Page 31 of Bound by Stars

Jupiter

Seventeen days to Mars

On the main first-class floor, we stop outside the dining hall’s open doors.

The room is the same as we left it, bustling and full of music, but the energy is different.

Compared to the pulsing rhythm and unbridled noise downstairs, the Gala feels like a watered-down version of a party. Subdued. Controlled. Sanitized.

Wes shrugs off my coat and hands it back to me. Her lips twist into a concerned smile. It’s warmer up here. She doesn’t really need it. But maybe she’s more worried about the scandalized glances we’d get.

The captain takes the stage, squaring his shoulders and waiting as his audience files onto the dance floor in front of him.

I move closer, so I can feel the heat of Weslie’s bare arm through my thin shirtsleeve. The back of my fingers brushes hers.

She glances down at our hands and back up at my face. Light glimmers in her hazel eyes, the green flecks brighter.

My dad appears beside us, half a lemon tart in his hand. “Jupiter, good. I was afraid you’d wandered off again.” He stares back at me with a knowing expression and waves us inside to follow the migration toward the stage.

“Passengers of the Boundless , thank you all for attending our midway celebration!” The captain’s voice carries through the room. He pauses, waiting for the clapping to die down.

Weslie steps forward, but I twist my hand around hers and lace our fingers together, pulling her back out the open doors.

“Thank you. Thank you, everyone, for embarking on this momentous voyage.” The captain’s voice echoes through the high ceiling of the corridor, followed by more cheering.

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice is quiet and curious like she doesn’t care. Like she might follow me anywhere.

“I’m not really sure,” I whisper back.

The captain’s dynamic speech trails us down the empty hall. “There are many journeys in this ship’s future, but there will never be one as historic as the first. You are all a part of the history of this glorious vessel.”

Applause pours out of the room behind us.

“Here.” She yanks my arm, pulling me into a windowed alcove.

Unlike the brightly lit dining room, the little viewing deck is on the usual nighttime pattern, painting her in dull white mock-moonlight. Her dress is like a starry camouflage against the glittering darkness outside.

The captain’s voice, faint from here but just as clear, trickles into the small space around us. “Today we were meant to arrive at the midway point between Earth and Mars by the standard of the thirty-six-day passage. But I am proud to announce that according to our adjusted calculations…”

She turns to face me, her bottom lip slipping from between her teeth as her eyes meet mine.

Gently taking hold of one of her loose curls, I let it run through my fingers. I shift closer until we’re pressed together like we’re lost in a crowd of dancing and color and darkness, only this time it’s just the two of us.

“Wes…” I say through a breath that fades into a string of unspoken words. Something has shifted between us tonight, but I’m too afraid to name it.

My heart races as she slides her hands up my arms.

I skim my fingers along her jaw and cup her face in my palm.

“Jupiter…” She exhales.

The captain’s words barely penetrate the sound of my drumming pulse, my heavy breaths. “We are due…Mars station…eight days ahead of schedule.”

I look up. My lungs seize and my heart plummets into my gut as I stare back toward the dining room.

“Not only is the Boundless the most luxurious ship in the galaxy, but it is officially the fastest!”

Clapping and cheering erupt again, thunderous and enthusiastic, echoing through the hallway.

Eight days faster. Only ten days left. Less than two weeks until we each step onto Mars and continue along our separate paths. Weslie could even be heading back to Earth. I don’t know what she plans to do after her presentation to the board, what her choices will be, what she wants.

Weslie grips the fabric of my sleeves. There’s more urgency in her eyes. Of course she’s done the math, too. But am I imagining she feels the same?

She slides a hand around the back of my neck, searching my face.

I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against me like I can stop time if I hold her close enough.

Leaning in, she barely brushes my lips as a piercing scream cuts through the ship. We both flinch, turning our attention toward the noise, but I hold her tighter.

More screams. People are shouting. Something is wrong. My parents. Curran. They’re all in there.

“Asha,” Weslie whispers, pulling away and running toward the chaos.

We both sprint back down the hall. I catch a man in an emerald suit as he stumbles backward out the doors, holding his chest. He rights himself and waves me off.

In the dining room, a distorted voice booms over the speakers. “Eight lives were forfeit to build your ship. Eight dead. Eight forgotten. Eight more added to the hundreds who die to support your greed and luxury every day.”

I nearly crash into Weslie, catching her shoulders, as she freezes just inside the doors.

The chandelier light flickers overhead. A gray-haired woman to our left cries out, half shrieking, her hand fluttering in front of her face as she stares at the wall. The starry wallpaper is gone, replaced by a new projection like dripping blood, casting a sickly reddish glow over the entire room.

“You rob us. You take from our home like it is yours, but you abandoned it long ago, threw away one planet for another. Earth is for those who endured. We will protect what has survived at all costs.”

The captain glares at a porter at the side of the stage, furiously signaling for her to cut off the feed, but the wild-eyed woman shakes her head. They’ve lost control.

Earth for Earthers runs across the walls in repeating lines of scrolling text from floor to ceiling.

E.F.E. Earth for Earthers. Earthers. I have to get Weslie out of here.

“We have issued our demands to your leaders. They will comply, ending their reign on a planet they do not own.”

The crowd collectively shifts for the doors, sweeping us up into the chaos. Our hands lock together, and I pull myself through the panicked bodies between us.

“Hand the power back to those who inhabit Earth before the Boundless arrives on Mars, or this ship will become an example of the power of the many over the elite few. Earth for Earthers!”

The room brightens. The blood red disappears, replaced with gold.

Demands for explanation roll through the frightened crowd.

“We are investig—” The captain’s words are drowned out by angry shouts and distressed cries. He signals to someone behind him.

The tide shifts back toward the stage, sweeping people under. Someone calls for help, but I can’t see them in the jumble of bodies.

The captain’s voice blasts over the speakers, ten times as loud as before. “Please, stay calm!”

Weslie and I both clap our hands over our ears.

Everyone around us holds their heads, shielding themselves from the thundering volume. The room goes silent.

All faces stare at the captain rubbing his hand over his forehead. “We’re aware of a small group of disgruntled Earthers who have sought to disrupt this historic voyage by spreading fear and chaos. We are looking into the issue, but I assure you there is no immediate threat.”

Whispers roll through the hushed crowd. I scan their faces, some suspicious, most relieved.

He’s lying. What about the paint-splattered elevator?

“Champagne?” A porter holds a tray next to me, and I shake my head.

They’re flooding the room, each with trays full of sparkling flutes, weaving into the crowd. Half the faces around us soften. Like the threat was imagined, breaking the protection of their perfect world for only a moment, but this small gesture brings back their reality enough to ignore it.

“We are working diligently to prevent any further disruptions, but until then I implore you to not give them the emotional reaction and attention they desire.” The captain winds his hand in a circle, motioning for the band to play, and steps off the stage.

A chorus of relieved breaths and uncertain murmurs fills the room.

Weslie stares at me, eyes wide. Her thoughts are written across her face as plainly as the letters in the hallway after the oxygen shut off. E.F.E.

The crowd expands, most collecting their discarded layers and heading for the exit, while others follow the captain, asking questions like they will get more thorough answers due to their status, but he waves them off.

“Well, that was unexpected.” My dad emerges from the crowd and takes a heaving breath laced with butter and citrus. There’s something guarded behind his expression. “At least it’s under control.”

“I’m going to walk Weslie to her room.” What if she’s a target? An Earther on the wrong side? I can’t let her go alone.

Dad presses his lips together and peers across the room at Mom, who’s got us locked in her stare as she puts her hand up. The captain stops on her command. He won’t dodge her like the others.

“Hurry,” he whispers, “straight home after.”

The light in the grand staircase dims incrementally as we climb, passing the clock. It’s close to midnight. The countdown has changed since we came down these steps together. Eight days shorter. Only ten days until we reach Mars and everything goes back to the way it’s supposed to be.

I’ll go back to lessons and meetings on my way to a life I don’t want, while Weslie follows life where it leads her.

To the board presentation and anything that might come after.

Maybe she’ll stay in Elysium. More likely, she’ll head back home where her friends and family and life are waiting for her.

Where she can’t be mistaken for an Elysian or treated like a traitor.

My chest feels heavy. I pause mid-step, squeezing Weslie’s hand. What if I could go back, too? Leave behind position, birthright, and status. Walk outside. Breathe unfiltered air. She could show me her garden, the orchards behind her house.

Ice runs through my veins as the threat echoes in my mind again.

Hand the power back…or this ship will become an example of the power of the many over the elite few.

Is the captain lying? Minimizing the threat to avoid panic?

Or is it really under control? Realization washes over me.

Why all those passengers gave in so quickly.

What would it change if the captain’s claims were false comfort?

What could they do? What could I do to protect the people I love on this ship?

I tear my eyes away from the clock and back up at Weslie.

She stops, a step ahead, peering back over her shoulder.

Her expression reflects the complicated storm of thoughts and emotions raging inside of me.

Concern. Worry. Sadness. Helplessness. Our time cut short.

The threat. The danger. The inevitability of this ending.

Neither of us willing to say it out loud.

I tighten my grip on her hand, pulling her toward me.

On the landing behind us, Gianna clears her throat. I know it as well as her voice. Climbing the steps, she motions up the stairs. “Let’s get the girl home.”