Brightly Burning

by Alexa Donne

  “I’m sure your dad is still grieving for your mom, right?” She nodded. “We can be like family, just without the marriage part, if that’s okay.”

  Arden nodded vigorously. “I’m so glad you came back. I missed you.”

  I smiled, but it was bittersweet. Jessa had wanted to be my family too. And I’d walked out on her. I shoved cake into my mouth and chewed with purpose, a distraction so I wouldn’t cry.

  “Maybe you could marry him.” She pointed behind me, and I turned to look. It was Jon, looking freshly showered and finely dressed. To my horror, I felt my heart speed up just a bit. But I didn’t have any real feelings for him. He just looked kind of good. Damp blond hair curled around his ears, and he grinned when he saw me, bounding over.

  “Hey! Happy birthday. I hope you saved me a piece of cake.”

  I pushed a spare slice over to my right as he took the seat beside me. To my chagrin, he smelled good, like fresh-cut oats.

  “You showered.” I stated the obvious.

  “Yep. Skipped my water rations yesterday so I could shower tonight.”

  “Special occasion?”

  He stared at me expectantly.

  “My birthday?” I felt my whole body flush. This was so not what I needed. Jon was unabashed.

  “I’ll eat quickly so we can get to your surprise.”

  True to his word, ten minutes later, he left me struggling to keep up with him as he ran ahead, up two flights of stairs and aft. The double doors whooshed open to reveal the observation deck in all its glory: wall-to-wall windows in a room it took two minutes to walk the length of, even at a brisk pace. And it was empty.

  “There’s no one else here,” I stated the obvious.

  “I guess so,” he said, failing completely to feign surprise. At my look, he fessed up. “I, um, called in some favors.”

  I made my way to the windows. They offered the best view of Earth and the rest of the ships trailing behind us. I couldn’t decide which view I preferred. The endless expanse of space I could view from my bedroom window aboard the Rochester, conversely terrifying and wonderful, a reminder of how small I was, and how infinite everything else. Or this, a tableau of life, circling, waiting for the opportunity to set foot on solid ground again. Ground that might be deadly white, the air cold enough to stop your heart. I squinted down at the surface below, looking for patterns that might inspire hope. Jon spotted them first.

  “See there?” He pointed, off to the far left. The most promising bit, the one that had been driving his Earthbound campaign for years, was coming into view. There, the relentless white receded, revealing a small mass of browns, blues, and greens in the middle. “That’s where we think the Crusader went down. It holds the most promise for sustaining life.”

  “Do we know which continent it is?”

  “Nope,” he said, grinning down at the planet, a little too gleeful for my liking. He gazed down like it was his pet, and they were about to embark on a grand adventure together.

  “We have no idea if Earth can support life,” I said. “If the ice age isn’t over, we’ll have no chance.”

  “We have no chance up here,” he countered. “Eventually the life-support systems will fail beyond repair. Human beings have survived ice ages on Earth before.”

  “Not many of them.”

  “We’ve been up here for the worst of it. We’ll be fine. Anyway, I have more surprises.” He jogged off into a dark corner, leaving me confused, returning a moment later with a dark glass bottle and two glasses. “I got this from Jatinder and stashed it up here.” Jon poured a generous measure into each glass, handing one to me. My first instinct was to decline. I’d gotten stupid drunk on the stuff the night of the memorial. But it was my birthday, dammit.

  “Happy birthday,” he said as we clinked glasses. Then the music started.

  At first I thought I was imagining it, that I had gotten unceremoniously drunk faster than anticipated. Then I saw the tab in Jon’s hand, realizing he’d turned it on. It was light, something classical played on a piano. Romantic.

  “Is this a date?” I asked, wary.

  “No?”

  “Jon.” My tone carried a warning.

  “I thought about inviting George, but figured he would insist on bringing Joy, and that would be uncomfortable. It’s just you and me, and I was hoping . . . but it doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be.”

  I groaned. “Jon, I just . . . can’t.”

  “I know. I had hoped what happened on the Rochester wasn’t too serious, but clearly it was.”

  “What are you talking about?” I couldn’t keep the panic from creeping into my voice.

  “Just, with what you said. And what you didn’t say. I figured you and Hugo Fairfax must have had something. I read between the lines.”

  I turned away, watched the ships in the near distance dance in orbit. “Does anyone else know?”

  “No. Most people don’t pay as much attention to you as I do.”

  That earned him a look, which I realized might have been his intention. He got me to turn around. Jerk.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “No?” I slumped against the glass. Slid down until I was sitting, the chill at my back oddly comforting. Jon sat too, sure to keep a few feet of distance. At this point, I trusted Jon more than anyone. An odd sensation.

  “I was engaged,” I said finally. “To Hugo.” An invisible weight lifted from my shoulders. Someone else knew my secret now.

  “And you left. Because of the virus?”

  I nodded. Jon didn’t say anything at first, his silence sparking my worst fears. Finally, he nodded and said the two words I hadn’t known I needed to hear: “I understand.” And then, barely missing a beat: “Now, do you want to search for constellations or play ‘guess the continent’?”

  I smiled, thankful not to have to hash it out in excruciating detail. “How about a little of both?” Following his lead, I searched the skies for familiar patterns and proceeded to make the most of my birthday.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Quarantine ended a week later with little fanfare. Everyone was exhausted, or mourning, and eager to get back to our pre-sickness duties without fuss. I would not miss the heat at my back, the soreness of my muscles from repetitive action. Field duty was not for me. The Stalwart returned to its normal rhythms, and I to mine, but with one major difference. Captain Karlson permitted me to teach as my primary occupation on board; no more regular engineering shifts for me. And the residents became more and more enamored of the idea of going down to Earth. Never mind that Jon and his uncle still hadn’t figured out how we’d safely get there. But everyone had pretty much accepted that we had to. The fleet had written us off.

  “Will we die if we go down there?” Arden brought the day’s lesson to a dead halt. Twenty blanched faces with big, curious eyes zeroed in on me.

  “No,” I said, more firmly than I believed. They were too young to know the risks, the statistical analysis the crew had been doing, gauging our odds. “It may be cold, but we’ll be fine.”

  “My mom said we’ll freeze up instantly,” Jefferson said.

  “No one can say that for sure.” I sighed. “Every day that passes, the Earth gets warmer. And we’re not going down right away. Don’t worry. Now, on to today’s chapter!”

  I pulled up my tablet and opened up where we’d left off. This was our new routine: Earth classics Monday, Wednesday, and Friday; art on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I loved seeing the kids’ eyes light up as we read books they’d never even imagined, my cache taken from the Rochester archives coming in handy.

  I asked Jefferson to read, a small punishment for terrifying us all, but then of course he read like a pro. He beamed when I complimented him, and I forgot my annoyance. They were good kids, and I was lucky to be teaching them.

  I was happy here. I was. But it felt hollow. My life was a facsimile of the one I’d had on board the Rochester. Similar rhythms, but the wrong beat
s. A missing melody.

  Missing him.

  When our hour was up, they begged me to keep reading, but I knew Destiny was waiting in the wings with their Farming Essentials lesson. Reading was a pleasure, an escape, but Destiny’s class was practical. Soon, these kids would be responsible for growing and sustaining the food that could mean the difference between life and death for our colony on Earth. I caught myself and my pronoun use. Our. I was already, at least subconsciously, committed to going with Jon and everyone else. Still, a part of me hesitated, yearned to use my family connections on board the Empire to stay. In my heart, I knew what held me back, but I was loath to admit it.

  If I left behind the stars, I was leaving behind Hugo.

  I was in the middle of chastising myself for the thought, for my stupidity at thinking about him, reasoning with myself how maybe I could go back, when I ran headlong into Jon in the hallway.

  “I was looking for you. Someone is here to see you.” When I looked around in confusion, he continued. “No, like, someone came here to see you. In a ship. They’re in the cargo bay. Says they’re your driver.”

  I didn’t bother with pleasantries; I simply took off, rushing to the cargo bay as quick as my feet would allow until my suspicion was confirmed.

  “Stella, my girl,” Sergei greeted me with a bone-crushing, back-slapping hug, which I received gladly.

  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” I said into the scratchy fabric of his jacket, then pulled away to search his face. I found it looking almost . . . guilty? “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to deliver a message.”

  To my great surprise, he extracted from his coat a set of folded papers. It was so terribly antiquated, I laughed.

  “Is that a letter?” He nodded, solemn despite my smile, which promptly slid from my lips. “Is everything okay?”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “Da, I am sure everything is fine. I promised to deliver this into your hands as soon as quarantine ended, so here I am.” Finally, he handed me the sheaf of papers. “I have some business to attend to with the captain, so I will leave you to read.” Sergei grabbed my shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he left.

  I unfolded the bundle, and after reading the first few lines, I felt like I might pass out. It was from Hugo.

  “Stella, you okay?” Jon jogged up to me, and hastily I slapped the papers together and shoved them into a pocket.

  “You followed me down here.” I stated the obvious.

  “Yeah, I was worried . . . Did I see you putting paper into your pocket?” He craned his neck, eyeing the exact pocket where the letter was hiding.

  “You are too nosy for your own good, Jonathan Karlson,” I chastised him with a sigh, extracting the papers. “It’s a letter. From Hugo.”

  Jon allowed himself only momentary surprise. Then he nodded, as if I’d relayed a mission command. “You’ll want to find somewhere private to read it, then.”

  I could have kissed him, were the circumstances different. Jon was a good one.

  Gratefully, I let him usher me away to a nearby storage room he unlocked with a private key code.

  “I’ll leave you to, um . . .” he trailed off, offering a smile before he closed the door, leaving me to read Hugo’s letter among great towering piles of discarded tools and supply crates. I sat on the cleanest-looking box I could find, running shaking fingers over the crisp paper before unfolding it with a rushed exhale of breath.

  My dearest Stella,

  I am sure I am the last person you want to hear from, but I hope you will read on and give me a chance to explain. This was the soonest I could get word to you without Mason, or anyone else, being able to read it, and what I have to say is just for you. I can live with everyone else believing me a murderer, but not you. Your opinion of me is paramount.

  I swear to you I did not know what Mari was doing, that she was developing new viruses in her spare time for fun. She’s always been an odd sort of person, and wholly dedicated to science and advancement of human knowledge, but I never imagined she’d inherited my father’s penchant for coaxing deadly viruses into existence. Unlike him, however, I don’t believe she intended to cause harm. Mason threatened her parents, just as he threatened mine.

  Yet does it matter what the intention was, the circumstances of Mari handing the strain over, of my not trying harder to stop it? We’re implicated in a terrible thing, and no reasoning can make up for all those who died.

  But I need you to know that I wasn’t aware of what had happened until after Mari had handed over the virus and the vaccines to Mason. I don’t know why I let you believe that I had done it. Perhaps a part of me didn’t believe that I deserved your love. It happened on my ship, and I am my father’s son. It was good that you got away from me, really. You could never be free of my family’s curse if you stayed.

  Please be happy. Find someone else to love. And above all, stay away from Mason. He remains dangerous.

  I love you, always.

  Hugo

  My heart thumped in my chest, there was a rushing in my ears, and desperately I read the letter over again and again. My poor Hugo. Mason had concocted a story for the press, tying him to Hanada by association. And even her . . . of course Mason had blackmailed her. He was vile.

  I paced the storage room, thoughts tumbling over and over as if caught in a metal drum. I had to find Hugo. What an enormous, idiotic martyr he was being. I didn’t care if he was in hiding; I had to go to him. Sergei delivered the letter, so he had to know where Hugo was.

  I burst out of the room, startling Jon, who was waiting in the corridor. “You have to take me to your uncle. He’s meeting with Sergei. I must speak with him.”

  Jon didn’t need to be told twice. I nipped at his heels, his stride much longer than mine, up two levels and all the way forward, to a part of the ship I’d never been permitted to see before. Jon gave an unmarked door a special knock and, upon hearing a gruff reply, opened it for me.

  “Sergei!” I rushed in, catching the captain off-guard. He rose from his desk, and I was struck, like always, by his uncanny resemblance to his nephew, but pushed the thought aside to focus on my mission. I barreled up to Sergei, who was sitting across from the captain. “Where is Hugo? He gave you the letter. Please, you have to take me to him.”

  “Whoa, whoa, hold on just a moment, Miss Ainsley,” Captain Karlson said, sitting back down. “What is the meaning of this?”

  I didn’t have time to explain it to him, nor did I want to.

  “Sergei,” I repeated, more forcefully this time, ignoring the captain.

  “Stella, it isn’t safe to take you there,” was all he said, his gaze steadily avoiding mine. I searched the captain’s quarters, realizing they doubled as both an office and a living space, finally finding a second chair in a corner near the door. Placing it next to Sergei’s, I sat, bringing us on the same level, so he couldn’t miss me.

  “So that means you know where he is. Quarantine is over, and I got the vaccine. I’ll be fine.”

  “Miss Ainsley, I’m afraid you don’t understand.” This time the captain spoke. I was surprised to see him get up, walk over to a sideboard, and pour out a cup of steaming tea, which he brought over to me. “Drink that,” he said lightly but firmly. Despite my furor, I did. I’d sincerely missed tea.

  “There’s a problem,” the captain said after his own long draw of tea. “Sergei here just informed me that you are being charged with treason. The government wishes to extradite you to the Olympus for trial for leaking the news about the virus.”

  “What?” I said to a twin shout from outside the door, muffled through the metal. Then the door cracked open, and Jon came rushing in.

  “That is bullshit. She’s not the one who sent it to the press.” Jon defended me well, though we both knew it was a mere technicality that the messages had come from Joy’s account. Jon and I had sent them. The captain knew it too.

  “Stella was the only person to leave the Rochester, and s
hortly thereafter, the whole fleet knew about the virus and how it was being used. They’re saying you incited panic, which is a treasonous act.”

  “I’ve been here for almost two months. Why did they wait to charge me?”

  “I think they were hoping you wouldn’t make it through,” Captain Karlson replied.

  “So you’re sending me away?” I asked.

  The captain frowned. “Of course not. They’ll have to lay siege to this ship if they want you.”

  “This is why it’s not safe for me to take you, Stella,” Sergei chimed in. “The news is not yet public, but soon your face will be splashed across every feed in the fleet.”

  I digested this information, which gave new definition to the idea of being trapped. It also removed any choice I might have had in the matter—​I was going down to Earth, as soon as we found a way. It was no longer safe for me anywhere on the fleet.

  I would never see Hugo again.

  No, that was unacceptable. I’d spent the last two months with my heart shattered into a million pieces, unable to reconcile my feelings with what I thought Hugo had done. I needed to go to him, now that I knew the truth.

  “Then my window is short, isn’t it? Until the news is public. Now is the only time you can take me to him. Sergei, is he close?”

  He looked like he didn’t want to tell me, but finally he acquiesced. “I came from the Lady Liberty. It’s a short trip.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Jon jumped in excitedly. “It wouldn’t be that hard to get a visa for someone who isn’t Stella, and two of us going will lessen any suspicion. We can get you a cover identity.”

  “And what reason should I give for these two people to take a vacation aboard the Lady Liberty?” The captain was clearly skeptical.

  “Jobs,” Sergei said, the mischievous glint I was accustomed to seeing back in his eyes. “There are many postings to replace the dead.” He paused briefly, out of respect, bowing his head.

  “Yes, that’s it.” Jon clapped his hands together excitedly. “Say it’s me and, I don’t know, Joy taking an informational meeting with their engineering corps. And it’ll give me a chance to ask around, try to find us a ship that can manage reentry. Kill two birds with one stone.”