That lesson had carved itself into her bones: emotional entanglements were luxury items she couldn’t afford. Hookups with strangers from dating apps served their purpose withoutthreatening her carefully constructed stability. No messy feelings. No divided loyalties. No watching someone you cared about waste away while your expertise proved utterly useless.
The sharp rap of knuckles against wood yanked her from the spiral of memories. Tess opened her apartment door to find Gerri Wilder in all her diminutive glory—a crimson vision in designer wool and determination. The woman’s snow-white bob was styled to perfection, and her statement earrings caught the hallway light like tiny suns. Everything about her radiated confidence and barely contained energy, from her bold red pantsuit to the matching boots.
“Ready to change your life, dear?” Gerri’s eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. “Our driver is waiting downstairs, and punctuality is a virtue I take very seriously.”
Tess grabbed her two carefully packed suitcases, her stomach performing an acrobatic routine that would have impressed Olympic judges. “As ready as someone can be for interplanetary travel, I suppose.”
“Excellent attitude,” Gerri said as her blue eyes seemingly shifted to gold. “Because Prince Korran is expecting us soon at the royal estate, and I really don’t want to make the prince wait any longer than necessary.”
Prince Korran?
The name hit Tess like cold water. Yesterday’s briefing had focused entirely on the dying king and his mysterious illness. Nobody had mentioned a prince.
“Gerri, you didn’t mention yesterday that the king had a?—“
But the woman was already bustling down the hallway with surprising speed for someone her size, leaving Tess to fumble with her luggage and lock her apartment door. The familiar burden of responsibility settled across her shoulders as she turned the key. Two weeks. That’s all the time her landlordexpected her to be gone, all the time she’d allowed herself to solve a decade-long medical mystery.
No pressure at all.
The elevator doors were already beginning to slide closed when Tess reached them, Gerri waiting inside with the confidence of someone accustomed to being followed. The woman didn’t speak, just flashed that knowing smile as Tess wrangled her two suitcases inside the small elevator. The descent to the lobby felt interminable, filled with questions Tess couldn’t voice and a growing awareness that she’d committed to something far more complex than a consulting job. When the elevator doors finally opened, her landlord was standing there waiting to get on.
“Good luck, Dr. Holt!” Her landlord’s cheerful voice echoed across the marble-tiled lobby as they passed. “See you in two weeks!”
“Thanks, Mr. Peterson.” The words came out steadier than she felt.
Within seconds, the January morning hit like a slap, the Chicago wind cutting through her winter jacket with surgical precision. A sleek black sedan waited at the curb, its driver already moving to help with her luggage as Gerri slid into the back seat with practiced ease.
“How exactly are we getting to Nova Aurora?” Tess asked once they were moving, watching the familiar cityscape blur past the tinted windows.
“The power plant provides the most reliable energy source for our transportation method.” Gerri’s tone suggested this was perfectly obvious. “Much more efficient than those archaic rocket ships everyone assumes we use.”
Transportation method?
Tess’s scientific mind immediately began cataloging the impossibilities. Interplanetary travel required massive amountsof energy, sophisticated life support systems, and months of careful planning. The casual way Gerri discussed it—as if they were catching a bus to the suburbs—sent warning bells clanging through her consciousness.
What have I gotten myself into?
The drive through Chicago’s industrial district passed in tense silence, Tess’s analytical mind spinning through scenarios that ranged from improbable to utterly fantastical. Yesterday, caught up in the promise of professional advancement and financial security, she’d barely questioned the logistics. Now, with the reality of departure looming, the gaps in her understanding felt cavernous.
A dying alien king. A mysterious prince. Travel methods that defied physics.
Minutes later, the power plant loomed ahead like a testament to industrial pragmatism, all concrete and steel and utilitarian purpose. Their driver—clearly familiar with Gerri—parked the car by the curb and helped unload the luggage with practiced efficiency.
“Safe travels, Ms. Wilder. I’ll be back by noon.”
Noon?
Tess’s mental calculator went into overdrive. Four hours maximum for interplanetary travel, consultation, and return? The timeline made no sense unless their “transportation method” operated on principles that would revolutionize human understanding of physics.
“Thank you, Steven.” Gerri hefted one of Tess’s suitcases with surprising strength for someone who looked like she belonged at a country club luncheon rather than a power plant. “Always a pleasure.”
Gerri turned and rushed into the front entrance of the power plant and Tess followed her despite every instinct that screamed at her to go back to the safety of her apartment.The security guard inside greeted Gerri like an old friend, their easy familiarity suggesting this wasn’t her first interdimensional commute. Tess pulled her jacket tighter against the industrial chill as they approached the elevator behind the security guard, her scientific skepticism warring with an inexplicable sense of trust in this enigmatic woman.
“Your winter jacket will actually be perfect,” Gerri said, somehow reading her thoughts. “The Northern Dominion is the cold, snowy region of Nova Aurora. You’re better equipped than most visitors.”
Tess wanted to ask more questions, but Gerri hurried inside the service elevator and Tess found herself still following this woman into the unknown. Gerri pressed the button labeled “B” and the elevator descended with mechanical precision, but the numbers on the display kept climbing downward in a way that made Tess’s inner ear protest. Past the basement levels. Past any reasonable foundation depth. Past what should have been possible given Chicago’s geology.
One thousand feet underground at least.
