Sylvie has spent her life aboard the Solstice18 learning how to be invisible. A low-ranked clone among the stars, she keeps her head down, follows orders, and never - ever - catches the attention of the captain.
But Jon Gavelan is impossible to igno...
1. [Archaic, Tagalog (ancient Earth One language, 20th to 21st centuries] A vision or dream; an imagined or longed-for future brought forth through desire, intention, and faith.
*From the ancient blessing: "Hiraya manawari" — May the vision come to be.
2. [Modern] A designation for a class of engineered humans designed to serve Gaians— valued for their precision, stamina, and reliability. In some Gaian regions, "Hiraya" has also become a derogatory term, implying subservience or lack of autonomy.
Adi Morrow's Glossary, Third Edition, Year 8889
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42 years later
For three hundred and sixty-eight years, all I've ever done is clean. Scrubbing away grime, hand-washing linens, polishing every surface until it gleams. Disinfect, deodorize, rinse, and repeat. It's actually a ritual now, the endless cycle of suds and sweat. And if I'm being honest, I've gotten pretty good at pretending I'm fine with the role I've been forced into.
But let's be real. I never really liked my role. No Hiraya ever does, if you ask me. Sure, there's something a little therapeutic about scrubbing the universe back into order. But it's not what I'd call living.
Except now.
Mornings lately have this crazy energy to them. I wake up, and before I know it, I'm out of bed, pulling on my latex gloves, and reaching for my tools.
The Solstice program is the obvious reason, of course. I nearly went crazy reviewing for the admission exam and almost lost all hope during our half-decade of training. My professors yelled at me nonstop, and I even almost drowned in the pool during anti-gravity training. What I didn't expect was to go above and beyond—to actually top the class.
The first Hiraya to ever do so.
So here I am—I'm a space squire now, living out every paladin's dream. And I've proven it's every bit as amazing as they say. The adventure, the epic sights, not to mention a variety of tasks that doesn't always have to be all about cleaning. It all beats scrubbing toilets and coming home to an empty apartment, hands down.
Still, there's something else, something that makes me feel like I've won the cosmic lottery by being on this particular starship.
Jon Von Gavelan, our fleet's alpha sailor. The Space Wolf. The Void's Daredevil. The People's Hero. The most famous man across all Ten Earths, who, if you believe the online chatter, "doesn't give a flying fuck" about any of it. And now. . .here he is, just inches away from me, so close I could almost reach out and touch him.
