Captain Northstar Lightwalker Brine's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Captain Northstar Lightwalker Brine stood in the fleet hangar and counted ships that could not fly. He had promised the scattered pickle colonies of the outer rim a single flag, one peaceful federation. But every hull around him leaked coolant or sat gutted for parts. His lightsaber hummed at his hip, useless against a dead engine. A Jedi could not talk a broken thruster into working. The pickle-shaped starship at the hangar's center was his best hope, and his worst. Its glossy green hull gleamed. Its portal turret still turned. But the reactor had failed three days ago, and the outer colonies waited a galaxy away. Without portal fuel, Brine could not cross that distance. Without crossing it, his federation was only a speech he had not yet given. R6-C5 rolled up beside him, the little pickle droid's dome swiveling. A worried string of beeps came from the domed body. The droid had charted every dead route from this hangar and found no good one. "I know," Brine said. "The reactor's cold. Say something I can use." The droid rocked on its feet, then shot forward toward a sealed door across the bay. Lights blinked red on its panel. Brine followed. The door hissed open onto a dense cargo bay, shelves stacked floor to ceiling. Medical crates. Food replicators. Ship parts in labeled bins. And in the far corner, orange containers marked with the fuel symbol. "Portal fuel," Brine breathed. He grabbed a canister. Full. He counted six more behind it. Enough to charge the reactor and open a jump to the rim. R6-C5 beeped a fast warning. The droid's arm extended and pointed at a smaller shelf beside the fuel. Cloaking devices, boxed and untouched. Brine understood the droid's meaning. "You want me to take the fuel and the cloaks." He shook his head. "The fuel gets us there. That's the goal." The droid held its point, insistent. Brine loaded the fuel canisters onto a cart. His hands moved fast now. He had spent months grounded, giving orders that changed nothing. This was a plan he could execute. He wheeled the cart back to the pickle ship and fed the first canister into the reactor port. The hull lights flickered. Then the whole ship woke, rows of windows glowing green and violet down its length. The reactor caught. The portal turret spun up with a rising whine. Brine climbed to the bridge and set the jump for the nearest outer colony. R6-C5 rolled into its socket and locked in. The ship lifted from the hangar floor. "We can reach them now," Brine said. "Every one of them." The droid answered with a single low tone. On the console, a new light blinked. The jump signature was not quiet. Anyone watching the rim would see exactly where the ship arrived. Brine had refused the cloaks. Now his federation's first move would be visible to whoever ruled that colony first.