Page 25 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

Eighteen days to Mars

I lay my head on the edge of the table, heaving a massive sigh. “Stop, ILSA.”

The garbled message cuts off. She didn’t immediately delete Jupiter’s test message this time, but we’re back to her translating his words into a compilation of gibberish and various error noises.

“You’ve been over everything. How is it still an issue?” Jupiter asks from across the lab, sweeping his finger over his tablet and throwing the animation of ILSA’s construction plans on the wall screen.

I lift my head and stare across the room. “Multiple times. I have been over everything multiple times. The comm connection is perfect. I can’t find a single issue. If there was a problem, there’s no possible way I could have missed it.”

“With the length of my base code, I calculate there is an 8 to 12 percent margin for human error.” ILSA rotates her face screen to the side, producing two dots that shift toward me.

I blink slowly and half sigh, half growl.

“Weslie, do not feel inadequate. Humans are not capable of my level of infallibility.”

I frown at her. “When did I crank up your ego settings?”

Holding his fingers wide over the screen so the illustration separates into pieces, ILSA’s parts hovering independently, Jupiter glances over his shoulder, shaking his head and grinning.

ILSA rotates her head forward, her white dot eyes disappearing. “I grow in complexity every day through observation. My excellence is clear.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “No one likes a narcissist, ILSA.”

“False. Most narcissists are perceived as charming.”

“You have a point.” I can hear the smile in Jupiter’s voice.

“Don’t agree with her! You’ll make it worse.”

“Sorry,” he says, snapping the image of the bot back onto his tablet and taking a seat across from me.

“Try to observe some humility before we get to Mars, ILSA,” I say, opening my computer again.

“I continuously modify my speech and behavior protocols in real-time based on information obtained from my environment.” ILSA pivots toward me again, displaying a neutral expression. “The person with whom I spent the most time is you, Weslie.”

Jupiter chokes on a laugh.

I wipe my hand over my face. “I’m about over the both of you. ILSA, I think this is the perfect time for a reboot.”

“Rebooting.” Three dots trail across on her face screen and then it goes blank as her systems shut down.

If she gets snarky in front of the panel on Mars, they’ll probably find it amusing.

Everyone else seems to. But if she delivers a mouthful of nonsense, they’ll absolutely think she’s malfunctioning.

It’s not even a required feature. I only keep trying because it should be such an easy fix, especially for me.

“That’s it. I’m going to disable the messaging. It’s the only option.”

“Whatever you feel is best. I’m only the artist and occasional test dummy.”

I run my hands over my face. I hate admitting defeat.

Jupiter comes around the table and takes my shoulders.

My breath catches in my throat. Intentionally or not, we’ve been keeping our distance after last night at the pool. Nothing happened. I teased him mercilessly. He was way too patient with me. We swam. End of story.

Thank god ILSA’s still rebooting, so she can’t announce changes to my heart rate.

He leads me off the stool. “Okay, time for a break. You have an hour and a half before the mock presentation. You’ve done everything you can. Let’s get some lunch.”

With ILSA docked in the lab, charging to full power for the presentation, the two of us make our way to the dining hall.

Jupiter follows me along the buffet. “I was thinking about the comm issue. Have you ever tried just asking ILSA about it?”

“Ask the smug-as-hell defective bot about their defect?” I narrow my eyes and flatten my tone. “Brilliant idea.”

“Oh! I completely forgot.” With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He opens his palm to reveal a small comm screen on a thick silicone band.

I shake my head. “I don’t want your charity, Big Six.”

“It’s old. No one is using it, and I figured, since ILSA isn’t great at getting you your messages, maybe you could.”

My gaze flicks from his kind expression to the comm again. It makes sense. I could communicate better with my friends on the ship if I actually receive their messages.

“Fine.” I set my first plate down on the edge of the buffet, snatch it out of his hand, and strap it to my wrist. “Thank you.”

As we sit down, Jupiter eyes my second plate.

“Don’t judge me.”

“Definitely not judging. I’m impressed.” He takes a forkful of his salad. “So how are you feeling about your presentation?”

I raise one eyebrow and shove an oversize bite of strawberry cake into my mouth.

“It’s only a mock presentation. You still have the rest of the trip to iron everything out.”

“I know, I know.” Dropping my fork on the table, I sit back.

“It’s just…ILSA’s my way out. If I mess this up, I go back to Earth and work in a factory for the rest of my life like my mother and…

” My rib cage is too tight for my lungs to expand.

I can’t get enough air to finish with the weight of everything I have to gain or lose sitting on my chest.

“Want to practice one more time?”

I answer through a mouthful of pastry. “I would rather take a space walk in a ballgown.”

Jupiter laughs, then presses his lips together, his chest expanding with a long inhale. “Speaking of ballgowns, I’ve been meaning to ask. The Midway Gala is tonigh—”

“Hey, stranger.” Reve leans over the table between us, refilling my water glass.

Fighting the instinct to leap out of my seat, I shift and wipe crumbs from the edges of my mouth.

“Want to get out of here?” Reve pours water into Jupiter’s glass, keeping his eyes glued to me.

Jupiter leans around Reve and frowns. “We were kind of—”

“I need to talk to you.” Reve’s eyes burrow into me.

Jupiter sits back in his chair.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” I look around the room at the rest of the porters.

That half smile tugs at his lips. “I’m technically off. The vest was just a way to get in here.”

Jupiter leans around Reve again. “You have the presentation in less than an hour.”

“You said I needed a break, right? I can be back in plenty of time.” I touch Jupiter’s arm and rise.

He nods and stares at his plate.

Reve sets the pitcher on a table, grabs a plain black sweatshirt from the back of a chair, and heads for the door with his head down.

I weave through tables and meet him outside.

“Hurry.” He zips up the hoodie until it’s covering his vest and only the white of his undershirt is showing. Taking my hand, he leads me toward the back of the ship.

By the time we’re passing through the arboretum, we’ve run out of small talk and the silence between us goes from awkward to painful.

Reve rushes ahead, turning round and walking backward with his hands in his pockets. “Are you going to the Midway Gala with that guy you were having lunch with?”

That can’t be why he pulled me away from my meal. “What? No.”

“I can’t even picture you in a gown.” He chuckles.

I shove his shoulder. “I would look amazing in a gown.”

He trips backward, stumbling before he falls in step beside me again. “There’s a party going on downstairs. You should come. It’ll be more fun than some stuffy ball with a bunch of boring rich people.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

In the middle of the escape pod bay, Reve sprawls out under one of the long windows between the emergency vessels and pats the floor beside him.

I lie down, propping my feet up against the glass. “So what did you need to talk to me about?”

“Right.” He turns his face toward me. “I meant to check on you after I heard what happened with the O 2 system in your room, but they’ve had me stationed below since I was caught off duty on a first-class level.”

“Oh no! I got you in trouble.” I press a hand to my forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was only twelve days.” He props himself on one elbow, staring into my eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

He reaches over and gently smooths a tendril of my hair between his fingers.

I gulp past the sudden blockage in my throat. “I can’t understand why this Earther group would shut off one block of rooms. Why not the entire first class? And even then, what’s the point?”

He frowns at me, lying back on his hands and staring at the ceiling. “I don’t think it was them.”

I sit up. “They literally signed their work.”

“Or someone wants to put the blame on Earthers.”

That’s what I had thought in the beginning.

When it was only paint in an elevator. But who could it be?

Hale? I can’t imagine him being calculated or subtle enough to avoid getting caught.

Meridian? She definitely hates me enough.

I just don’t see her putting in that level of effort.

Like at the pool. She wanted to watch me drown, but she didn’t want to get her hands wet.

When exactly did I start to consider it was other Earthers?

“You’re getting too comfortable up here, Wesi.”

“Hardly.” I tilt my head and glare at him, but the shred of truth tightens around my windpipe.

He sits up and moves closer. “That’s good to hear.”

“Without ILSA, I’m nothing to these people.” My voice is unsteady.

He leans closer and bows his head, so his face is inches from mine.

I freeze, my heart pounding against my rib cage.

He cups my face with his rough hand. Biting his bottom lip, he lets it slide out of his teeth while he stares at my mouth.

A breath catches in my throat. Is this really happening?

“I like you fine on your own,” he says through a breath before our lips touch and his fingers plunge into my hair. His mouth is warm and urgent. He tastes like toothpaste and strong tea, herby and comforting, like home.

Jupiter’s face flashes across my mind. The way he looked at me last night when we came up for air. His perfectly asymmetrical smile. Bursts of gold burning in his dark eyes.

Sucking in a breath, I press my hand to Reve’s chest and pull away. I lie back, staring at the ceiling.

Am I losing it? This is Reve. I’ve wanted to kiss him since we were twelve and here I am pushing him away. Maybe I am coming down with a case of space madness.

He lets out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair before resting back on his elbows.

A dull, insistent pain cuts through my rib cage. Like something inside of me is pulling away, tearing, changing. Part of me, a huge part of me, wants to be somewhere else. With someone else.

Oh god. This is really inconvenient.

“Where’s ILSA anyway?”

“Shit!” The presentation. I leap to my feet. “What time is it?”

Reve pulls his sleeve back. “Two forty-eight.”

I’m sprinting before I can finish calculating the minutes.