Chapter 2: Sparks and Starlight
Celeste stared at the man outside her ship, blinking through the thin haze of smoke curling from the damaged control panel. His stance was casual, yet confident, as if watching rogue starcruisers crash-land in the middle of nowhere was just another Tuesday for him.
“Trade?” she repeated, pushing herself upright in the pilot’s seat. “I don’t even know where I am, and you want to barter?”
The man shrugged, shifting his grip on the glowing wrench. “That depends. Do you want to get off this planet, or do you plan on turning this wreck into your new home?”
Celeste frowned. “I’d like to file a complaint with your tourism board.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” he said, lips twitching in amusement. “Welcome to Velmara-7. No tourism board, no fancy resorts. Just sand, scrap, and a whole lot of things that want to eat you if you’re not careful.”
“Charming,” Celeste muttered, rubbing her temples. She had no idea how she’d even ended up here. Her ship’s navigation system must have been malfunctioning for longer than she’d realized.
The man crossed his arms, studying her with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “You got a name, or should I just call you ‘crash site’?”
“Celeste Rayne,” she said, standing up and dusting off her jacket. “And you are…?”
“Orion Vance,” he replied. “Mechanic, scavenger, and the only guy within a hundred miles who knows how to fix things.”
Celeste glanced at the remains of her ship. “Yeah? You think you can fix this?”
Orion let out a low whistle, stepping closer and resting a hand on the hull. “It’s seen better days. But if your hyperdrive is intact, you might have a chance.”
Celeste exhaled. “Great. And if it’s not?”
“Then I hope you like Velmara-7.” Orion smirked, tapping the side of the ship. “Now, what exactly do you have to trade?”
Celeste folded her arms. “I just survived a crash. I don’t exactly have a bag of credits on me.”
“Credits don’t mean much out here,” Orion said. “I’m talking about skills, talents—something useful.”
Celeste arched an eyebrow. “I’m a musician. Unless you want a personal concert, I don’t see how that helps.”
To her surprise, Orion actually looked thoughtful. “A musician, huh? Well, I haven’t had much entertainment lately.”
“You’re joking.”
“Half-joking.” He nodded toward the ship. “But if you want me to patch this up, we’ll need to work something out. It’s not just about fixing it—it’s about getting the parts, and those don’t come free.”
Celeste sighed, glancing up at the triple suns overhead. The heat was already making her regret wearing leather boots. She had no other options, no communicator, and no backup plan.
“Fine,” she said. “You help me fix my ship, and I’ll—what, play you a song every night?”
Orion grinned. “Sounds like a fair deal. But let’s start with one song and see how good you really are.”
Celeste shook her head, muttering under her breath as she grabbed her lumitharp from the wreckage. She had played in grand halls, on luxury space cruisers, even at intergalactic festivals. Now, her audience was a grease-streaked mechanic on a backwater planet.
Still, as she strummed the first few notes, Orion leaned against a pile of scrap, arms crossed, listening intently.
And for the first time in a long while, Celeste had a feeling this might just turn into her most unexpected adventure yet.
