Page 13 of Bound By Stars

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.”

Notthepresentation.Mypresentation. “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 helpme? 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.

Chapter Six

Weslie

Thirty-five days to Mars

Asha doesn’t seem to take a breath as we curve through the halls, until we drop ILSA off in my room to recharge. She checks the time on her comm. “Oh, we better hurry. They stop lunch service at three.”

With only twenty-six minutes until the food gets cut off and my stomach audibly growling, we hurry to the dining room, where her voice weaves into the noise of the crowd. Shimmering silver damask-patterned walls illuminate the room full of circular tables. A row of people shuffles along the back, picking brightly colored food from tiered trays. Luckily, Jupiter isn’t one of them.

I move to the back of the line like I’ve been caught by its gravitational pull. So much food. Without growing and picking and cleaning and cooking. No matter what else I find, this will forever be my favorite place on this ship.

Last night I hid in my room, afraid that if I even stepped out into the hall someone would realize I don’t belong here. Then I lost my nerve after I ran into Jupiter on my way to breakfast. The ache of hunger grows sharper.

Piled high with one of everything from every platter and tray, I carry two plates to an open table, carefully balancing the mountains of food. By the time only a tiny pink cake remains on my second plate, Asha’s told me that she’s obsessed with twenty-first-century fashion and romance novels and why she chose the name Asha when she came out. That her twin, Tar, builds small pet bots for fun, never brushes his hair, and talks in his sleep. She has pointed out a dozen notable people whom my food-coma brain did not note, one unconfirmed secret love affair, and a pair of newlyweds whose hatred for each other seems to be a source of constant public entertainment.

“…and he takes every chance he gets to openly complain about taking his new wife’s name. Such archaic misogyny. She is from the more prominent family, after all.”

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