Page 3 of Until the Stars Fall

Summer’s voice came from the intercom. “Buckle up, buttercups. Our launch slot just opened.”

Of course my seatbelt didn’t work. “I didn’t realize Summer was a pilot,” I said, trying out another seat. Nope. Also broken.

Hannah beamed, a blush coloring her pale skin. “She’s been training herself since her uncle left her this ship. I’m so proud of her. She’s a natural. Try this one, Gem,” she said, pointing to another seat.

Summer continued. “I need a quick roll call, people. I’m on the bridge with Eyre.”

Hannah jumped up and hung on the intercom by the door. “I’m in the launch room with Gemma and Zola.”

The same deep man’s voice from before crackled over. “I’m in the med bay and still not happy about it.”

“That’s Beck,” Zola explained, adjusting her scarf. “Our ship’s resident male and klutz.”

So it was the guy Hannah’d been bugging me about. Fantastic.

“He’s not a klutz.” Hannah’s eyebrows pulled together, probably worried I’d lose interest. But I couldn’t lose something I didn’t have.

Zola leaned forward to look at Hannah. “I say it with love, but you know he’s the first one to break a bone or get a second-degree burn because he accidentally touched the oven rack when he was baking cookies.”

“He’s really, really smart though,” Hannah said in a rush.

“Smartest man I know,” Zola said. “I’d say don’t tell Noah I said that, but he knows. Beck’s going to be the best man in our wedding. You’re going to love him.” Zola’s smile was too big not to be suspicious.

Ugh. “That’s what Hannah’s been saying for years.”

Hannah pulled her shoulders up to her ears in a dramatic shrug. “All I’m sayin’, it’s a long trip. You might get bored, be looking for someone—things. For things to do.”

“Hannah,” I said, an affectionate warning delivered with a grimace.

Zola smiled. “Don’t be too hard on her, Gemma, she just wants you to be happy. Whether it’s Earth or Gaia, love makes the world go ’round.”

Maybe so, but only if you’re not a monster.

Summer came over the intercom again. “Great! So that’s six humans, plus a whole clowder of cats that I hope didn’t escape their carriers. Y’all better be properly secured with seatbelts on, because we’re cleared. Launching in ten...nine...eight…”

As Summer counted down, I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed deeply, anticipating the twisting, hollow drag in the pit of my stomach that always comes before launch.

“...six...five…”

I couldn’t swallow the sudden lump in my throat. We were leaving Earth for the last time. The last time. And I would never be back. I’d never see my parents’ house again. Would never place another flower on their grave. Wait!

“One!”

The thrusters kicked in, pushing me back against my seat as the ship rose, creaking, into the air. My gut twisted like I was in an elevator powered by a jet engine, all the butterflies from before smashed against my stomach lining. Tears streamed down the side of my face, and not only from the launch. Out the high windows, dark clouds in a red sky bled to pink then white, and in under two minutes, the endless dark of space.

The air pressure inside the ship changed almost imperceptibly as the artificial gravity kicked in, and an indicator dinged. When the lit seatbelt sign on the wall flickered off, I unlocked my seatbelt and rushed out after the others into the lobby.

I pressed my hand against the window, my perfect pale pink nails contrasting against the dark. The rapidly diminishing Earth was a blue marble rolling away. That’s what Mom used to call it. Then it winked out altogether in the vastness. Only Ceres, Jupiter, and Saturn—my favorite—bothered to show on our trajectory and bid us farewell.

I would never see Earth again.

A sob caught and tightened in my chest. I held my breath to keep it in, withdrawing my hand. Nothing good had ever happened on my home planet, but the tears still came. I lowered another steel door around my heart to block out the pain.

Good riddance.

“Gemma?” Hannah’s soft voice caught my attention.

I wiped my tears and turned to where she stood with her arms wrapped around herself. In my eyes she’d always be a strange amalgam of grown woman and little sister.

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