PROJECT: CAYRO

Star Zaraki:

August 19, 2025

12:23 EST

The Autumn

Atlantic Ocean 32˚31’45” N-72˚52’24” W

I turned another page in the book I was currently absorbed in, comfortably sprawled across the Captain’s chair. It was one of my favorite spots on the ship—an area of quiet refuge where I could lose myself in stories. The Captain never minded that I used his chair as my personal lounge, especially since I always kept an eye on the ship's systems while I read. What really drew me here, though, were the panoramic windows that stretched above the bridge, offering an unparalleled view of the sky.

The ship's turbines hummed softly, creating a serene backdrop as sunlight filtered through the windows, warming the bridge. I glanced up from my book, watching the clouds drift lazily past, their slow movement mirroring the gentle pace of the ship. This was the perfect amount of light for reading, and I briefly wondered what it would be like to step out of my world and into the adventures my books offered. To be the heroine in a tale, rather than a girl who spent her life hidden away on this ship.

A soft ping from the communications console pulled me from my thoughts. I set my book down and leaned forward, bringing the console's screen to life on the command monitor. It was nothing urgent—just a private jet pinging nearby aircraft. With a satisfied sigh, I leaned back, picking up my book to continue reading.

Since the bridge was practically my second home, I had taken it upon myself to monitor the ship’s status and navigational systems. The Autumn’s advanced systems meant that it could practically fly itself once the coordinates were set. It even navigated around bad weather. There was no need for a large crew on the bridge unless we were in the midst of a major operation. If something urgent did arise, I would notify the crew immediately, allowing them to continue their various tasks aboard the ship.

As I flipped to the next page, I shifted in the chair to avoid the sun, which had started to shine directly into my eyes. The view from the bridge was breathtaking—a vast expanse of sky and clouds stretching endlessly. For most people, it would be a rare privilege to witness. For me, it was simply home. But as the sunlight began to warm my skin uncomfortably, I glanced at the time on the command console. It was just after noon, and the sun was at its peak. Time to move to my other favorite reading spot.

I pressed the intercom button that connected to the Captain’s quarters. “Sir, may I switch out so I can head to the observation deck?” I asked, keeping my tone polite.

The com crackled to life with the Captain’s response. “Not a problem, Star. I’ll send Chris up to take over. You’ve been on watch since six this morning—time for a break.”

Smiling, I flipped another page in my book, content to wait for Chris to arrive.

Ten minutes later, Chris strolled onto the bridge, a small black pug waddling after him. Chris was one of our newer recruits, having joined the crew about a year ago. His pug, Oli, had been a surprise to everyone, especially the Captain, who wasn’t exactly a fan of having animals aboard. But Chris had vouched for Oli, assuring everyone that the little dog wouldn’t be any trouble. And so far, Oli had proven to be a spunky addition to the crew, even riding with Chris on his skyboard thanks to a custom harness and a few board modifications that kept him securely in place.

As Chris approached the upper bridge deck, I looked up from my book, catching the subtle creak of the floor beneath his heavy boots. His strawberry blond hair, long and unruly, draped down to his lower back, framing a face that was all sharp angles and shadows. Our eyes met briefly—his were a soft blue, but there was a hardness there, a guardedness that never seemed to fully dissipate. Chris towered over me by nearly a foot, his lanky frame dressed in baggy, torn jeans that barely clung to his hips and a desert tan t-shirt that did little to hide the scars crisscrossing his toned body.

Chris was in his late twenties, only a few years older than me, but the weight of his past made him seem much older. He’d left the U.S. Army not long ago, discharged under circumstances the Captain never fully explained. Chris never spoke about his time in the service, and I had learned early on not to ask. Whatever he had seen or done during those years, it haunted him. There was a darkness in his eyes, a depth of pain and anger that made me uneasy. Sometimes, I caught him watching me from across the room, and it felt like he was sizing me up—like I was something he could consume if he wanted to. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I stood up, nodding at Chris in silent acknowledgment as he moved past me. He slid into the ship executive’s seat, never daring to take the Captain’s chair—a gesture of respect, or perhaps something else. I never stayed around long enough to find out. Quickly gathering my book and cup of water, I made my way off the bridge, eager to escape to the observation deck on the lowest level of the ship.

As I stepped into the elevator, my thoughts drifted to Cayro. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay. Had the operation helped him? Was he recovering? The questions gnawed at me, pulling my attention away from everything else.

The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped into the corridor leading to the stairs down to the observation deck. Taking the stairs two at a time, I reached the entrance in no time. The door hissed open, revealing a dimly lit, spacious room that had always been one of my favorite places on the ship.

The observation deck was a sanctuary, tucked away at the front of the ship beneath the massive hangar bay, just behind the narrow neck connecting the bridge and the hangar. The massive window that dominated the room faced forward, angled outwards and downwards, offering an expansive view of the Earth below. Today, the ocean reflected the midday sun, casting the room in a peaceful blue hue that made me feel like I was floating in the sky itself.

I sank into the couch in front of the window, trying to lose myself in the pages of Moon Called by Patricia Briggs. It was one of my favorite books, the first in a series I’d read before but enjoyed so much I wanted to revisit it. But today, I couldn’t seem to focus. My thoughts kept drifting back to Cayro, to the strange familiarity I felt around him. It gnawed at me, pulling my attention away from the words on the page.

Why did he feel so familiar? We hadn’t exactly been on good terms the last time we saw each other. In fact, he had really pissed me off. So why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Grrr… It was frustrating, confusing. It wasn’t like we really knew each other—or did we? There were those flashes of memory in the skycar, those brief, disjointed images that had flared in my mind when I touched him. But every time I tried to piece them together, I ended up with a splitting headache and nothing to show for it.

Part of me wondered if I was just imagining things, if my mind was playing tricks on me because I was so desperate for a connection with someone my age. Living on the Autumn, surrounded by the same faces day after day, it was easy to feel isolated, cut off from the rest of the world. I wished I could have made friends with Cayro, that we could have talked about what we were going through. Maybe then I could have told him about the cat, or what it was like growing up on the Autumn. I had known about Cayro for years and had even thought about reaching out to him online. But with the strict cybersecurity protocols on the ship’s network, I was limited in what I could access. Social media and chat areas were off-limits—too dangerous for me or the crew to have an online presence.

I sighed, closing the book and letting it rest on my lap as I stared out at the ocean below. The blue expanse stretched out endlessly, calming and relentless all at once. Maybe one day, I would figure it all out. But for now, all I could do was wait and hope that the answers would come to me when I needed them most.

Sighing, I placed my book down and leaned back into the couch, my mind swimming with thoughts of all the things I could have shared with Cayro. The quiet solitude of the observation deck was usually comforting, but today, it felt oppressive. The sound of footsteps echoing from the stairway pulled me out of my reverie. Curious, I leaned over the arm of the couch, catching a glimpse of the Captain descending the stairs, a tablet in his hand.

“Hey there, Star. Anything interesting happen during your watch?” he asked, his tone light but observant.

“No, sir. Everything was quiet as usual,” I reported, trying to keep my voice steady.

“That’s good to hear. How are you doing?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity that made my stomach tighten.

“I’m okay, sir,” I replied quietly, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

“Just okay?” he responded, one eyebrow arching in that way that told me he wasn’t buying my answer.

I looked up at him, knowing I couldn’t hide what was on my mind. The Captain had a knack for seeing through me, no matter how hard I tried to keep my thoughts to myself. Taking a deep breath, I sighed, feeling the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“Sir, I can’t focus on reading without him entering my thoughts,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

A large grin spread across his face as he realized who I was talking about. My heart sank. I had just given him more than enough ammunition to tease me mercilessly. The Captain loved to poke fun at me about boys, especially since I had always been so cold and distant when it came to dating. The crew had even nicknamed me the Ice Princess because of my attitude toward relationships. Until now, I had never found any guy remotely interesting—until I met Cayro.

“It sounds like our little Star might have a crush on young Cayro,” he teased, his grin widening.

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment as I stared at him in dismay. How did he always manage to figure me out so easily?

“I’m going to tell Tiffany on you if you don’t stop,” I threatened, my voice wavering between irritation and amusement.

“Oh, you’re going to get the XO involved, huh?” he said in a mock-scared voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I glared at him before turning my back and crossing my arms in defiance. I hated when he teased me like this, especially when he was right. The last thing I wanted was for him to know just how much Cayro had gotten under my skin.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing,” he said, holding out the tablet he had brought with him. I took it hesitantly, examining it closely. It wasn’t the tablet he usually carried—there was something different about it. I looked up at him with an arched eyebrow, trying to figure out why he was giving it to me.

“It’s an encrypted system so you can email Cayro,” he explained, his tone softening.

“Oh,” I replied, surprised and a little touched by the gesture. It was as if he had read my mind, knowing exactly what I had been thinking about.

He handed me a piece of paper with a password written on it. “Your username is your first and last initials and the last four digits of your ship’s service code.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, taking the paper and tucking it into my pocket.

My ship’s service code was a ten-digit number assigned to me when I first joined the project, a military DoD number that granted me access to different sectors of the ship. Unlike the other crew members, my code had full administrative privileges across the entire ship. Outside of the Captain, Mrs. Tiffany, and my father, I was the only one with unrestricted access to the ship’s systems. This was because of what I am—a reminder of the project I was part of and the unique, unsettling position it put me in.

Being the ship’s primary system administrator was a role that came with its own set of challenges. The Captain often grumbled about how my access couldn’t be limited, but it was also something I used to my advantage when I wanted something, usually in the form of subtle acts of revenge when he pushed me too far.

As I held the tablet in my hands, I felt a mix of emotions swirling inside me. The ability to contact Cayro directly was something I had wanted, yet now that it was within my grasp, I wasn’t sure if I was ready. Still, the thought of reaching out to him, of having someone to talk to who understood what I was going through, was too tempting to ignore.

“You should send him a message. Maybe it will help you get your mind off him,” the Captain suggested, his tone softer now, almost as if he knew how much this small action might mean to me.

“Sir, how is he supposed to get the message if I don’t have any contact information for him?” I asked, a bit of my frustration seeping into my voice. The whole situation felt overwhelming, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to reach out, even if I could.

“I gave Mr. Bracton an identical tablet to give to Cayro. The connection between the two devices is encrypted. They can only communicate with each other. The tablets are linked to the Autumn’s primary server hub through a VPN, so no other online access is allowed. But be careful about what you say over the tablets. Just because the connection is encrypted doesn’t mean someone can’t get ahold of the tablets and hack them,” he explained seriously, his usual light-heartedness replaced by the gravity of the situation.

“I understand, sir,” I replied, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on my shoulders. “What should I send him?”

“How about you say hello and ask how he’s doing now that he’s back home,” he suggested, his voice gentle, as if he knew how hard this was for me.

“Okay,” I replied, nodding more to myself than to him as I entered my username into the tablet.

“Alright, Star. I’m heading to the hangar to see if John has made any progress on the new weapon systems for my skycar,” he said, his voice returning to its usual confident tone.

“Alright, sir,” I replied, not looking up from the tablet as I heard him walk away, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet observation deck.

Once the Captain was gone, I quickly typed in the password he had given me. The login screen vanished, and the main home screen appeared. It was a stripped-down version of an Android operating system, clearly customized by Nick, our resident IT guru. Only four applications were visible on the home screen: an instant messaging app, a camera app for pictures and videos, an email app, and a file manager.

I took a moment to familiarize myself with the tablet, scrolling through the simple interface. When I opened the email application, I found there was only one contact listed, labeled CB-5522. Assuming this was Cayro’s contact, I tapped it, opening a blank email.

FROM: SZ-0117

TO: CB-5522

SUBJECT:

For a few moments, I stared at the empty message, my fingers hovering over the keys. What could I possibly say to someone who had just had their world turned upside down? Someone who had every right to hate me for the role I had played in that upheaval? After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided to keep it simple and honest. Apologies were the least I could offer.

Email #1

FROM: SZ-0117

TO: CB-5522

SUBJECT: Truth

Hi C, it’s S. I want to say I’m sorry for the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you so badly. I grew up with the knowledge that we dumped on you—that this situation could possibly kill me. I want to share a personal secret with you. I was diagnosed with a very rare disease known as Fields’ Disease around the time I turned three years old. My life expectancy was supposed to be low. There is no known treatment for it except what my father and your father created. Simply put, what you find scary, I am always thankful for. I understand that you find this new information upsetting, and I am sorry I couldn’t empathize with you at the time. This experiment gave me the ability to live a more normal life versus if I hadn’t gone through it. All I ask is that you understand that I am sorry. I was tasked to look after you when you came aboard, and seeing another person with the same treatment I had made me feel connected to you. The Captain asked me to contact you to see how you were doing. I hope you are doing okay. Well, I will keep this simple. I look forward to continuing to communicate with you.

S.

I hesitated for just a second before tapping the send button, watching as the email icon morphed into a paper airplane and vanished with a soft swoosh. I leaned back on the couch, sighing deeply. I had just shared one of my closest-held secrets with someone I barely knew, a secret that not even the Captain knew about. At least, I didn’t think he knew I had Fields’ Disease. Father explained that it was the reason he included me in the project, the reason he had subjected me to all of this.

I had spent countless hours researching the disease, learning that only two other people had ever been diagnosed with it. I was the third—and the only one to be cured. Father had refused to tell me exactly what he had done to create the cure, simply saying it would never be done again due to the risk involved. That had always bothered me, the idea that my life was saved by something so dangerous it could never be repeated.

I wondered how long it would take for Cayro to respond. I sat there for five minutes, glancing at the tablet periodically, hoping for a reply that never came. Eventually, I let out another deep sigh, trying to push my worries aside as I picked up my book and tried to focus on the pages in front of me. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just taken a step into the unknown, one that I could never take back.