Five Years Ago on Havana II

The city of Miami was packed to the absolute brim, and millions were moving to the rhythm for miles from north to south, from Coconut Grove out to the Normandy Shores. No expense was spared in preparation for this celebration. Every square inch of the downtown was reserved for festivals of all kinds, from traditional rap concerts to more exotic cuisine exposes, all keynoted by the parade procession rolling down the avenue. Every city block, every beach, every pier. It was the party of a lifetime built, promoted, and executed in service to the newest pride of humanity, which watched the city a mile off the coastline, gently swaying in the ocean.

It was the Betelgeuse, Earth's first starship. There were more like it in production, but this was the first, the beloved. If you were lucky, you could catch a hair of it behind the massive line of skyscrapers or brave the Miami beach and see it in its full glory if you could survive the crowds. The vessel was an animating figure. Seeing its white, shimmering hull and humble, slender shape was something like a religious experience, a rush of joy so unimaginable it would be frightening to more grounded individuals, but that was the ship's power as an icon. Its presence was sorely needed for the country, no, the entire planet.

A small, artificial resort island was repurposed to aid in its construction. At the top of the observation room overlooking Havana II, Captain Jack Reynolds paced back and forth in a fervor. He was disgusted, enraged, but he couldn't find the proper expression for it. Briefly, he watched his crew march in the parade on a background television. Reynolds scratched his head. It was a shame. He wished he could've participated and made a strong impression before the long voyage, but duty took precedence. His attention drew back to his ship, and again, he was enraged.

An old man shrunk by gravity sat to his left with papers in one hand and scotch in the other. "You can stop with the childish antics," he said. "It had to be done. The addition was requested by the Emperor's council." 

"I can respectfully disagree with their decision, can't I?" the Captain responded.

"No?"

"Come on, Director…look at it! What have they done to my ship!?" The Captain couldn't bear to look at his craft. For the past few months, he has been simulating the mission with Betelgeuse's sister, Antares. The ships were built under identical specifications and had similar construction progress until a few weeks ago. The eyesore before him now, "Why is there a macro cannon on the top of the hull? This isn't a war vessel!"

"It was recommended," the Director said. "And they approved the whole measure. Hell, the Kainians were swarming to install the damn thing before you even arrived. I know it's not the ship you wanted, but this voyage has been deemed too perilous for standard voyager craft. Your ship, the Antares, has been labeled unfit."

Reynolds sighed. "What do I need a Macro Cannon for?"

"Oncoming asteroids, perhaps?"

"Point defenses. Easy." 

"And EVO battle cruisers."

"It's always EVO with the Kanians. Damn." Reynolds glanced back at the Betelgeuse. Still hideous. The Captain's gaze returned to the procession where rows of guardsmen ended the parade, their bodies moving in lockstep. "And am I invading a planet on the way, too? Why does a four thousand man crew need a two thousand man security detail?"

"Because we're bored and have nothing better to do." Another Captain strutted into the room. He was fully decorated in his dress uniform, a sharp Asian man with a long face and a Buddhist shave. He was also marked with different colored lipsticks. "As far as the mission is concerned, America is running on Roosevelt's proclamation. You're not making blind assumptions about our target, are you, Jack?" 

"I'm a firm believer of peace!"

"That's your grandpa's line. Jackass."

Reynolds grimaced, pouring himself the same scotch the Director was having. "I don't see the point of you jeopardizing a diplomatic mission for quote, unquote, security, Anderson. You and your men are going to be bored stiff. You'll have nothing to do for five years." He finished pouring, paused, and offered the glass to his fellow Captain before pouring another. "And you, Director. This can't be legal, can it? This has to be going against some prime directive between our worlds, right?"

"Don't think me an enemy. I'm with you, Captain," the Director replied slowly. The elevator dinged again in the distance. He removed his spectacles. "But whose authority are we truly under? And it's not like you're faultless either. You're bending the rules too, if I'm not mistaken. It's an open secret, but to the Empire that's still insubordination."

Reynolds glared back. "Are you using my own daughter against me?"

"What if he is?"

They say you can tell a Kainian is entering a room when the hue shifts color. The conference room was awash in crimson as a towering, fire-headed goddess made herself known to the gentlemen before her, standing a foot taller with a long white coat and eyes that glittered like the galaxy. She hoisted her child up by the collar, swinging her like a bag of groceries. "You were supposed to be taking care of her, Jack."

"Daddy, I'm sorry!" She cried.

Reynold's face turned as red as hers. "I-I had someone watching her. What, did she cause a scene or something?"

"Ah, there it is." She pointed at the television playing in the background. As if divinely timed, he watched his daughter hound a reporter for a microphone live on galactic television, all in a cute safari outfit.

"Hi, other humans!" she shouted. "I'm Sam, and I'm going to space tomorrow! If any of you out there see me, let me know, and we can hang out, or something! I'm going all over the known universe, so you should-!"

Reynolds muted the feed. "Zel!" He yelled, but there was no Zelda to answer.

"You said you were going to watch her. What happened to that?"

"She was with the crew. I trust them with my life."

"You know a normal Earthling can't contain her."

"Sylizal, I have to be here for paperwork with our wonderful Director. Even you would agree with that."

"You took the responsibilities. It's your fault. I'm starting to worry that you won't be able to handle her while she's on the ship."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what that means."

Anderson took this opportunity to unlatch the child and sit her down with the uncles. These unfortunate souls would have to deal with their arguments for a while, so they reviewed the final diagnostics before the rest of the party arrived. They even showed Sam some classified military secrets regarding the Betelgeuse. Kept her entertained.

The nightmare finally ended once the elevator dinged and the bridge joined the lounge. The four strode forth, lined up and gave their salutes, a humorous gesture given their parade attire and little trophies. They were presented as such. Zoldyck Turgenev, weapons. Carlo Ritz, robotics and AI. Park Jae Jung, navigation, and Zelda Rilia, communications.

"I'm very sorry, sir," Zelda bowed. She was pale as a ghost despite her complexion. "I couldn't stop her. It's my fault."

"No, it's my fault!" Sam cried. "Don't be mad at her! It's me! I'm the burden!"

"You're not a burden," both parents synchronized as if they hadn't been lambasting each other minutes before.

Zoldyck stepped forward with a trophy. She was the smallest and youngest of the group, with platinum blonde hair and a stare that went a thousand yards. "Our float won first place."

Reynolds turned and nodded. "You did great. I'm proud of all of you." It wouldn't be fair of him to project his frustrations onto them. Perhaps an exchange of scenery was in order. "Let's discuss the procedure one last time. We're almost there, people."

After they left, Sam walked up to her mom, who had cooled to a more manageable glow. As far as she knew, she was stuck on Earth forever. "Uh, Mom? Can I still go to space?”

Sylizal, without the presence of her ex-husband around, became tranquil and sweet as honey. "I'm sorry, love. Things are just getting…too exciting. Have you packed everything you need?"

"I think so!"

Sylizal smiled. She couldn't have asked for a better daughter. While Sam would never dazzle like her mother nor be as strong, tall, or even as intelligent as her. In spirit, she was undeniably hers. She wished she could keep her. "You're a Kanian, Sam. I am...so excited for you. Will you be an explorer for Mommy?"

Sam beamed with pride. It's all she's ever wanted. "You can count on me, Mom!"