Page 22 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

Twenty-two days to Mars

Waving her off, I gasp for air, inhaling faster with each incomplete breath. The room is shrinking. The walls are closing in around me. I put my hands out to hold them off, stumbling out of bed.

The alarm cuts off. “ Oxygen level critical. Your unit is experiencing a loss of breathable air. Please make your way to the exit promptly, ” the automated voice repeats.

“I have to get out of here.” I stagger to the control panel on the wall with lazy limbs and slam my palm to the door release. Nothing happens.

“Weslie, your brain is receiving insufficient oxygen, impairing your critical thinking. If you are not compliant, I will have to put you into the emergency cryo-pod as is passenger protocol.”

I can’t let her trap me in that coffin or her tiny oxygen helmet. I just have to get the door open. I mash the button again, holding myself up against the wall. Still nothing. Gray fog curls around my view of the panel. I shake it away, slamming my fist against the button again. Nothing.

“Oxygen level critical. Your unit … ” The announcement becomes too muffled to hear.

My rib cage expands and contracts around my burning lungs. I press a hand to my chest. “IL…SA…over…ride…door…con…trol.”

ILSA’s face flashes a red emergency icon. “Oxygen level 13 percent. Deficient oxygen compromises cognitive abilities. Emergency protocol initiated.”

“No,” I cough out, clawing at the edge of the door. It has to open. I need to get out.

ILSA’s hands expand around my head.

“Stop!” I duck, batting her away, tottering, and falling to the ground. “Just…open…the…door!”

“Oxygen level 12 percent. Deficient oxygen compromises cognitive abilities. Emergency protocol initiated.”

I push off the floor, but my body is too heavy. Rasping breaths come faster. My chest heaves against the cold tile. Heartbeats pound in my skull.

ILSA hovers over me, her words echoey and muffled. Is she trying to deliver a message from my mom? “It is going to be okay, Weslie.”

I blink slowly. The room around me fades away…

…

A whoosh of air drowns out all other sounds.

“Weslie, I have alerted all stored contacts aboard the ship to your emergency. Please attempt to take slow breaths. Help will arrive shortly.” ILSA’s voice is clear like everything else has gone silent and it’s only us two left in the universe.

My body melts into the floor.

Thud, thud, thud . A hollow pounding echoes through the darkness.

I blink my eyes open. Red light paints the ceiling. Everything is warped at the edges of my vision. My heavy eyelids fall shut again.

Thud, thud, thud, thud . There’s a voice. Far away. “Weslie! Someone get this door open!”

I lift a hand to rub my temple, but inches away from my head my fingers hit plastic.

“We’re going to get you out. Hold on!” the distant voice calls.

My eyes pop open. Heart pumping faster, breath quickening, I squirm. Both hands press to the helmet ILSA’s formed around my head.

“You have experienced oxygen deprivation. Take slow and deep breaths. Help will arrive shortly.”

I pinch my eyes shut, lie still, and breathe deeply. As oxygenated air fills my lungs, my muscles start to relax. I’m so tired.

The light shifts from red to soft, dim white. “ Oxygen level restored, ” the robotic voice of the alert system announces.

ILSA releases me.

“Oxygen level 21 percent. My readings indicate you’ve sustained no long-term damage. You may experience a headache as a result of your oxygen depriv—”

The door slides open. Noise bursts into the room. Hands move under me, propping me up, cradling my head and torso.

“Weslie!” Jupiter presses his fingers to my neck, along my windpipe.

Pressure builds inside my skull, and I wince.

Footsteps pound down the hallway.

“Say something, Wes.”

“I’m fine.” My voice is hoarse. I push his hand away and open my eyes. I try to sit up, but I’m too exhausted. “What are you doing here?”

Someone is calling for help outside my door.

“I got ILSA’s message and came as fast as I could.” Jupiter’s face is almost gray, eyes wide. He cradles me in one trembling arm, pulling me closer against his chest.

I can feel his thumping heartbeat. Too fast.

“I thought…” He scans me like he’s ILSA searching for damage. Then his eyes go distant. His free hand shakes, hovering over my stomach.

I weave my fingers into his, holding it steady.

Is he really this worried about me ? An Earther. Just barely a friend.

When I press my other palm over his heart, he finally sees me again. “Everything is okay. We’re okay.”

He stares back and then swallows hard. “Sorry. Yes. Let’s get you to the med wing.”

With his help, I get to my feet. “ILSA already—”

“Please don’t fight me on this, Weslie.” There’s something more than worry in his expression. Like he just watched someone die. He looks down at our hands still clasped between us, the only barrier between our bodies. “Please.”

My heart swells, and I surprise myself by nodding.

I don’t pull away, mesmerized. How does he survive every day being so open, so vulnerable all the time?

My eyes flick from his thick lashes to his mouth.

“Weslie! Are you okay? What’s going on? What’s the emerg…

” Asha whips around the open door and into my room, freezing when she sees us.

Her wide eyes narrow and her concerned frown turns up at the edges.

“Did ILSA really wake me up to witness you two stare longingly into each other’s eyes?

I mean, I assumed it would happen eventually, but I would have been happy to hear all the details afterward. ”

“The emergency was dire,” ILSA announces. “Weslie and Jupiter have each experienced a boost of adrenaline and their biological response seems to be heightened arou—”

“Thanks, ILSA!” I cut her off, voice softening as I continue. “Really, I mean it. You saved me. Thank you.”

Expressions shuffle across her face screen before she settles on a single, simple heart icon.

Tar appears suddenly, almost slamming into his sister. His eyes shift from me to Jupiter to Asha. “What happened?”

Jupiter steps away, rubbing his neck. “The oxygen to her unit was cut, and the door was sealed. The whole block was compromised.”

I’m suddenly very aware that I’m only wearing my tiny pajama shorts and an oversize T-shirt that hangs past them. I cross my arms over my chest.

“How is that possible?” Asha puts a hand over her heart, rushing to my side, shrugging off her silky pink robe and wrapping it around my shoulders. “Was it a malfunction or did someone shut it down?”

In the hall, a porter holding an emergency O 2 pack stands aside as two people in bathrobes pass the doorway, arm in arm.

Jupiter shrugs. “I don’t know, but the crew’s emergency override keys worked on everyone else’s doors in her block. It took three times as long to get her out.”

“Figures I would end up with the faulty door.” I shake my head. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe it wasn’t a matter of chance at all, but I can’t think about that right now.

Tar twists his mouth, exchanging a pointed look with Jupiter.

“Okay, enough. If I know Weslie—and we’re basically best friends now, so I absolutely do—she needs to get dressed and have a big breakfast. I’ll meet you in the dining hall, Wes.

” Asha pushes Tar through the door and leans back through the opening.

She glances at Jupe and then back to me, widening her eyes. “Details.”

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 O 2 masks.

“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.