My hand touched something fuzzy, tucked away in the back of my wardrobe—worn to the point of no longer being soft. Even if I couldn’t see it properly, I knew what I had found. Earl Grey, my old stuffed elephant. When Aunt Reed handed me over to the orphan export board, I’d clung fast to him, even though I was far too old for stuffed animals. The other kids made fun of me—Baby Stella needs her bestie, Mr. Elephant—but not George. He’d stood up for me, told everyone he wished he still had his childhood stuffed toy, only his had been thrown away during quarantine, and that I was lucky to have a piece of home—they were all just jealous. We’d been friends ever since.
And now we wouldn’t be anymore. The thought made me want to cry, so I forced myself to sleep. When the lights came on the next morning, I did one last sweep of the room, making sure I’d grabbed everything I needed, especially my drawing tablet and stylus, and my water and protein rations for the day. I would save them for the journey. Earl Grey went in last. Then I pulled on my gray overcoat, put on my regulation boots, and sat down on the bed.
This was it. Something flickered inside me, tickling up from the bottom of my spine. Hope. I wouldn’t die on the Stalwart, or plummet down to Earth against my wishes. Who knew what awaited me on the Rochester? But I knew this much: It was new. And it was mine.
With the spark heating the soles of my boots, I hefted my bag over my shoulder and stepped out into Ward Z for the last time. “Goodbye, dark, cold, sad place,” I whispered to no one but the stars in the sky.
The transport bay was cold and I was early, so I dropped my bag on the ground, fashioning it into a makeshift chair, and sat down to wait. I pulled out my drawing tab and clicked it on, finding my last work in progress staring up at me. George. Or half of him, at least. He was missing his jawline, hair, cheeks; his smile. A fresh wave of grief washed over me. I’d never see his smile again. I imagined I could hear him, calling my name.
“Stella! Stella!”
Wait, that wasn’t in my head. I turned around and there he was—breaking his jog to skid to a stop in front of me, chest heaving. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” he said breathlessly.
“You?” I said, rising to my feet. “I searched the whole ship for you yesterday, but you were clearly avoiding me!”
“I . . .” George at least had the good sense to look ashamed. “Yeah, I kind of was. But I didn’t know you were leaving! Destiny told me this morning, who heard it from Joy, who heard it from Karlson. . . . What happened?”
“I got that last job. Totally unexpectedly. And they’re sending a private transport for me, so I couldn’t exactly change the date. I tried to find you. . . .”
“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” he stopped himself before he could rehash the details, for which I was thankful.
“I know,” I said. “All that matters is you’re still my friend. I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you, too. So much. You don’t even know.” His voice broke on the last bit, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
“Are you going to cry, George?” I chided. “I have Earl Grey in my bag, if you need him,” I joked, but my heart was fit to bursting. Mending my friendship with George meant everything.
“Empire orphans forever,” he said with a smile.
I recited it back, feeling the prick of tears behind my eyes. “I’m going to hug you now,” I warned, not bothering to wait for permission. George was stiff at first but soon melted into it, and suddenly we were like we’d been in old times. George and Stella, Empire orphans forever.
The screech of metal and an airlock venting behind us alerted us to the arrival of the transport. George held me tighter. It was like I was home. But home wasn’t forever. Sometimes you had to leave. I knew that in my heart. I broke away, wiping a stray tear with a callused index finger. Crying was no way to start an adventure.
“Write to me,” I said. “Whenever you can. And help the kids send messages too. I promised Arden you’d help.” George nodded, pursing his lips together hard. “Tell me which of those silly girls you choose. For the record, Joy’s my favorite. Team Brunette, all the way.” It was an attempt at levity. I glanced back. The ship had settled, and an attendant emerged, approaching to pick up my bag. Two men scurried to load several food crates; this was clearly a stop with dual missions.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” I made a promise I couldn’t keep, but it seemed to make George feel better. He nodded.
“Bye, Stella. Check your messages tonight. There’ll be one from me.”
“Thanks,” I said, turning to board the shuttle before I could do something rash, like change my mind.
The attendant, it turned out, was also the captain, and the shuttle was tiny. He pointed me toward a seat—it looked comfortable, at least—that was only feet from the food crates, now secured with ropes and netting for the journey. The hatch door shut, I peered out the window, and there was George—he’d changed positions for one last chance to wave goodbye, which he did, and I returned the wave. It was now or never.
“Strap yourself in, then,” the captain said, voice gruff and accented. I couldn’t quite place it.
“Where are you from?” I asked as I took my seat. The chair was indeed comfy—padded better than a bed, and it seemed to recline, too. I could catch a nap if I wanted.
“The Saint Petersburg. You know it?”
“A little,” I said. The Saint Petersburg had held orbit neighboring the Empire, and many aboard specialized in private transports, like this one. An SP transport had taken the Empire orphans to the Stalwart six years ago, too.
“I am Sergei Orlov,” he introduced himself. “You strapped in? Good. We must depart right away while traffic is clear. We’ll talk later.”
He disappeared into the cockpit, hidden past a short, dark corridor. I took a deep breath. In, out. The engine shuddered on with a kick-start that sent my heart racing, the small ship lifting up, hovering. I pictured George on the platform outside, watching us go. I imagined he looked sad.
We started moving, slowly at first—into the airlock, I presumed. Then the engine roared, g-forces pushing me back into my chair until I felt glued to its padded surface. I could see out the adjacent window, barely. Gray turned to black as the ship faded behind us, giving way to the stars. I realized I was gripping the hand rests and willed myself to stop. We zoomed through space, the engine working itself up to a frenzy for a good ten minutes. And then it stopped. The pressure on my body eased. Sergei stepped out from the cockpit, looking very pleased with himself.
“Perfect takeoff. Good momentum for the trip. Here, I have food and water for you.” He tried to hand me a small rucksack—overkill for daily rations, if you asked me.
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I said. “I brought along my day’s rations, as I figured when we arrive tonight I’ll be fresh out of luck for food and water on the Rochester.” I unclipped my safety belts and moved to go to my bag. “It should tide me over well.”
He scoffed. “We’re not arriving anywhere tonight, let alone the Rochester, my young traveler. And I’ve seen what those aboard the Stalwart get—you’d best take what I’m offering. I promise you these rations are heartier than anything they give you on that death bucket.” He shoved the bag into my lap.