Until All the Stars Are Found

  Chapter 1 Running without gravity is really f*****g weird. If I didn't have this harness on, who knows how far away from this wall I would be? One of several thoughts I have to push away; Along with what would happen if I hit the button for my GRAV boots? What time does Karrie think I can do? Do I love or hate gravity? I still don't f*****g know. Running without gravity is, without a doubt, harder than running with a weighted backpack. Sure, running for six miles on the road is hard.  Your body gets tired of the thud of the bag against your back, the repetitive impact of your feet striking the ground over and over and over again. But without gravity? Your balance is s**t. You constantly search for the ground. You don't have to worry about that s**t with regular running. “Let's go, Gomez, four hundred more meters then you're done for the day,” My trainer yells from the floor below me. I glance down to the floor and see her standing in line with the other mentors. I don't have long to look at her face before I zip past her with the rest of the pack, but I can't tell if she is pleased or not. I glance down at the track lanes. The LED lights that illuminate my feet are bright lime green, letting me know I am on track for whatever pace Karrie wanted me to run. The neighbor to my left has a track that is turning a bright yellow, letting him know he isn't running on pace. “Come on, Gomez!” Four hundred meters, then I can take this goddamn harness off. I don't know when it happened, but my shirt slid out from under the harness at some point, and rubs, the same spot it was two days ago. The raw skin burns with the friction and the sweat dripping into it. Someone hits a button, and a glowing ring three meters in diameter slides out of the floor off the edge of the track. The pack surges forward for the last hundred meters, our uneven breathing and my heartbeat pounding in my ears moments before we go airborne. I hit the button on my side, and the harness keeping me close releases its hold on the track, and we soar through the air, pinwheeling in a mass of arms and legs before we hit the mat wall with a thud. I brace for the impact and grab the handholds, scurrying as fast as I can, my legs floating off the wall as I pull myself down. With a grunt, I pull my legs down against the lack of gravity and hit the GRAV lock button, slamming my feet to the ground. I move away from the other recruits, and I put my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “Nope. Up, walking, let's go,” Karrie says, walking past me. I stand and move to the line where the others who already finished wait. We watch, backs stiff and at attention, while the others finish their tracks in a myriad of red, yellow, and green. I peer up at the screen above our heads, where the scoreboard will update in a few moments. This scoreboard is how the Galactic Garrison tracks people's progress through ranks. When the last person hits the wall, all the mentors tap the tablets in their hands, and the numbers change. I watch as my name turns green and shifts slightly up the chart. ADA GOMEZ +2 Someone taps out a command, and gravity returns. In doing so, my thick ponytail falls to my back, the black hair sticking to the sweat across my shoulders. “At ease, soldiers. Good work today. We will be back here tomorrow at 0500.” There is a mixture of sighs of relief that we are done for the day, and groans of disgust at how early we would have to be out of bed to make it here in the morning. “f**k me,” I breathe, trying to contain my hair. On the final twist, the hairband breaks, snapping across the back of my hand, leaving a nice red welt. I sigh and reach into my pocket, pulling another hair tie out as Karrie walks over to me. “That wasn't bad. How did your ankle feel?” Karrie asks, scrolling through the stats on the tablet. She puts her hand out, and I hand her the data chip that syncs her tablet to my harness. While the harness I wear keeps me from flying away, it also scans my heart rate, pace, cadence, and a slew of other data I don't understand. “Fine, I guess, I don't think it was my best go, but it wasn't my worst,” I say, unbuckling the harness and hanging it up on the wall. Karrie smirks and looks back down at the tablet. “Okay.” I pause, Karrie usually has more to say than that. “Okay?” “Okay.” She turns and walks toward her office. My brain spins, “just okay?” I call after her. Is she pissed off at me? But she smiled. Did I f**k up? “Karrie?” ”Go shower, then meet me in my office.” She says heading out of the training block. “f**k,” I mutter to the empty air. My brain spirals through all the possible outcomes. I met Karrie three years ago. I was sent to her not long after my parents died. I was acting out in school; the school didn't know what to do; they didn't have the capacity to deal with someone who lost both parents at once, was in the foster system, and not doing okay. So like most of the adults in my life did, they passed me off to someone else. Someone handed me a pamphlet and suggested I check out the Garrison as a way to ‘deal with all the feelings.’ So I started training and realized that I liked it.  That is when Karrie came into my life. She listened, helped me to figure out a plan. And what I wanted for me. She helped me out of a dark time and set me back on track. I follow the other Fems to the locker room and strip down, throw the borrowed fatigues in the laundry bin, grab a towel, and head to the showers. I scrub down quickly, the scalding water feels great, wicking away the sweat, but also burns where the harness rubbed against my side. I get out of the shower, towel off, and pull on my civilian clothes—a pair of ripped black jeans and a thin blue t-shirt. Luckily, the Garrison gives you basic fatigues for training. My sneakers have a few holes that are only apparent when you step in a puddle, and the rubber bottoms have almost no treads left. I wring as much of the water out of my hair and search in vain in my bag for another hair tie to make a neater bun. But this is my last one. Maybe I can find one at home tonight after Jaxon goes to sleep. The other girls pull on their civilian clothes. The holes in their jeans are fashionable and on purpose. In comparison, mine are holey because I have worn the same pair of jeans for three years now. I sling my small backpack over my shoulder and head out of the lockers into the hallway. I knock on the door to Karrie's office before I step back and look down the hall. There is a man in fatigues. He glances at me and nods. I nod back and turn to the door. I feel his eyes still on me but keep my attention forward. Karrie opens the door and beckons me inside. It's darker than usual. Karrie sits back down behind her desk and pulls up a graph on her tablet, and sends the data to a projector on the top of her filing cabinet. I stand tall, hands behind my back, waiting for Karrie to ask me to sit. Retired or not, Karrie has specific standards she wants me to meet. “So,” Karrie says, turning back to me. “Sit on down, Ada. How are classes going?” I want to roll my eyes but don't. If Karrie is up to something, there is a purpose. She already knows. “My classes are going well. May I be candid?” I ask. “Yes, Ada, you always be candid with me,” she says. “I don't see the point in them anymore. I know, I know.” I put my hands up before she says anything. “I know I need them to qualify. I am doing my best with them. I passed that mech test last week with a B+. But the classes at the college are nothing. I am the only one doing anything. And then going to the base on weekends, plus coming to see you during the week, I just feel run down.” Karrie nods. “That makes sense.” She taps something on the tablet, sets it down, and looks at me. She steeples her hands and doesn't speak for a moment, just watches me. I do my best not to squirm. “Do you realize what today is?” Karrie asks. I try not to grin. “As long as all of my paperwork went through on time, this weekend should be my rank approval.” Karrie nods. “Today was also the last day to qualify for the next shift to go off-world,” Karrie says, pulling up a chart with the requirements. These are all stats I have seen and memorized over the last year. One-mile run (Earth) 7 min cut off One-mile run (Zero-G) 9 min cut off 60 sit-ups- 2 Min 60 pushups- 2 Min Most of these are things that I have already passed, and if I haven't yet, I am within one to two points of each. Karrie grins. “Over the last few days, the other mentors and I have incorporated the parts of their specialized training requirements into the group sessions.” “Oh? How different are those requirements?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager. Two more taps and the comparisons are up on the screen. The most significant difference is the mile times, the Earth mile is still 7 minutes, but the gravity-free mile is a whole minute faster. “Damn,” I sigh, sitting back in my chair. “So, what do I need to change to make the next cut off?” I ask, trying to think of where I could scrounge up some extra time to have a few additional training sessions with Karrie. “Nothing.” She says, and with one more tap, my stats are up on the screen. My eyes fall to the gravity run, and my mouth drops open. The needed time was 8 minutes—I ran a 7:50 today. “That can't be right.” I say, “There is no fu—there is no way. How?” I catch myself mid-swear and run over the rest of the sentence, hoping she won't notice. She shoots me a look that says she did notice but doesn't admonish me. “The harness doesn't lie.” I've read countless news articles about people that have tried to claim they had done better than the harness said, but the harness was always the one the officials looked to: The belt has a 98.8% accuracy. “So, what do I do now?” Karrie taps the intercom button and says, “We are ready for you, Staff Sergeant.” A moment later, the man that I had seen in the hallway enters the room. I jump to my feet and give a salute. He nods and settles into the chair next to me. “At ease Private Gomez, I am Staff Sergeant Riga. I work for the Galactic Garrison and assist in the recruitment of the specialized division. Sergeant Lima here tells me you have some interest in joining our division.” I nod. “Yes sir, I have looked at what it offers, and I would like to study in either the jumper or fighter lines and medic practices. I know for sure I want to go as a medic.” He looks me over, “You are small, but that can be good in a fighter, and we are always looking for medics. Too many teams don't take care of their medic.” He looked up at my stats, “Sergeant Lima sent me your paperwork before today’s deadline. After reviewing them, I think you would be a great fit for the special op's division. I am sure Sergeant Lima told you that today was the last day to qualify for the next draft. Did she explain anything else?” Karrie shook her head, “no, Sir, I figured it would be better for you to explain the next steps.” Riga nodded. “Right. Well, you may or may not know that we recently moved our special ops base on world to Houston.” My mouth goes dry. “Houston? It's not right outside New Seattle anymore?” “No, we found too many from Seattle ended up not passing the second round of testing, so administration demoted the Seattle station to a basic infantry station. That change occurred in the past few weeks. So, it may not be public knowledge yet.” “Oh, okay, that makes sense,” I say, thinking of Sarkus. If I have to leave for Houston, who will be there for him? I wonder. “Is that an issue?” the Sergeant asks. “Oh, no. No, just surprising, but it's fine.” Karrie, knowing no doubt that I am thinking of my brother, gives me a sad smile. “Alright,” Riga continues. “You will be tested once you arrive at Houston to see if you are ready to go off-world. If you pass those tests, you will move up to the space station. Should you fail, we will send you to do more infantry work on world. You can try for special ops twice in your career.” I nod as he speaks, most of the information things I already know. “Thank you for explaining all of that. My main question now is; when would I have to report for transport?” “If you are ready to move on, report to the base in New Seattle by 1300 to catch the eco-train to Houston. Before your departure there will be a short test there to determine if you really deserve to go to Houston,” he says. “At 1300?” I glance up at the clock on the wall. It gives me less than twenty-four hours to get everything together and get out the door.  ”Okay, what sort of paperwork would I need to finish?” “You need your identification cards, and a signature of clearance from your parent or guardian.” I try to keep my face clear, but I share a glance with Karrie, but she is just as surprised as me. “Even if she is over eighteen?” “Yes, this is required. Will this be an issue?” The man asks, interlacing his fingers. I hate the way he asks that. ‘Will it be an issue?’ Each time he does, it feels like a challenge, one I am not meant to meet. I am used to this feeling, but it makes my skin crawl every time. Karrie gives me a nod, encouraging me to say my piece. I clear my throat. “Honestly, sir, it may be. I have recently grown out of the foster system; I don't have the best relationship with my foster parent. I don't know if I will get him to sign off. If he is home during the next few days, he most likely will be blackout drunk.” I glance at my hands uncomfortably, considering my options, and look up. “I have a meeting after this with my social worker. Could she sign off? She has been helping me get ready for the transition out of his home.” “I think that should work, let me make a quick call to verify.” He pulls out his phone and steps outside. I spin around to face her as soon as he steps out of the room. “Karrie, is this really going to happen?” “Yes, Ada, you will go off-world! I told you! You didn't want to know how you’ve been doing compared to the mark, but you’ve ranked past it for weeks now!” She laughs. “I told you! You train with me, and you would make it! I didn't go through the previous training for nothing,” she says, spinning and pointing to her medals on the wall. “I know, I know, but I still didn't believe that I could do it. There has just been so much happening.” There is a soft knock on the door. Sergeant Riga comes back in. “So, they said that you could get your main signature from your social worker, but they would also like you to attempt to get a signature from your foster father. Just in case.” I sigh. “Okay, I will try.” I turn to Karrie. “Could you forward the forms to me?” She nods. “Of course. Thank you for stopping by, Sergeant Lima, I will make sure Ada is all set and on her way to you soon.” “Thank you, I look forward to seeing you on our base in a few days.” I stand and shake his hand before he gives a small salute and exits. I follow him to the door and slowly close it,  watching him as I do, so I know when he is far enough away, and he won't hear me. “Oh my god, Karrie! I am going off-world!” She squeals and jumps up, rushing around the desk and hugging me. “I am so proud of you, Ada.” She taps down the screen, and the projector goes black. “Okay, now we need to talk about what you are going to need to do over the next few days.” The sobering reality of the ticking clock on the wall floods back. “Right less than twenty- four before I have to go.” “Exactly. First, they are saying you need to be there at 1300. But that is wrong. You need to be there closer to 1100. The train will leave at 1300. If you get there then, you will miss the train and be screwed. Especially if they are adding a 'little test,'“ she says using air quotes, “How are you going to get to the bus station?” “I can walk, it isn't too far. I just need to make sure I get up with enough time. Jaxon will not care when I leave. I go scrapping at weird hours all the time.” I look at the tiny screen of my watch, and I pull up my bank account and check out my credits. “Do you know where I can get a cheap tablet?” “I, yeah, maybe why?” Karrie asks. “I have 100 credits, I told Sarkus I would get him one before I go, so he can still talk to me sometimes.” Karrie opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. “I have already told him it most likely will only be once a week if that. It is mainly for messenger. And only when I am on relief.” “Okay, hit up this guy, he should be able to give you a decent enough tablet. Do you have a large backpack you can put your stuff in?” she shoots a contact to my inbox. I think for a second but shake my head. “No. Jaxon got rid of the duffel bag I moved in with.” Karrie sighs. “Of course he did. Because why would the man want to keep a decent piece of equipment,” she grumbles, going into her closet and pulling out a medium-sized duffel bag. “You don't need to pack much—basic toiletries, a few outfits for when you are on relief, and maybe a tablet or something for off time. They will give you anything else you need. You will also need your identification cards.” “Thank you,” I say, pulling up the list on my watch screen and rotating the dial to scroll through the contents. “You don't know how much all of this means to me. You are helping me so much.” She shrugs. “Don't get sappy on me now, Gomez. You still got a ton of work to do.” She glances at the clock. “Go, you don't wanna be late.” I follow her gaze. “Shit.” I jump from my chair, “Thanks, Karrie. Seriously.” Then dash down the hall.