21“IS THAT JOB OFFER STILL OPEN?”

After a ten second lag, Kerr blinks in surprise. “Well, hello to you, too,” she says, and I realize I didn’t even say hi first. Luckily, Kerr doesn’t seem offended by my shortness. She leans back in her chair and gives me a considering look.

“So what’s up, kid? Did you finally realize your lifelong ambition to work on a freighter, or are you just sick of station life?”

I shrug, being a bomb poised to blow up not seeming to fall under either option. “It’s time to move on,” I answer at last.

“Fair enough. You know, I was about your age when I started on the freighters.”

“You were?”

“Yep. I was fifteen. Bored, reckless, eager to get off the dirt-poor colony where I was born and go, well, anywhere really. My milicreds ran out on this hole of a station—Kendriss Station. It was little more than a refueling stop for haulers, not like New Sol at all. It was either starve or get a job. Luckily one of the freighters passing through was short-handed enough to take on a scrub of a girl like me, and here I am, twenty-odd years later with a ship of my own and a crew of fourteen under my command.”

“Wow,” I say, and I mean it. It sounds like Kerr didn’t have much more than I do now when she started out. I wonder if that’s why she offered to help me—because I remind her of herself at my age. “You must have worked really hard.”

“You better believe it, kid. You will too if you’re really serious about doing this. A first-run contract on a freighter is no walk on the moon. You pretty much get stuck with all the slag jobs—the hard stuff, the boring stuff, the gross stuff no one else wants to do. The pay is terrible, the hours are worse, privacy is pretty much non-existent.”

“Then why do it? I mean, if you don’t have to?”

“Because in all the galaxy, there’s no better way to see the stars.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

Well, that’s not strictly true, but it’s what I have to do, which seems close enough. Kerr’s job offer all those weeks ago, barely marked at the time, now seems like a lifesaver. A way to get off the station and away from Michael. I do feel a pang of guilt at signing on under false pretenses, but I remind myself that this way any loss of life if—when—I go Nova will be minimal. A freighter crew of fifteen is nothing compared to a station or a colony of hundreds or even thousands. Whatever my original mission was, I want no part of it now. None of the people on this station deserve to die, no matter which side of the war they happen to be on.

Kerr nods and glances at her tip-pad. “All right then. I’m currently on a run out on the eastern fringes, but I should be back in your area in a four-square or so.”

“Four weeks!” The words blurt out of my mouth when her answer reaches me. “That’s too late!”

“Too late? Hey, if you’re in some sort of trouble with station security, I can’t help you.”

I take one look at Kerr’s hard eyes and rapidly shake my head. “No, nothing like that. It’s just, there’s this boy . . .” I stop, unsure how to describe the urgency of my situation without actually describing the situation.

Kerr’s face remains blank as she waits for my response. Then, to my surprise, she bursts out laughing. “A boy? Ha! I should’ve known it was something like that. Teenagers!” When her amusement finally peters out, she goes serious once again. “Look, kid—there’s no way I’m getting there any faster, but I suppose if you’re that desperate to get off the station, I could hit up some of my contacts, see if anyone near New Sol is looking to hire on.”

I nod swiftly in agreement.

“If I vouch for you though,” she continues, “you better work your tail off. No slacking around for a two-square only to decide you miss your boyfriend and want to come back.”

Now my own eyes go hard. “Once I leave, I’m not coming back. Ever.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” With that, Kerr cuts the com.

I link off the Starcom Intergalactic site and deactivate my chit. I called Kerr; it’s done. Now I just have to hope she comes through for me.

Before it’s too late.

There’s blood on my pillow when I wake the next morning. Eyes on the red stain, I lift my hand to my face. My nose bled while I was sleeping; I can feel the dried remnants crusted in my nostrils and on my cheek. I carefully blow out the thickest of the clots into a tissue and immediately regret it. Without the blockage, the sour-and-sweet smell is more piercing than ever.

I clean up in the hygiene units and then go to my locker for a change of clothes. Without thinking, I choose one of Teal’s outfits, start to close up the drawer, and stop.

What am I doing?

These clothes aren’t for me. They’re for another Lia, the one who watched teen holos with Teal and helped Taylor in the kitchen and kissed Michael in the park. That Lia can’t exist anymore. The new Lia is a freighter grunt, the sort of person suited for grungy shipsuits and frayed bandannas, not short skirts and cute tops. Dropping the clothes back into the locker, I reluctantly wriggle into one of my jumpsuits.

As soon as I put it on, I want to take it off again. It’s been weeks since I wore one of my jumpsuits; I’d forgotten how unflattering the baggy garments are. The one I’m wearing is the one I malfunctioned in. I can tell because of the gray stains on the collar and chest, still indelibly etched in the fabric despite repeated washings and even Taylor’s best efforts. I sigh as I imagine Michael seeing me in it, then remind myself I’m not supposed to see him anymore.

As if my thoughts have summoned him, my chit starts vibrating. I’m tempted to shut it off, but I know if I do he’ll just keep linking until I finally answer. Instead I pick up, keeping it on audio-only so he can’t see my attire. I keep the conversation short, evading his questions and putting him off when he talks about meeting him again. By the time he hangs up, I feel terrible. So terrible, I’m tempted to throw off this stupid jumpsuit, put on my best outfit, and go see him. More than tempted, actually. I’m halfway out of my jumpsuit before I come to my senses.

Pulling out my original box, I start throwing things in—the clothes, the pillow and blanket, the frilly toiletries, the reader. It’s time to get rid of all this stuff before it makes me completely forget who I really am. What I really am.

She’s still asleep when I reach her cot, sprawled on her back, one arm hanging off the bed and a small pool of spittle at the corner of her mouth. I slam the box to the ground with a loud thud, taking a sort of maniacal delight when she bolts upright with a start.

“Huh? Whah?” Shar looks around dazedly, stopping when she finally notices me looming over her.

“You want my stuff?” I kick the box into the leg of her cot, and she jumps. “There! It’s yours.”

“What in a black hole . . . ?”

I don’t stick around long enough to hear Shar’s befuddled questions let alone answer them. Giving my stuff away to her was hard enough; the last thing I want to do is explain it. Besides, better to let her sweat it out, wondering if I booby-trapped the box somehow, than explain that I gave it to her because I figured she was the one person I wouldn’t stoop to begging it back from. It still rankles, though, giving away my precious things to my worst enemy.

Worst enemy. A bitter laugh chuffs from my throat as I realize the truth. Shar is no longer my worst enemy, not by a long shot. No. I am.

The day passes slowly. Since I have to take the lift up to eat anyway, I stay in the Blue Lounge for the rest of the day. I watch the viewer until I’m completely bored out of my mind, and then I watch some more. Sitting in one place seems the safest way to spend my time. There’s nothing more about Tiersten, but one of the news stations does a story about the ongoing negotiations between the Celestial Expanse and the Tellurian Alliance. Apparently the talks are going well, and the first in-person summit between the two sides is scheduled for only six days from now. The news reporter hints that the summit may even be taking place on New Earth, allowing the Celestians to finally take their first steps ever onto the planet, though of course nothing official has been declared yet.

I frown at the news. A summit meeting in only six days? After three years of bitter war, how could they possibly come to an agreement in just a matter of weeks? I can see how the Celestians might go for it, if they believe they’ll be getting New Earth at last, but I find it hard to believe the Tellurians would give up the planet so easily. Unless they’ve booby-trapped it as surely as Shar believes I’ve rigged the box. Maybe there’s a secret armada on New Earth just waiting for the Celestians to come. Or worse—a whole army of mes.

I envision a whole planet full of Lia Johansens, all wired to blow, and I shiver. God, I hope that’s not the case!

It’s late, almost midnight, when I return to the bay. As I approach my cot, I know immediately Michael’s been here. A single red rose sits on my pillow. I pick it up and hold it to my nose, wishing I could actually smell it.

“He waited over three hours.”

The elderly woman who sleeps near me is still awake, watching me from the warmth of her blankets. She props herself up on an elbow. “I told him I would pass on his gift, but he insisted on waiting. The officers finally kicked him out when they turned the lights down.”

Michael waited for me? My eyes go suspiciously moist, and I rub my sleeve against my face.

“You’d better get up early tomorrow if you want to continue avoiding him,” the woman adds shrewdly.

I nod, not trusting my ability to speak, and go get ready for bed. I’m just finishing in the hygiene unit when my link vibrates. Kerr.

“You’re in luck,” she says without preamble. “A friend of a friend has a cousin who’s currently docked on New Sol. They’d only planned on stopping for a day to refuel but got delayed by last minute repairs. The captain says they’ll be shoving off in three days. There’s a berth, if you want it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Kerr raises an eyebrow. “Just like that, no questions asked? You must be desperate.” I shrug, neither denying nor confirming. She nods at last. “Well, I looked over the contract on your behalf, and the pay isn’t great, but it’s comparable to what a first-timer of your age and experience could expect. Word among the freighter circuit is that Captain Standish is a tough master, but a fair one. Work hard and you should be fine.”

I nod, touched that she would go to so much trouble on my behalf. “Thanks, Captain Kerr.”

“What’s with all this captain stuff? On the day you come work for me, you can call me captain. Until then, it’s just Marissa.”

“Thanks, Marissa,” I agree, even as I inwardly swear never to work for her. The last thing I want to do is put her in danger. Her being so far away suddenly seems like the biggest stroke of luck.

“Well, Godspeed, kid. Send me a link sometime and let me know how it all works out.” Marissa goes to cut the com and stops. “Look, it’s not my place to pry into your affairs, I know that, but if ever I saw someone with unfinished business, it’s you. I don’t know what’s going on with you and this boy, and I don’t want to, but finish it before you go. Break up with him, speak your piece to him, whatever it is you need to do. Because if you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

I continue to think about her words even after she links me the job details and signs off. If only I could tell Michael everything. If only there was some way to make him understand why I have to go. But how do I explain a mission I don’t even understand myself? How do I explain what I am to him without losing his regard forever?

I can’t.

The dreams come again when next I sleep. The prison camp, the doctor, the military commander, the woman with the sunken cheeks, now joined by a man who looks just as sick. Their images mix and blur in my head; their voices shout in a chaotic jumble. In my dream, I hold my hands over my ears and beg for them to stop. Anything, if they would just let me alone. The voices suddenly go dead, but for one voice, a man’s voice.

We’ll stop, he says, when you go Nova.

I can’t, I whisper. I’m afraid.

The old man smiles gently. You don’t have to be.

No?

No, he answers with a shake of his head. You don’t have to be afraid because it will be glorious. More glorious than you could possibly imagine.

Glorious.

I wake to find that while I was sleeping, another two seconds have slipped away.

*00:00:39*