The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era [BL]

OVER the following week, Abby showed Jace every corner of Harborview—from the salt-crusted market stalls to the abandoned observatory atop the northern cliffs. On Thursday, they trekked to the outskirts where a crumbling stone shrine stood half-swallowed by ivy. Its arched doorway, carved with fading constellations, led to a courtyard where wind chimes made of sea glass clinked softly.

They were poking at moss-covered reliefs when a voice rasped behind them. “You two lost?”

An old caretaker emerged from the shadows, her apron stained with clay. She eyed Jace’s motorcycle gloves. “Tourists?”

“Just researching,” Jace said. “For a paper.”

“Hmph.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, you’re standing in the only place in town the tide won’t erase.” She nodded to the shrine’s central mosaic—a woman holding a lantern, her features worn smooth by time.

Abby crouched, brushing grit from the tiles. “Who is she?”

The caretaker sighed. “Captain Elara. Sank her own ship three centuries back during some prideful stunt. Now they say she haunts the bay, pulling sailors from storms.” She jabbed a thumb at the broken lantern fragments littering the shrine’s base. “Folks used to leave these as offerings. Asked her to forgive herself.”

Though she was a local, Abby had never heard this story before—some fading legend slowly disappearing from the town’s memory. There was no way she wouldn’t have known about it otherwise.

“Did it work?” she asked before she could stop herself.

The woman laughed. “Doubt it. Guilt like that? It’s a current, not an anchor. You either swim or drown.” She tossed a lantern shard into Abby’s palm. “But kids these days don’t believe in ghosts—or second chances.”

Abby closed her fingers around the ceramic. It was still warm from the sun. Its heat seemed to pierce her heart, making it harder to breathe.

***

The next afternoon, they found themselves in a cluttered boathouse where a grizzled man carved miniature ships. Jace picked up a delicate schooner, its sails thinner than paper.

“This is beautiful,” Jace commented. “You made it so lifelike.”

The grizzled man laughed. “Well, with my experience, I say I should be good at it.”

“You mean you’ve been doing it for a long time?” Jace asked.

“There’s that. But I also used to build cargo haulers for a big company before. Made a fortune from it. Also made me miserable.” He pointed to a wall scribbled with miniature designs. “Now I craft what I love. Even if it pays in peanuts.”

Jace rotated the schooner in his hands. “Your family didn’t mind?”

“Oh, they disowned me.” The man grinned. “But kid, you only get one life. Why spend it being someone else’s idea of ‘useful’?”

Abby watched Jace’s expression shift—like he’d been handed a key he didn’t know he needed. That night, as they walked back, he stopped at the docks.

“I got into the Advanced Propulsion Engineering program,” he admitted suddenly. “My dad’s dream, not mine.” The sea wind nearly stole his next words. “I think… I’d rather restore pre-war tech instead. Those old combustion engines, analog systems—things that actually have history in their gears.”

Abby blinked. “That’s a pretty big detour.”

Jace laughed, sharp and bright. “Yeah. Maybe that’s the point.”

***

As the sun dipped below Harborview’s skyline, the neon signs along the boardwalk flickered to life, casting a kaleidoscope of reflections on a diner’s rain-streaked windows. Inside, Abby watched Jace’s brow furrow at his holographic schematics—the same intense focus he’d worn all week whenever antique tech was involved.

“You’ve been staring at that engine schematic for an hour,” Abby said, nudging Jace’s boot with hers. They sat on the patio of a harborside diner, his Terminal projecting a holographic diagram of a vintage fusion drive between their empty plates.

Jace blinked, as if waking from a trance. “Sorry. It’s just—” He zoomed in on a fuel regulator design. “Look at this. No AI, no quantum calibration. Just pure mechanical intuition. They don’t make them like this anymore.”

Abby tilted her head. “You get like this every time you talked about old tech.”

“Yeah, well.” He shut off the display with a flick of his wrist. “My dad calls it ‘wasting my potential.'” The words came out sharper than he’d intended.

Abby studied him for a long moment. “Come on,” she said suddenly, standing. “I want to show you a place.”

She pulled Jace along, the boy following with a helpless smile on his lips.

By the time they reached the beach, the tide had pulled back, leaving behind a ribbon of wet sand that mirrored the star-streaked sky. Abby’s sneakers left shallow impressions beside Jace’s boot prints, two parallel trails cutting through the dark.

The moon hung low as they walked along the shoreline, Abby leading Jace to a stretch of sand where the waves curled like liquid silver.

“You never told me why you really picked Harborview,” she said, nudging a shell with her toe.

Jace exhaled, watching the waves. “Same reason you always sit in that café corner, I guess. Some part of me needed a place that felt… separate. Like it exists outside all the noise.”

Abby halted. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve said all week.”

“Yeah?” He turned, studying her. “What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your honest thing.”

For once, Abby didn’t deflect. “I like how you notice things,” she said softly. “The way you actually see people. Not just… look at them.”

The breeze carried her words between them. Jace felt something unravel in his chest.

Then, then finally arrived at the cove Abby wanted to show Jace.

The cove was smaller than Abby remembered, its crescent of pale sand half-hidden by jagged rocks. Moonlight pooled in the hollows between stones, turning the shallows into liquid mercury. Somewhere beyond the breakers, a buoy bell clanged—a lone sound in the vast, salt-scented dark.

As they watched the sea from the cove, Jace’s fingers brushed hers.

“This okay?” Jace murmured, his pulse loud in his ears.

She laced their fingers together in answer, her blush visible even in the moonlight.

And that’s when Jace realized it.

He was falling for her. Not in some dramatic, world-ending way, but in the simple, stubborn manner of things that just are. And there’s no point denying it now.

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