Chapter 7: The Heartbeat of the Stars
The hum of the hyperdrive filled the cramped engine room, a steady pulse that seemed to sync with the rhythm of Celeste’s heartbeat. Orion’s hands were steady as he worked, his brow furrowed in concentration, but Celeste couldn’t shake the feeling that they were racing against more than just the bandits. Time felt like a living thing here, breathing down their necks, whispering that they had to move faster, do more, be more.
“How’s it looking?” Celeste asked, leaning against a broken panel as she scanned the engine room. The bandits were still out there, but the hatch had held, for now.
Orion grunted, his hands moving quickly over the hyperdrive’s exposed wiring. “It’s working… mostly. A couple more tweaks, and we should be good to go.” He paused, looking up at her. “I just hope I didn’t miss anything. This ship is old—like, ancient old—and it’s been through hell.”
Celeste folded her arms, watching him with a mixture of admiration and concern. She wasn’t sure what was more impressive: the fact that Orion could rebuild a hyperdrive from the wreckage of a crashed ship, or the way he handled himself in the face of danger. Most people would have panicked by now. Most people would have already run.
But Orion? He was methodical, calm, like he could fix anything, even the mess they’d found themselves in.
“Will it fly?” she asked, her voice softening.
Orion glanced up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Not if you’re expecting luxury, but yeah… it’ll fly.”
Celeste exhaled in relief. “Good. Because if I’m going to get off this planet, I’d prefer it to be in something with at least some speed.”
She took a step closer to him, watching as his hands deftly rewired a busted circuit. There was something about the way he worked, like he was in his element, like the engine room was a stage and he was the only performer. His focus was intense, and for a moment, Celeste felt like she was intruding on something personal. Something sacred.
“What’s your story, Orion?” she asked quietly. “You never did tell me how you ended up on this rock.”
Orion’s hands faltered for just a second, but then he cleared his throat and continued working. “Long story short? I got stranded here like you did. This place was supposed to be a shortcut, a simple refuel stop, but something went wrong.” He paused, his eyes meeting hers. “I ended up working for Jex, fixing things that were beyond fixing.”
Celeste raised an eyebrow. “And that’s it? You’re just… stuck here?”
Orion’s smile was bittersweet. “Sometimes, you take the wrong turn and end up somewhere you never expected to be. You get used to it.” He paused again, his fingers hovering over the controls. “But I’m getting out of here. Just need to get this ship flying first.”
Celeste nodded, feeling a strange weight lift from her shoulders. She’d always believed in music as an escape, but here, with Orion in the dim glow of the engine room, she was starting to believe that maybe there were other ways to escape. Other ways to find freedom.
“Well,” Celeste said, her voice lighter now, “I’m glad you’re here. I mean… where else would I find someone who can fix a ship like this in under two hours?”
Orion looked up at her, his expression softening. “You’d be surprised what a little creativity can do.”
The sudden hiss of the hatch door startled them both, and Celeste’s heart skipped a beat.
“Not again,” Orion muttered, his hands immediately going to the weapons stash in the corner of the room. “Looks like we’re out of time.”
Celeste’s hand instinctively went to her lumitharp. If it came to it, she wasn’t going down without a fight. The weaponized notes she could summon from her instrument weren’t as powerful as a blaster, but they were enough to buy them some time. And time was something they were quickly running out of.
The door slammed open, and a bandit stepped into the room, his weapon raised. But before he could react, Celeste struck a chord, sending a shockwave of sound that knocked him off his feet.
“Stay down!” Celeste shouted, her breath coming faster as she stood in a defensive stance.
Orion grabbed the blaster from the corner, pointing it at the fallen bandit. “Get up and I’ll make sure you never get another job.”
The bandit groaned but stayed down, clearly realizing that they were out of their depth.
But more were coming. Celeste could hear them outside, their heavy footsteps echoing in the narrow corridor.
“We don’t have much time,” Orion said, his voice tight. “I need another five minutes, Celeste.”
Celeste’s gaze flicked toward the door. The bandits would be back soon, and if they didn’t act fast, they’d be trapped. “Five minutes?” she asked. “Do you want me to buy you five minutes or buy you ten?”
Orion shot her a glance, a grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Celeste nodded. With one last look at Orion, she sprinted toward the corridor, her lumitharp ready.
“Stay safe!” Orion called after her.
“Always do,” she shot back over her shoulder, her fingers already dancing across the strings.
The bandits weren’t expecting her. They hadn’t anticipated a fight. And as Celeste let loose a barrage of sonic waves, she couldn’t help but feel a thrill—this was what she did best. Music wasn’t just her escape—it was her weapon. And here, in the heart of this wrecked spaceship, it might just be the key to her freedom.
But as she faced down the mercenaries in the flickering, uncertain light, Celeste couldn’t help but wonder:
Was this what it felt like to play in a galaxy that might just be listening?
