Stories of the Gold Swarm

Indigo Henson never imagined that her summer project would have branded her an enemy of the Magisterium and forced her into a life of crime. But now, after fixing up the mysterious spaceship and fleeing for her safety, Indi has begun to hear voices coming from wires and watts all around her.

—

“Come on, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Westley’s deft fingers stole the heal of bread off her plate at lighting speed and held it just out of her reach. “All you gotta do is ask for it!” His eyes shined down at her with amusement. “I bet you can. Go on! Ask me for your bread back!” He whooped when Indigo jumped after her food. Muffled laughter filled the mess hall of the Gold Swarm, and she felt overcome with shame. No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop the tears welling in her eyes. 

 At home, Indigo would have shied away from the cacophonous sounds of communal areas. They had always made her tire easily, and trying to hear everything was the same as hearing nothing at all. The mess hall of the Gold Swarm was no different. The Locusts Gang was a hearty crew of twelve, and while they liked to call themselves a cargo transport ship for hire, their jobs usually involved removing cargo from other ships without permission.  Meals typically included one shouting match but Indigo had a hard time telling when they were serious or in jest. Their voices were so overwhelming she had learned new inconspicuous ways to plug her ears without being too obvious. Indigo left every meal exhausted and ready for a nap. 

But lately the mess hall had been the only way to keep herself sane; human sounds more easily drowned out the other voices. The wishes of machines had begun to file in between her thoughts, reminding her of unfinished tasks and broken pieces to fix. They had started off as quiet as a whisper, but now Indigo heard them as loud as any member of the crew. Even in her dreams, a choir of voices warned her of coolant build up, shot fuses, and wires on the fringe. After she had spent her first night aboard the ship fixing all the lighting, heating, and door access systems in her room, Indigo could still hear the machines talking; to each other, to her, to nothing at all. Regardless of time or place, Indigo heard hundreds of voices between the wires. 

So instead of going mad listening to machines scream about replacement parts, she braved the mess hall whenever she could. It wasn’t always awful. Danika asked her basic questions about her work on the farm. Treph took the time to explain the crew's inside jokes so she wouldn’t feel left out. And Maddox always gave her extra dessert. But for all their kindness, Indigo could not find her voice. Somewhere between Anatolia and wherever the Gold Swarm was headed, Indigo had lost the strength to add another sound to the cacophony around her. Danika was concerned, but when Rosa confirmed it wasn’t due to any illness and probably the result of stress, she let it go. Most of the Locust Crew seemed to understand, giving her space or comfort. But to others her silence was a challenge.

Westley wasn’t malicious, but he was consistent.  At first, he earnesty, telling her she wasn’t in danger anymore and she could speak if she wanted to. When that didn’t work, he made jokes or teased her to get a response. “I bet you don’t even have a tongue Indigo!” or  “If you don’t speak in the next five seconds, that means you’re a liver rat! What do you think of that?!” Once, Westley had even tried to scare her, but instead of making her yelp or swear, he learned how good she could be with a wrench. Now it seemed that Westley had resorted to public mockery to get her to speak. 

Indigo opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again to stop herself from crying. Westley tossed her bread into his other hand and smiled at her encouragingly while the hall continued to bubble around them. In response to her silence, the light switch reported that the bulbs were on, the oxygen system measured at appropriate levels, and the crockpot told her it should be replaced within a fortnight. 

“Westley,” A voice cracked, stilling the buzzing room to silence but the machines continued to tell Indigo their woes. Captain Dakota stood in the doorway to the mess hall, his bright eyes shielded by the shadow of his wide brimmed hat. “We don’t mess with other crewmates' food, you know that.” He nodded curtly, but not unkindly. “Give her back the bread. And yours too, for that matter.” 

“Yes, Captain.” Westley did what he was told without complaint or contempt. That’s how it was on the Gold Swarm. Everyone had a voice to speak their mind, but when Captain Dakota gave a command, every member of the crew listened. When two pieces of bread soaked in her stew bowl Westley said, “I am sorry kid. I was just trying to help.” Indigo did her best to smile and nod. 

“Cut her some slack, Wes,” Captain Dakota said as he set down his bowl and joined the two of them at their table. Indi’s heartbeat jumped into her throat. The captain had never chosen to sit near her before. “She just left her planet for the first time. No one can blame her for being a bit homesick.” He cocked his head at Westley with a smirk. “And who are you to talk? You were moping around the deck of this ship for weeks  after we left Walnut Grove! What was his name again? Virgil?” 

Indigo jumped when Westley slammed down his cup and stood, leaning over the table at the captain who was lazily slurping his stew. “It was Vincent, and you said you wouldn’t tell anyone about that! It was a very vulnerable time for me.” Indigo was certain he was joking, since no one would dare speak to a captain that way. Or at least she hoped no one would… 

Dakota ignored Westley’s outburst. Instead he turned to her and winked. His eyes were the most startling color of blue she had ever seen and the light hair on his face framed his features nicely. “Wes has a ‘manfriend’ at every major station and most of the asteroids in this sector. When we get into ports, be sure to knock on every door before you walk in, just in case.” 

“It was one time Dakota, prophets!” Westley signed in a way that said he wasn’t actually upset. A bit of the tension in Indigo’s shoulders loosened, as she realized that he seemed to be enjoying this weird banter with the captain. She could never imagine being comfortable sharing such private information. “Besides, I have been thinking of settling down a bit. I need to find me a true partner in crime, someone I can build a life with. A Mercutio to my Romeo, if you would!”

Indigo did not understand what he meant, but she smiled when Captain Dakota laughed at him.“Westley, if you stuck to one partner, you’d be personally responsible for the closure of several bawdy houses across the sector and you know it.” 

Westley pretended to take off a hat, and bowed to his captain. “Then forget everything I said, captain. I will continue my personal investments and keep those lovely lads employed until the end of my days.” He sat back down and began to drink deeply out of his mug. 

“What about you?” The captain was talking to her again, but she had not been paying attention to his words. His eyes were patient. His startling blue eyes. “Do you have a ‘partner in crime’ back on Anatolia, Indigo?” Despite his perfect white teeth, he charmingly spoke out of the side of his mouth. 

“No.” For a moment, she did not understand why the entirety of the Locust Gang was suddenly cheering and laughing. The word had escaped her hoarsely, and without any effort at all. Westley had spit out his beer and was feigning disappointment, while Maddox passed her an extra cookie. Treph gave her a fist bump and Rosa and Danika smiled approvingly. Only Veronica looked as confused as Indigo. 

But it didn’t matter, because Captain Dakota was laughing again. “Well June-Bug it's good to know you can speak up when it matters. Oh! I am sorry, is it ok if we call you that? I know it was Astar’s name for ya.” 

Indigo looked around the room. The machines were quieter and she felt a bit more courage looking at Rosa, Danika, Treph, and Maddox smiling. She didn’t have to be alone with her thoughts and the voices of wires; these were Astar’s friends, and they could be hers too. She took a deep breath. 

“The crock pot is gonna die in two weeks so we should probably get a new one.”