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You know, just in case.

She made it through the door, Borran still on her heels, with everyone else pushing in behind her as well. Apparently they were all going to investigate this strange arrival.

Maren was near the prep counter, up on her tiptoes, trying to catch a good angle for viewing. Tavi had climbed up beside her, his mosaic markings catching the kitchen lights. His expression matched everyone in the room, something caught somewhere between scientific fascination and absolute delight.

Reyna moved closer. "Be careful, Captain," Maren said.

And that was when the mixing bowl leaned to one side exposing hair. A mixture between light brown and blonde, shoulder length, and slick with batter. It shook back and forth several times. Everyone, including Reyna herself, froze.

A head appeared from under the bowl as it fell to the ground with a clang, completely covered in the Gula Cake batter. As the creature shook its head, Reyna could confirm it was a humanoid creature of some sort. Two arms, two legs, one head. Whoever or whatever this was though still hadn't seen her and the crew standing around her, but Reyna could understand why, given how much batter was all over the being's face.

Reyna continued to watch as the creature stood from where they sat, brushing off batter from their attire. She took in their denim pants, some sort of base layer top with markings across the front that appeared to be writing, though neither Reyna nor her Voxlink could make sense of it, an outer garment of multiple colors in a checkered pattern, and what looked like a coat similar to Reyna's Captain's jacket, but in a striking color that Reyna had never seen before. The creature continued removing the batter from their arms, shoulders, and finally their face, which was when that last bad thing happened to Captain Reyna Solas on her very bad day.

The creature finally noticed Reyna and her crew members when the batter was removed from around their eyes. They froze, staring at Reyna.

Reyna took a moment to examine this creature. Something about them was... striking. Yet Reyna wasn't scared.

Reyna tracked their eyes as they moved from face to face of her crew behind her. When their gaze returned to Reyna, the creature uttered the most blood-curdling scream Reyna had heard in a long, long while.

And then the creature fell to the floor in a heap.

Reyna walked closer to the being and looked down at them, realizing they had... fallen asleep? Obviously they were scared but, what kind of creature fell asleep in the middle of an introduction?

She straightened up, closed her eyes, and sighed.

"Well, shit."

PART ONE

DIFFERENT STARS

ONE

THE EXCEPTION

EARTH YEAR 1966 / COALITION CYCLE 476

? SHELBYVILLE, INDIANA, UNITED STATES?

The hospital roomwas bright and chilly. It had a smell that stung, something clean and sharp that Charlie Wickett didn’t know how to describe. She was six years old, standing on her toes, and figured the reason for the burning in her nostrils could wait.

She had a new person in her life.

Behind her, voices. Her father's, low and clipped, was saying something about how he needed to get back to work. And then her mother's, spoken in that tone of hers that masked her impatience without succeeding, asking the nurse about visiting hours so her husband could return at a time that was 'convenient to him to spend time with his family.' The sounds reached Charlie's ears the way sounds reach you underwater, present but shapeless, coming from a room she had already left, even though her feet hadn't moved.

The bassinet was a pure, crisp white color filled with soft blankets. The edges came up to her chin, just tall enough that she couldn't quite see over them. She curled her fingers on the lip and tried to pull herself higher, the plastic pressing into her palms as her feet found footing on top of the bottom shelf.

The baby was small. Smaller than Charlie had expected, though she wasn't sure what to expect of a baby that was only a day old. The little bundle was glowing with pink, smooth skin. The face looked like it was folded, little creases everywhere, and the eyes were closed, or almost closed. Charlie noticed the knit cap on its head had slipped slightly sideways.

And those tiny hands, ones so small they didn't look like they could grab anything bigger than a raisin.

As Charlie studied this small creature, she watched as one of those little hands began to move. Tiny fingers opening and closing against the blanket, slow and searching for something to hold but finding nothing. Then, the baby's fingers reached over and found Charlie's pinky where it hung over the lip of the bassinet.

And those tiny, little fingers closed tightly around Charlie's smallest finger.

Not strong, but not weak. Just... there. A warmth wrapped around her that made the whole room go fully quiet. The fluorescent lights above her, the linoleum under her shoes, the voices behind her, the cold, the smell. All of it slid behind glass, frosted and distant and no longer important.

There was only the weight of a hand she could barely feel, holding on to her. Charlie couldn't tell who was the one not letting go. What she did know was something behind her ribs had gone warm and still, and her breathing had slowed without her noticing, matching the baby's. She curled her pinky around the tiny hand, holding on right back.