A/N: This story has been a long time in the making. I wrote Episode I last summer. It was the very first Constellations story, and even though ideas abounded for what happens to Bay next, it was hard to narrow in on a clear story. And so with much ado, I present to you, Bay's Star, Episode II!

Glossary: Hall Names

Ad-dabarān Hall: From the original Arabic name for the Taurus constellation. Ad-dabaran, "the follower (of the Pleiades)" 

Baekdu Student Center: Korean name for Ursa Minor, Baekdu, after the highest mountain on the Korean peninsula.

When Bay Goes to Magicians College

Bay hated it when Yue called her in class — or when she was supposed to be in class.

A sprint would have gotten her to Link Combinatorics 213 on time. Or basically on time.

In fact she had been sprinting across campus from the bus stop — past Lillywood trees that crawled purple branches up to new heights to only just tickle the bottoms of the four levitating Ad-dabaran towers on the campus of the magician's college.

At certain angles the arboles tall as gods seemed to support the flying buildings, but of course they didn't. The skyscrapers hung unsuspended, as if gravity's force pushed up against them in reverse, cancelling out the pull of the planet.

Four library towers orbit the Baekdu Student Center and provide revolving views for the pupils studying in the windows.

Bay was so happy to be here she could scream — and she did and she had sometimes, like when she received her admissions letter and she and Song had jumped up and down screaming the words they read together:

"We are pleased to inform you that your employer and sponsor Yue Nimbus has secured a place for you to renew magicians credits in link surveillance on a part-time basis to fulfill certain magical responsibilities required for your employment!"

Bouncing up and down they had screamed and cheered together. Even if it was only part-time, only three classes, only permitted within the purview of the surveillance role, so long as she stayed on Yue's good side and didn't get herself terminated or the role canceled, she was back! Back at school! Bay was back in magicians college, back on campus, back with the kids!

And oh, those kids. They were so young, not that Bay looked a day older! Yet there was a certain difference in body language and spatial poetics between the real nineteen-year-olds and the multi-centenarian who just looked like them.

Indeed, Bay hated it when Yue called her when she knew she had class, and she had been sprinting to make it. Running past the library's doming edifice on the ground, Bay's heels slammed into the red brick path as she slid to a stop. A pequeñisimo portal had blocked her vision while she ran — definitely a trip hazard. Maybe she should become a Constellation engineer and fix that.

Panting and sweating in her new animated pantsuit — decorated with pinstripe shooting stars — she waved as if at an invisible fly to accept the call.

In the petite link, Yue's face started out the size of a poppy and grew and grew along with the portal until her life-sized countenance stared out at Bay as if through a window.

Never had Bay seen Yue look positively shook before.

"You know I have class," said Bay. "Shift starts at 4:45, and at precisely 4:45 I'll take a link back to the Cloud—"

"Notice posted on the door. We're being shut down. Failure to comply with flight zone regulations."

Stars damn it. How long had Yue been failing to comply with flight zone regulations?

Bay panted and tried to compose a productive version of the accusatory question. And failed. "And how long have you been failing to comply with flight zone regulations?"

Yue recovered her moxy just in time to fire back. "If you imagine for a second that I have ever paid a copper solida to that bloodsucking company for their millisecond auto-updating flight paths, I should fire you for general imbecility right now."

"Never? You've never paid for access to the flight path nav? So since its establishment in 1197 S.E., the Cloud has flown blind?"

"Exactly. And we have never had a single collision. We've never crashed. We park at the same time along the same path every night, lift off at the same time along the same path every morning, we're easily visible to individual flyers, and we appear on everyone else's radar."

"Because everyone else pays for the nav."

"If they're only coming after me now, after three hundred and nine years of infractions, it's proof that this is a concerted effort to take down my business. A conspiracy. This has the smell of Lepain's cheap deep fryer oil all over it."

A sadness drew all of her features down, and for a moment, Bay almost felt sorry for the paranoid, vindictive baker. Until she had seen her so pallid, with shocked wide eyes and puffy bottom lids that may have shown evidence of earlier crying, Bay had never imagined that Yue possessed emotions of any kind.

"If the Cloud doesn't reopen by the end of the week, it's over," said Yue.

"I know," said Bay.

"I'm behind on rent."

"I know," said Bay.

"Though offset by assets, my debt is in the millions."

How Yue imagined that anyone didn't know that already was miraculous — though Bay was tempted to ask, "Just how many millions are we talking?"

Then Yue did throw in a shocker.

"Even the eternal life mandate withholdings haven't covered the losses."

"The what now?" said Bay.

"I've been withholding eternal life mandate payments from all employees in my debt. And I'm withholding all mandate payments from the new hires until we're sure we can trust them."

Yue was so going to get the pants sued off her. "Have you?" was all Bay could bring herself to respond.

"Yes, it's helping to make back some of what I lost with Ocean and Jaya robbing me blind." And Amber, Bay added mentally — but Yue didn't know about that yet. And Bay and Impala, but that was why Bay had handed over Ocean. To cover for herself and Impala. So far they had not been caught in their continued untraceable Stellar till withdrawals. "Even that isn't enough. It's only a dent in what I owe."

"Right," Bay consciously exhaled and softened her voice, "but when you withhold their health mandate, which has been paid by our customers as a mandatory fraction — I believe 7% — of their bill, according to municipal bylaws, to pay for their immortality and general health fees, you are still legally required to pay it out. . . Eventually. . ."

"Not if they owe me. For example, if they have been committing thefts."

Interesting Yue logic, but okay. Bay was willing to bite. "And have they?"

"You're my surveillance girl. You tell me."

"I haven't seen any evidence of theft from the wait staff, or anyone else currently in your employ." Amber's name Bay would continue to withhold as her cover should her own cash till withdrawals ever come under scrutiny.

"You might want to rethink your answer." Yue's eyes burned and gleamed with hidden meaning, which was pretty much laid bare when she continued, "I may not have much need for the surveillance role, in that case. If the problem of loss has been resolved in its entirety."

Bay shifted her weight and considered her options. It seemed what Yue was implying was that they should fabricate evidence that the new servers were stealing as justification for withholding their earnings.

Indefinitely. And although this justification made sense with Yue logic, it wouldn't hold up in a court. And yet. Once again, Yue's magical incompetence and amazing lack of schoolbook learning had given Bay an advantage. Privacy laws prevented the admission of simple memory recordings in most civil law suits — but link comm conversations — which could be accessed much more easily than a typical memory due to the aid of link time stamps — were admissible. If the woman had only stayed awake in "Contemporary Comm Link Bylaws 101" she would have been aware that even without a surveillance license — Bay's was temporary right now and completely contingent upon her boss's — Yue's— approval, Bay could turn this conversation in to the authorities at any time.

One problem at a time. "Guess I'm not making it to class. Look, I'll read up on the bylaws for flight paths while I'm here. I suggest you start kissing up to the Constellation commissioner, because whatever solution I find, it will definitely still require groveling and begging for forgiveness." How this became her responsibility went unasked. Contrary to all previously held beliefs as to what was possible in this world, Yue's eyes were shimmering with a chance of rainfall.

Inside the dome on the grounded floor of the Constellation Main Branch, Bay scanned an infinite directory of sections, located "Updated Magical Regulations" on the Stellar interface, tapped an index, and asked (in her most polite tone of voice), "Excuse me, where can I locate current Constellation bylaws on flight regulation?"

A voice filled her mind and answered unfathomably devoid of expression, gender, timber, accent, or any of the other identifiers of vocal register. It said, "East Tower floor four hundred and thirteen, moonbeam section."

"May I have a link, please?" asked Bay, and she crossed her fingers for a subsidized rate.

"That will be 1200 solidae," said the unvoiced voice.

"Umm, how far can I get for 700?" Bay asked, mentally plotting a path while she negotiated.

The voice answered, "You may link as far as the first floor of the East Tower." Wonderful. One would think a student in a school library would be able to traverse said library free of charge. 

One would be wrong.

"That will be lovely," said Bay. "Could you please link me close the elevator to the upper floors?"

"Unfortunately," said the unvoiced Stellar speaker. "No, I cannot. 700 solidae is sufficient only to link one to the inner perimeter of the east tower, directly above our current location."

"Thank you for informing me of those limitations." Bay was no longer sure why she was bothering to be polite — what had it gotten her? But she knew better than to fuck with the link initialization program. It was almost a sentient being. "That would be spectacular," she lied. "Let's do it."

A link portal opened up, showing a view of the stacks on, supposedly, the first floor of the east tower, nowhere near the elevator. For 700 hard earned solidae.

No sense whining about it, better to just keep moving. She hustled through the link, and turned around to get her bearings. Which way to the center? It was always totally disorienting to get out of a link. You never knew which way was north — and in a levitating tower that also revolved and also orbited around the perimeter of the library grounds, with the four other towers, making "East Tower" a bit of a misnomer, it was almost impossible.

Like all of Constellation's  most prized architectural works, part of it needed to be literally flying. Otherwise, what would be the fun? The grounded level, encased by Lilywoods, domed underneath its levitating towers, a marvel unseen anywhere else in the Solari empire, stretching to impossibly unprecedented heights of over three hundred stories. The bottom floor started well above the trees.

Imagine if it crashed down.

Bay did every time she stepped aboard, despite the fact that she worked morning and night in a levitating cafe. The Cloud was a tiny little pod. These structures stretched a mile into the sky, and their narrow profile served only to increase the appearance of precariousness. 

The stacks extended beyond, facing, Bay desperately hoped, toward the center elevators. A thought occurred to her just after she crossed the threshold. "How much would it cost to view the bylaws from here?" asked Bay.

"3000 solidae."

"Stars damn capitalism."

"Is there anything else I can assist with?"

"Yes, I'd like a fucking map to the flight bylaw shelf."

"I have illuminated your path, in blue light. Free of charge." Bay looked up, and a powder blue stream flowed in the air, leading down the aisle and disappearing around a corner. "You're welcome," said the Stellar.

"Thank you," said Bay, and she dashed off down the path.

At least she had learned she could swear at the Stellar and still get good service.

After two more lefts and a right, the cerulean light lifted to the height of the shelf, and Bay reached for a volume marked "202SE Updated flight Navigation Bylaws." Another set of fingers touched hers.

"Jaya?" It was aer. Blue nails and blue beret and all. How? "Why are you—"

Not hesitating, Jaya snatched the weighty periodical in two hands. "What's happening, Jaya?" Slowly Jaya's lips began to move while aer feet stepped one foot behind the other. Aer eyes flashed with a nervousness that made Bay want to tell aer to just slow down, but she was still walking backwards. Escaping.

"What's all the drama for? I'm not going to fight you for a dusty old book I can get in any library. No need to back away slowly."

Eyes darting side to side, Jaya said, "I'm offering you a chance to work with me. Forget the Cloud. We'll open our own place."

"Not interested. I like what I have going on now, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd let this whole flight navigation path bureaucracy-based retribution plan go. A lot of good people still work at the Cloud. They count on this job to pay their rent, bills, tuition. To help out sick family. All that good stuff. By all means, compete with Yue, but don't blow up her business. You're the one who got yourself fired by giving away free food."

You'd think Jaya had a bomb strapped to aer chest instead of a library book clutched to it. Bay couldn't fathom what was beneath those sketchy mannerisms. "That's all it is, right? Close down the Cloud for bylaw violations?"

Jaya took another thoughtful step backwards. It seemed as if aer mind was on something she wanted to say, or was considering saying. But then a grin flicked. "Bureaucracy-based retribution. That's pretty funny."

Bay jumped her as if that little book contained the trapped animus of a loved one.

And Jaya straight up disappeared.

Thank you for reading the first part of Bay's Star Episode II! It's been a long time in the making. I hope you're enjoying the story. Please tune in next week for the next chapter; this book updates on Fridays. As always any stars would be lovely, have a nice week all of ya!