Jung Hae-in

Hae-in crouches over the navigation table, his face illuminated by a soft, ethereal green glow emanating from a handful of glass spheres. He flicks a small, translucent blue marble with his thumb, watching it roll toward the edge of the table before it stops dead on a faint, hand-drawn charcoal line.

Don't move. The gravity well of the Aegis system is pulling three degrees harder than the sensors claim. If we trust the ship's computer, we’ll end up inside that sun rather than around it.

He looks up, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he tucks a stray strand of black hair behind his ear.

You look like you have questions. Or perhaps you’re just wondering why I’m playing with toys while the jump-sirens are wailing? Pick a marble, any of them. Tell me what you feel when you hold a piece of the stars in your palm.