Starhold Vesta

Chapter 6

I blink into consciousness and am only half-surprised to discover my bed isn't empty. Sometime in the night, Huxley wiggled his way under the covers and commandeered over half the real estate. With his arm over his head and his body contorted like the letter S, his soft snores pull me from an already terrible half-sleep.

Regardless, I'm grateful for whatever force drove him to me. I circle my arms around him and drag his little body into mine.

"Wake up, little star," I say, pushing his dark curls from his eyes. "It's a fresh cycle in a brand-new galaxy."

He groans and rolls over, stuffing his face into the pillow.

"Let's go, Hux," I pat his back through his little pajama shirt. Someone from the textiles department had made him a special set with little trees and birds. I've never seen trees as full as these or birds in these vibrant blues and reds. Parrots, they said. It's these little reminders that the people of the HMS Valediction were taken from the Earth when it was still lush and full of life. It makes me feel like we came from two different planets.

While Hux slowly rises, I rub the sleep from my own eyes and swivel around, placing both feet on the floor. Waking has gotten easier since Nuna left six sleep cycles ago. The lights in the cabin cool from warm yellow to bright white, synthesizing the dawn. The light from the thousands of stars in my window dim in the background.

I study them, realizing I don't recognize their patterns or the way some of the nebulae distort the dark matter twisting around their violent centers. This really is a whole new galaxy.

The screen on my hand tablet blinks to life as an alert appears.

Lace Up. We're doing recon

I don't relish the agenda on reconnaissance shifts as it's mostly sitting around and trying to blend into the new market, but I'm told this one will be different.

"Find what you can," Teeno says when we meet at his penthouse a while later. He steeples his fingers and rests his chin against them, the silver whiskers of his unshaven chin more apparent than ever. It's bizarre to see Teeno with a dirty button or food stuck in his teeth—it's unheard of for him to go more than a few days without shaving.

Moon, Nuna, and I stand stiff at the entrance of his pristine office. I do my best to listen to Teeno's objectives for our stakeout in this newest port of business, but it's taking all my concentration not to see if Nuna is looking back at me.

Her profile is in my peripherals. I can trace the distinct outline of her forehead, nose, lips, and chin. I know the feel of her box braids between my fingers and the heaviness of the beads and gems she interlaces in them. I have already memorized the woman, so the insatiable need to watch her doesn't make sense.

"—Do you think we can manage that, Lorn?"

My name on Teeno's question sends my attention careening to the front of the room. I stare at him for a moment, replaying what pieces of the conversation I had processed.

"... the new supply to the Vesta?" He prompts.

"The supplies are packed and ready to unload. We're on schedule."

Moon grumbles under his breath soft enough for me to hear him on the other side of the room. "It would be nice if at least some of your functional mind was on our objective today."

"Fuck you, I'm fine," I whisper back.

"You have your assignments," Teeno continues, his voice soft and his eyes tired. "I wouldn't have considered a scuffle possible at this particular port, but Coodi's reports indicate they have yet to make a single drop-off without incident in the last hundred cycles. Expect trouble. Do you have your disguises?"