Page 55 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

I blink at the gentle morning glow, just enough to let it in and then squeeze my eyes shut again. It’s too early. My body is heavy, and my bed is warm and soft. Hopefully, Mom will feed the chickens and collect eggs so I can sleep in.

I yawn, sucking in a deep breath and stretching my legs. My body is painfully stiff. There’s something strange about the air. Sterile and cool. Not like home. My eyes fill with water. I lift a hand to brush it away, but halfway to my face, it jerks to a stop with a metallic clank .

My eyes fly open. The sleepy haze evaporates.

The room is pale, blank, and unfamiliar.

Sheer white curtains soften an orangey-red glow from outside.

Monitors. Screens. My wrists are bound, chained to the rails on the sides of the hospital bed.

I pull against them, but they’re secure.

I tear off the heart monitor clamped to my index finger and tug the IV needle out of my arm.

It burns, and I press my hand to it as blood trickles over my wrist.

The door opens.

“Oh no. Let me help you with that.” A woman with maroon hair and a lab coat grabs something out of a cabinet, hurrying to the bedside and pressing gauze to my arm.

I pull on my restraints again.

“Ah, yes. They weren’t sure who you were when they found you out there.

” Her melodic accent is soothing. She tosses the soiled gauze into a bin and wraps a fresh dressing around my arm.

“It’s been a mess identifying Earther survivors since the ship’s database didn’t transfer all passenger info before it was destroyed. ”

Destroyed? Ship? I must have hit my head. My mom has to be worried. “Am I under arrest?”

She laughs. “Heavens, no. We had to make sure you didn’t panic and wander off. It’s not uncommon to be disoriented after an ordeal like that. I just need to do a quick assessment. Are you up for that?”

I nod, resting back against the pillows and turning my face back to the window. The color of dust is all I can make out. Was there another storm? The trees must be coated. I have to get home to help Mom clean up. The garden will be a disaster.

The feet of a chair squeal against the floor, gnawing at my sensitive eardrum, as the doctor drags it to the end of the bed. She takes a seat, crosses her legs, and props a tablet on her knee. “Can you please tell me your full name?”

“Weslie Soleil Fleet.”

“How old are you, Weslie?”

“Seventeen.”

“Do you know where you are?”

Obviously. “The hospital.” But as soon as the words come out, I know I’m missing something.

She nods. “Do you know what year it is?”

“2212.”

“And do you recall what happened to you before you woke up here?”

“I was…” Home. No. The Boundless . Weeks of memories flood my mind. Asha. Jupiter. Reve. The explosion. ILSA. I turn to the window again, sitting up. “Am I on Mars?”

“Very good, Weslie.” She taps on the screen. “It sounds like your memory is intact.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Your head injury was very troubling, so we kept you under for ten sols to let it heal.” She pauses, noticing my confused expression. “Right. You’re from Earth. Solar days. 24.6 hours.”

I lie back and stare at the ceiling. I actually made it to Mars—alive.

“Other than that, your wounds were superficial. You were very lucky. Without that bot, you wouldn’t have made it.”

ILSA. She saved me. I remember being cold and contained. She must have transported me to the station. Kept me alive. “Where is ILSA?”

The doctor furrows her brow.

“My bot?”

“Oh, yes. Docked in personal bot storage. I’ll have her brought in before you’re discharged.”

I sit up straighter. “Can I see her now?”

“Of course.” The doctor pulls out her comm, propping it between her ear and shoulder.

She stands and leans over the bedside. Gripping a plastic fob dangling from the lanyard around her neck, she rubs it over one cuff, and it unlatches.

“Marcy, will you bring the bot being stored for 3-0-6 up to the room? Great. Thank you.”

When the second cuff falls to the mattress, I massage my wrists. There are light impressions, but the angry red and bluish bruises from the captain’s office are gone.

Thud, thud . The doctor crosses the room, swinging the door wide, holding it open.

ILSA rolls through the doorway, pivots, and parks next to my bedside. Two white dots appear on her face screen. “Weslie, my scans indicate that your various contusions have predominantly healed.”

“It’s good to see you, too, ILSA.” I swing my feet over the edge of the bed and wrap my arms around her wide base.

“Your physical reaction indicates distress. Are you distressed?”

“I’m just happy to see you, ILSA.” I release her and inspect her damaged exterior. There are new dents and scratches. From the explosion or transporting me to the space station or both. My eyes burn and my throat tightens as I look up at her face screen. “You saved me.”

“That is my intended function.” She lays her cupped hand on my shoulder. “And I was built by an excellent engineer.”

I wipe my face with the front of my hospital gown.

“Even though she never listens to her infallible creation in dangerous situations.”

The doctor opens and shuts a drawer, crosses the room, and lays a stack of clothes on the bed beside me. Not mine, but better than the sack I’m in now. “I believe you have someone waiting to see you. Do you feel up for company?”

Jupiter. I nod.

I must look like a disaster. I brush my fingers through my tangled curls as best I can.

“I’ll let him know it’s okay to come in.” She tucks the tablet under her arm and walks out the door.

My legs, weak from nearly two weeks of disuse, wobble as I pull on the white cotton pants.

Panting from effort, I reach behind my back, grasping the ties on my hospital gown.

I get the matching shirt over my head, pull my hair out of the collar, and barely make it back under the blanket.

The smallest effort has wrecked me. My eyelids fall closed.

Thud, thud, thud.

I sit up, watching the twisting doorknob. “ILSA, I’m so grateful you saved me, and I love you, but please power down.”

A tall man about my mom’s age steps into the room.

My heart sinks. Maybe Jupiter is still too angry to see me after I forced him into that escape pod. The last time we saw each other I was chasing after—I swallow the sob rising in my throat, the sharp pain filling my chest—Reve.

The man’s charcoal-gray suit jacket hangs open as he enters. He keeps one hand in his pocket as he shuts the door behind him. I don’t see a badge or emblem. He doesn’t look like an officer. But why else would this stranger be in my hospital room?

“Hello, Weslie.” His voice is clipped and formal. He positions himself, straight backed, at the foot of my bed like he’s assessing me.

I glance down at the restraints lying on either side of me in the sheets. “I didn’t have anything to do with the attack.”

“I know. The ship came into communication range just before it exploded. The station watched the live feed before it went down. You were quite a hero. Saving two heirs and going back for the porter.”

Reve. I close my eyes and hear him in my mind. I love you, Wes. Behind my eyelids, he’s swallowed by flames again. I catch a sob in my throat and exhale slowly.

“So can I go, then?”

The man tilts his head. “Where? You’re pretty far from home.”

“I’ll figure it out.” My plan was to find my dad, but that’s off the table. Jupiter’s mom said I had compensation from the contest. I’ll be fine on my own. I just have to get out of this room.

He clears his throat. “Maybe I can be of assistance?”

“I’m all good, but thanks.”

He rests his hand on the footboard, squinting and staring into my face.

I feel exposed. Whoever this guy is, I’d really like him to leave. “Well, I’m gonna—”

“You have Nova’s eyes.” His voice is quieter, but not softer. The same stilted tone.

“You know my mom?”

“Since we were born. Our families were close throughout our childhood. But we rarely got along. Your mom was always looking for a fight, but I kind of liked that about her.”

“Doesn’t sound like my mom.” It sounds like me.

“Seventeen years can change us, I guess.” He takes a breath, slipping his other hand into his pocket and examining the ceiling. “When we left for our Earth Experience Mission, we decided to give it a go, but we broke up before the ship even reached Earth.”

I pull my knees and the blanket up to my chest.

“Nova disappeared before we all headed back to Mars. No one ever heard from her again.” He lowers himself into the chair the doctor left at the end of the bed.

“My mom’s from Mars?” The words feel wrong. She hates Mars. Never wanted to go. Or go back? The memory of her and my dad in the kitchen. What did she say? Did you think of what happens … if they find me?

Curran’s ranting echoes in my mind. You have a lot of fight in you. That’s one thing we both got from our dad.

I study the man at the end of my bed more closely. His hair, dark and curly, is like Curran’s. Like mine. And there’s something familiar in the shape of his mouth.

“I didn’t even know you existed until I was contacted as a DNA match to one of the unidentified survivors. I take it from your expression you didn’t know I existed, either.” He stands and paces around the side of the bed.

“You’re…you’re my father.” My biological father. Dad in DNA only.

He nods and holds out a hand. “Declan Nole.”

I turn back to the window, hiding my face as tears blur my vision. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. To talk to my mom.

“Take some time to collect yourself. I realize this is a lot to process. When you’re ready, I’ll be back to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home here.”

“You’re a Nole, Weslie. Of course you do.” It sounds like he means to be comforting, but his stoic tone has the opposite effect.

The door clicks shut.

I squeeze my eyes closed. How could my mom keep this from me? How could she lie to me all this time? When I was a kid, sure, but now? Didn’t I have a right to know?

I slide out of bed. A floating sensation floods my body with my first step. I must have stood up too fast.

Wait, no. I’m on Mars. Gravity isn’t what I’m used to on Earth.

Careful and slow, I cross the room to the window and pull back the curtain.

Orange dirt swirls in the wind around the network of domed passageways and glass cubes.

The Elysian habitat. All this time they called us dust mites, but all this planet has is dust. Beyond the tall structures, jagged red mountains glow in the sunlight.

I trace the ridgeline on the glass. Just like the drawing in Jupiter’s sketchbook.