The Celestial Seas - Hardcover

Chan, T. A.

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593693744 ISBN 13: 9780593693742

Verlag: Viking Books for Young Readers, 2026

Inhaltsangabe

A tale of identity, love, and the hunt for vengeance in the darkest corners of space—perfect for fans of Iron Widow and Aurora Rising!

Ishara Ming is the sole survivor of the Essex, a spacefaring whaler destroyed by the legendary Ballena. Left with a damaged memory chip and a missing arm, Ishara has vowed to avenge the twenty-three lives lost to the rogue Mech-Operated Bio-Integrated Spacecraft (MOBIS), an autonomous spacecraft containing an intricate blend of mechanical hardware and code-controlled bacteria.

To take on the Ballena, Ishara assembles a crew of capable misfits, including her first mate, Quinn, the girl who makes Ishara's heart stumble over its own beats. Quinn has always believed in her, even when the rest of the system thinks she’s a delusional captain who hallucinated the Ballena.

That is, until Augustus, a handsome ship mech with his own reasons for revenge, convinces Ishara to let him join the crew. He’s armed with a specialized tracking system Ishara can’t refuse, but there’s something familiar about him she can’t quite shake. Torn between Quinn’s cautious guidance and Augustus’s encouragement, Ishara issues increasingly risky orders. But one too many brushes with death will force her to choose between her newfound family or the vow to avenge her old one—and the two closest to her she can't help but fall for.

Inspried by Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, this retelling brings a much-needed modern update to a beloved classic.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

T. A. Chan grew up in New Hampshire, attended school in Philadelphia, then settled in California. With a passion for anything that is wonderfully weird, science fiction and fantasy quickly become her favorite genres to play in. She enjoys crafting character-focused stories that explore the human experience, as well as plots that twist and challenge expectations. Her insatiable curiosity of the natural world and technology inspires much of her writing. When she’s not typing away on her laptop, she’s probably snuggling with her dog, drinking boba, hiking, or working on the next Mars mission.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Call me Ishara
Aegis Station, Halo System

“Call me Ishara.” I shake my head, walking down the outer corridor of the station. That sounded too forward. “My name is Ishara.” Better, but a bit formal, especially in this part of Halo System. “Name’s Isha—­”

“Your mic’s still on,” Quinn’s lyrical voice interrupts in my earpiece.

I cringe and cuss, attracting the glances of a couple station techies passing by. Hunching my shoulders, I tug on the right sleeve of my shore jacket and continue down the overpass connecting the station’s recreational ring to the docking bays. At least I’m on the private line. Stars know the Dorado’s crew wouldn’t have let me hear the end of this, fussing over a simple introduction.

“But do go on,” my first mate continues. Her Halo accent rises and falls like a siren’s song. Quinn claims it’s because the first celestial whalers originated from the Halo System, where songs of the hunt—­shanties—­used to fill every spaceship, every household, until every Haloite grew up speaking in that lilting rhythm, whether they were conversing in Universal Spoken Language or one of the system’s regional dialects. A melodic accent I can never quite mimic, no matter how hard I try. And I’ve been trying ever since I arrived in this system seven years ago.

“What were you practicing?” Quinn asks. “The speech you’ll give before blowing up the Ballena’s biocore?”

I scoff, the metallic joints of my right hand humming as it curls into a fist. “Porfavo, that cash-­in is enough for the whole crew to retire on, why would I waste it by obliterating the core?”

“Because you hate that bleeding whale so much you left our last crew to go murder it.”

“Destroy it,” I correct. The sharp smell of machine oil and chemicals stings my nose as I enter the bays. “Murder implies taking a life.”

“Mm-­hmm.”

I can easily picture the amused half grin that’s no doubt tugging at Quinn’s lips.

“Where are you, anyway?” she asks. “Your candidate is already here for the interview. This guy has potential—­worked in the HS Vigilancia’s engine room and was directly trained by the ship’s lead mech.”

“Right.” I catch sight of her halfway across the spacious bay, pacing on an unoccupied air-­dock while winding the end of her umber braid around a finger. A young man wearing stained coveralls stands beside her on the metal platform. I study him as I thread a path over. “Potential, huh? That’s what you said about the other eight candidates. If this guy doesn’t make the cut, I say it’s time to move on.” I sweep my gaze over my shoulder and lock eyes with a dock worker wearing Aegis Station’s patch on his jacket.

He calls out, “When are you going to bring that whaler of yours over, herma? The hull shielding is in a sorry—­”

I tug on my sleeve and pivot away, jogging over to the air-­dock. Yep, definitely time to move on if the station regulars are starting to recognize my face. I double-­click my tongue, muting my mic, and hop onto the raised platform. The height offers a better vantage of Aegis’ bays: a circular arena packed with travelers looking for a ride beyond the Astilla Belt, trawler crews returning from nebula-­raking trips, and asteroid miners looking for a place to kill time before heading back out to the rocks.

Quinn and the mechanic hurry over as I scan the latter. He stretches out a grimy hand. “Donavan Wells. Pleasure to meet you.”

I offer a brisk nod. “Ishara.”

An awkward beat passes. Eventually, Donavan drops his arm and glances at Quinn, as if confirming this type of reception is normal.

She sighs, pins me with a why can’t you act nice for once? look, and says, “I’ve already gone over his responsibilities on the Dorado, payment, et cetera.”

I turn to Donavan. “Aside from the Vigilancia, what other ships have you worked on?”

“Racers, cruisers, transporters—­”

“Whalers? Darts? You have experience with those?”

His mouth slackens. He snaps his jaw shut and shakes his head, releasing a nervous chuckle. “Nala. Can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a whaler. Why, did you pick one up from a junkyard and want to refurbish it?”

I cast Quinn a side-­eye. “Apparently, my first mate left out a couple important details. The Dorado is a whaling crew. Best in the Seven Systems.”

He stares at me a little longer, as if trying to decide whether I’m messing with him. Then: “You guys still exist?”

My eyes narrow.

“ ‘Best in the Seven Systems.’ ” He snorts, polite pretense dropping away like gull shit. Oh, great. He’s one of those snobs who think they’re too good for a whaling crew. “More like ‘only one in the Seven Systems.’ Get with the times, herma—­it’s been over fifty years since the government declared open season on the MOBIS. You’re fishing in an empty sea now.” He waves a hand toward a curved window looking out into the infinite depth of space. The Astilla Belt slashes a blurry streak across the view. “Asteroid mining or nebula raking. That’s where the money is, not those autonomous spacecrafts still floating around.”

He strides away and pauses at the edge of the platform. Quinn opens her mouth, then presses her lips together, as if fighting the urge to call him back.

He nods at me, almost pityingly.

That makes me bristle.

Donavon swings off the air-­dock and shakes his head. “You’re delusional if you think your crew will be in business for much longer.”

I hide a wince, his words harpooning too close to the truth for comfort. I avert my gaze from Quinn, knowing she would see straight through my mask to the guilt hooking onto my rib cage. I never keep secrets from her. Except this one.

Donavon flashes me a sarcastic salute, then proceeds to rub salt into the wound by muttering, “Chasing dumb metal fish can’t net much.”

I glare down at him and cross my arms. “Dumb metal fish? MOBIS are dangerous. A couple shots from an armed Levi and this entire station would be space dust.”

Just like how a couple well-­placed blows from a malicious Mech-­Operated Bio-­Integrated Spacecraft can take down a Class III whaler, murdering everyone on board. I know this only too well.

Donavan cocks a brow. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing there aren’t Leviathans out there anymore.”

“And you can thank whalers for that,” I snap.

“Graza.” He tips an imaginary hat, served with a mocking grin.

My fingers itch to carve that arrogant smirk off his blubbery lips. Instead, I force myself to uncurl my fists. He’s not worth my energy. “Let’s go, Quinn.”

I jump off the platform and shove past Donavan. He catches me by the shoulder. “Wait, herma—­”

I fling the offending hand off and hiss, “Don’t you dare ‘herma’ me.”

“You’re Ishara.”

I follow his line of sight down to my right arm, where the sleeve’s ridden up to my elbow, exposing the metal plating making up my...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Viking Books for Young Readers
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2026
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593693744
• ISBN 13: 9780593693742
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 400
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: VIKING; https://www.penguin.com/overview-vikingbooks/; ; Attn: Andrea T Sheridan 1745 BROADWAY; New York; NY; 10019; USA
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