Brightly Burning

by Alexa Donne

  “Rori, the door!” I cried, and thankfully she overrode the bio-scan protocols, letting me in.

  I was hit in the face with heat so strong that I threw both hands up, squinting against it. Against my better instincts, I pushed myself forward, toward the fire, which lit up the sheets at the foot of Hugo’s bed like a bonfire. I dropped to the floor, crawling toward Hugo’s prone figure.

  “Please don’t be dead,” I pleaded to no one but the fire, until finally I reached the head of the bed. The fire hadn’t spread this far, and I found Hugo in a fetal position, knees tucked against his chest, the only thing keeping his toes from being roasted. I shook him, but he did not wake. A whiff of stale liquor hit my nose—​he was passed out drunk. Of course.

  “Emergency fire protocols will go into effect in sixty seconds,” Rori provided an update, and I couldn’t believe I’d burned through half my time already.

  “Hugo!” I shouted, shaking him again. This time he stirred, only just, mumbling and batting at my hands, trying to push me away.

  “Emergency fire protocols will go into effect in forty-five seconds.”

  Screw this. I grabbed Hugo by the arm and hauled him with all my might, out of bed and onto the floor. Then I dragged him along the floor, even as he came properly awake. He didn’t fight me; indeed, he began to cough, deep, bone-rattling hacks that continued as we made our way through the hatch door and he collapsed in the corridor.

  “My book,” he coughed. “I need—” He tried to heave himself up and go back inside, but I stopped him cold. He was in no shape to run back into a burning room that was twenty seconds from venting. I popped my head back inside, crouching low, and saw a single hardcover volume on Hugo’s bedside table. Without thinking, I sprinted back inside, precious seconds ticking away, Rori’s voice overhead.

  Fifteen seconds.

  Ten.

  I grabbed the book, flying back toward the door, ferocious heat from the fire that now consumed the bed singeing my lashes as I literally hurled my body over the threshold and into the hallway, landing practically on top of Hugo.

  “Emergency fire protocols active,” Rori intoned as the door shuttled closed behind me, followed by the hollow thump of the window blowing out and all the fire, oxygen, and unbolted contents within being sucked out into space.

  We stared in disbelief at Hugo’s door from the wall opposite, chests heaving shaky breaths while the Rochester hummed along quietly. As if we hadn’t battled a raging fire moments before. Exhausted and numb with shock, I rested my head against Hugo’s chest, suddenly realizing it was bare. My gaze traveled down, and I found him naked but for a thin pair of undershorts. My breath stopped short, but I didn’t pull away. No, I let myself enjoy it for just a moment, Hugo clinging to me, his heartbeat sounding in my ear. It was unlikely to happen again.

  “You saved my life,” he rasped. “Again.”

  I raised my eyes to meet his and found more fire than I could bear. His gaze burned with bewilderment, gratitude, and something else I was afraid to place. Forcing a cough, I pulled myself up to sitting, pulled myself away.

  “I hope this was worth risking my life for,” I panted, turning over the book in my hands. It had been well kept, the golden lettering of its cover still visible. The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. I didn’t know it, but it clearly was of great value to Hugo. He would have died going back for it.

  “It was my father’s.” Hugo coughed, now leaning against a bulkhead to gather his bearings. “And his mother’s before him. And so on. I would imagine a book lover such as yourself would understand.”

  I nodded for the sake of avoiding argument. I loved books as much as the next person, but I loved living even more.

  “Now, what the hell just happened?” Hugo demanded between coughs.

  “I don’t exactly know,” I said. “I woke to Rori sounding the alarm, and there was a fire in your room. Someone set the bed alight.”

  “Someone? How do you know it was someone?”

  “How else could it have happened? You certainly didn’t do it yourself. And I heard—” No. I stopped myself. It was stupid.

  “What did you hear?” Hugo grabbed my wrist, his grip weaker than it could be but still strong enough that the pressure was uncomfortable. “Tell me.”

  “I heard someone outside my door. Laughing. In the corridor. I don’t know how long before it happened. I drifted off. But Luna heard it too. He hissed at the door.”

  Hugo nodded, like he wasn’t surprised to hear it. “Stella, I need you to go into your room and lock the door behind you. Stay there until I come back.”

  “Where are you going? You need to see Officer Hanada about smoke inhalation, and it may not be safe—”

  “I’m fine,” Hugo insisted, pulling himself to standing by grabbing firm hold of the bulkhead. Chivalrous to a fault, he offered me a hand, but I wasn’t dumb enough to take it. My weight would pull him back down, and while I was winded from my sprint and numb from adrenaline, I was otherwise healthy. I got to my feet without aid, ignoring Hugo’s pointed frown.

  He grabbed ahold of my arm and started walking me toward my door, not fooling me one bit—​he needed my support to stand. And he thought it was wise to leave me in my room while he went off to do who knew what?

  “I should go with you,” I said, even as we stopped before my door and I pressed my fingers against the bio-lock.

  “Absolutely not.” He led me inside and deposited me by the bed. Luna leaped up from my pillow, rubbing himself against my side, poking his nose against Hugo’s hand. Hugo ruffled the fur between Luna’s ears and with clear effort righted himself to standing, no longer able to depend on anything for support. He managed it, though not without a few more dry hacks. “Stay in here until I come back. Don’t leave this room under any circumstances.”

  “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.”

  My body ran cold. Why was Hugo being so formal?

  “Please report for breakfast as usual, and I’ll see you when I return.”

  “Return?” I tried to stem the panic in my voice, even as it spiraled out from the pit of ice forming in my stomach. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to run an errand off-ship. It should take only a few weeks.”

  A few weeks? He’d only been home about as long.

  “Jessa will be devastated,” I said, blatantly using Jessa as a proxy for my own feelings.

  “Just reassure her that I’ll be back soon, hopefully with good news and some exciting company,” he said, forcing a smile.

  I had a million questions—​What good news? What did he mean by “company”? But before I could ask, Hugo bid me farewell with a curt nod and walked away, heading toward the transport bay. I returned to my desk tab in a daze, reading over what I’d written to Jon. No longer was I alight with apprehension, curiosity. Instead, I felt bogged down by new emotions, which stuck to my skin, my bones, as if someone had poured concrete over me: disappointment and confusion. I saved the message and resolved to finish it later. There was nothing more I could possibly say. Not to Jon. I could barely admit it to myself.

  The captain was free to come and go as he pleased, I reasoned. I was just his employee, so there was no use getting upset. Even though I was stone-cold sober, I blamed the alcohol I’d had last night for muddling my mind and senses. Any connection I’d felt between us was only in my head.

  I threw myself into the day’s tasks, starting with breakfast, which still featured meat, reinforcing my suspicion that the captain’s departure was unexpected. Neither Xiao nor Lieutenant Poole appeared, and Orion seemed none the wiser as to what happened last night—​he asked me no questions and seemed perfectly surprised when I told them the captain had left. Jessa was, indeed, upset, but years of Hugo’s sporadic presence had inoculated her to the initial shock. When I told her, she sighed, long and deep, but then schooled her features and asked if we could swap math for literature today. I said I’d be glad to, but before we could head down to our classroom, a ping came in over the comms. Officer Hanada was calling.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hello, Stella,” Hanada singsonged in my ear. “I hear you ran into a burning room this morning and might have suffered a little smoke inhalation. Please report to the medical bay ASAP.”

  “I have class, so—”

  “Have Orion watch her. I have a busy day ahead, and Hugo insisted I see you, make sure you’re not dying.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Even so.”

  She was a force to be reckoned with, and so I instructed Jessa to do independent reading until I could join her.

  “Where is the medical bay, exactly?” I asked, comms still on.

  “You know where you found the dead rat? There’s a corridor about five feet from there on the right. Go all the way down it, and you can’t miss me.”

  I followed her instructions, though thankfully there were no more mangled cat treats marking the spot this time. The corridor to the med bay was dark, no emergency lights lining the walls here, but Hanada hadn’t been wrong. The light spilling out from a glass window in the med bay door made it easy, a beacon in the expanse of black.

  The med bay was nothing special, the only notable detail being that it was eight times nicer than the one on board the Stalwart had been. Everything was made of shiny silver and frosted glass, all kept pristine from either diligent upkeep or lack of use. Given the size of the crew, I assumed the latter.

  Hanada ordered me to hop up onto a gurney so she could check my breathing. Her stethoscope pressed cold against my chest as she leaned in close. The tips of her hair were purple now.

  “Do you do that yourself?” I asked, pointing.

  “Hmm. I’m the only scientist on board.”

  “Wait, you’re not a doctor?”

  She looked at me like I was stupid, then switched to checking my eyes with a bright light.

  “I’m a virologist. I just moonlight as a doctor when people run into burning rooms or little girls decide to take a flying leap off a table.”

  “What does the Rochester need a scientist for?” I took a closer look around. The med bay didn’t see much use, but there was a door to my right. Must be a lab.

  “The Fairfaxes were all scientists. Until this generation, at least.” She rolled her eyes, and I would have asked for the story if I hadn’t been afraid she’d bite my head off. “The ship houses an archive of old Earth drugs, cures, and the like. I keep everything in good condition for when we eventually deorbit.”

  “There’s a lot about this ship I don’t know,” I said, half to myself. Hanada moved to check my reflexes, hitting a metal prong against my knees.

>   “Hang in there. Remember, I need you to last at least a year. For the betting pool.”

  “Hugo says that isn’t real.”

  “Hugo likes to tell people what they want to hear,” she volleyed back. “Have you been experiencing any nausea or vomiting, confusion or sleepiness?”

  I shook my head. “So what do you do when you’re not in the lab, then? Don’t you get bored? We never see you on the main deck.”

  She eyed me, clearly skeptical of my attempt at small talk. But she answered. “I read. Poker on Sundays with Hugo and Poole. I write to my parents. Dye my hair. We could do yours, if you want.” She took a step back, examining me. “Magenta might look nice. I think I have the colors to mix that.”

  “No, that’s okay.” I could already feel my cheeks heating just at the thought of standing out like that. No, thanks. “Wait, you have parents?”

  “Most people do.”

  “I just mean, I assumed you were an orphan,” I said.

  “Almost but not quite. My parents live on the Nikkei. They shipped me off to the Marie Curie when I was thirteen, so I haven’t seen them in a long time. But they like to write.”

  “Then when did you come to the Rochester? How long have you been here?”

  “You’re oddly inquisitive.” She stashed the stethoscope in a drawer. “Also, perfectly healthy. Congrats.”

  “Just thought I’d get to know you. Since I’ll be sticking around. For your betting pool.”

  Hanada smiled like a cat. “I came to the Rochester when I was eighteen. Ten years ago.” She took up my left arm, turning it over and running two fingers along it. Weird, since I thought the examination was over. “And where were you ten years ago?”

  “The Empire.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, tapping her fingers at the crook of my elbow, then letting go, seeming satisfied. “Did you have the Kebbler virus? Or were you vaccinated?”

  “Why do you want to know that?” The tables had turned, Hanada grilling me for information.