Missing Stars

Chapter 8 | Before

Chapter 8 | Before

Five weeks later, I'm staring at the shift in colors across the sky, the orange and purple, replacing the infinite blue. Our hovercraft drops down hundreds of levels along the Canari skyscrapers, down to the ground level. This city sits at the center of the Scepter universe, the largest in this world. Home to inter-planetary trade, it's the best place to go shopping—especially when you have a mission around the corner. The Big Mission.

Here, below the towering buildings and snake-like monorails, the air feels colder. Alex suggested we head to the ground level since we still had thirty minutes to spare before heading back to our spaceship. I agreed to tag along because I had nothing left to do.

Right around the corner, I spot a tiny kiosk crammed between a pub and an armory. The sign is a block of metal welded into a fedora. Where the ribbon should have been, large letters flash yellow neon lights in no discernible pattern. They read: Hat It.

My feet move me forward until I find myself standing over large hats trimmed with frills and feathers, reminiscent of the Victorian style worn in the Syrene system, aviator caps I've spotted on the Paragons patrolling the Canari outer rim, and hipster bowler hats my real life neighbor often wears. Alex lets out a grunt. The look on his face is easy to read. I picture what he's thinking in my mind:

Seriously, Kelrina. You picked this instead of the armory?

I smile at the thought. The seller is an old bald man with kind eyes, an NPC judging by the lack of a health pulse floating icon above his head. He shows us the latest arrivals but I shake my head. I raise my hand, pointing at a knitted beanie displayed on the lowest shelf. It's decorated with blue stars. There's a stuffed green chicken in place of the pompom.

A memory swims to my mind. Rishad showing me his plethora of hats on my third week as a Trickster, pinned on the walls of his room. I can see them so clearly now: a beret he'd stolen from a soldier, a balaclava he'd bought in Europa, a baseball cap he'd salvaged from a dumpster, a fez he'd been gifted by an NPC... There are so many, rows upon rows of them, each with its own story.

I drop a few geld into the old man's hand. I can already picture Rishad wearing this beanie as he tells us the latest intel on the Earth Reborn campaign, the stuffed chicken on top bobbing as he talks, the way his eyebrows arch high when he's excited. I can see Eva holding her breath when Rishad describes the monsters holding Earth captive, Mwangi rubbing his chin in thought, no doubt mentally strategizing our next move and Alex listening intently, face full of determination. And Rishad, he could make words come alive, our very own Pied Piper.

We pass a network of alleys and boulevards and squeeze through kiosks and stalls like two tourists on a vacation. My mind keeps crossing the list of items we were supposed to get before our next mission just to be certain we didn't forget anything. Guns and upgrade kits. Check. Protective gear. Check. Health items. Check.

Alex holds my elbow and I come to a stop. He steers us to the left, along an alley with one bulb that keeps flickering on and off, spilling erratic splashes of blue on the shadows. We emerge onto a busy street. The smell of baked pastries and spicy food reaches my nose and I hear my stomach growling. I know the real me is hungry too. I should be finishing up this session so I can get back to my world.

"Where are you taking me?" I point behind me, at the alley we left behind. "The ship's that way."

I know the answer even before Alex says it. The murmur of a crowd and the despicable song blaring out of the speakers give it away. Alex leads me towards the crowd surrounding three giant holoscreens. One shows a player running across the apocalyptic streets of London, the decrepit Big Ben looming behind him like an angel of death. The second one shows the player's stats and the third one shows the ranking board and the available prizes. The floor gives way and the player stumbles, one foot hanging from a dark abyss. The crowd whoops and hisses. The Space Hunt, a game within a game.