Brightly Burning(35)

“Why?” I pushed back. All this cloak-and-dagger was ridiculous. “Is there someone dangerous on board? Do you know who tried to kill you?”

“No one tried to kill me,” Hugo said, I suspected mostly for his own benefit. Like he was trying to convince himself. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t open the door.” Then he swept out without answering my question, leaving me in darkness.

“Lights on,” I said, annoyed to find my voice wobbling. Rori obliged, taking it upon herself to only half raise them, leaving the room moody but not too dim. Luna let out a pathetic mewl, talking to me as he liked to do, asking me what was going on.

“I know, Lun,” I said, stroking his back, finding the soft fur beneath my fingers and the way he broke out into a purr unduly comforting. I understood why Hugo’s ancestors had brought cats on board in the first place. They provided a welcome distraction from loneliness. My gaze flicked to the window, which I’d taken to leaving open most of the time. There was debris floating by, anything that wasn’t bolted down in Hugo’s room now a permanent part of the moon’s orbit, unless someone went out to collect it. I thought back to the claustrophobic spacesuit with my name on it in the transport bay and hoped I wouldn’t end up being the one to do it.


Minutes ticked by into hours, alertness giving way to restless sleep. I woke several times, looking to the door, listening for Hugo’s voice, believing more than once he was there, sitting beside me, only to realize I was dreaming.

“Rori, what time is it?”

“Five a.m.,” she told me. Only four hours since Hugo left me, yet somehow it felt much longer. No longer feeling the pull of sleep, I padded over to the bathroom, glimpsing myself in the mirror for the first time. Dark smudges dashed across my forehead, down my cheek. I leaned close, smoothing fingers over my eyebrows. Still there, but more than a few hairs came away under pressure. That blast of heat to the face had done some damage.

I took a shower, happy to let Rori notch up the heat, creating a fine steam, which I let seep into my strained muscles. Still, I couldn’t dawdle, in case Hugo came back. I was dried off and dressed by half past five. Then I waited, too keyed up to read or sleep, but simultaneously weary. Something awful had happened last night—?or was it this morning?—?and I needed to get to the bottom of it. Sergei had said this place was haunted, but I didn’t believe in ghosts.

Six a.m. The lights in the corridor would be going on about now, signaling the start of a new day. Somewhere on board, Officer Xiao was seeing to her duties on the bridge. But I’d promised Hugo I wouldn’t leave, so I stayed put. Yet I itched to speak to someone. I pulled up to my desk tab and checked my messages. Another day with no message from George. He’d dropped off from daily missives to just a few a week.

I ignored the pang I felt at the thought of George moving on, and clicked on a message from Karlson. His messages were positively persistent, but I almost didn’t mind. George found my book-talk boring, but Karlson was kind of into it.


Hey, Stella—?

I can’t believe you had eggplant! Can you ask the cook where he got that? We’ve never grown that on the Stalwart and I can’t imagine where it came from. Interesting that you had zucchini, too. We haven’t grown that since last season’s blight.

My uncle got me a reader tab like I asked, so now I can try to read some of those books you’ve been telling me about. We didn’t have that mountain book you mentioned, but I did find some Le Carré in the Stalwart archive. I’ll let you know what I think.

Hope you’re OK. I asked my uncle about your ship and he said that it has a “reputation.” He didn’t know anything about your current captain, but said there was some sort of incident with the last one. He didn’t go into details but made his serious captain face, and then yelled at me for wasting his time with gossip. Never mind that he’s the one who started talking in the first place. Anyway, let me know how things are. You know if you need to come back, all I have to do is talk to my uncle.

Jon


The message was eerily well-timed, and everything came pouring out of me like a current. I even used his first name.


Dear Jon,

Actually, I am seriously freaked out right now. I just had to rescue Hugo from his room on fire—?literally had to pull him out of bed before he was vented into space. I told him I’d heard someone in the corridor before it happened, and it didn’t even faze him! Something is definitely going on.

I’m afraid of saying something, because I don’t want to leave. I know you’ll help me get back to the Stalwart, and I really appreciate it, but I really do like it here. When airlocks aren’t failing and people aren’t setting things on fire.

Typing that out, I sound crazy. I don’t know—?


I was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Stella, it’s me.”

Hugo! I flew to the RELEASE button, and the door slid open to reveal a Hugo none the worse for wear. He’d changed into clean clothes, though who knew where he’d gotten them, and he appeared flushed, a bit sweaty, but otherwise calm.

“Everything is fine,” he said, firmly maintaining his ground on the other side of the door, even though I invited him in. “I forgot I had candles burning in my quarters last night, but I’ve seen Mari and she says I’m fine.” He offered me a hand, which I shook. “Thank you for saving me, and I apologize for putting you in that position.”