Last time we crossed paths with Red …
… we saw her kick into action, find a hopeful solution, and realize she had a sibling ally. The AR goggles seemed to hold the key she had been looking for … but did they?
The chatter of siblings gathering for dinner signaled her opportunity to find out. Red shoved the goggles deep into her sling pack and dashed for the exit.
But the door unexpectedly swooshed open. And in stepped Poppy.
“Little one.” He scooped his daughter up into his arms, delighted to believe she had come to greet him.
“Little one, indeed,” mocked Mum, emerging from convenient shadows.
Zophia spun her attention briefly toward her husband—how he tousled Red’s curls. Something tugged at the corners of her mouth but smoothed away hurriedly before being seen.
“Seems your ‘little one’ was just stepping out,” she said with a tilted smirk.
Then she placed Red stiffly before her.
Zophia leered just long enough for a chill of regret to slink up her neck. Her fingers closed around the strap of the sling pack—too tightly. Heavier than she expected. Heavier than it should be. For a moment, she wasn’t here, in this ship.
She was barefoot. Wide-eyed. A cracked window. A sky that stretched forever. Then—
She blinked. Exhaled sharply.
She wasn’t even sure it was her dream.
Best to forget dreams like hers.
Zophia pushed aside half-baked sentimentality—or was it a dangerous memory?
She quickly reclaimed herself. Girded steel as she plucked the sling pack from Red.
Red crumbled.
EchoHub’s failure stung. But having her dream denied by someone who’d never dared one? That bit deepest. Would Mum really be the reason she would be forever alone?
Red refused such a fate. She wasn’t going to lose her last chance—not this way.
The door swooshed closed as Mum stalked away.
Red stared at the shut door of her bedroom pod. Her fists trembling.
This wasn’t just about the goggles.
It wasn’t even about Mum.
It was about proving she wasn’t wrong.
That she wasn’t just some kid chasing nonsense.
That she saw what they refused to see.
One day, they’d all know.
Being grounded meant dinner alone—which suited Red just fine. She could scheme in peace, and dare to defy Mum without interruption.
She didn’t understand Mum. She wanted to. She just didn’t know why.
She loved her mum, probably.
But she mostly didn’t like her.
Red pouted. She poked at the plankton-based semblance of her favorite ‘hot dog’ meal while suffering a shortage of inspiration. How to get the goggles back? Someone else’s goggles?
She stabbed her food. She didn’t have time to be grounded. ’Til midnight tomorrow was all the time she had left. Goggles or not. Because soon, everyone would be grounded. For good. On Talamh Ru.
Red cradled EchoHub, surprised by how much heavier it felt now. Where did automaton spirits go? She didn’t know.
Carefully, she nestled Echo into the hollow of the goggle case. A flash remembrance of how her mother had almost reached for EchoHub. Why? She tossed the mystery aside, returning to the faint hum lingering in the air as she closed the case. Her lips trembled, betraying the emotions swirling inside her, unshed tears catching the
light.
“I’m sorry, friend,” she whispered, brushing a finger over the case. “But I promise—this isn’t the end.”
She exhaled shakily and pressed the lid one last time.
Then—
The door chimed.
“Little one?”
Red startled, dropping the box onto her bed.
The door slid open … to Poppy. A tall man. A lean man. Soft and kind.
Red hurled herself into his arms, sorrow spilling out.
As he caught Red, he dropped what he carried behind him.
Red peered over Poppy’s shoulder. The sling pack lay on the floor.
Familiar shape. Familiar weight.
The goggles.
Her spark reignited, and she clenched her fists.
They’d see. She’d make sure of it.
Red slid from her father’s arms and squealed joyfully as she picked up the sling pack with the goggles still inside.
“Shhhh!” Poppy said as he closed the door behind him. “Mum mustn’t know.”
‘Poppy’—Alin Aldus Finn, a prominent Magnus—loved and respected his wife.
He knew some of her past traumas and had wanted to shield her from future harm. Though she was a tough one to shield.
He also needed to show tenderness toward Red, who knew nothing of her mother’s traumas. Balancing these often-conflicting goals had been a challenge for Poppy. He had managed. So far. Kind of.
Red had promised to keep the secret but then hesitated. She trudged to her bedside, her lips pouting downwards. There lay the goggle case. She glanced at Poppy, then back at the box.
Opening the lid, she revealed the broken EchoHub.
“Oh dear,” Poppy said as Red’s lower lip protruded even further.
“I tried to fix it,” she said.
“Well … you tried. Maybe it just needs a rest, time to grow.”
Red didn’t like it when Poppy treated her like a child. She would never tell him so, however.
“I’d fix it for you if I could, little one,” Poppy murmured, brushing a curl from her forehead. “But some things … well, some things you just have to reach for yourself.”
He tapped EchoHub’s case, his smile gentle, knowing. “But this little bub?” His voice softened. “It’s just the beginning.”
A kind distraction. But it did something else, too. It sparked a vision. A future
EchoHub. One that wouldn’t just flicker and die—one that would listen across galaxies.
One day, Red would listen across galaxies. And the universe would listen back.
Next: Episode 5—The Keeper of the Stars
