Brightly Burning(4)

I called on a girl named Kayla to read her story, and then as quietly as possible, I darted back out into the hallway, peering down both ends. My vision had mostly adjusted to where I could make out the general outline of the walls, barely aided by the soft, useless glow from the windows. But no one appeared to be coming to our aid. I could just picture Jatinder down below, cursing up a storm at Karlson while I remained notably absent.

Then, the best sound in the entire world:

“Stella? Are you guys okay?” George’s voice echoed down the hallway. He stepped into the classroom and, oh, God, I could tell he was wet—?just showered. He smelled amazing, like fresh-cut grass, or what they told us it smelled like, anyway. I realized I was reacting wholly inappropriately—?this was an emergency, and I was swooning over a freshly showered boy.

“We’re fine,” I reassured him. “But can you watch them? I need to get down to engineering.”

George nodded, then indicated I should come close. Yes, please. “It’s serious, isn’t it?” he asked in a low voice.

“It might be,” I said. “Just don’t tell them that.”

He gave me a look. “I may be just a farm boy, but I’m not stupid.”

“You are not just a farm boy,” I chided. George was always selling himself short, so thankful for a place to belong that he lost sight of his many gifts. Like his ability to put up with a taciturn best friend like me. “If the lights turn back on, you’ll know everything is fine,” I said, my version of a bad joke. George’s mouth remained in a firm line.

I turned back to face the class. “George is going to hang out with you guys—?maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll walk you through some more math drills.” I heard several groans. Then I threw a special wave over at Arden and sprinted out the door.

I’d made my way through the ship in the dark enough times to move quickly and efficiently, tripping only a few times—?mostly over my own feet. There was a hum in the air, like a machine taking a nap while powered down, which gave me hope that the ship wasn’t dead. Something was on, just not the lights. As I skirted past the field levels, I heard chatter, even laughter. The residents of the Stalwart didn’t seem particularly concerned. The blackouts happened every few weeks now.

Then, as I made the small jump from the bottom of the ladder taking me to Area 12, the emergency lights zoomed on, a low-intensity blue light lining the ground as far as the eye could see.

“Stella, you layabout, where have you been?” Jatinder greeted me with a frown but very little heat behind his words. A smudge of grease extended from his forehead down to his chin, and he was dripping sweat down his brow. Things were clearly in chaos. Karlson was already there, down on his knees, his upper half disappearing into a mechanical panel. I could hear the muffled clang of his wrench at work. I rushed to grab my kit from my locker.

“What’s the situation?” I asked, retrieving my gloves and swapping out my day coat for my work cover.

“Engine Two failed, knocking out most secondary systems, most notably the lights,” Jatinder said. “It’s salvageable—?and luckily the primary engine is fine, but we had to power it down temporarily to access Engine Two’s panel without killing ourselves. I’ve already been in there; got the emergency lights back on, as you can see.”

“And just in time,” I said. “Any longer, and I would imagine there would be panic.”

Jatinder only shrugged. “This ship is used to calamity. And we’re not called the Stalwart for nothing. Now, you and Karlson, I want you to work on getting Engine Two back up—?diagnose the problem, fix it, then file the report. Are you done with the air-filtration issue?”

We heard a grunt and then a bang. Karlson extricated himself from the floor, bringing himself up to his full height, which was a good foot taller than both Jatinder and me. While nepotism had gotten Karlson his initial assignment to the engineering team—?it helped when your uncle was the captain—?his natural gifts for machine systems far outstripped mine.

“You ready?” he asked, slipping his headlamp on as I did the same. “This might take a few hours, but I promise not to wear you out.” He winked, but his dirty sense of humor had zero effect. A few years ago, I would have blushed, stuttered out my reply, but after working in close quarters with Karlson for three years, I just pretended to be amused and moved on.

But he was something nice to look at while I put in hard labor for the next few hours, which was the bright side I comforted myself with as I headed through a heavy metal hatch into the darkness.


I somewhat regretted giving up the remainder of my water rations to Arden. I had sweated out half my body weight, it seemed, getting the engines back online and all systems back up and running. But now they were, so smoothly that none of the hundred or so bodies packed into the mess hall for dinner seemed at all flummoxed by the two-hour blackout.

George was all smiles when I found him at the back of the room at a table surrounded by six girls from our age group: Becca, Cassidy, Eartha, Faith, Joy, and Destiny. Descended from American Midwestern farmers who’d won the lottery to join the Stalwart, and perpetually sunny, they found me a bit odd and let me know it—?politely, but still. They all wanted a piece of George, one of the better specimens for marriage in our group, and the only one with an adorable Empire accent. Never mind that I was also from the Empire and had the requisite Old-World British accent myself, but apparently it was only swoon-worthy from a boy.