Galaxy's Captive

Chapter 3 - Memories -

Mayra

Mayra's awareness ebbed and flowed, sometimes like gentle waves. Other times, like a typhoon trying to pull her under. The full dark comfort of unconsciousness held her longer and stronger each time.

For a moment, she is transported back to earth.

A bell chimed loudly through the PA system. The air is full of scraping chairs, mindless chatter and shuffling feet. Mayra was on a mission. The class rank was posted during homeroom. She stuffed her bag full of her physics homework and rushed out the door. The only sound the squeak of her sneakers on the linoleum and the heartbeat pounding in her ears. She flew across the halls, her destination in her crosshairs.

The popular kids gave her a wide berth. They got wise to teasing her, not when so many of them needed her to help them pass their own classes. Plus, Mayra's muscles rippled below the surface and her no-nonsense personality didn’t make her an ideal candidate for bullying. Even the kids who normally would stop her and chat between classes didn't get in her way today.

This was all she'd been talking about all week.

There he was, blocking the view of her class rank. All 6 feet and 3 inches of irritatingly flawless ebon skin. Mayra grumbles deep in her throat. On her toes she could see the top of the list just over his shoulder. She punched the air behind him, laughing as he tensed in front of her.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that to beat me for Valedictorian.” Mayra taunted. The class rankings were posted for all to see and marvel or mourn. And Mayra was marveling. Though the actual grades weren't posted, the ranks are what everyone cared about anyway. They’re what she cared about. And she was at the top. As she ought to be. She ate, drank, and slept academia. Will was just the principal’s son. She fought for every grade. Every accolade. Every achievement. She wasn't going to let Will take that from her because he was charming.

“I’m lulling you into a false sense of security.” He flashed her his warmest smile, “I want you to let your guard down, so that when I inevitably beat you, it’ll be that much sweeter.” His conceit brought a smile to her face. He’d gotten more flirtatious as the years went by. While still goading her on. Pushing her to be better. To strive more. Keeping her sharp.

She wouldn’t admit it to anyone. But she was grateful for the competition. Something in her needed someone to best.

She scoffed, “Please. My sense of security is true. I can feel the valedictorian stoles draping over my shoulders now. Salutatorian is a completely acceptable rank. You should be proud.” She tapped his cheek lightly. His eyes sparkled at the contact.

“I am proud. I put in barely any effort and I’m still giving you a run for your money.”

She laughed haughtily. “If by putting in no effort you mean spending every weekday in the school library studying while your mom finishes her work day. Then yeah. Congratulations, Will. Zero effort whatsoever.”

“Ah.” His grin grew impossibly wider.

“What?”

“It’s just nice to know you notice me too.”

“What—I—I mean. I don’t!” She sputters. Too? What did that mean?

Will spun a piece of ginger hair behind her ear, his finger warm on the lob as his hand dropped. “I didn’t think you could match your complexion to your hair color. Nice trick.” He danced out of the reach of her hand as she tried to smack him away. His laughter stayed with her long after he’d left the hallway.

Time zoomed ahead.

“The Space Force?” Papa dropped the paper in his lap. She had his full attention now. His mustache danced as he ground his molars down to dust.“Out of all the things May.”

“Yes, out of all the things.” She relaxed her shoulders, but otherwise she was braced for impact.

“But why Starlight?” She groaned. Of course he’d call her that. Using the pet name she’d been christened with at birth if she was to believe the stories. She wasn’t a little kid any more. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt like one.

“Because I want to be the strongest…and the best.” She said the latter as an afterthought. Being the best was all she’d striven for these last few years. She gave up the hobbies she loved for it. She needed strength, speed and intelligence. She needed to be able to outmaneuver everyone around her.

“To what end, Mayra?”

“To the end of being the strongest and the best Papa.” She tried not to look at Mama but her eyes were drawn to her mother anyway. She was silent on her reading chair. The book she was consuming was now sitting face-down on her lap. Her eyes were on them both, only tightening a little when she caught her daughter's gaze.

Mayra looked back to her father. “I don’t understand. Most parents are ecstatic when their kids join the Space Force. They welcome the accolades. I thought you’d get it, you were a police officer for years, Papa.” He had to take an early retirement due to an injury on the job. He was restless for so long after that.

“Baby girl. You’re brilliant. You spent the last decade being the smartest and the best. You spent all of your time and energy studying, and learning, and taking extra credit courses. You didn’t have a social life. You won the valedictorian honors like it was a fight to the death. And now, you aren’t even going to college? You want to join the Space Force?” Her change hadn't been all academics. When she was eleven, she joined a self-defense class. Then she took up martial arts. She vigorously climbed the ranks there. At the time, Papa was supportive of these extra-curricular activites. He understood them.

The recruitment office was bright and welcoming. The floor to ceiling windows let in the sun. Perfectly highlighting the promotional signs. Men and women in uniform. Sweating on the field. Concentrating at the helm of a ship. Locked in combat. The staged images did their job. They made the Space Force seem a step above the norm. Not for just anyone. But for a special few.

The truth was, Mayra walked into a recruitment office on a whim. Her chest squeezed when the acceptance letters started to arrive. She didn’t make it into every college she applied for. But she made a few of her top choices.

But something about the prospect of the schools didn’t appeal to her. She had been chasing a goal. The best. She hadn’t made it into the best college, long shot that it was. But even that wasn’t the problem. The fight for entry had been exhilarating. But after the rush settled she had no desire to pursue it further. What she truly craved wasn’t just to be the best. It was to be superior. And none of these schools would grant her that.

The recruitment officer was a woman only an inch or so taller than Mayra. Her tanned skin was smooth. Her muscles were blatant and unapologetic. Mayra looked at her own physique in comparison. It wouldn’t have been so hard for her to achieve. She was well on her way already. The officer had all the confidence of someone who took no slack. She said all the right things. "Fighting for justice." "Proving our might." "We won’t let despondent bullies win this war." "There was a treaty signed and we’d stick to it." "We’d make the outer planets stick to their word." "We’ll come on top the victors."

It was just what she wanted to hear.

“College isn’t for everyone, Dad.”

“No, but I’d argue it’s for most Valedictorians,” he countered. “It’s dangerous, Star. All of this is dangerous. The mods were one thing.” His familiar tirade began, “Making designer babies and not leaving what God created well enough, alone.” Now his eyes flit over to Mama. Who had still sat silently as they debated.

Mama spoke up now. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t modify myself. Your mother-in-law wanted a pretty doll she could play dress up with. So she made one.” She shrugged. Grammy really did. When gene modification was in its infancy, the most you could do was choose your child's physical characteristics. Skin or eye color, nose shape, hair texture, long eyelashes, dainty nose. It was creating a living avatar.

Grammy chose heterochromatic eyes for Mama, violet and aquamarine. She had wispy red hair, that may have been natural, as Mayra was also red-headed, but Mama’s was such a deep burgundy against her pale skin that it couldn’t be so. And her curls were beyond belief. Light and airy, but obedient enough to submit to hairbands and clips. And still wild enough to get tangled in the wind or an open breeze.

Mama looked like a character in a storybook.

“Sephora, you are beautiful. Not your mod. A blind man would fall in love with your beauty.” Mama blushed a pale pink and whispered a quiet thanks.

Mayra sighed. She could stand for Mama to be less beautiful.

“Thats beside the point.” Papa was undeterred. “The modifications started out as one thing and morphed into something different altogether.”

“And who’s fault is that? They’re the ones who started weaponizing the procedure, Papa. They’re the ones who turned people into weapons. We had to do the same in order to win.”

“I don’t care whose fault it is! Now mods are progressing naturally, with no procedures. It’s dangerous. And these modified people are the ones running the SF, Star! We don’t fully know what the ramifications of all this meddling will be. Are these people even stable? What will happen after the war? Are they meant to dominate those without modifications?”

She paused. She’d never heard this vehemence from him before. Against people just like her. “Papa, I’ve got a natural mod.” She reminded him gently. She didn’t know if the gentleness was for his sake or her own.

His vision cleared. His temperament went from a bright shining light, painful to be near to something softer. But still just as hot. He looked at her with trepidation.

Once they realized that Mayra was more than just good at reading people, but could actually sense what they were feeling, Papa took her to a specialist. But there was nothing to be done. They couldn’t reverse natural mods. 'Biology has taken up the mantle and we must let go along for the ride.' He hadn’t liked that answer.

“Yes,” he agreed with a sigh. “A tame one.” Her hackles rose at his word choice. Papa held his hands up, cutting off her fight before she could begin. When she took several deep breaths, he continued. “I don’t want anyone to make you think you have to go under the laser to be more than what you are. Which is perfect.”

“I’m not perfect Papa. And I won’t get a procedure. I want to succeed on my own merit. Not some doctors.”

“May—”

“It’s done Papa!” She shouted, “…I already signed up.”

Mama stood, her book falling to the floor. “Don’t raise your voice at your father, Sweets.”

“Sorry Mama…Papa.”

“There’s nothing to be done, Tate. She’s made up her mind. Now you’ll get to see what its like waiting for your loved one to come home.”

Though her tone was mild, Papa’s face fell.

“Starlight—” His voice crumbled and his tears fell. Mayra ran into his arms as he cried and held the two people he loved most in the world to his chest. His broken breaths were coming from deep insides Mayra’s own chest.

Time rewound. Everything back tracking in a blur. Mayra grows younger. Her days filled with less training and books and more playtime and giggles.

She was staring up at a bright blue sky, the sun peeking though the thick clouds. Birds soared on their wings up into the clouds until they disappeared behind the sun's rays. The smell of fresh cut grass tickled her nose, and the sweet scent of wildflowers mixed with the scent of fresh turned soil.

A perfect day.

“Going up, Starlight.” Her father lifted her up. Placing her gently on cotton candy clouds. She took a bite out of them and her stomach clenched, it tasted so good. “Look at you. You’re right at home up there in the sky, Starlight.”

She wanted to smile at her childhood pet name. But she resisted. “Papa, I know I’m not actually made of starlight. I’m a big girl now.”

Her father picked her off the clouds and placed her gently back on the ground. The colors were just on the side of cartoonish. But his smile…his smile was perfect.

He tapped her nose. Papa’s emotions were luminous. She felt the soft glow of his love for her like the fading embers in a hearth. “You will always be my little girl. And my Starlight. When you came into my life, the world got so much brighter. You were always my happy little girl.” Mayra let his love wash over her, his warm emotions made her giggle.

Though something felt off. She didn't feel like his happy little girl. Something took that away. Papa saw the darkness cover her face. So he held her up to the sky, “Do you think I can see a shooting star tonight?” She grinned and spread her arms and legs out, like kids do to make snow angels. And he stared up at her in awe. He ran her around the backyard in that position exclaiming that he caught a shooting star and she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

Mama watched their antics adoringly, hip leaning casually on the door post. She felt like the ethereal call of a siren. No words, just soft, sweet, and alluring sounds. Everything about her feelings drew Mayra in.

It drew others in too.

The smell of something freshly baked wafted in from the warm kitchen behind Mama. Mayra could see the fragrance of her mother's cooking floating on the breeze. Today, Mama left the doorframe. Mayra wondered where she went. She looked to Papa for help. But all he does is shrug and spin her in the air. Moments later, Mama came back. She brought with her the family telescope, pointing it right at Mayra’s beaming face.

“Wow,” Mama’s voice was warm and slow, like honey, “Tate, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a shooting star this close.”

“No, you probably haven’t, love. How lucky are we?”

“So, very lucky.”

Mayra wanted to tell them how silly they’re being, but something blocked her voice. The only sound to emerge was a pitiful moan. The dream...the memory? Whatever it was. It faded away, she burrowed back into the darkness.

Images flashed across her mind. Too fleeting to make sense of. A skimmed knee. A gifted fragrant flower. A look of horror across her father's face. Running across a finish line. Besting William in school. Pouting over less than stellar grades. Her muscles burning as they were pushed beyond their limits. The pin being attached to her Space Force uniform. Tears streaking down Mama’s cheeks.

Bits and pieces from every seemingly important moment of her life. Whipping around her in a whirlwind that left her breathless. Jostling her from the sweet relief of rest.

Until…

Warmth on her cheek. Comforting, light, and sure. A peach hue surrounds her. If she thought the darkness was comforting, it was nothing compared to this feeling. She chased it, needed to climb inside and live in the glow forever. She wanted that feeling to spread over her whole being until that’s all she felt for the rest of her days.

The warmth was mobile. Gliding from her cheek on a path down and across her bottom lip. The chapped skin pulled uncomfortably. She pressed her lips together trying to will the discomfort away.

“I need you to open your mouth.” The voice was baritone and sonorous. Melting chocolate in the sun rising over a Caribbean ocean. The timbre made her long to respond. But all she could manage was a stilted breath. A would-be cough if she had any fight or liquid left inside of her.

That same gentle pressure on her bottom lip, more insistent, pulling the dry parts away from each other. “That’s it. Thank you.” A lifetime later, a waxy film is placed on her parched tongue. It dissolves into a cool, minty coating inside her arid mouth. “That will help hydrate you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I didn’t know. I…I’m…” The warm voice sounded shattered. In that moment she wished she had the strength to comfort it.

A soft moan escaped her. She hoped the owner of the voice could read all that sound was meant to convey. Another warm sweep across her cheek and then the warmth was gone. She whimpered. But soon another relief washed over her as the coolness on her tongue spread. When she fell back to sleep it was the most well rested she'd felt during this entire ordeal.