Page 52 of Bound By Stars

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Page 52 of Bound By Stars

Jupiter sits on my bed.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m waiting.”

ILSA glides in between us. “Jupiter, my scan indicates the abrasion on your right hand has been reopened. Do I have your permission to attend to your injury?”

“That can wait. I don’t need an audience to get dressed.” I open the closet, searching for the quickest thing to put on.

“Leaving an open wound untended increases risk of infection. Jupiter, do I have your permission to attend to your injury?” ILSA asks again.

“Get dressed in the bathroom. I’m not going to leave you alone until you get a med check.”

“Nope. This is not how this is going to go.” I pull him off the bed and push him toward the door.

“But what if—”

Tar appears in the open doorway again. “You two should probably come see this.”

We follow him around the corner past the unit next door to mine. Passengers in various states of dress are scattered through the hall. A few people sit along the wall with porters crouched beside them offering O2masks.

“Jupiter, do I have permiss—”

“If you are not outside your own quarters or in need of assistance, keep moving!” A porter waves for lingerers to move along, including Asha, who is frozen in the middle of everything, stares at three giant letters painted across the wall.

E.F.E.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jupiter

Nineteen days to Mars

Three days later, the image of Weslie lying limp on her bedroom floor still haunts me. I stick close to her as our class is herded onto the bridge. We shuffle in a single-file line along the back of the room, above levels of workstations descending like tiered seating in a theater in front of a wall of glass. Dull overhead lights are dimmed by the gray walls, amplifying the brightness of the stars ahead and the colorful lights that blink on and off among the displays of screens.

Asha jumps in between Weslie and a girl with pigtails on her other side. “My dad’s first mate showed up early this morning with a full report of the incident in your block. Apparently, it was shut down manually, but they only caught the person who did it on a couple of cameras.”

I lean around Weslie. “They know who did it?”

Asha shakes her head. “Someone in a black hooded sweatshirt. They kept their face covered the whole time and stayed on the edge of the frame.”

A few of the bridge crew, clad in matching navy blue jackets, glance back before silently returning to work.

I whisper, “A sweatshirt isn’t much to go on.”

Weslie rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing. All they know is that a human did it. A human who managed to get hold of an incredibly rare black hoodie.”

“Captain Nazari!” Calypso waves the man over as he enters the room.

Asha gives a discreet wave.

Her father, a tall man in a navy-blue suit with the same brass-edged white star pin on his lapel that the other crew members wear, nods at his daughter. Under salt-and-pepper stubble, his face is pale. No hint of Asha’s beautiful golden hue. But they have the same smile, the same gentle eyes. He removes his hard-brimmed captain’s cap to reveal a swoop of neat, thick hair and shakes Calypso’s hand. “Welcome. We’re happy to have you all. Orion and Sofie here will be giving you a tour of the bridge.”

Beside him, two crew members, a short, serious-looking man and a woman with fire-red hair, stand at attention.

We’re split into two groups. Asha frowns, turning right with half the class, while Wes and I are ushered left with the other.

Orion leads us around the upper level of the bridge.


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