The kitchen of the Celestial Pearl was a marvel of space-age design. Gleaming surfaces reflected the soft glow of the overhead lights, and cabinets lined the walls in neat, orderly rows. The air was filled with the scent of something that might have been exotic spices or might have been recycled oxygen—no one could quite tell.
Vesta, Eliane, Sanza, Jelly, and Chad had found their way to the heart of the culinary space, their voices rising and falling with the excitement of discovery.
Eliane stood at the counter, her blue eyes wide with wonder. Her silver hair was tied back in a practical braid, and her chef's jacket was smudged with flour from her earlier adventures. In her hands, she held what appeared to be a small, glowing cube.
"OH MY GOD!" Eliane's voice was breathless with excitement. "What is this? What IS this?"
Chad hovered nearby, his pale blue eyes darting nervously. "I don't know. The AI does all the food stuff. I've never actually—"
Jelly bounced beside him, his translucent blue body rippling with each movement. "Bloop! Space snacks! I love space snacks! Everything is so—so—" He paused, his massive starry eyes blinking. "Bouncy? Is that a word? Bouncy?"
Sanza stood with his arms crossed, his heavy eyebrows drawn down in what he clearly thought was an intimidating expression. His bamboo practice sword was tucked into his belt, and his Gundam-style graphic tee was wrinkled from his earlier adventures.
"This is acceptable," he announced, with his high-crust posh accent. "For a culinary space, that is. I have seen better. Obviously. But this is acceptable."
Eliane popped the glowing cube into her mouth, her eyes widening. "Oh my god. It's—it's like—it's like a cloud! But crunchy! And it tastes like—like—" She paused, her brow furrowing. "Is this curry? Is this curry-flavored?"
Jervis's holographic form flickered to life beside her, his expression one of pure, unadulterated disdain. The steward AI was impeccably dressed in a formal valet uniform, his posture critical, his scowl firmly in place.
"Curry is universal," Jervis announced, his voice flat. "Every civilization develops some form of curry. It is one of the few constants in the universe. Along with incompetence and poor taste."
Eliane's face lit up. "Really? Like, really? Curry is universal? That's—that's amazing! Do you have curry? Can we try it? I need to try it!"
Jervis sighed, a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep within his programming. "I suppose I can prepare a sample. Though I doubt you will appreciate it. Your palate is clearly—"
"Just make the curry," Eliane interrupted, her voice bright. "Please? With, like, extra spice? And maybe some—"
"I know how to prepare curry," Jervis snapped. "I am a steward. It is my function."
Vesta bounced on the balls of her feet, her rainbow hair shimmering with excitement. Her violet eyes were fixed on Jervis, her voice carrying that breathless, enthusiastic quality that made everything sound like a discovery.
"Okay, okay, okay—so, like, you're an AI, right? Like, a real AI? From space? So, like, what kind of music do you have? Space music? Do you have space music? I bet you have space music!"
Jervis's holographic form flickered with what might have been exasperation. "Music? You want to discuss—"
"Yes! Music! Space music! What does it sound like? Is it like, cosmic? Or like, more like—like—"
Jervis sighed, his voice heavy with theatrical suffering. "If I play a sample, will you stop asking questions?"
Vesta's eyes went wide. "YES! YES! Play it! Play it now!"
Jervis's holographic form shimmered, and a soft melody filled the kitchen. It was unlike anything any of them had ever heard—a strange, ethereal sound that came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was haunting and beautiful, a song that carried the weight of distant stars and forgotten worlds.
Vesta's jaw dropped. "Oh my god. Oh my GOD! How do you even make that sound? It's—it's—it's like—" She jumped up and down, her hands flying to her face. "It's AMAZING! I need to learn this! I need to—"
Jervis's voice was flat, unimpressed. "I am a steward, not a music teacher. If you wish to learn—"
"I wish! I wish so much!"
---
The pool and spa area of the Celestial Pearl was a study in luxury. The Zero-G Pool glowed with a soft, ethereal light, its surface rippling with gentle waves that defied the laws of physics. The walls were lined with sleek, minimalist seating, and the air was filled with the scent of something that might have been exotic flowers or might have been recycled oxygen.
Atlas, Jannali, and Bō-Zak stood at the edge of the pool, their expressions ranging from amusement to exasperation. Jeny and Donna stood nearby, their faces flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.
Bō-Zak sauntered toward the pool's edge, his gold-flecked eyes gleaming with that familiar, flirtatious spark. His voice was smooth, philosophical, with that lazy cadence that made everything sound like a proposition.
"This is lovely. Very lovely. The ambiance. The lighting. The company." He glanced at Donna, his smirk firmly in place. "I can think of nothing better than a swim with such beautiful companions."
Donna blushed, her face turning a shade of pink that clashed beautifully with her platinum-blonde hair. "Oh my god, like, stop. You're—you're making me—"
Jannali grabbed Bō-Zak by the collar, yanking him back with practiced ease. "What do you think you are doing, lover boy."
Bō-Zak glanced over his shoulder, his expression one of theatrical suffering. "I am merely appreciating the aesthetics. Is that so wrong?"
"Mate, you're about two seconds from being thrown in that pool," Jannali replied, her voice flat. "And I'm not going to pull you out."
Atlas laughed, his rust-red fur bristling with amusement. His blue eyes gleamed with that feral, taunting edge, "This is the most entertainment I've had in weeks," Atlas announced, his grin wide. "Please, continue. I want to see how far this goes."
Jeny's voice was breathless, excited. "Okay, so, like, the pool is zero gravity. Like, literally zero gravity. You can float around and do flips and stuff. It's SO cool. We have—we have—"
"Pictures?" Atlas interrupted, his voice dry. "I bet you have pictures."
Jeny's face lit up. "YES! We have pictures! So many pictures! Do you want to see? I have, like, the best photos. I'm actually really good at taking photos. Like, really good."
Atlas's grin widened. "I'm sure you are."
Bō-Zak attempted to sidle closer to Donna, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I could give you a private tour. Just you and me. No interruptions."
Jannali grabbed him again, her voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Mate, if you don't stop, I'm going to introduce you to Gosan."
Bō-Zak sighed, his voice heavy with theatrical suffering. "You wound me."
"I'm not trying to wound you. I'm trying to keep you from embarrassing yourself. There's a difference."
---
The deck of the Dreadnought Thalassa was quiet, the only sounds the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the distant cry of seabirds. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the water in shades of gold and amber. The air was cool, carrying the sharp tang of salt and the promise of evening.
Marya stood at the railing, her long raven hair moving in the breeze. Her golden eyes—one gold, one half-gold and half-silver—were fixed on the horizon, her expression unreadable. Her leather jacket with the Heart Pirates Insignia settled against her shoulders, and Nisshoku was a familiar weight against her back.
Aurélie stood beside her, her silver hair loose and framing her sharp-featured face. Her steel-gray eyes were fixed on the same horizon, her hand resting on Anathema's hilt. The silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar.
Aurélie voice broke the quiet, flat and deliberate. "Were you able to get a hold of him?"
Marya turned, her eyes narrowing with concern. "My father?"
Aurélie nodded.
Marya replies, her expression grim. "He didn't answer when I called."
Aurélie's eyes narrowed further. "That is unusual for him."
Marya nodded, her voice carrying the weight of her recent experience. "Yeah. He normally answers no matter the situation or circumstance. So he may not have been able to."
Aurélie leaned on the railing, with genuine apprehension. "Are you concerned?"
Marya's smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I am a little. I can't help but worry about the old man. But he is a formidable with many enemies. Whatever he is dealing with, I know he will come through it."
Aurélie nodded, her voice thoughtful. "Very true. But you wanted to tell him about your brother."
Marya's expression flickered, just for a moment. "Yeah. But that will have to wait."
She took a breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of unspoken words. Aurélie studied her, her voice gentle but probing.
"What is it?"
Marya crossed her arms, with note of bitter amusement. "He tried to warn me. So he probably already knows. Honestly, I am most likely being spared a very long lecture and having to admit he was right."
Aurélie's smirk matched Marya's. "Do you think he will follow through with his commitment?"
Marya's expression became stern, with absolute certainty. "Yes. Even if I have to drag him back from hell to do it."
Aurélie nodded, with absolute faith. "I have no doubt you will."
---
The engine room of the Celestial Pearl was a cavernous space filled with towering consoles and humming machinery. The walls were lined with panels of polished obsidian that gleamed with an inner light, and the air was thick with the scent of heated metal and something that might have been exotic coolant.
Bianca stood at the heart of the chaos, her hands flying across the controls with the manic energy of a woman possessed. Her magnifying goggles were pushed down over her eyes, and her grease-stained overalls were smudged with fresh engine fluid. Her waist-length black hair was a wild mess of tangles, and her face was streaked with grease.
Ted's holographic form flickered beside her, his work clothes disheveled, his expression one of perpetual clumsiness. He bumbled around the room, dropping things and tripping over his own feet, his voice carrying that familiar, chaotic energy.
"Okay, okay, okay—so, like, the power conduits are—" He paused, his arms pinwheeling as he stumbled over a loose cable. "—they're—they're—"
Bianca sighed, her voice flat. "They're what?"
Ted's face hit the floor with a soft thud. His voice was muffled. "They're damaged. Very damaged. And I think—I think—"
"Ted." Bianca's voice carried the weight of infinite patience. "Are you, like, okay?"
Ted pushed himself up, his holographic form flickering with embarrassment. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. I'm always fine. This is—this is fine."
Bianca studied him, her brow furrowing. "So, like, were you damaged too?"
Ted's voice was flat, disheartened. "No. I was programmed this way. The engineers thought it would be funny."
Bianca's voice was deadpan. "Like, hilarious."
She turned back to the console, her hands finding a panel and prying it open with practiced ease. The interior was a tangle of wires and conduits, a mess of colors and shapes that made no sense to anyone but her.
Ted hovered beside her, with concern. "Be careful with that. The power coupling is—"
"I, like, know what I'm, like, doing," Bianca interrupted, her voice bright. "Like, I've done this before. Like, many times. Probably."
Ted's voice was small. "Probably?"
"Probably."
Bianca's hands moved with practiced efficiency, tracing the wires and conduits, cataloging every connection. She paused when she saw a gaping hole in the panel, the severed wires hanging loose like broken threads.
Her face lit up. "Oh! Oh, like, that's not good. That's—that's really, like, not good."
Ted leaned over, his holographic form flickering. "What? What is it? What did you find?"
Bianca's grin was wide, excited. "Like, I think I can fix this. Actually, I, like, KNOW I can, like, fix this. This is—this is like—" She pulled out her transponder snail, her fingers finding the receiver button. "I, like, need to call Marya."
The snail crackled to life, and Marya's voice emerged. "Bianca. What is it?"
Bianca's voice was bright, triumphant. "So, like, I think I can have this thing, like, fixed in like half a day or so. And it looks like I might be able to snag some, like, extra parts that will be, like, compatible with the sub."
There was a pause on the other end. Then Marya's voice, flat and deliberate. "Half a day?"
"Like, maybe less! Maybe more! But definitely, like, less than a day! Probably!"
Marya's voice carried the weight of authority. "Keep me posted. I don't want to spend too much time here."
"Like, got it! I'll, like, call you when I, like, have a better estimate!"
Bianca hung up, her face beaming with triumph. She turned back to the console, her hands flying across the controls.
Ted hovered beside her, with cautious optimism. "Do you really think you can fix it?"
Bianca's grin was wide, confident. "Like, of course I can. I'm, like, an engineer. It's what I, like, do."
Ted's voice was small. "Even with the—"
"Like, even with the whatever," Bianca interrupted. "Like, I got this."
She plunged her hands into the panel, her fingers finding the severed wires.
The engine room hummed with the promise of progress.
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