Nova Casamyr
Frequent Flyer
"What in the stars am I doing here?"
Nova Casamyr looked out from a second story balcony at the party floor below, filled with fancy people in fancy clothes who were eating fancy foods and drinking fancy wines. The freighter captain leaned against the balcony railing and wondered what kind of mess she had gotten into this time.
This had all started out as a simple job. She'd been in the Abregado system after a job. The prospects for another run were pretty dry and she had been applying to every local ad she could find and coming up empty. Then she had gotten a ping from an unfamiliar contact. Apparently she had come recommended by Blub, Nova's nickname for the Mon Cal friend of the family, for a long-term commission. A star cluster had contracted outside developers to update their tech capabilities, being especially in need of starship retrofits, and Blub had thrown in Nova's name as a capable starship mechanic.
So obviously Nova had said yes! This was the kind of job a tech-minded spacer such as herself dreamed about getting. She'd get a monthly stipend, work decently normal hours, get to tinker with ships most of the week and still have a few days to herself for sightseeing. The job was scheduled to last until complete with a minimum of two months devoted to the task. How awesome was that? She'd made for Terephon straight away and after a one week orientation, she got cozy and got to work. Sure, leaving Oasis parked planetside for awhile felt pretty strange. But that was a small price to pay.
And then she'd been "seen."
Hapes was a weird kind of place. Gossip seemed to be everywhere. That was fine with Nova. She liked trading stories. But this was different. All of the stories were about Hapes and its illustrious leaders and court politics. Even general workers seemed purely interested in the upper echelon of their society. And not just the Queen. People seemed to be intimately aware of the royal happenings throughout the star cluster.
Nova had dropped a story to some Hapan techs one afternoon while taking a break and had mentioned her family name as a part of the story. Generally, no one was interested in her stories. She told them anyway to feel like she was taking part, but the others politely listened and then moved on to more pertinent stories immediately after. She wasn't offended. They had their interests and that was fine. But this particular story, after she had said "Casamyr," suddenly piqued someone's attention. They asked her to repeat herself and her name, which she did. The next thing she knew the tech was on their datapad furiously typing away and then running off somewhere in a hurry.
That was weird. What was weirder was when a politician-like person approached her at her station later on and Nova was asked to follow. After getting to a conference room, Nova was asked all sorts of questions about her parents and her lineage and her upbringing. The politician left in even more of a hurry than the worker from earlier. Later that night, while she was getting ready for bed on her ship, a message marked urgent pinged on her console. Therein was an invitation to a party with the instructions to wear her best gown and be prepared to meet with representatives from a world called Olanji.
So there Nova stood: at the party, wearing as nice of a dress as she had, and wondering just what in the stars was going on?
Nova Casamyr looked out from a second story balcony at the party floor below, filled with fancy people in fancy clothes who were eating fancy foods and drinking fancy wines. The freighter captain leaned against the balcony railing and wondered what kind of mess she had gotten into this time.
This had all started out as a simple job. She'd been in the Abregado system after a job. The prospects for another run were pretty dry and she had been applying to every local ad she could find and coming up empty. Then she had gotten a ping from an unfamiliar contact. Apparently she had come recommended by Blub, Nova's nickname for the Mon Cal friend of the family, for a long-term commission. A star cluster had contracted outside developers to update their tech capabilities, being especially in need of starship retrofits, and Blub had thrown in Nova's name as a capable starship mechanic.
So obviously Nova had said yes! This was the kind of job a tech-minded spacer such as herself dreamed about getting. She'd get a monthly stipend, work decently normal hours, get to tinker with ships most of the week and still have a few days to herself for sightseeing. The job was scheduled to last until complete with a minimum of two months devoted to the task. How awesome was that? She'd made for Terephon straight away and after a one week orientation, she got cozy and got to work. Sure, leaving Oasis parked planetside for awhile felt pretty strange. But that was a small price to pay.
And then she'd been "seen."
Hapes was a weird kind of place. Gossip seemed to be everywhere. That was fine with Nova. She liked trading stories. But this was different. All of the stories were about Hapes and its illustrious leaders and court politics. Even general workers seemed purely interested in the upper echelon of their society. And not just the Queen. People seemed to be intimately aware of the royal happenings throughout the star cluster.
Nova had dropped a story to some Hapan techs one afternoon while taking a break and had mentioned her family name as a part of the story. Generally, no one was interested in her stories. She told them anyway to feel like she was taking part, but the others politely listened and then moved on to more pertinent stories immediately after. She wasn't offended. They had their interests and that was fine. But this particular story, after she had said "Casamyr," suddenly piqued someone's attention. They asked her to repeat herself and her name, which she did. The next thing she knew the tech was on their datapad furiously typing away and then running off somewhere in a hurry.
That was weird. What was weirder was when a politician-like person approached her at her station later on and Nova was asked to follow. After getting to a conference room, Nova was asked all sorts of questions about her parents and her lineage and her upbringing. The politician left in even more of a hurry than the worker from earlier. Later that night, while she was getting ready for bed on her ship, a message marked urgent pinged on her console. Therein was an invitation to a party with the instructions to wear her best gown and be prepared to meet with representatives from a world called Olanji.
So there Nova stood: at the party, wearing as nice of a dress as she had, and wondering just what in the stars was going on?