Page 6 of Bound by Stars

Weslie

Thirty-five days to Mars

Halfway down the long hall, he glances over his shoulder again. I hope he can feel my eyes on the back of his neck like a white-hot plasma beam.

“Doesn’t look like an Earther,” someone in the quickly receding crowd mumbles.

“Let’s go, ILSA.” I turn the opposite way, ready to run, but a boy with cold sapphire eyes, jet black hair, and shoulders too large to match his round face steps in my path.

“Didn’t know you could clean up a dust mite so well.”

“Move,” I say through my teeth, keeping my eyes fixed on the hall past him.

“Back off, Hale,” a sweet voice demands from behind me.

His gaze sweeps over me once more before joining the rest of his privileged crew and that jerk with the silver-blond hair down the hall.

What did the instructor call him? Jupiter?

Born an elitist and named after the god of the sky.

How do you rise above that kind of entitlement?

That guy was bred to be an insufferable snob.

I force myself not to hurry. If I run, they’ll know they got to me.

“Hey.” The same voice that warned off Hale turns impatient. “Wait up!”

Behind me is the girl who sat next to me in class. Gold, winged eyeliner, electric-pink hair, and a too-wide grin stretched across her golden-brown face. Asha. That’s what the instructor called her.

“Don’t judge us all by Hale. He’s a”—she pauses, twisting her mouth—“a little difficult to appreciate.”

I pause, raising my eyebrows. “That’s an interesting way to pronounce ‘asshole.’”

Another girl approaches, her long strides carrying her down the hall like she’s gliding. Her walk is as smooth as her voice. “One word never described a person so well.”

“Weslie, you have heard this human incorrectly. She said ‘ appreciate .’”

“Thanks, ILSA.” I roll my eyes and turn to leave again.

The pink-haired girl laughs, winding her arm through mine before I’ve completed a full step. She peers around me. “ILSA, is that your name? You’re very impressive.”

I frown at our intertwined arms.

“Yes. I am exceptional.” That’s my bot, always ready to detect and confirm a compliment.

“And humble.” The other girl is even more intimidating up close. The overly bright hallway light glimmers in her wide, dark eyes.

The two have me locked between them like I’m being kidnapped and forced into friendship. I’d start walking again, but it seems like they multiply every time I move.

“His cousin Jupe is the next in line to take over Dalloway Tech.” Asha nods back down the hall toward the boys.

Hale maintains a noticeable distance, while the rest of them orbit Jupiter like the sun.

“And he suffers from heir-envy,” the other girl says. “I’m Skye, by the way.”

“I cannot find this malady in my databank,” ILSA announces.

Skye chuckles. “No, I don’t imagine you would.”

Asha glances back again, a deep disappointment pinched between her brows. “I never understood that kind of bigotry. At least a quarter of Elysium’s residents are originally from Earth, and no one has a problem with that.”

“The population is too small not to be.” Skye grabs my other arm, pulling me closer. “Could you imagine how incestuous it would get without introducing some new blood?” She crinkles her nose and does a little shiver, then releases me and shrugs. “But once assimilated, an Elysian is an Elysian.”

If you’re lucky enough to scrape together the money to leave Earth, manage to find a way to stay on Mars, and fully conform to their way of life— then they’ll accept you. Gee, thanks. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to roll my eyes as I mumble, “Good to know.”

“Jupe’s usually a really nice guy, though,” Asha adds.

I stare past them at the crew of boys disappearing at the end of the hall, recalling the bursts of gold between thick, pale lashes. He’s too pretty to be nice. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Skye’s severely beautiful face turns serious. “He shouldn’t have called you out like that.”

I stare down at my shoes. I just want to go back to my room.

“It’s actually kind of my fault. I gave him some bad news and he took it out on you. Not to say that excuses his behavior.” Skye squeezes my arm reassuringly and glances at her comm. “Gotta go. Nice meeting you, Weslie.”

Asha waves Skye off and takes my hands. “You’re new, and I know everything about everyone. We’re having lunch together.”

My stomach groans on cue.

“Weslie.” Calypso leans out of the classroom door, barely making it without ducking. “Bring your bot in for a minute. We can brainstorm ideas for your journey project.”

I pull away from Asha. “See you around.”

“I’ll wait. It’s no problem.” Asha slips down into a cross-legged seat next to the door.

“I don’t have anything to do anyway.” Her eyes light up.

“We’ll take a tour after lunch! I memorized the ship’s map before we boarded, but it’s no fun wandering around by myself, and Tarak, Tar, my twin, my identical twin, actually—he looks exactly like me, except with short black hair and no sense of style or self-expression—anyway, he’s never up for exploring. ”

“Do you always talk this much?” If I ever had one, I left my social filter on Earth.

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Definitely.”

I huff out a muted laugh.

At least she’s self-aware.

“Guess I’ll be right back, then.” I release a heavy sigh and open the door, waving ILSA in first. “Wish me luck.”

“She’s amazing. No luck needed.”

“This human is very intelligent,” ILSA states.

Seriously, she’s a bot. How did she get so conceited?

…

“I LSA, demo mode: lifesaving protocol.” I lie on the floor between her and Calypso, who’s perched on a stool with their arms crossed and an excited glint in their eye.

The bot reacts by running my vitals and conducting a scan on my skeleton and internal organs, opening to deploy her adjustable stretcher, while I explain each step out loud.

“No evidence of internal damage,” ILSA announces.

I take a deep breath, already tapping alternating fingers to my thumb and silently counting. I always have to close my eyes for this part.

Her rounded hands expand and extend around my head, sealing together to form a pressurized helmet to deploy oxygen. She curves her stretcher to scoop me up. Cradling my dead weight, she pulls me into a temperature-regulated embrace, forming around me like a personal space pod.

“End demo.” My voice is echoey and muffled behind the thick plastic, though she can hear me perfectly from the comm inside the helmet.

She releases me gently on my feet. The excess adrenaline still courses through my veins and my breaths come too fast, but I can’t help grinning at the amazed expression on Calypso’s face.

They are nothing like Ms. Kimball, my instructor on Earth, a petite woman with a permanent scowl who only spoke in clipped sentences. Calypso has wide, muscular shoulders, a head shaved clean to their dark, ebony skin, and a squinty-eyed smile that seems to be their natural state.

“She is fully voice controlled, so she can communicate and take instructions from the podded subject. She’s equipped with enough oxygen to support life for fifteen hours.

With full conversational capabilities, she learns through interaction and adapts to her companion.

She also has propulsion, tracking, messaging, and—”

“Message received from Mom: Whiz-lay, answwwerrr my—”

I whip around. “Silent mode.”

Her message bubble icon disappears immediately. At least she listens.

I bite my lips and press my eyes shut before facing Calypso again. “She still has some communication bugs to work out.”

“Programming issue?”

“Possible.” I’m not about to admit the number of times I’ve been through her code and checked over every connection.

“Have her plans?”

I tap my temple.

They frown, then their eyebrows lift, and they nod to themself.

“You’ll need to have them by the time we reach Mars.

The presentation is a chance to exhibit how ILSA can benefit each Big Six company, and you’ll want to be completely prepared to blow them all away.

This is an opportunity even Elysians rarely get. ”

Jupiter walks in, freezing mid-stride when he looks up from the sketchbook in his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can come back later.”

Calypso slides off the stool and waves him over. “No! Come on in. This is perfect timing.”

“I’m done anyway.” No way I’m talking about ILSA in front of this gorgeous jerk who’s already made it clear that my Earther status is beneath him.

Calypso swings their pointer finger back and forth between the two of us. “Hold on, Weslie. I think this could work.”

Oh. Hell. No.

“Jupiter here has already turned in a complete Earther Experience report and he’s a fantastic artist.” Calypso crosses their arms, nodding slowly like the full brilliance of this idea is still unfolding in their mind.

I don’t think I’m going to love where this is going.

They focus on Jupiter. “And Weslie here has some prepping to do before she presents to the panel. Both of you require a project to work on during the trip. Each of your skills could lend themselves to perfecting the ILSA presentation.”

Not the presentation. My presentation. “I don’t need help. I can—”

“This way I don’t have to make up some pointless long-form essay for each of you to complete over the course of the trip.”

I glare at Jupiter, who shrugs. Why isn’t he arguing? Useless elitist drone.

How is this guy possibly going to help me ? Even if he has a small grasp of tech, there’s no way he has ever had to repair a damn thing in his life.

We both follow Calypso to their desk.

Leaning over the surface, they’re already entering the assignment.

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what you each have to learn from the other.

” They grab a bag off the back of their chair and glide past me toward the exit before I can think of a good enough argument to make them reconsider.

I have to stop this from happening. “I-I really think I should—”

“Glad we figured this out. See you tomorrow.” Calypso marches out the door, dimming the lights as they exit.

Still beside me, Jupiter clears his throat. “Should we plan a time to get together, then?”

Doesn’t he have enough? Dalloway Technologies—his family’s multi-trillion-dollar corporation—basically owns my hometown. My mom works in their factory. When I go back, if I go back, I’ll end up there, too. Hell, I think they even technically own our house.

“Absolutely not.” I hurry out of the room.