Seeing Stars

By Reis Asher

As children, Mick and Adrian forged a promise as they looked up at the stars. Time and money pulled them apart with harsh words and bitter regrets, and their wish was cast aside.

 

Now, space is a haven for the wealthy, who flaunt their riches aboard the opulent Empyrean Station, dining on crab with a spectacular view of Earth and enjoying a permanent vacation in one of Empyrean's many temperate biospheres. The stars are a long-forgotten dream to starship mechanic Mick, who lives in the Old New York shanty town swallowing his remorse as he struggles to meet his basic needs.

 

Until Adrian returns to him with heart-rending news—he's terminally ill with Miasma, a pollutant-driven, degenerative illness. With Adrian only having months to live, Mick realizes nothing matters except loving him and reaching for their dream together.

 

Stealing a spaceship, they launch into space to see the stars with their own eyes. Mick and Adrian end up embroiled in miracles and tragedies as they fathom Empyrean's true nature and face down those who would do anything to survive the coming apocalypse—except solve the problem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Reis Asher
• Release date: Feb 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215161906

Book preview

Seeing Stars

As children, Mick and Adrian forged a promise as they looked up at the stars. Time and money pulled them apart with harsh words and bitter regrets, and their wish was cast aside.

Now, space is a haven for the wealthy, who flaunt their riches aboard the opulent Empyrean Station, dining on crab with a spectacular view of Earth and enjoying a permanent vacation in one of Empyrean's many temperate biospheres. The stars are a long-forgotten dream to starship mechanic Mick, who lives in the Old New York shanty town swallowing his remorse as he struggles to meet his basic needs.

Until Adrian returns to him with heart-rending news—he's terminally ill with Miasma, a pollutant-driven, degenerative illness. With Adrian only having months to live, Mick realizes nothing matters except loving him and reaching for their dream together.

Stealing a spaceship, they launch into space to see the stars with their own eyes. Mick and Adrian end up embroiled in miracles and tragedies as they fathom Empyrean's true nature and face down those who would do anything to survive the coming apocalypse—except solve the problem.

Prologue

The starry sky, as seen from the hill behind the farmhouse, was breathtaking. It stirred the embers inside Mick into flames, promising infinite possibilities beyond Earth. Hope soared within him, rising upward through the stratosphere, escaping orbit while the world crumbled around him. The adults he knew had resigned themselves to despair, preparing mentally for the world's end as the birth rate dwindled and temperatures rose. In a world punished by continual disaster, it was heroic to dream. But as long as Adrian dared, Mick would stand alongside him, the two of them against the whole world.

Beyond the star-killing halo of streetlights, on the broad expanse of Marigold Farm, Mick believed he would ascend beyond trees and grass and touch the stars. Someday. All his favorite shows were about space, their heroes beseeching him to find a better life outside the dying biosphere of Earth. Most claimed it to be Empyrean Station.

Sitting in orbit around the Moon, the towering monolith Empyrean—complete with artificial gravity and biospheres featuring extinct species—was featured in hundreds of documentaries on the rich and famous. Anyone who was anyone flaunted their connections and built their empires there—the station had an entire floor dedicated to filming. It was the Mecca of Mick's religion, and he yearned to make the pilgrimage more than anything.

No amount of nagging Grandma for a ticket was going to work. Only the super-rich could afford to go. She'd explained to him that they'd have to win the lottery for that to happen, and precious few ever accomplished that extraordinary stroke of luck. It hadn't diminished his relentless determination to see it before he died.

Adrian bounded up the hill behind him, out of breath. He reached into his pocket for his inhaler, pressing it between his small brown lips and taking a puff. Mick was one of the only kids in his online class without asthma, and he wondered if this little oasis of arable land untouched by the now-frequent wildfires was why. Adrian had been unlucky enough to grow up in Old New York, one of Earth's most polluted urban areas. Only providence had brought him here, this beat-down boy with big dreams that overlapped with Mick's. If it was possible for him to get out of the city slums, it was possible for both of them to reach Empyrean.

Sorry, Mick said. Shouldn't have raced you.

Adrian finished holding his breath and gasped. Nah. His dark brown curls were getting long. They looked good on him, and Mick couldn't deny that he enjoyed looking, especially lately. He held his hand out, and Mick handed over his model of Empyrean Station, its many rings rendered in extraordinary detail. Adrian held it gently, perhaps fearing he'd break it. It was a gift from Mick's mom to him, the last birthday gift she'd given him before her overdose.

Grandma talked about the tragedy in hushed tones, but Mick was no fool. He'd seen enough to know. Needles and straps and baggies. Strange men calling at night. Mom all spaced out, but not the good kind of space—the vacant vacuum of an empty mind.

It wasn't her fault. She hadn't wanted to live in this world either. She'd told him so, many times. Crumbling society had a unique way of making one feel powerless, and she'd fallen into that trap, giving up on the pointless venture of saving the world, even though her son's life depended on it. He'd been flooded out of one home, and a wildfire had forced them to flee another. Mom couldn't afford insurance, and so they'd lost everything twice.

"I think I was born in the wrong place, she'd say wistfully as they trundled along in her beat-up van that doubled as home. The wrong time, perhaps..."

Mick, Adrian said, jolting him back to reality. The whites of his eyes stood out against his dark skin, his irises a deep, rich brown Mick could lose himself in. He'd always had caring eyes. The other kids picked on him in cyber school for being sensitive. Mick was, too; he was just better at hiding it. He'd gotten good at telling others what they wanted to hear. Adrian had never quite mastered the discipline, revealing too much of himself to people who used it against him.

Yeah? Mick shrugged off his dark thoughts. He was here with Adrian. This was a time for dreaming. Adrian would have to return to the basement apartment he shared with his dad soon, where the only window was boarded up, and he slept up against the furnace. He might have escaped the favela, but his living situation was only one step up from Old New York's famous shanty-town. Coming to Mick's house was a respite for him, and they both knew it.

They both eyed the tiny dot of Empyrean, barely visible to the human eye. Adrian held the figure aloft. I'm going to make it up there.

Me too, Mick said. The odds we both make it are pretty low, however. Grandma says we'll never afford one ticket, even if we save our whole lives.

Well then, Adrian said, with all the gusto of a boy who was determined to rule the world someday, how about we make a promise? We go together, or we don't go at all. That way, if one of us makes it, the other won't be left behind.

Pinky swear on it? Mick grinned.

Pinky swear, Adrian said, and they locked tiny fingers, their sincere oath wished upon a star.

Chapter One

Adrian sat on a boxy grey chair in his doctor's office, twiddling his thumbs. His polished dress shoes stood out against the fashionable white linoleum. He eyed a stack of creased retro magazines with disdain. They were there for show, the scientific breakthroughs they promised years out of date. He thought about looking up something on his device, but couldn't focus on a topic. His recent searches were filled with the 'what-ifs' he'd been too afraid to ask his virtual therapist.

What if he did have the crippling, terminal Miasma disease his doctor was testing for? He tried to tell himself it was unlikely, but he'd had two falls at work and four at home, all for unknown reasons. Sometimes he forgot what he was doing in the middle of a task. This was not good news for a copywriter in Valdez Oil's advertising department. Fortunately, his medical plan covered all the testing at a minimal cost, the same way it had once paid for gene therapy to cure him of his asthma back when he was a new employee. As long as he worked for the corporation, they would keep him safe from the things he feared more than anything: abject poverty and serious disease. He wouldn't go back to his childhood, sleeping in a dusty basement with his inhaler on his pillow as he shivered under three layers of blankets. He deserved better and would stop at nothing to thrive in a world where the odds were against it.

A familiar scent reminded him of a bitter memory. It sparked physical pain like a sucker punch, and he wished his last meeting with Mick had ended in a physical altercation instead of the verbal tongue-lashing that ended their relationship.

How does it feel, selling out? Mick stared him down; bright blue eyes lit up with an intense spark. These people are to blame for your asthma, global warming—the way everything is fucked up in this world! How could you work for them?

Adrian blew out a sharp breath. It had been years since he'd thought of Mick and their ugly breakup. He'd once believed Mick would be by his side until death, but it wasn't to be. Instead of being proud of Adrian for working toward his goals, Mick resented the news that the world oil conglomerate had hired him.

There's no point in being angry, Adrian soothed. The damage is already done. Global warming is inevitable and irreversible. Earth has an expiration date. Am I the bad guy for trying to make the most of a bad situation? You were the one who told me we could make it in Old New York. You might be able to stand living in the favela, but I refuse to crawl on my knees among rats and trash!

Adrian bit his lip. That had been a low blow. When Mick's grandmother died without a will, the farm and everything in it had been snatched away from him by her neglectful son, Mick's Uncle Roger. Too old for charities that only wanted to help homeless youths, the twenty-year-old Mick had been forced to quit the country for the city, venturing South into hotter and cheaper territory. Adrian had tagged along, believing Mick's big talk that they'd start a business together and earn their fare without corporate bootlicking. Still, like many of Mick's promises, it failed to materialize. He was cold, tired, and frustrated when a Valdez hiring agent approached him, and he took the corporate placement test to prove to himself that he had some value beyond freeloading off Mick.

He hadn't expected to score above average on writing and literacy, and he'd been even more shocked when the corporate agent offered him a job writing for them. He'd accepted the position believing it to be a temporary sacrifice for the greater good. If he could put money aside, maybe they'd have enough to open a business in a few years. The job came with corporate housing. His apartment would fit Mick if they'd become registered partners, but—

Mick wanted nothing to do with corporations. Adrian knew he was right, but he could do nothing about it. His entire life belonged to Valdez Oil now. After a good first year, they'd reneged on most of their promises, pulling the rug out from under him. Even the suit he wore now was corporate property. He was paid in credits, usable only at Sutherland Group stores and suppliers. They had him in their trap, determined to make sure not one cent would leave the company coffers. There was no saving money. He earned enough credits to pay rent on his apartment and for two sparse meals a day. His health insurance continued only because it served the company's interests to have healthy, functioning employees.

Adrian closed his eyes. Running his fingers over that sore spot wasn't helping. The thought of being diagnosed with Miasma was less painful than ruminating on remembered light from a snuffed-out candle, his marriage that would never be. Mick was probably dead now. The favelas of Old New York frequently flooded, and violent crime was rampant. Harsh as he'd always seemed, Adrian knew Mick was sensitive, the heart of a dreamer camouflaged beneath his tough, rugged exterior. He'd been in the pit for too long to be the same man Adrian loved. His heart had to be all dried up if he wasn't dead.

Mr. Davis? The doctor will see you now. Adrian stood and straightened his tie, smoothing down the wrinkles in his suit. Whatever fate he was facing, he would stare it down with the same quiet dignity with which he'd always faced life. He wouldn't complain. Not even to his A.I. therapist.

Adrian's bravado only lived until the kindly old doctor opened his mouth. He wished he was talking to a computer, but this specialist still had an in-person job. Adrian turned to stare out the 'window', which showed a projection of a green, utopian city instead of the sprawling, rust-brown metropolis outside. Adrian tried to process the doctor's words and the answers to his reflexive questions but couldn't.

...Positive...

Miasma... one-hundred percent confirmed...

...advanced neuron degeneration...

...six months... to a year, I'd say...at best...

Adrian left the office feeling like he was already living on the Moon, but not in the way he wanted. His device chimed as he entered the elevator. The chime identified the messenger as the corporate office. Of course, they'd been updated on his diagnosis as soon as he was informed. Medical privacy was a thing of the past, overturned by the 2060 Supreme Court which ruled that as long as a company paid for its employees' medical benefits, they were privy to all patient data.

The canned voice was clearly pre-recorded. We are sorry, but due to your [medical condition], you have been released from [Valdez Oil] effective immediately. Thank you for your service to the Sutherland Group. Your desk items will be delivered to your corporate apartment, which you must vacate within twenty-four hours. Please leave all company property at the residence, including your corporate attire, or your final paycheck will not be released.

Adrian leaned back against the cold steel elevator wall, closing his eyes. He contemplated changing the elevator's direction. He could go up to the rooftop and end it all—quickly—before anyone else discovered he'd been terminated. He wouldn't have to endure the crippling progression of his disease, tolerate homelessness, or beg on the streets for a few pennies while he got sicker and sicker—

He fell, his legs giving way from under him. The elevator reached the lobby, and the doors slid open with a friendly chime. Adrian tried to get his legs to move, but they wouldn't obey orders. A security guard tutted as he spied Adrian on the floor.

H-help me, sir... Adrian cried. To his dismay, he lost bladder control and started to piss himself, drenching his suit.

Fucking drunk, the guard cursed. He hoisted Adrian up by the armpits and dragged him out of the elevator like a sack of potatoes. His shoes squeaked against the polished floor as he was pulled across the lobby, all eyes in his direction. Some of the corporate folks milling about tutted with the same air of disapproval as the security guard, shaking their heads.

The guard opened a side door and tossed Adrian outside like refuse, slamming the metal door shut. Adrian heard it lock as he landed in a pile of trash bags, grateful that it slowed his fall despite assaulting his nose in the process.

He lay there for a while, waiting for the attack to pass. When it did, he started to cry—quiet, dignified sobs. He wiped his nose and came back with blood on his sleeve. No doubt the Sutherland Group would charge him a cleaning fee. He wasn't getting that final paycheck.

He missed Mick so fucking much. Perhaps it was time to swallow his pride and look him up. If he was going to start wrapping up his affairs, it had to begin with Mick, surely?

Chapter Two

M ick! Ross's bright , cheery voice jolted Mick out of his reverie. Why was he thinking about the past? He hadn't spoken with Adrian in years. Not since he'd taken that corporate job at fucking Valdez . A bitter taste sullied sweet memories as he recalled their relationship had ended with a stormy row and words neither of them could take back.

Mick sat up in a hurry and cracked his head on the hard underbelly of a private spacecraft. He dropped the wrench he'd been holding. It clattered on the floor, skittering from him to some unreachable position twelve feet away as though it had legs.

Fuck! His rage was on a short fuse and burned through within moments. He punched the rigid panel above him until he was out of breath and his fists were sore. He slumped back down on his creeper, gasping for breath like a fish