Child of the Stars

I was on my way to work but all I could think about was the drifting space junk I tracked all day up to this point. Sure, I have a rather unorthodox hobby, but I’ve gleaned so much more about the final frontier since I started tracking and collecting abandoned satellites and space craft. The way I see it, its original owner is going to miss it if it's aimlessly orbiting or crash-landing into the civilized parts of outer space. My side hustle makes great money too, and I feel I’m doing outer space civilization a small service in it.

My parents’ generation was the first to see the realities of long-imagined ideas about thriving in space. And supposedly not a moment too soon with the way Earth was deteriorating from overpollution, over-depletion, and overpopulation. They felt if they took to the stars as soon as they could, the planet might be able to restabilize itself to support life again, which ended up working better than they thought and now they’re hoping my generation will return to recolonize Earth.

I’d rather not though if anything were up to me. The fact that outer space is called the final frontier is not wasted on me. Who would go as far as my parents have just to go back to where they came from anyway? I’m Nova, a child of the stars and I want to live and die in them.

Instead of being part of Earth’s recolonization task force, I would love to be a member of Astron Galactic Space Force, a descendant of the NASA program and its international counterparts, observing and exploring the uncharted planes of space, and if need be, defending against any harmful threats to humanity’s colonization. The only thing is that the Space Force is dominantly male. Despite the advances space programs in the past have made just to accommodate women in space, many are still of the belief that outer space and child-bearing are not compatible. So women especially are recommended for the recolonization task force instead of the galactic one. As if humanity living above the wild blue yonder wasn’t dangerous enough in itself…

Granted, chasing and dismantling space junk can be too. If it's out of commission, it's out of control, and if the right (or wrong) forces catch it, a mess could ensue. Add to that, the fact that I’m focused on the skies more than the traffic around me. The junk is pretty close but at least has enough of a slope to gravitate towards the nearby asteroid belt instead of right in the thoroughfare, where it would damage space vehicles and hurt people.

Nonetheless, since it's so close, I impulsively decide to go “off-road” after it, jetting my vehicle into the rocky belt. After some dodging and a few dents, I screech to a stop on a large asteroid. By sheer luck, the space junk lands there too, just a few hundred meters away from me. Also by sheer luck, it's a craft not much bigger than me, so I can stow it in my vehicle and tinker on it after work.

If the data boards are still relatively intact, I can siphon some of the information a device holds. (Again, not like some mission control somewhere still needs it) In doing this, I have nearly equal knowledge and skill on the interstellar environment and technology as someone on the Galactic Space Force would. The hardware I’d either scrap or recycle for money. Even out here, we still repair and tinker on our vehicles and structures, so space junk parts and exterior material are pretty sought-after. Every little bit I make will put me through the Final Frontier Academy, a feeder for the Galactic Space Force, but anybody with the money and ambition for higher education in outer space studies can attend.  

I meander my way out of the belt and book it to the Moonwalker Mall. Aptly named for both an old pop culture dance move and because it's an intergalactic shopping mall situated on a moon. Said moon is in a prominent location to benefit all outer space residents and voyagers from at least a lightyear away. The mall is also one of few in existence out here as well, so it's as much of an attraction as it is a place for essential and luxury retail.

I work in food service at an American cuisine set-up in the mall’s cafeteria. I’m not two minutes past the start of my shift when I get on-site when my team leader grunts about me being late again.(Only the second time this week, and I was just stuck in traffic last time, not chasing space junk) I absently apologize for it as I take over a register. But I’m bound to be in trouble again as I look on my first customer of the day.

“What can I get for you?” I ask this dreamy, cute Galactic Space Force Agent. His body is framed by the Force’s trademark spacesuit but he has the sleekest raven hair, the strongest jawline, and the bluest eyes I’ve seen to glaze over the menu. If he had to take all day about his order, I wouldn’t have minded.

“I’d like the Apollo Combo, please, ” He answered me. As I punch his order into my register, I check out the badges on his suit. Like military insignias, Galactic Space Force pennants on their suits denote one’s position and rank. And this guy has a rather impressive situation if I understand right! Then, I realize he’s reading my face and must have caught me looking.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” I blushed. “The badges show you're corporal command pilot Mercer? Am I reading that right?”

“You are!” His blue eyes lit up. “Most other girls seem so clueless by the insignias!”

“What I’d give to be a part of the Galactic Space Force!” I outright admitted, which I’ve tried not to do that often. “Most guys think I’m insane for that!”

“Hey! The way I see it, if not for Katherine Johnson, we might not even be this far! Women could pilot the shuttles and study the outer expanses of space just as well as any man…if not more so!” He said that and I was sold! He was definitely not like the other guys!

“When can I see you again?” He asked after I brought his tray of food to the counter.

“My break is at three,” I told him while resisting the urge to ditch work right then and there.

“Cool!” He smiled, taking his tray and venturing across the concourse to a table. ”See you then!” Good thing the rush was picking up, or I might have stared him down for lightyears.

I emerge from the food station and see him sitting at a table, waving at me, his blue eyes and bright smile again beaming on me like lasers. As I cross over to join him, I notice he has his readout device on hand, as if he passed some of the time before my break studying data or something.

“Hey! May I ask what you’re working on?” It was top secret or something for all I knew.

“Reports from my latest expedition. Me and my team have basically been space storm chasing at the edge of the galaxy.”

He motioned for me to come closer so I could see for myself the various charts, equations, and experiments he had on hand while he explained their tasks and studies to me.

“But here is where things seem to have gone haywire,” he was referring to a point in the file where the data showed drastically different than in other areas. “If we could access our second satellite, we could have more accurate entries to work with, but we just figured out today it's strayed from its intended course. I think a coronal mass ejection threw it out of orbit.”

“Uh-oh.” A thought started creeping into my mind. “Do you know where it is?” If that satellite I nabbed before work is his, then I wasn’t chasing space junk as much as an active device derailed of its mission.

“No. The ejection must’ve fried the location systems so we haven’t been able to track it. But it was actually reading a star about three light-weeks away from here before it went adrift. “

Gulp... The edges of that satellite I nabbed before work looked (and felt) like it was freshly roasted from getting too close to a solar flare or something. Should I tell him I think I have it? Or would I end up in trouble for allegedly tampering with Galactic Space Force equipment?

We spent the rest of my break getting to know each other, but in the back of my mind, I was developing an idea. Before I got back on the clock, I encouraged him to meet me in a few days at a space shed where I managed my repair and salvage work.

“I think I know about your satellite,” I enticed him, “But I’m trusting you with a big secret, so this cannot go beyond us, please?” I begged.

“It’s safe with me,” He winked. “I’ll see you then.”

Mercer took me by pleasant surprise at the shed. I was deeply focused on a welding task so I didn’t hear him arrive. After greeting me, he looked at the project I had in front of me, himself in turn surprised. I knew it was his!

“I reconstructed the antennae, replaced the GPS receiver,” I showed off, “now I’m just rebuilding its exterior, and it will be functional again.”

“The data from it,” I continued, bringing to life a special computer I had for hacking -er, I mean, extracting info from spacecraft CPUs. “As you hoped, will be sufficient for the correlations you need.” The computer screen produced the facts and figures the craft gathered before its accident. I turned back to welding, leaving him to marvel at what I thought was the data he lost.

“I don’t know what’s more impressive,” He tapped my shoulder to get my attention over the burning and buzzing. “You just finding and fixing the Task Force satellite or how well you did it! You scrapped it together, but it looks better than what most of our technicians can do! Nova, I could…I could…I could kiss you!”

His excitement was adorable. The next thing I knew, he cupped my face and I was on the receiving end of a long, warm, heartfelt kiss. I finished up my task at hand and showed him around my shed, explaining why I do what I do.

“I’m just making money to go to the Final Frontier Academy someday, but I also can’t wait to grow in what I love! You don’t see this at all shady or anything?”

He shook his head. “You mostly go after the dead machines anyways, so it's not like you’re tampering with anything like top-end security material vital to our welfare.” He chuckled.

“I know you said this is a secret, but if I tell my superiors something, maybe the Task Force can have an amazing new technician with her academy tuition covered.”

Smiling, I drew in my breath. I just wanted to do something nice. I wasn’t planning on this much back when I schemed this little rendezvous! I took his hands in mine and gently squeezed them. I didn’t want to get carried away in premature excitement just in case his proposition didn’t work out, but I still wanted so much to kiss him back. And I did. 

We continued talking, all the while Mercer talked me up to his command. A few weeks later, I was invited to a rigorous job screening. After passing it, I was officially sworn into the Astron Galactic Space Force and would begin basic training. All their swear-in ceremonies were momentous, but mine was in particular for being the first female accepted onto The Force. Six weeks later, as Mercer hoped, I was on the Space Force technician team and attending the academy. The whole time, I was viewed as more than “just a girl”. They accepted and respected me as a capable, skilled, and even valuable individual. I even outdid some of them in training, so I definitely earned my place among them!