I left the meeting with my heart in my throat, trying not to vomit as I staggered back to my room. Phox shadowed me in, not saying a word but remaining close like a towering stone guardian, his expression grim and creased with concern. He sat on the floor beside my bed, his gaze fixed on the floor as I sat curled up on my comforter.
“We’re gonna get her,” he said softly.
“I know,” I murmured back. “I just … I hope she’s okay.”
“She will be once we get her the hell out of there.”
I had to believe that. To think anything else—I couldn’t. All I could envision was that completely hopeless dejection on her face when she’d talked about it. She probably thought she was going to die there.
Setting a course for the Cradle System, Rout had insisted it wouldn’t take long to reach the power-conversion station orbiting close to the two stars. There, he’d already arranged for us to pick her up—purchasing her under the excuse that he was in need of a very particular type of mate for a breeding pairing. God, I hoped they wouldn’t tell her that. She might ditch her mining craft into the star on purpose.
The hours dragged, and at first, I tried to lose myself in the music thumping through the headphones of my new-to-me smartphone. The previous owner had good taste. His mix of 80s and 90s jams kept my brain occupied for a while. But the closer we drifted to those two, smaller but intensely brilliant stars, the more my stomach fluttered and my lungs felt like someone was reaching into my chest and squeezing every last bit of air out of them. Would she even remember me? What if she’d been hurt down there? What if they’d done something terrible to her in addition to forcing her to work in that hellish place?
A million questions streaked through my mind like a meteor shower as I sat by the window until, at last, an announcement over the ship’s PA system requested our presence in the launch bay. I tripped all over myself to get to the door, Phox right on my heels. Together, we sped down the maze of halls and corridors, riding sleek glass elevators down to the lowest deck of the ship, where all the smaller, interplanetary crafts were docked. The Nautilus was too big to land on the surface of planets on a whim. Its monstrous size made it difficult to maneuver in and out of atmosphere, let alone to break free of the gravitational pull. Instead, he had a fleet of smaller surface-cruisers the size of passenger airplanes that he used when he wanted to traverse to and from planets—like the one we’d used to get to the awarding ceremony. Each one was obscenely luxurious and I couldn’t help but feel gross and unworthy as I sank down into a plush white seat alongside Phox.
Sure, I’d been able to bathe every day and wash my hair, and now I had a whole wardrobe of new, alien-approved clothes. But I still felt like a bum who’d scored a ride in a luxury limousine as the ship took off, its engines purring happily as it glided out of the launch bay and into the open, star-studded sky.
Across from us, Rout fiddled with a weird gold-looking pendant hanging on a long, golden chain around his neck as he watched the starscape slip by. It was still hard to get a feel for him and what he was actually like—you know, other than a manipulative, people-buying asshole. Maybe it was my useless romantic streak, but I wanted there to be something good about him. Something hidden beneath that mask of otherworldly beauty that he just didn’t reveal to anyone. It felt a little like rooting for the Grinch, though, even after he’d stolen Christmas, murdered all the Whos in Whoville, and sold their children as fodder for an intergalactic demolition race.
Stupid thought, probably. How could there be anything good about him? While publicly he passed himself off as a private investor specializing in cutting edge, luxury starship technology, his entire empire of wealth was built on the blood of people like me.
My mouth quirked as I looked back out the window. Whatever he was, I told myself, it made no difference now. As long as he held up his end of our deal, everything would be fine. Maybe.
God, I hoped so.
The power-conversion station appeared out the window like a floating metal halo. It gleamed in hues of gold that reflected the searing heat and light of the twin stars as it hung, far out of reach of the arching prominences that erupted from their surface. God, it looked so close. Too close. How could it be so near two stars without bursting into flame? Or getting sucked in by their gravity? Just the sight of it left me reeling, my heartbeat stammering as we drew closer and closer.
I reached over to clamp a desperate grip on Phox’s arm. He didn’t resist.
As we made a wide pass, lining up to dock, I noticed another, far smaller ship heading for the station—as though it were bursting straight out of the heart of the star. Its hull glowed like a red-hot branding iron, streaking impossibly fast and leaving a trail behind it like a comet. At the last second, the smaller, wedge-shaped craft darted back and lined up to dock with the station, too.
Was … Was that her? Was Enola in that ship?
My feet wouldn’t stop bouncing and I shifted in my seat, still wrenching Phox’s arm as we cruised into the docking bay and landed. As soon as our landing gear touched down, Rout ordered
