Last time, we met Zophia …
on the lower decks. And then, it was her turn to gaze through the AR goggles.
Red lay atop her bed, staring at the nothingness above. The family module’s sterile air clung to her skin—dry, flat, a poor substitute for the AOD’s crisp expanse. Here, the walls were hostile, pressing in too close.
She couldn't be any more grounded than she was already, but her careless actions had gotten Tera grounded as well. Now they were both trapped inside until docking. Tera would never talk to her again.
In and out she breathed, slow, controlled, purposeful. And when she was ready to look beyond her predicament, she gently pressed her thumbs near the inside corners of her eyes. She concentrated on the green lights that had flashed on EchoHub. That happened, didn’t it? The ethereal threads weaving through space—so lifelike through the AR goggles. Yes, they were there. Red needed to see more.
Poppy had mentioned nothing about repairing EchoHub and who knew what Mum did with the goggles? Her eyes darted beneath closed lids, searching for some way to untangle reality from wishful thinking.
When the door swiftly opened, her frantic search ended, and a hooded figure approached, shooshing for her to be quiet.
Tera! Red muffled a delighted squeal. “What are you doing? Mum’s going to blast us.”
Tera giggled, then reached behind her and revealed the goggles. “But, how? Why?”
Not important.
“Shhh! Or Mum really will blast us.” Tera patted Red’s head, the same endearing way Poppy always did.
With that, Red couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her big sister and choke back tears.
Tera understood Red’s emotional response, kind of. If anything, she was jealous that Red stayed true to her dreams. Red had always been the brave one.
“I get it,” Tera said. “I used to have stupid dreams, too.”
She hesitated. The words were too small for what she wanted to say.
She sighed, taking Red’s hands in hers. “Look, just don’t let anyone make you feel stupid for wanting something. Not Mum. Not anyone.”
Red swallowed hard.
Tera tousled Red’s curls, her fingers lingering for a moment, as if memorizing the feeling of someone who still dared to believe. “I don’t get how you do it,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You don’t just believe—you make others believe.”
“Go chase your stars.” She handed Red the goggles. “Just don't get caught.”
The way she said it, tender yet hoping to be fierce, made Red’s chest tighten. She wanted to say something back—something profound—but the words would not come.
Red wouldn’t be caught by Mum because she planned to avoid Mum altogether. She would stay grounded in her room, where she could review the recordings from the goggles without judgment.
Red had always assumed Mum didn’t care about the stars. But now…something told her that might not be true. Regardless, she needed Mum to understand her, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t enough for Poppy to understand. Some crazy notion—connection?—had her convinced it was Mum who she needed—and wanted—on her side. But that would have to be sorted out another time. There were now less than thirty-six hours to docking.
Red transferred the goggle recordings to her personal workstation. She expected a short recording. Instead, the file was enormous—far too large for how little time she’d had on the observation deck. She locked her door and stuffed in her earbuds. Turned up the audio as loud as tolerable. All she had to do now was remember to go to dinner.
To avoid suspicion.
Red reviewed the recording over and over again—each time finding just a little more to take note of. Nagged by something unclear as she cataloged every nuance. Hours seemed to fly. She fast-forwarded. Rewinded. Completely immersed in the extraordinary images—the audio components were more difficult to tease out. She concentrated on the threads and their evocative motion. But wait!
What was this?
At the end of this latest play-through, she realized—the timestamp.
Someone else had worn the goggles.
On the AOD.
Not Tera.
Her bedroom pod suddenly burst with the need to push deeper, further, not only to understand the threads, but…Mum. Had she and Mum been woven together in the stars all along?
Red’s search for the truth burned louder now—unquieted, palpable.
Time slipped further away—unnoticed until a chime reminded her that dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes. She had no choice.
At the dinner table, Red slid into the seat beside Tera. Above the table, her sister ignored her entirely, but beneath it, Tera’s knee nudged hers, a silent reassurance that made Red stifle a grin. But her thoughts—too practiced at returning—found their way back to Mum.
Across the table, Zophia’s inspection swept over the family like a watchtower, missing nothing. Her eyes locked onto Red’s for a fleeting second. The two were each considering the AR goggles, both in different ways, both for different reasons. Perhaps a shared future consequence. Red diverted first, the new vision of her mother threatening to wriggle free.
She picked at her food. Refusing to look up. Waited.
The moment the meal ended, she was already shifting in her seat, her heartbeat knocking like the ship’s engine.
A scrape of her chair. A slow exhale. Then—movement.
By the time anyone noticed, she was already gone. Except Zophia.
Zophia noticed.
The door to her pod slid shut with a satisfying hiss. Silence. Finally.
Red exhaled, pressing her forehead to the cool metal wall, waiting for the tension to drain from her muscles. It didn’t.
She pulled the goggles free and slid into her chair, hands moving fast to give her space. Rebooted the monitor—once more from the beginning. The ‘ending’ would have to wait. She would deal with that another time. Now she needed to piece together the threads. But it would be naïve to think she could separate them from her mother.
After umpteen times of deliberate replay, the hitch that had been sitting on the brink of discovery revealed itself. The ultra-slowed playback allowed her to finally believe what she was seeing. The threads had not been simply moving in a playful or chaotic response. They weaved with repeated intent—throbbing with an alien ethos.
Had her mother seen this? Did she know?
Was she getting ahead of herself?
As Red carefully adjusted the playback speed, a tingling throughout raised her hairs, feeling as if her fingertips were in contact with some hidden significance that lay within the enigmatic display. A message? Patterns began to manifest. Yes. Repeated symbols.
Didn’t that suggest language? Communication?
Excitement tangled with something further unsettling—a whisper of something she couldn’t quite name. The pattern wasn’t just beguiling. It was deliberate. Like something was waiting.
Wait. She was getting ahead of herself.
She rubbed her eyes, blinking away fatigue, and sketched what she saw. The patterns weren’t just clearer now.
They were coalescing. Becoming.
No—this wasn’t just coincidence. The patterns weren’t just clearer. They were becoming.
Then—
The monitor flashed obnoxiously on and off. Someone was at her door.
“Jayla?”
Red sighed. A frustrated sigh. Even though it was Poppy. She quickly switched off the monitor and tossed a hoodie over the digipad. She was nowhere near ready to share her discovery with anyone—not even Poppy. Not before she solved it. Not until she was sure it was even a discovery. Not until…
Red pressed the unlock button, and the door swooshed open. “Hi, Poppy,” she said—the first time ever hoping he wouldn’t stay long.
“How are you doing, little one?” An introduction to guilt. “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to fix Echo. Maybe once we dock.” But probably not. The Magnus would be even more busy on Talamh Ru. But what else could he say?
“It’s okay, Poppy.” Red looked at her feet. Truth was she understood but was still disappointed. She shot a glance behind her ensuring the monitor screen remained dark.
Then changed to a subject she had a mild interest in.
“Do you think Mum will let me go to the bubble window tomorrow?”
“In the gathering pod? I don't see why not,” he said as he bent down closer to her. “I know Mum’s been tense lately. She’s just a little excited about our new home.”
A less-than truth; Mum was always tense.
“You’re excited, too, right?” he asked.
“I guess. But I’ll miss space.”
“Little one, space will always be there for you. I promise.” And that was a real truth.
“Well, I’ve got work to do, kiddo.” Poppy patted her head and walked away.
Also a real truth.
But for once Red was okay with the clipped visit.
She spent the next several hours ‘doodling’ and listening until she snuggled against the digipad and drifted off to sleep.
The audio signals of the AR goggle recording crackled above her, weaving in and out of the night’s stillness. She hadn’t noticed it yet—not fully—but beneath the static, something else pulsed. Also a pattern. Also rhythm.
Barely audible clicks…or were they drumbeats?
Next: Episode 10—The Deepest Cut
Bonus Content
Curious about the world of Starwoven? Keep yourself busy between episodes with bonus content. Browse the Starwoven Section INDEX for lore notes, character cards, and companion content.
