did Markus’s now-sleeping form.

“I transported him to his bed,” Aunty Floresta said. “In the morning, he’ll think this night was a dream.”

The boy was still a boy, but he was quickly maturing. Even his normal adolescent outbursts would be difficult to control. But if this developed into the Endplague …

As if Lanny didn’t have enough to worry about.

Why are we building a stargate? Floresta herself wondered that from time to time. Officially, they were building it for the gamma ray burst, but since they were safe and far from the Empire, was it really necessary anymore?

However, Lanny was the captain, and the captain did not have to explain all of her decisions. And the girl might make her mistakes, but Floresta was certain of this: everything Lan Tran did was for the family.

Since Markus was asleep, Lan put on her apron and went upstairs to take over his shift. She relieved Shirley and Edwin, who were helping the few customers that were there.

She looked out the window, into the sky. She remembered times like this on the starship, when everything was seemingly peaceful.

Yet, for the captain of a starship, or a donut shop, there was always research to do, courses to chart, crew reports to read. Even the smallest discrepancies needed to be located, then remedied before they became serious problems.

Lan Tran remembered how the store was with the Thamavuongs. On warm summer nights, people from the neighborhood would queue into the parking lot for yeast donuts, cake donuts, bear claws, their special Mexican chocolate crullers, and good old-fashioned sour creams.

The Thamavuongs had told her she might sell out early on Saturday, and when that happened, she should make second and third batches, because a heavy crowd on Saturday always meant Sunday would be busy, too. The Thamavuongs had told her that the reason people kept coming back to the Big Donut was that the taste was welcoming and familiar.