Before him stretched an immense, tubular hall that seemed to extend endlessly into the distance—the Corpus Dei. The corridor narrowed as it reached the vanishing point miles ahead, shrinking into infinity. Just above him, gliders zipped between docking points, ferrying people to their destinations. Beyond the panoramic windows, the moon Chiron hovered so close it seemed within reach. The shimmering colony lights on its shadowed side reflected off the station's exterior. The colossal residential ring rotated in space at a deliberate, almost imperceptible pace. A thousand illuminated windows flickered like stars.
Lex had never imagined there could be so many wealthy people in the New World. They all lived here. People for whom an exclusive city district was no longer sufficient. Walls weren’t high enough; the gap between themselves and the rest of the world too small. Their wealth had lifted them above it all—above humanity, above the planet.
Behind the glass, the crimson PT MOSES perched like a waiting spider on the docking module. The passenger transporter was about thirty or thirty-five meters long, with a wingspan nearly as wide. Its reverse-swept wings gave it a distinctive silhouette—unlike anything Lex had seen before. Passengers would enter the docking module and step into a pressurized cabin, which would be raised on hydraulic arms and locked into place against the ship’s frame. For now, the space tourists waited impatiently in front of the closed airlock.
Lex’s breath fogged the window as he stared out. Residents of DENOVA-2 glanced at him as they passed, their expressions curious, as though wondering when their frigid world of business had begun to attract dreamy stargazers. He took a step back from the glass, and in that instant, collided with the shoulder of a tall man.
Dark skin. A brooding gaze. Acne scars. The man wore a captain’s uniform—different from the last time Lex had seen him.
The boy froze, rooted to the walkway as though Captain Adair’s touch had turned him to ice. The dark-skinned captain didn’t need to speak; his low growl was enough as he brushed past. Thick lips parted to reveal stark white teeth. His mood seemed even fouler than it had been aboard the ST SAMSON. Either Adair was in too much of a hurry to tear Lex’s head off on the spot, or he didn’t recognize the convict boy who had been responsible for the loss of his ship.
Lex craned his neck, his gaze trailing after the man as he joined a group of passengers impatiently waiting at Airlock Nine.
"Sir, may I help you? You look as though you're unsure which way to go." A staff member stood at Lex’s side, impeccably dressed in a tailored uniform, his posture straight, and his smile professional.
"What’s Captain Adair doing here on the station?" Lex asked.
The blond man didn’t need long to find the captain in question. Folding his arms behind his back, the attendant stood solidly, his athletic frame as unyielding as a statue. "Captain Adair joined our space tourism division three years, five months, and four days ago, after his freighter was destroyed in an asteroid field accident. Most of his crew perished. Since then, he’s been running twice-daily trips to the moon colony for the station’s residents. A round trip—just a few hours."
"To the colony on Chiron?" Lex asked, glancing out the panoramic window. "What’s there to see?"
"The most visited sites are the waste incineration facilities," the staff member replied. "Following that are the hydrogen farms, which remain more popular than the massive crater mines where colonists extract metals and other valuable resources like helium-3, used to fuel the large fusion reactors on Cetos V. Would you like to learn more about the work on Chiron, sir?"
"Quite the opposite," Lex said. "Sounds like a pretty grim place."
"It is," the blond man admitted.
"Not much to admire there except hard work."
"Exactly. That’s why the residents of DENOVA-2 go—to see what hard work looks like."
Lex touched the gap in his upper teeth between two molars. Was that a joke, or just a dry observation?
"Beyond that," the staff member continued, "it’s like an exhilarating safari for them."
"A safari?" Lex echoed.
The blond man with piercing blue eyes offered a warm smile. "A dangerous adventure, sir. A way to bring a little excitement into the dull routine of life. People travel to gain insight into the world and themselves. They must have their own experiences. Sure, they can gather knowledge from books or the infonet, but they need tangible, sensory impressions to truly understand life. I often wonder—is that humanity’s greatest gift, or its biggest weakness? What do you think, sir?"
The boy didn’t reply. He squinted as if against a blinding sun, his gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the captain.
"Can I help you find your way, sir?" the blonde attendant pressed.
"I’d be surprised if you couldn’t," the boy muttered. "I’m looking for Delilah’s Tears."
The attendant tilted his head slightly to one side, a gesture meant to convey understanding and approachability. "I’m terribly sorry, sir, but you’re in the wrong section. Take shuttle G-Seven on the opposite side, Platform D, departing in thirteen minutes. Alternatively, you could ride the PT MOSES to the next central hub, which is just a two-minute walk from Delilah’s Tears. That route would save you four minutes and thirty-three seconds—my apologies, nearly four and a half minutes."
The boy raised an eyebrow, his gaze sliding slowly from the attendant to Captain Adair, who was herding the curious space tourists along the walkway like a mother duck leading her ducklings. A particularly grumpy mother duck, Lex thought, before muttering, "I’d rather arrive four minutes later than lose my head in the process."
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The blonde attendant smiled politely, then laughed—a carefully calculated response. He didn’t quite understand the joke, but he recognized just in time that it was a joke.
Laughing at the residents’ humor was part of his job on DENOVA-2.
*****
The enormous double doors swung open, and Lex stepped into a cascade of overlapping conversations, punctuated by the clink of silverware, faint piano music, sporadic bursts of laughter, and an occasional cough. The elite gathered in small groups across the circular space, where panoramic views of the stars made the outer tables the most coveted spots. Gold adorned everything—the walls, the towering floor vases, even the gleaming solar panels outside the station reflected sunlight in a similar golden hue, casting warm light into the restaurant.
A row of tall candle pillars flanked the plush carpet as the boy walked toward the reception. When offered a table, he declined, stating he’d find his own. His eyes scanned the room. Elliot Coombs, head of Bio-Technica, dined with Leah Haley of Aero Corp. at table seven. Annabelle Wheeler appeared engrossed in a date with her holographic tablet—likely too preoccupied salvaging the reputation of ROEMER Pharmaceuticals after the recent pill scandal to join the other corporate titans.
Lex noted the glances cast his way as he strolled past the elegantly set tables. The expressions on the faces of the guests were almost uniform. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to understand their thoughts. They eyed him with suspicion, barely veiled hostility, as though he didn’t belong—despite wearing their clothes, despite affording the privilege of being here. He felt like a spy, an intruder whose cover had been blown. But what gave him away?
"Excuse me, sir," a waiter murmured.
Lex stepped aside as the diligent server maneuvered past him, balancing plates for a nearby table. Yet the boy didn’t move on. It was as though he had hit an invisible wall.
What he saw froze him in place, fear creeping up his spine. Quickly, he slid onto an empty bench, shuffling to the farthest corner as if to melt into the shadows.
Annabelle Wheeler glanced up, parking her half-smoked cigarette in a luminous crystal ashtray. She studied the boy through the haze of her cigarette smoke, her expression openly irritable at the interruption.
The table was reserved—for her, and her alone.
Lex avoided her gaze, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He had far bigger concerns at the moment. His eyes remained locked on Zara Thandros, seated one table over with Chester D. King and Blake Powers. The former was the chairman of the Starship Technology Corporation, a name Tardino had mentioned aboard the ST SAMSON. The latter was none other than the puppet president of the World Union. A cadre of bodyguards occupied the nearby tables, nursing drinks but ordering no food. Lex crouched low behind the tall artificial bamboo plants that served as dividers between the tables.
Zara Thandros didn’t look a day older, he thought. She leaned back in her chair, dabbing her lips with a silk napkin. Her gaze drifted idly to the panoramic window, where Tau Ceti was dipping behind Cetos V, vanishing into the blackness of space. The delicate blue haze of the planet’s atmosphere shimmered along the curvature that stretched across the massive glass panes.
What would she do if she spotted him?
He didn’t want to find out. Didn’t even want to think about it.
He shrank behind the electronic menu, holding it up like a shield in both hands.
"Welcome to Delilah’s Tears. May I take your order?"
He glanced up at the waitress. She stood before him in a tailored uniform, her hair loose and styled, her eyes carefully lined with makeup. She looked older than before—but more than that, she seemed like someone else entirely.
He said nothing. For a moment, he considered standing up, turning around, and taking the next lift straight back to Cetos V. Under the chandelier’s light, her skin glowed pale, her cheeks faintly shimmering. He didn’t even notice he was biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Excuse me? Are you ready to order?"
Lex pressed the back of his head against the cool window glass. High above him, the crimson glow of the red nova spread across the blackness of space—a milky smear sixty parsecs away in the constellation Cygnus, the remnants of a colossal, cataclysmic stellar collision. Veela stood right next to him, yet she felt farther away than the red nova itself.
The girl smiled, a practiced, professional warmth.
Lex felt dizzy.
"Veela. Is this some kind of joke?" he asked.
She held her tablet tightly, emerald-green eyes meeting his with a firm, almost analytical gaze. Then, suddenly, she tilted her head and grinned at him.
"Oh, it’s you," she said. "I didn’t recognize you at all. It’s been so long. How have you been?"
She didn’t really ask the question—she said it, a hollow pleasantry that demanded no answer. Her tone was cheerful, her voice light and carefree. Everything about her felt off, like joy and her very essence were natural enemies, two forces that couldn’t coexist.
"That’s it?" he said. "How I’ve been? That’s your first question after all these years?"
Annabelle Wheeler cleared her throat, audibly annoyed. Veela seemed to consider his question—or pretended to. Then she shrugged, a playful, innocent gesture. In that moment, Lex thought to himself that the person in front of him was a stranger. He even began to wonder if someone had tampered with her mind, erased her true self.
It was possible, he thought.
These days, anything was possible.
On her uniform, subtly woven into the fabric, was the TC corporate logo. There was so much he wanted to say, but no words would come. The unrelenting weight of the moment strangled his voice.
"I’ll come back later when you’re ready to order," she said, her tone neutral but polished.
Lex didn’t know what he was doing as he slid out of the booth, stood, and followed her. His breaths came quick and shallow, but he had already taken the first step, and there was no going back now. Not that he even knew where back was. To the beginning? Back to Limbo? Morisa flickered through his mind. Then Miri. Then Tayus. He didn’t miss them, exactly—he felt like he needed them. All of them. Now more than ever.
The pianist on the central podium played the next piece, his fingers dancing across the keys. Lex swore the music grew louder, the notes echoing in his chest. He felt as though Cetos V had suddenly begun spinning faster beneath him. The last time he’d felt fear like this was during the rebel assault on the corporate base in Luvanda.
But he couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been this angry.
"You like it here, don’t you?" he said, his voice trembling with fury. "My God, you’ve found happiness up here. You’re planning to stay, aren’t you? Meanwhile, everyone else has been worried sick for weeks. They think something terrible happened to you. And here you are, living it up."
Veela didn’t answer.
"When we ate together on the UNION," he began, his voice sharp and unrelenting, "you couldn’t stand it anymore. You said the people there were too uptight, too... smug. Vain. Arrogant. Full of themselves. You said they acted like they were above everyone else. Above us. That they turned a blind eye to problems, only caring about their own little worlds. Do you remember that?"
He paused, giving her a chance to respond.
But she didn’t.
She kept glancing nervously over her shoulder as if she were running—not just from him, but from the truth. Maybe that’s exactly what she was doing.
"And now," he pressed on, his words like blades, "you serve those same people. No, wait. It’s worse. You’re serving people even lower than that—the corporate elite. Rats you used to blame for all the misery on Cetos V."
"I’ve changed," she said defensively, her tone sharp as she spun around to face him. "Over the years, my perspective on people has shifted. Back then, I had it all wrong." Her voice rose as she snapped, "And now, just shut your mouth and get out."