Page 2 of Starrily (Perks of Being #2)

Chapter 2

One week later

A n eagle soared far above in the pale morning sky, its cries echoing into the valley. Simon tested his grip, ensuring his right hand was firmly wedged in the crack in the rock wall, then reached back with his left to get more powder from the chalk bag. Resuming his previous position, he glanced up. The top of the cliffside was already visible. He could continue climbing along this crack for a few more feet, but he’d have to do a swing to the ledge four feet over for the optimal route to the top.

A swing … or a jump. Oh, yes. He reaffirmed his grip, then pushed off the wall with his feet, swinging his body back and forth to gain momentum, and … jump! He grabbed the ledge, dangling like a spider at the end of a web until he caught his foot on a small outcrop and stabilized himself. The adrenaline from the successful jump pumped through his veins, turning into pleasant tingles of joy. A thin stream of pebbles, dislodged by his foot, silently fell, disappearing into the distant treetops.

Bon voyage, rocks. One of us should’ve brought a rope.

Simon turned his attention to the cliff top. Victory was near—and indeed, fifteen minutes and one chalk-up later, he pulled himself over the edge and sat down to catch his breath. He shook out his hair, opened his water bottle, and sipped slowly as he gazed down the magnificent mountainside. The valley he’d started in lay far below now, murky and dark green, protected from the sun rising above the pale granite mountain. Seconds later, the light painted the slopes in bright shades of orange and gold, offering a stunning contrast to the shadowed valley.

Simon’s phone rang. He fished it out of his zipped pocket and accepted the video call. “Everett! What’s up?”

“Where are you?” His financial adviser leaned forward, offering Simon a view of the shiny top of his head.

Simon flipped the camera. “How do you like it?”

“I’d like it more if it were the exterior of our offices.”

“Oh, come on. There isn’t a prettier sight in the morning.”

“You have a death wish, you know.”

Simon laughed. “She can certainly try.” He unzipped the slim backpack and stood, ready to get into his wingsuit. As he was preparing to put the phone down, it suddenly slipped through his fingers and landed on the ground—luckily, unharmed due to its protective casing. Everett would get a very close look at the rock, though.

“Simon? What happened?” Everett’s muffled voice came through.

Simon reached for the phone—and his hand passed right through it. What? He looked at his fingers, wiggled them. Tried again—and picked up the phone normally this time.

“Simon? Si—oh, there you are.”

What the hell was that? As if his hand was … immaterial for a moment. No, that was ridiculous. It was probably just the thinner mountain air, made him dizzy. He shook his head. Better get rid of that dizziness. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“You were supposed to be in your office right now. We have important things to discuss.”

“Oh. Really?”

Everett sighed.

Simon zipped on his wingsuit. “Relax. I’ll be there in three hours. The world’s not gonna end by then.”

“Three hours? Hiking down that mountain alone will take at least two, not to mention the drive here.”

“Try five minutes. I’m not hiking.” He positioned himself by the edge of the cliff and assessed the most optimal route for his descent. “I’m flying.”

Three hours later, Simon lounged on the dark blue sofa in his office, crossing his ankle over his knee. Everett stood at Simon’s desk, dressed in his typical charcoal suit—Simon swore he had at least ten of the exactly same make—and shuffled a stack of papers.

“I’ve accepted a grant proposal from QueLabs,” Everett began. “It’s a company for aeronautics and space research. They have an ongoing project to send a manned vehicle to the Moon. That will set the foundation for further trips to the Moon, and the eventual establishing of a colony there.”

“All right.” Simon wasn’t sure why Everett needed him in the office for this. Everett handled all the company’s finances, and this only affected the finances. So what was the catch?

“Aries Tech will fund the project … under a condition,” Everett said as if he’d read his mind. To be fair, his mentor did know him pretty well.

Or used to, at least.

“What condition?”

“You’ll be one of the people going to the Moon.”

Simon bent forward and coughed out the surprise caught in his throat. “I’m what?”

“Just as a tourist. It’s going to be a terrific PR move. Space tourism is the hottest potential thing right now. Imagine presenting one of our latest phones from space. The shareholders will be wetting their pants with excitement.”

The Moon. Business decisions notwithstanding, that sounded fun. Hell, it sounded incredible. Sure, he had no clue how to behave in space or on the Moon, but the people at QueLabs would run him through a prep course. And beyond that, it would be a little bit dangerous and very exciting—his favorite combination.

“Okay. I’m in.”

“I knew you would be.”

“If that’s all, I’m craving a burger …” Simon stood and headed for the door.

“Actually, it’s not.”

He stopped.

“There’s one more agreement we made.” Everett waited until Simon sat back down. “The funds will go to two separate projects. Your Moon trip is at least two years away. For the next few months, you’ll be shadowing a scientist working at QueLabs. There’ll also be a journalist who’ll write a series of articles about it.”

“The scientist’s work?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you need me there?”

“A publicity thing. People will love it, shareholders will love it, you’ll look approachable and down-to-earth.”

Simon didn’t bother pointing out the irony of looking down-to-earth when the whole point was to get him to the Moon. If Everett ever said anything resembling a joke, one could be assured it was entirely by mistake. Instead, Simon spread his arms. “Am I not already approachable?”

“You know what I mean.”

Publicity stuff, financial stuff, the meaning was somewhere in there. “I’m still not sure how me following some Einstein around is necessary.”

“Simon, my boy.” Everett put an assuring hand on his shoulder. “Trust me. Have I ever led you astray?”

Simon sighed. “Not that I can remember.” Simon wasn’t sure how he’d have handled things without Everett after the accident, and it made sense to appoint him as his Chief Financial Officer for Aries Tech. Everett did even more than his position required—any kind of advice Simon needed, he was there to give it. Advice related to the company, of course; Simon tended not to mix that and his private business.

In fact, since the accident, one could say Simon didn’t mix much of the company stuff into his life at all. But that was fine—it was why he had Everett.

And in the end, he did trust him. “Fine.”

“Good.” Everett lightly slapped him on the shoulder and returned to the desk. “We’re meeting with the people at QueLabs tomorrow. Please, let me not find you skydiving over the Pacific when it’s time for the meeting.”

“I’ll be there.” Who needed skydiving, when he could be going to the Moon instead?

***

Callie’s morning alarm rubbed against her face, then lay on her chest. Callie yawned as she opened her eyes, the image eventually clearing into the furry, judgemental face of her Birman.

“Morning to you too, Theia.” She nudged the cat off her bed. Theia landed on the ground with a soft thud, meowed, and scampered toward the door. Callie had the alarm set on her phone as well, but she could always rely on Theia to wake her up.

She rose and stretched, then navigated between Theia’s toys and a few pieces of clothing scattered across her bedroom floor, waiting for laundry day. After a quick refresher in the bathroom, she continued to the main living space of her apartment and put a pot of water on the stove to get her morning tea started.

As she sat down by the counter and turned on her tablet and laptop, Theia leaped up and let out a pleading meow.

“What is it, baby? You should have breakfast in—” Callie checked the automatic feeder in the corner of the room—Theia’s personally picked spot for eating. Hmm. Empty. “That’s not right. There should be two more meals in there.” There must be a glitch in the code of the app that regulated feeding times. Callie coded it herself, to satisfy Theia’s very particular feeding schedule. If the feeder was empty, two meals must’ve been released during the night, which meant …

“You already had your breakfast, didn’t you?” she gently scolded Theia.

Theia looked at her with innocent, clear blue eyes.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Theia meowed and swished her tail.

“Fine. You get one snack, and that’s it.”

Once Theia had been taken care of, Callie poured her tea and slowly sipped it as she browsed through the newly released papers on the tablet, flicking through titles and graphs to see which ones grabbed her attention. Dark matter, exoplanets, more dark matter, galaxy-galaxy interactions— that one might be useful . She downloaded two others and got to reading the abstract of the first one, when her laptop alerted her of an incoming email. She glanced at it, expecting it to be a non-urgent invite to some talk or workshop, but stopped as she saw the sender.

Mom.

She was too slow to stop herself from glancing at the beginning of the email: Hey, honey! We saw you got your paper out. Phoebe knows where …

Callie swallowed and sent the mail to Trash without reading further. Her fingers were already trembling, and she had to focus all her thoughts to prevent her mind from drowning in the memories. Dark matter. Stars. Galaxies. Not family.

She gripped the tea mug, but the spicy ginger notes were less satisfying than five minutes ago. She forced herself to gulp it down. Stop thinking about the email. Don’t get tangled in that again. Her schedule for the day! She should run over that again. She had an overnight analysis to check, and the images from the observatory in Chile should be coming in any day now …

The rest happened semi-automatically: she dressed in a light, mustard-color sweater and jeans, gave Theia some goodbye scritches, grabbed her bag, and set out.

It was a pleasant spring morning, with a gentle breeze wafting in from the sea as Callie headed for the bus to take her downtown. She sat in the back, pulled out her tablet, and began reading the research paper. Bright green trees and townhouses in all shades of pastel whizzed by, and down below, the cerulean sky nearly melded into the waters of the Bay Area, dotted with white ships.

QueLabs was located in a sleek modern building, the wavy design of the full-glass facade evoking a restless ocean. Callie greeted the receptionist in the lobby and headed upstairs to her office. She was walking briskly down the hallway when someone called her name from behind. Dr. Watzmann approached, the thin hair at the top of his head bouncing up and down in the rhythm of his light jog.

“Morning,” she greeted.

“And what a great morning it is, too,” he said when he caught up. Dr. Watzmann had a round face and warm eyes that always made him look friendly and happy, but he seemed especially cheerful today. “Callie, you know the grant proposal you wrote to get funding for the Selene mission?”

“Uh—of course I do.”

“Funds have been granted,” Dr. Watzmann said, his voice pitching up at the end. “You’ve done it, Callie! We have enough resources to move forward!”

For a second, she only stood there, frozen, and then something between a yelp and a scream escaped her. If she hadn’t reminded herself to act professionally, she would’ve jumped and punched the air.

Based on his twitching, Dr. Watzmann might have been caught in the same dilemma.

“Aries Tech is giving us everything we need. It’ll more than make up for SpaceSpire having to withdraw. Oh, and—we have a meeting with them. Right now. Come!”

Callie stuttered, then ran after Watzmann. “A meeting? What for?”

“There are a couple of conditions attached to the offer.”

All right. Surely it wasn’t bad. They probably wanted their logo on the astronauts’ suits, or something similar.

“They want one of their own on the crew that will go up there,” Watzmann said.

The polished wooden floor screeched as Callie suddenly stopped. “They’re sending their astronaut?”

Watzmann scratched the top of his head, leaving a few strands of hair sticking straight up. “Not exactly. Their CEO, Simon Montague, wants to go.”

“But he has training.” Surely, he had training.

“Uhh …”

“They’re not serious.”

“Callie—”

“How is that fair? The spacecraft only seats four people. Someone who’s worked their entire life for this will have to give up their spot, just so some old fart can play space tourist!”

Watzmann chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing. I forget you’re not familiar with media personalities.”

She didn’t know what that had to do with anything, but anyway—“Are you sure we can’t offer them something else?”

“I’m afraid not. I know it’s not ideal—”

“Putting it mildly,” she murmured.

“—but we need this funding. You know how hard it is to get money from investors.”

He was right. So many people and projects depended on this mission—including her own research. And even if she weren’t involved, what right did she have to forgo the funding or complain at all?

“Besides, having a famous person attached to the project will help,” Watzmann continued. “It will give us more exposure and better chances to receive further funding from other sources.”

They’d reached the door to the meeting room. Callie paused, her palms sweating. “Are you sure I have to be present?”

“They requested you.”

Would’ve been great if they also gave her a ten-minute notice to prepare some greetings. Responses to hypothetical questions. Anything. Callie swallowed. “What do I say?”

Watzmann faced her and held her by the shoulders. “These are corporate people. Whatever you do, you can’t show any weaknesses. Don’t stammer; be strong and assertive; look like you know what you’re talking about—which you do, of course—” He scratched the top of his head.

Talk about science. Yes, she could do that. As for the rest … Her stomach cramped, and she put a hand on it. The sooner it was done, the sooner she could go back to her regular work. Rip it off like a Band-Aid.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. She thought Watzmann said something else, but her focus was now fully on the task ahead. Two people waited inside. She paid little heed to the one by the coffee machine showing her his back and instead strode, with what she hoped was confidence and determination, toward Simon Montague, who stood by the conference table. She hadn’t imagined him wrong—he was older, probably in his mid-fifties, and dressed in a nondescript gray business suit. His head was shaved to a shine, and streaks of gray were beginning to show in his well-maintained, dark beard.

She extended a hand and shook his firmly. “Mr. Montague. So you’re our latest addition to the astronaut crew.”

The man furrowed his eyebrows. “Doctor, I’m afraid you’ve got it all wrong.”

Behind her, Watzmann coughed.

Oh, no. Watzmann’s words echoed in her head. Be strong, assertive—assertive—

“Ah, so you’ve decided to leave space travel to the actual experts.”

“Callie, no—” Watzmann began.

“I mean, uh …” —don’t stammer, don’t stammer— “It’s perfectly fine. Many people don’t realize how much work it takes—”

“Callie!” Watzmann said, loud enough to make her turn to him. “That’s not him.”

“Huh?” Confused, she looked back.

The bearded man gestured toward his companion. “Doctor Guidry, may I introduce Simon Montague, CEO of Aries Tech.”

The other man deposited his carton coffee cup on the table, took off his sunglasses, and tucked them into the v-neck of his shirt. It was unmistakable—the tall, athletic build; the perfectly tousled burnished red hair; the face straight from the cover of a magazine—and those deep blue eyes, almost like the darkness of space, twinkling at her, mocking her.

Simon Montague flashed her a blindingly white smile. “Hello, Phoenix.”

Oh, shit.