**Chapter One
The Inheritance**
Most people expected spacefarers to be dignified professionals. Kael and Kessa Hartley were… not those people.
At twenty?two, the twins had built a reputation throughout the Lanes as imaginative pranksters, the sort who could turn a standard cargo run into a full?blown comedy of errors without ever damaging a single crate. They bickered, teased, and conspired in equal measure, but they always held to one guiding principle:
No prank should ever risk the ship.
It was a creed their uncle Jorin drilled into them from childhood—usually between bouts of laughter when they inevitably proved they’d misunderstood the intended lesson.
Uncle Jorin had been a hauler all his life, a small?time trader who treated every port authority clerk and refuel technician like family. And when he passed unexpectedly, he left his beloved mid?freighter, The Wayward Starling, to the two people who had always dreamed of flying her.
Which is how the story begins: with Kael staring open?mouthed at the battered docking bay in Port Aster and Kessa leaning against a crate like she’d already conquered the galaxy.
“Well,” Kael said finally, running a hand through his dark, unruly hair, “she’s… bigger than I remember.”
“That’s because you’re taller now,” Kessa replied, deadpan. “Perspective changes with height. Basic physics.”
He threw her a look. “That’s not how physics works.”
“It is when I say it is.” She pushed off the crate and grinned at him. “Come on, Captain Nervous. We’ve got a ship to claim.”
Captain. Kael felt the word thump against his ribs like a soft shockwave. They hadn’t discussed who would hold the title. Technically, the Will had listed them as equal inheritors. In practice, Kessa had simply declared him captain on the grounds that she liked sitting at co?pilot where she could “push buttons without consequences.”
They walked side by side up the boarding ramp. The Starling hissed around them—old seals, old systems—but the ship felt alive. Warm. Familiar. The way a childhood home feels after years away.
The interior looked exactly as Uncle Jorin had kept it. Scuffed floors. A half?mended panel in the galley he’d always meant to fix but never got around to. A ceramic mug still clipped to the drink rail, permanently stained by years of strong coffee.
Kessa exhaled softly. “Feels like he’s still here.”
Kael swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah.”
They stood in silence a moment before Kessa clapped her hands once.
“Right! Enough emotions. If we let this get sentimental, you’ll start crying and then I’ll start crying and then the ship’s humidity sensors will freak out.”
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“I’m not going to cry.”
“You always cry at sentimental stuff.”
“That happened once—”
“—during five different movies.”
He sighed dramatically, which only made her laugh.
They made their way to the bridge, where Kael slid into the captain’s chair. It adjusted automatically, humming softly as it molded to his shape.
Kessa flopped into the co?pilot’s seat and said, “So… ready for our first official delivery?”
“Assuming we actually have one,” Kael said. “We haven’t even checked inbound orders.”
Kessa grinned like she’d been waiting for him to say exactly that. She tapped the console. “Already did!”
“What? When?”
“Last night. While you were eating noodles.”
“You said you were watching a documentary!”
“I was—on the economics of small freight businesses. You’d know that if you’d paid attention.”
He threw his head back with a groan. “Kessa…”
“Relax! It’s an easy run. Pick up four crates of hydroponic seed packs from Nettle Station, deliver them to the research colony on Vesper-9. They pay half up front, half on delivery. Perfect rookie job.”
“And how much…” Kael narrowed his eyes. “How much did you charge?”
“A perfectly reasonable amount.”
“Kessa.”
She lifted her chin. “Look, technically I may have underbid the standard rate by twenty percent, but think of it this way: we’re building reputation, not profit.”
Kael pressed his palm to his face. “We literally own a ship now. Profit is important.”
“I also demanded snacks be included in the upfront payment.”
“…Snacks?”
“High?end snacks.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Eventually, he let out a reluctant laugh. “Fine. First run: cheap, underbid, snack?included seed delivery. Why not?”
“That’s the spirit!”
The console pinged with the finalized contract confirmation and their first payment transfer. Sure enough—the itemized list included two crates of assorted nutrient bars, dried citrus, and a brand of chocolate Kessa had an emotional attachment to.
Kael shook his head. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it. We’re real haulers now. Independent traders. Free adults with a ship of our own.”
Kael leaned back, absorbing the moment. The hum of engines. The glow of consoles. The sense, deep in his bones, that something vast and new had begun.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Let’s take her out.”
Kessa punched the intercom with a triumphant grin. “Wayward Starling preparing for launch! Captain Crybaby—”
“Kessa!”
“—and First Officer Hotter?Than?Him are clearing departure protocols.”
“That is not a valid job title.”
“It is when I say it is.”
Kael laughed again, unable to help it.
And so their story began: with the two of them bickering affectionately, a ship full of memories, a delivery contract of questionable profitability, and an entire galaxy waiting just outside the hull.
