The Defiant

Two hours later, the crew stood in the cargo bay, carrying suitcases.

“Remind me again why we have to go to the surface a day early?” Two complained, shifting uncomfortably in his ill-fitting uniform.

“The princesses were going to arrive a day early to settle in before the ball, so we have to as well, otherwise the Cebosians are going to wonder why we spent a whole extra day in space,” Four explained. “As it is, they’ll probably wonder about the delay, so if asked, just say we had a few minor mechanical errors to fix. We should probably get going.”

“Do you know how to pilot the ship?” I asked.

“I would assume so, and Eight probably does too, because we’ll need two people to fly two ships.”

“Okay, then let’s split up. Countesses and Six in that ship; princesses, Five, and Two in this one,” I instructed.

I scooped my bag off the floor of the cargo bay and started up the ramp of the ship nearest me. I had to turn sideways to fit through the ship doors. The dress of Princess Rafaela’s I was wearing had a hoopskirt five feet in diameter. The Eranians were traditional in more ways than just their technology usage. They’d left Earth to return to a “simpler time,” which unfortunately involved antiquated garments and similarly restrictive gender roles.

Three was dealing fairly well with the situation, but Seven looked quite frustrated. Though the real Countess Valentina was a few inches shorter than her, she kept tripping over the hem of the skirt.

I had expected Four to refuse to be laced into the yellow monstrosity we’d retrieved from Antonella’s section of the cargo, but she actually seemed to enjoy the dress. She twirled around once when she thought no one was looking, and had a slight bounce to her step that I probably wouldn’t have noticed had I not been watching her at the moment. Of course, she pretended to hate it, scowling at anyone who looked at her and complaining loudly.

Eight held her head high and followed me into the ship, settling herself at the computer console in a pouf of red silk.

Two and Five followed us in, and the door shut behind them. They wore their guard uniforms, black jumpsuits that were meant to show off their muscles and make them blend in and appear intimidating all at the same time. We’d pilfered the uniforms from the guards’ luggage, so the fit wasn’t perfect. Five and Six fit well into theirs, but Two’s was much shorter and less muscular than even the smallest Eranian guard, and he looked like a little boy trying on his father’s suit.

I heard a buzz from amidst my skirts, and pulled my comm from the small pouch. It hung from the bottom of the corset, underneath the first layer of skirts, like a pocket of sorts. I stuck it in my ear.

“We’re lifting off. Eight, remember to give the controls to Five once we enter orbit. The Eranian royalty have their guards pilot for them.”

Eight nodded stiffly, tight-lipped, and started the engine.

Four started the opening sequence remotely, via her comm, and the ships maneuvered out into space.

It felt odd to leave the Defiant, our home of the last month. I watched it shrink in the distance and wondered if I would ever see it again.

“Doesn’t this thing go any faster? It’ll take us forever to get there at this rate,” Five said.

“We’ll get there when we get there, and not before,” Eight said crossly, but there was softness in her eyes when she looked back at him.

“Now, now, kids, no fighting, or I will turn this spaceship around,” Two quipped. He was met with a stony glare from Eight.

“I’m the one steering this ship, not you.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, raising his hands in a placating gesture and looking appealingly at me.

“Tough room,” I muttered, slumping down in my chair.

After about an hour of uncomfortable silence, we arrived at Cebos.

Cebos is Earth-like, with one sun and no moons. They are only a bit closer to their sun than Earth is, so their day and year lengths are nearly equal. It even has four seasons.

Cebos is very small, about the size of Earth’s moon, and made up of craggy obsidian. Underneath the hard, glasslike surface, however, lies a king’s ransom in diamonds, platinum, and other precious materials. Humans set up small mining colonies all over the tiny planet, and by the early twenty-third century, over half a million people lived there.

Once in orbit, Eight relinquished the pilot’s seat, and Five took over the controls. Eight talked him through the landing sequence.

I hadn’t realized before how much I took a good pilot for granted. Five jerked the controls back and forth. I was bumped around rather badly, and Two kept running to the airlock to throw up. I doubted Six was doing much better over in the other ship.

“Ease up on the engines!” Eight screamed as we hurtled toward the planet’s surface. Five wrenched a joystick up at the last minute, and we stopped moving forward—and started dropping like a stone.

“Put on the stabilizers!” Eight shoved Five out of the way and slapped a series of buttons. Our fall turned into more of a drift, and Eight guided us safely into a space port, then hopped back into her seat.

The other ship docked in the port next to ours.

Eight decompressed the ship, then we all filed down the ramp (Eight and I with some difficulty, in our enormous dresses).

“This is for all the marbles. Don’t screw it up,” Eight said as she reached the door to the port. I scarcely had time to take a deep breath and square my shoulders before the door slid open, revealing a polished woman in a suit standing inside the main port.

“Your Highnesses,” she said, sinking into a deep curtsy. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Welcome to Cebos. I am Monique de Loreto. Please call me Monique. I will be escorting you to your lodgings. It is an honor to meet you.” All of this was said succinctly and in one breath.

Eight curtsied, and I followed a second later.

“Thank you. We are delighted to be here,” I said in as mature a voice as I could manage.

“I’m glad to hear it. Please come with me, so that we can retrieve the countesses.” She turned sharply on her heel and clicked off toward the other port door.

I looked around at my companions, and then we followed.

The other half of our crew was greeted in much the same manner as we had been, although I noticed Monique’s curtsy to the “countesses” wasn’t as deep as it had been for us. There was an awkward moment where Seven teetered back and forth on her front foot, but she didn’t fall and Monique discreetly said nothing.

We were ushered to a hovercar parked outside the door of the spaceport. We scrambled into the back and filed onto the empty seats. The guards were expected to stand.

I turned to look out the window, but the glass was blackout, so instead I scanned the faces of the crew, the expressions on which ranged from determination to fear.

This was it.