STARDUST, aurora rising | f. de seel

□ Chapter One

For as long as I can remember, I dreamt of this day. Of how it would unfold. Of how I, Galatea Espina, medical and science whizz kid, would become someone's ideal science officer.

I was armed with my ambitions. My dreams. My hopes. And in this case, my nerves.

I sat with the rest of my class, watching one-by-one as the highest ranking Alpha's began to pick out their squadron. The mutual agreement between both parties. The congratulations and the polite applause from the rest of us waiting in the crowd.

My breaths were shaky, and my leg kept bouncing up and down- hard enough for my classmate beside me to kick my ankle trying to get me to stop. I couldn't stop. The smile on my face wouldn't subside. It was the day I would prove my family wrong.

But time went on. The Alpha's rankings were lower and lower. My smile began to drop and my leg eased where it was. It wasn't nerves anymore, just a feeling of disappointment.

My name was never called. Rocks settled in my gut as the auditorium was cleared out group by group.

I slowly looked around the room. There was a Diplomat, who had turned down multiple offers. The Ace, who had done the same. A Syldrathian Tank. A Betraskan Gearhead. It was just me and another girl left from the science department.

She was familiar- I couldn't place her name, and I couldn't say I had seen her around much. But something made me recognize her. Maybe it was the giant hoops dangling from her ears.

There were no Alpha's left. And with the smallest of smiles, Battle leader de Stoy- a woman who I idolized severely- approached the podium, pausing before speaking into the micrphone.

"Well. This year there was indeed an odd number of academy students," She tried to sound bright. Optimistic, even. But I felt so heavy- so deflated- I couldn't share her optimism. "Tyler Jones shall be your Alpha leader. Zila Madran and Galatea Espina-"

The confirmation is what kills me. To the point I feel my spirits shatter. My fingertips go numb. My surroundings became little more than a dull hum around me.

The prospect of me failing sat right there in front of me, but I can't bare the taste of admitting it. My throat is tight, and it takes everything- every fibre in my body- to not cry.

I'm struggling to breathe around a tightening throat. I grasp at the locket around my neck and bite down on my jumpsuit sleeve. Everyone is leaving, and yet I struggle to even stand.

"Legionnaire." De Stoy's voice is closer. I quickly whirl to face her, hoping I don't look as panicked as I feel. "Did you hear me? You are dismissed."

"Sorry Battle Leader De Stoy," I say shakily, getting to my feet and giving her an even shakier salute. "I... I'll go now."

I turned to leave, shame blanketing me as I try to keep my composure. I bite down harder on my sleeve when I feel my eyes prick with tears.

"Legionnaire," de Stoy's voice broke the silence. I freeze, glancing back over my shoulder. Her voice is gentler. She speaks to me not as Battle Leader, but just de Stoy. "I'm sorry if you weren't chosen for your ideal squadron."

I pause, shoulders dropping as maintenance droids began to stack the chairs laid out in the auditorium.

"I just... I want to know why they didn't," I mutter, eyes askance.

Battle Leader de Stoy doesn't answer, but offers a sympathetic smile. I nod with an air of fragility before quickly hurrying away, fists curled.

To think I was stuck with the leftovers. The problem children. The ones that were the worst of the worst. So bad the only alpha that could take them wasn't even present at the draft.

It hurt to think about. Did I fit into that category? I hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, my records were so clean you could see your reflection in them. Superior officers gave me praise, and I would seek it as much as possible.

So why was I in the leftovers?

I try to save my dignity- whatever I have left of it. The hallway outside is crowded with legionnaires getting to know one another. My Squad is nowhere in sight.

I feel as if they are all watching the last squadron leave. What misfortunes the legendary Tyler Jones got saddled with.

Once again, I have to try and hold back the tears from my eyes- the whole ordeal giving me a headache.

I try to only focus on the good news. Our Alpha was the renowned Tyler Jones- a boy who had worked harder than anyone else in the Academy. He was a legend among our year and any below us.

But the good news doesn't last for long. By the time I'm back in my dorm, I'm in inconsolable tears. My dream day, reduced to ashes.

My bunkmate isn't in. Zoë's probably off swanning about with her new squadron. I watched her get called out early on. Her cheerful, approachable demeanour surely what did it and not her mediocre grades.

I regret thinking that way. Zoë is a lovely girl who deserved being placed in a good Squad. I just can't help but feel as if I deserved to be placed in a good Squad too.

Picturing my daydreams about how the day was going to go only makes it worse. I'm crying the kind of tears that make your chest ache and your nose run, your head hurt and your lungs plead for air.

It takes a while for me to calm down- bury my face in the pillow, hope I don't get walked in on by Zoë- but I do. And I'm exhausted by then. My eyes feel puffy and my nose is still running.

But I sleep anyway.

♢
Authors Note
Hm, does Galatea seem like a brat? Perhaps (she is).