13. Starbirth

Hank and Remora sat on opposite sides of the table bolted to the floor of the Miraj’s ready room. Hank sat back, comfortable in his captain’s chair, and waited for Remora to speak first. He’d spent most of the trip plotting the course of this conversation. First, she’d say something along the lines of, “I bought it, it’s my ship,” or maybe even “I’m a Price, so you have to do what I say.”

Remora watched him with wide brown eyes, one finger idly spinning a long lock of red hair. He readied his replies and waited for the inevitable. Fifteen minutes—thirty on the topside—and she was off his ship and out of his hair.

“I’m curious,” she said. “What is your plan to get rid of me?”

Hank’s tongue stumbled, choking back the prepared response to the questions she hadn’t asked. He’d carried sacks of potatoes that weighed more than this girl. How did she manage to catch him flat-footed every time she opened her mouth? It was beyond irritating. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, his voice as even as he could manage.

She waved aside his attempt at politeness with a short laugh. “Oh, don’t be so modest. Everyone always has a plan to get rid of me. Well, everyone but Uncle. It’s okay. I won’t be mad, I’m just curious.”

Hank frowned, searching her face for an angle. What was she up to? He saw nothing but genuine inquisitiveness in her brown eyes and felt incredibly disturbed by that. A normal person assumed that everyone wanted to be around them—he had several good confidence scams that hinged on precisely that ego. What made a person nonchalantly believe that nobody wanted them around?

And damnably, she was right. Of course he had a plan to get rid of her.

He straightened his shoulders. As if she needed his pity—the richest woman on the entire western coast.

He switched tactics. Maybe if he played along with her bizarre games, she’d leave of her own volition. “I planned on telling you that I was going to pay you back for the debt to Ratchet, kick you off the ship, and sail away before you could send airships looking for me.”

She thought about that for a moment and nodded. “Not a bad plan. You could muscle me off the ship fairly easily if you wanted, and I’ve no doubt you have experience avoiding the authorities. At least, I hope you do. The basic plan outline seems sound, but I’ll admit to feeling a bit disappointed. Among other things, you didn’t take my motivation into account. Then again, perhaps that lack of planning is how you ended up in jail.”

Her eyebrows winged upward. “Do you really believe I care about being repaid for your debt to Ratchet?”

He opened his mouth, then just as quickly shut it.

She leaned forward, the gold sparks in her brown eyes dancing with mischief. “Aren’t you even a little curious? Haven’t you wondered why I was in the Jolly Rooster to begin with? Why I was so interested in you being a pirate captain?” She paused, letting that sink in. “Why do you think I would go to all of that trouble? Do you really think it was about money?”

“I suppose I thought you were just getting your kicks. Slumming a little.”

He’d hoped to shock her, but she simply gave him an enigmatic smile and shook her head. She reached up and behind her neck, her fingers working at the clasp of a necklace. After a moment, she lifted a hand toward him, a golden locket on a chain dangling from her outstretched fingers.

“It’s not dangerous. Open it,” she said, gently lowering the locket to the table and pushing it over to him.

He eyed it suspiciously. It didn’t look like it was going to burst into flames or send shrapnel flying through his ready room, but he had to consider the source. Remora had a different definition of the word “dangerous” than he did.

She lifted an eyebrow and he scowled. It wasn’t that he was afraid. Just careful, that was all.

Gingerly, he picked it up. The outer shell of the locket was detailed with tiny decorative gears woven alongside a delicate golden filigree. He gave the topmost gear a curious flick with his thumbnail. To his surprise, the other gears spun as well. He’d thought them too small to actually be functional. The gears activated the tiny golden arm keeping the locket’s clamshell locked, causing it to lift with an audible click.

He pried open the locket’s mouth and peered inside. Instead of the sepia photo he’d expected, a tiny purple crystal tucked neatly into a custom setting. That was it—just the crystal. He frowned at it uncertainly. After a moment, he shrugged and put it back down on the table. Immediately, she reached for it, folding her hands around the locket as though they’d been hungry for it.

“What is it?” he asked.

Her cheeks flushed with excitement and she leaned forward, pressing the locket close to her chest.

“I think it’s from Starbirth,” she whispered.

Hank paused a moment, certain she was joking. She didn’t laugh.

Hank scoffed. “Starbirth is a myth.”

She shook her head, eyes bright. “No, it isn’t! I’m certain of it. Tell me, where do you think starshards come from? Why are there so few of them? Why are they so different from anything else found anywhere on the planet?” She paused to take a breath. “It’s because they’re from Starbirth!”

Hank frowned. He didn’t want to burst her bubble, but nobody took Starbirth seriously. It was a story to keep children still at bedtime. “I know Starbirth’s a pretty story, but that’s all it is. Starshards are rare, that’s all.”

Undaunted, she immediately countered. “Then why have they always been found so close to the surface? Why can we not mine for them? Hundreds of years ago, our ancestors saw something in the sky. Something that glowed, brighter and brighter, for weeks on end. We have written proof of this—of people, in their own words, describing the Starbirth! Every account agrees that after two moons of growing light, when the night was bright as day, the light shattered and fell to earth as starshards. The sun’s child still sits in the sky today—visible even in daylight.”

Hank sighed. “I know the story, Remora. Everyone knows the story. The dawnstar is unique, but that doesn’t mean Starbirth was real. We can’t even use the dawnstar to help navigate. It’s just a pretty, useless light in the sky.”

Frustrated, she gestured sharply, trying a different approach. “Then why are there no records of Seraph before Starbirth? Why do people only write of the winged Seraph after Starbirth? Why are flying cities only mentioned then? Why do people start collecting starshards and building airships after Starbirth? It was real. And I can prove it.” Once again, her eyes gleamed. “But I need the help of a pirate and his ship to do it.”