I ignore his barb. I really do.
“Can’t you just leave it on autopilot?” I call after him as he heads toward the cockpit. “I’ve seen you dock this thing. The autopilot is probably better at it.”
He waves me off without turning around, and I hear his low chuckle echo down the narrow corridor.
I have the world’s quickest shower. Firstly, because water is a precious luxury in space, and our bathing chambers still use it like an antiquated human bathroom. And secondly, I’m too excited to lounge beneath hot water and relax.
Exiting the bathing chambers, I move to check on our luggage. Well, my luggage. Khatak travels light—a single bag of clothes and his diplomatic credentials all crammed into one ready-to-explode suitcase. I, on the other hand, have somehow accumulated four bags of personal items and an entire cargo container of souvenirs.
The carved crystal figurine from Nakar Prime sits carefully wrapped on the shelf above our bunk. That’s for Elana—it’s a snake coiled around a rose, and the craftsmanship is incredible. For Laura, I found a set of exotic spices from the Vornath markets that the vendor swore would “revolutionize cuisine.” For Charlotte, a set of star charts that are apparently historical artifacts. For Zoe, a bolt of shimmering fabric that changes color in different lights. And of course, Maya gets a book. I have no idea if it’s a mystery or crime story… but it’s got actual ink on actual paper—something far harder to find in a digital society than I expected.
“Brace for docking,” Khatak’s voice crackles over the intercom.
I grip the shelf with both hands.
The shuttle touches down with what I’m generously calling a “controlled descent” but what actually feels more like controlled falling. The entire vessel shudders, and the shelves rattle ominously. My carved figurines dance dangerously close to the edge.
“Khatak!” I shout. “You said you were supervising!”
“I was!”
“Then who was flying? Your tail?”
The shuttle settles with one final thud, and miraculously, nothing falls. I release the breath I was holding and carefully check each item. All intact.
I’m definitely going to need more shelves. Maybe another in the lounge cabin. Or the storage bay. Or possibly I need to accept that I have a problem and stop buying souvenirs.
But where’s the fun in that?
The old Selene stopped collecting things after the abduction. Every souvenir from my old travels—coffee mugs from Seattle, postcards from Rome, that tacky keychain from Tokyo—all of it reminded me of a life I’d lost. Of a person who felt safe enough to explore.
All of it was lost when I was taken from my home, and I thought I’d never get it back.
But this? This is different. These souvenirs aren’t from a past I’m trying to forget. They’re proof of a future I’m actively building. Every carved figure, every piece of fabric, every jar of alien spice is a memory I chose to make. A place I chose to explore.
With someone I chose to love.
“Ramp is deploying,” Khatak announces, appearing in the doorway. “Ready?”
I grab the bag of gifts and shoot him a grin. “Let’s go see our friends.”
The moment the ramp touches down, I’m already moving. The familiar lobby of the Alien Hotel spreads out before us, and I barely have time to register the absolutely excessive Christmas decorations—seriously, everyone’s gone all out—before I spot them.
My friends all stand near the entrance, waiting for me.
The moment they see us, their faces light up. I’m running before I consciously decide to move, and then we’re crashing into each other in a group hug that nearly knocks us all over.
“You’re back!” Elana squeals. “Finally! Do you know how boring it’s been without you?”
“I’ve been gone three months!”
“Exactly. Boring.”
We’re a tangle of hugs and excited chatter, everyone talking over each other.
“Is that a new shirt?”
“You got a tan! How does that even work in space?”
