Page 5 of Bound By Stars
When we reach the top step, she’s midway down the hall, beckoning us to follow before taking the next turn.
Another uniformed porter with short black hair, olive skin, and a pile of towels balanced in his arms hurries past the crossed hallways.
My heart swells. And his name slips between my lips in a whisper. “Reve.”
I break into a run, but by the time I reach it, the hall he passed into is empty.
“Come along!” Our guide impatiently waves us on in the opposite direction.
I glance back once more. For a second, I could swear…but no. No way. I’m imagining things. My lifelong best friend could not be on this ship. Reve works at the transport depot, repairing and prepping ships. He doesn’t deliver fresh linens. And he wouldn’t be caught dead in a uniform.
ILSA keeps pace as I jog to catch up past evenly spaced, numbered doors. Three turns later, the porter leading us finally slows and stops, waving my ticket next to a door marked with brass numbers:101.
As it slides open, I hold my breath. Split on expectations, I’m prepared for another slender hall with sleeping pods like rows of coffins or an even more official-looking crew member waiting to arrest me for being a stowaway and take me back to Earth.
But there are no pods. No one is waiting. It’s a bedroom. Twice the size of my room at home. The walls are lined with heavy emerald fabric, built-in cabinets, and drawers with brass knobs.
“Whoa.” This has to be a mistake.
The porter waves me inside, drawing a paper-thin tablet from her vest pocket. “Standard single room secured for the Interplanetary Alliance Life Support Bot competition winner.”
“That’s me.” First place.It still feels completely unreal. But I earned it. ILSA had to be the only entry from Earth that can transform into a full life support system for up to fifteen hours with a tracking beacon, GPS, transport capabilities, plus environment detection and health scanning. On top of being a conversational companion capable of learning to read physical changes and detect emotional and medical distress. She is everything they asked for and more.
Even though I hadn’t responded to a message from him in months, Reve was the one who sent me the flyer. The Interplanetary Alliance, made up of the six heads of the most powerful companies in the galaxy, was running a competition for young engineers. I’d just made the cutoff on the lower end of the seventeen to twenty-three age range, but I knew immediately I’d get here. No doubt in my mind. Still, it’s impossible to align the dream with this reality.
I stare at the porter, unable to change my face, which must look like ILSA’s—utterly blank.
She presses my ticket against her tablet until it emits a sharp beep and then holds the screen out toward me. “Left hand here, please.”
I lay my palm on the cool surface. Another beep.
“You’ll be able to access your room and all other first-class amenities now.” She smiles and checks her screen again, quickly scanning the information. “Your award includes full, first-class passage to and from Mars. Appropriate attire for your stay on theBoundlessand your presentation on Mars has been provided.” She gestures to the other side of the room.
Next to the closet is another open door with deep green tiled walls inside.
“I have my own bathroom?” There is no way this is real.
“Of course.” She presses a panel on the wall behind her. Another closet. How many compartments does this one room have? The door pops open.
“In here is your emergency cryo-pod. Its operation is basic, but they’ll go over the training at passenger orientation.” She presses a button, and the front pops open. The interior padding doesn’t make it look any more appealing. She points out the activation pad on the inside and steps back as it closes, sealing shut. Air locked.
My reflection in the small window of the coffin-like tube says everything. The only way I’ll be using it is if my lifeless body is shoved inside.
“A formal dinner is served promptly at seven every evening. Lunch is available from eleven to three p.m. Breakfast is served from six to eight every morning. Class begins tomorrow for all passengers of basic level age.”
“I have to go to school on the ship? In space?”
“Space travel is taxing on the human psyche. Best to keep your mind engaged. Intellectual and physical activity is required of all passengers on theBoundless. The fitness facility will be open daily, but you’ll be assigned gym time with your classmates. Feel free to explore the ship in the meantime. You’ll find we have an extensive library, several game rooms, and ample sensory spaces, such as our award-winning arboretum at the heart of the ship.”
“This place is unreal,” I say to myself, petting the silky silver bedding and lowering to sit on the pillowy mattress. It’s almost too much to process. Hours ago, I was stuck on Earth, out of chances. Now I’m here. In a different world. A shiny, perfect, new world.
“In five days, we’ll enter the communication dead zone between planets, and we won’t have contact again until we’re within five days of Mars.”
Twenty-six days without contact with anyone on solid ground. I swallow back the hollow fear rising in my throat. Space travel has never scared me, but floating in space without contact with Earth? If something happened to the ship, would anyone ever know about it? Or would we just blink out of existence without explanation? Our route between planets is only a blip in the vastness of space.
“If you don’t have any questions, I’ll leave you to settle in. If you need assistance at any time, the call button is on the wall here with the other room controls.” She touches one of the brass buttons and the emerald fabric next to the bed parts to reveal a huge circular window at least as tall as I am, displaying a swirl of clouds, continents, and oceans. So far away, but closer than I’ll be for a long time.
My mom’s expression flashes across my memory, so full of concern as she’d stopped working and pushed back her face shield. I didn’t understand until I noticed the broken seal. She’d intercepted the letter. She’d hidden it from me.
