Directly above and around me, a night sky strewn with twinkling stars takes what little breath I have left away. For a moment, I’m floating amongst all that beauty. I reach out,and the view flickers, causing me to flinch. A message appears against a frozen tableau of stars, no longer twinkling:It seems you are awake. Would you like to pause?
It’s a projection. I swipe a tentative hand to my right, and a lightweight fabric ripples, letting in a sliver of harsher light. There’s a canopy serving as a backdrop for the image. I throw my head back, feeling a little embarrassed, and lie there for a moment. I’ve been deposited onto an extremely soft bed, the sheets soothing against my palms.
Where am I? And please Gaia tell me I still have time to get Vee off this glorified country club.
Sliding off the bed proves to be one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made; more whimpering as pain streaks through my head, left knee, and left wrist. God, my body fucking kills.
I push through the pain and pat around for my belongings. I quickly discover my NanoSlate is gone, and my smart patch has been removed. The patch is translucent but ubiquitous in our society and obvious to anyone looking for it. But the newest slate is extremely thin, the size of my palm, and can be folded up into a band as thick as my index finger. It’d have been easy to hide if I had thought ahead at all. Now, though, is not the time to self-flagellate. Most importantly, I don’t know what time it is.
Also, my shoes are gone.
I don’t stick around to look. Limping for the door requires a burst of energy I’m shocked I’m able to summon. If I get out of here before the person who found me returns, I might still be able to look for Vee and get him off theMidas.
Except the fucking door won’t open.
I wave my arms like an idiot in case it’s motion activated. Nothing. I scour the pad beside it, hoping for another stroke of luck like the door in the cargo bay. Nothing. Feeling ridiculous, I then lean in and lower my voice.
“Requesting assistance from onboard AI.”
The screen does not even flicker. I whisper the first command because who knows what waits on the other side but as the silence stretches out before me, I repeat the command again and again, louder and louder. The door stays shut. I swear up a storm, then take a few calming breaths before I pass out again.
Whoever brought me here has locked me in. For what purpose? To what end? I try not to think about failing. Instead, I turn to face my makeshift prison cell. There is a workspace adjacent to the bed, the curved desk fitted with the newest interface. A NanoSlab. Dominik’s company’s tech, of course. The small living area consists of a sofa at an angle to the wall-mounted holo-hub. The coffee table between the two items is small, completely transparent and made from smart glass. The whole damn cabin is kitted out with Gryphon Tech.
If being detained in a luxurious room is supposed to put me at ease, it’s not working. I’m anxious as hell. I walked right onto Dominik’s ship and no one except Opal knew I was coming.
What if this is the last room I see? Men are capable of monstrous things, and I learned the hard way that people can always surprise you.
I still remember the first time I met Dominik with a lingering fondness, even after all this time and after all this pain. I was eighteen, interning, and he was in his early twenties. Dominik was just trying to get his company off the ground. I had my foot in the door of TGE and was determined to be taken seriously out of my parents’ shadows. So, our unexpected pregnancy a year later sent Dominik into some kind of crisis. I refused to abort, he threw a tantrum, followed by threats and ultimatums. I left, determined to raise a baby on my own even if I had to sit my exams at uni with a sling on my chest, even if I had to put my ambitions on hold. Determined to get itright.
What followed was a long period of emotional warfare whenever Dominik deigned to remember we existed, interspersed with the occasional apology and promises to show me he could do better. But it was obvious he still didn’t want the baby, and I did. Then Gryphon Tech really took off, and he changed his tune. The pleas became threats of legal action, orders for visitation, rights he had never wanted and now suddenly demanded. I had no problem letting Vee know Dominik, as much as I had grown to detest him—I just didn’t want Vee to become like him. At drop offs, Dominik still tries to talk to me, but I keep it short and impersonal every time.
So really, what do I know of who he is these days, and what he might stoop to?
My hands shake. I ignore them as I stride towards the workstation, determined to find something that can get me out of here. Unfortunately, I suspect the cabin was chosen as my makeshift jail for a reason. Everything is locked down and access to all the tech requires biometrics or a generated code. There’s nothing just lying around that I can use to try and pry open one of the touchpads. I even get on all fours and dig around under the sofa in the hopes of something innocuous like a lost pin. It’s fruitless and the lack of reassurance makes me angry, as does the pain my search causes to shoot up my wrist.
I can’t tell if the ship has taken off and the panels that act as windows are darkened. Soft lighting from various hidden sources allows me to see anything at all. There isn’t much to see; there are no personal effects. Does this room belong to anyone? Whilst it’s nice, it’s not opulent enough for one of Dominik’s guests. Maybe it’s a crew member’s and they haven’t had a chance to get settled in. That’s promising; it’d be easier to convince a newbie than a long-term employee.
Or possibly, I scold myself, this is just an unoccupied cabin. Genius.
I drop down into the chair feeling boneless. Too tired to cry, even. My heart beats rapidly, my palms are clammy. Muscles in my legs twitch. Slumping, I stare at the tiny plant tucked into the corner of the workstation. Whether it’s real or genetically modified, it’s looking a little sad. My eyes continue to drift until they snag on the bundle at the bottom of the bed. There’s a gap in the canopy where I slid off the bed earlier and, through it, I can see what looks like clothes.
Is that a—
I snatch up the bundle and unroll it on the criminally soft duvet. A first aid kit, nestled amongst the dark cargo pants and a plain T-shirt. As if making its relief known, my knee buckles and I have to catch myself before I hit the deck for the second time today. The clothes are a little long, but they must have been put out for me, if the first aid kid is any indication. I snort, glancing down at myself.
I’d been decidedly ignoring my filthy, torn outfit but now I can’t wait to get out of it. Under the clothes and the kit sits a folded towel and a pre-packaged hygiene pack. When I pick up the towel, black underwear falls out of the bundle, so crisply folded they’re definitely brand new. They’re apparently one-size-fits-all, which is a term that means absolutely nothing when you’ve always been thick-waisted with big hips, big thighs. But though I can salvage my bra, I’ll need these.
A thought hits me. If I was being held in here like an animal at the end of the line, would they give me clean clothes? Let me freshen up?
I think...
I look at the thick-soled boots peeking out from under the bed.
I think I might be safe for now.
I find the bathroom tucked behind a partition wall on the other side of the bed and I almost weep when I see the compactbut decked-out shower pod. I’ll feel better after a wash. Feeling cleaner can only help me think clearer. And all roads lead to Vee.
Still, I flinch the moment I look in the mirror above the sink. I must have fallen on my face when I passed out because the beginning of a bruise is blooming around my left eye and across my cheekbone. The blood seems to have come from a combination of a cut on the inside of my lip and a small nosebleed. There is something caked into my short curls, and I purposely move on from that. I get out of my clothing, swearing the whole time, and push them into the bin. There’s just no saving those. I hear the incinerator kick into action once the panel swings shut. Then I have one of the best showers I’ve ever had, despite awkward manoeuvring around my injuries.
