Nothing the Crimson Dawn had ever told him made any sense right away. Yet, with each step he took through the darkness they kept him stumbling in, he always ended up at a place where – at least in hindsight – their intentions suddenly became clear. He was counting on that happening again now as the shuttle doors slid open and he stepped onto the street in front of the entrance to the space elevator.

His dress shoes, made of synthetic leather, sank into the fresh snow. His long wool scarf whipped in the gusting storm winds. He reached up to check his hair, freshly trimmed and combed back, not a strand out of place, every piece glued stiffly in place. He wore a pair of stylish designer glasses and a tailored black silk suit, though it was two sizes too large for him. His account held 150,000 credits—yet no one had told him why he suddenly had a small fortune. It had to have something to do with the fact that they’d dressed him up to look like someone entirely different. Like he belonged to the board of some powerful global corporation, he thought.

Considering that the space elevator was linked to the city’s expressway network, located right in the heart of Ataris’ massive skyscraper jungle, the place felt suspiciously quiet. As if the citizens of Vega Prime had no reason to be here. Or perhaps a good reason to stay away.

The space elevator was guarded by two security guards, though Lex hesitated to even call them men. They were more like machines. Just looking at them triggered a flight response he had to tamp down as he took a tentative step forward. He heard the shuttle lift off behind him, rejoining the flow of air traffic. He could hear the rhythmic pounding of hydraulic legs, metal on asphalt, metal grinding asphalt. The movements of the security cyborgs were quick and jerky, at once nimble and awkward. Their cybernetic eyes had already scanned him.

"Good day," he said.

Heavy armor plating protected the artificial joints and tubing protruding from their bodies. Their skulls, encased within their massive frames, looked more like leftover relics from evolution, outdated, almost irrelevant. Technology had replaced the last remnant of humanity: scanners instead of eyes, a glowing brain-computer interface at the temple, dozens of forehead sensors for enhanced perception, an air-filter implant at the throat, strange line patterns over the skin where subdermal plating reinforced their cheekbones and jawlines.

"Leru Rey’a, twenty-five years old, origin: Ronkondaar, Luvanda," one of them stated. "Not a resident, and no one on DENOVA-2 is expecting you." His voice echoed metallically, synthetic, as if even his vocal cords had been replaced with machinery.

"I know no one’s expecting me," Lex replied. "I’m still going up." He glanced past the two guards to the immense elevator shaft. The delicate metal structure rose behind the barricades, narrowing to a slender line that stretched far above the skyscrapers and vanished into the gray snow clouds.

"A temporary access permit is granted only once in a lifetime. Cost: one hundred thousand credits."

"One hundred thousand?"

"Stay limit is twenty-four hours and may not be exceeded. The residents prefer to remain among themselves."

The one thing that didn’t surprise him was the TC logo stamped across their titanium chest plates. It signified not belonging, but ownership. These two cybernetic enforcers were property of the Thandros Corporation, not individuals, but useful machines. Their sheer strength probably replaced an entire security force.

"Then I’ll take a permit," he said, his throat feeling scratchy, dry as dust. He wondered if Veela was truly up there. More likely, he suspected, the Crimson Dawn was playing him again, pulling him into another setup.

His PDA suddenly buzzed to life, and the holo prompted him to confirm the credit transfer.

He confirmed.

"Please provide the registration number for your prosthetic hand," said the guard at the terminal. Lex couldn’t tell if they were clones or twins. He could imagine how striking they must have once looked: finely chiseled features, symmetrical eyes, a straight nose, and well-defined brows. Thick black hair swept into a high pompadour with shaved sides, small ears close to the head.

"What’s the registration number for?" he asked hesitantly.

"To confirm that your prosthetic isn’t an illegal combat augmentation. Weapons of any kind are strictly prohibited on DENOVA-2."

Feeling a sinking unease, Lex searched his PDA for the fake prosthetic license, opened the file with the hacked registration code, and held up the holo for them to scan, arm extended. His hand trembled so badly he could barely keep it steady, hoping they wouldn’t notice and that it wouldn’t cause trouble.

The massive, two-and-a-half-meter cyborg before him nodded.

"You may proceed," it said, stepping aside to let him through.

With each pounding step, he could feel the ground shudder under his feet. His chest rose and fell beneath his starched silk shirt. He struggled to keep his breathing steady.

"No weapon scan?" he asked shortly.

"Already complete."

His lungs demanded more and more oxygen, as though he were sprinting instead of walking. He may have moved a little too quickly as he stepped into the open space elevator cabin, then turned back to face the metal guards. Their fixed gaze drilled into him, and he felt as though their cyborg eyes were equipped to read his very thoughts. Maybe they sensed the deception at the last second. But it was too late—the elevator doors closed, and the lift began its long journey into the unknown.

******

Winter lay thick over the sprawling megalopolis. Between the snow-laden clouds, he saw the white-capped rooftops of skyscrapers and the swaying searchlights in the snowstorm. The city lights shimmered through the cloud cover, a mix of pure white, industrial gray smog, and the faint reflections of advertisements on and between the buildings. As the lone passenger in the glass cabin, Lex kept his gaze fixed on the Thandros Tower, which pierced the heavy cloud cover and loomed over him like a shadow he couldn’t shake as he ascended.

The last time he’d been this high above the world, he’d been huddled in an escape pod, sweating in terror. His knees felt nearly as weak as they had then, though this time, it was the thought of finally seeing her again that made them feel so unsteady.

Thirty miles above Vega Prime, the space elevator rose through the stratosphere. Beneath the cloud cover, Vega Prime was now just a gray urban patch amid vast white expanses. Lex could see the immense ocean below. From up here, he could glimpse the other continent, Luvanda. From such great heights, the world seemed suddenly small and simple. It was anything but.

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The planet’s gravity held the air molecules tightly, and soon the atmosphere appeared as a faint blue haze over the planet’s curved edge. The blue shimmer pressed down by an all-encompassing black.

As the lift continued its ascent, it looked as if the small sun, Tau Ceti, was rising over the planet. The evening sun lit up the clouds and landmasses of Cetos V, casting a hazy glow through the tinted glass of the elevator cabin, spilling a milky sheen over his skin. The tiny sun shone so brightly that not a single star was visible in the surrounding darkness. Just empty space, endless void. A voice came over the cabin’s speakers, announcing that he would reach the orbital habitat in five minutes.

He raised his eyebrows, realizing he’d been so absorbed by the view that he hadn’t thought to look upward: above the glass cabin ceiling, in the vast blackness, loomed DENOVA-2, a massive construct in the middle of space. The ring-shaped structure turned slowly on its axis, with a long central body pierced by golden solar wings, shimmering like the cosmic jets of a quasar. Perhaps it was designed that way, or perhaps it was a repeated pattern with no meaning at all. Lex stood firmly planted on the cabin floor, his head tilted back, and he forgot to close his mouth.

******

The space elevator had been gliding through the dark interior of the orbital habitat for quite a while, surfacing at last in a gleaming foyer, like a buoy breaking through water. The glass cabin doors slid open, and Lex stepped inside, taking in the vast, opulent entrance hall. Behind him, a group of elegantly dressed men and women entered the second lift. Among them, he spotted Chip Quinten, one of the two greedy brothers who ran SnackBite Incorporated. Lex had seen those smug faces on TV a dozen times—their skin overly taut from facelifts, lips plumped, high cheekbone implants, synthetic chins, and even altered eye colors—but here in reality, Chip Quinten’s presence ignited a much deeper anger. Lex couldn’t help thinking of what SnackBite had done to the people of Luvanda, how they’d made him toil in Adenaaru, how they profited from people’s poverty.

"Excuse me."

The voice came from behind, and Lex turned, realizing he was blocking the entrance. He stepped aside, letting an elderly woman in an extravagant, high-end outfit walk past. On second glance, she looked not just old but ancient. She didn’t thank him, seeming rather to expect an apology. The light glinted off her jewelry as it caught the reflection of the grand pendant lamp overhead. Each metal plate was gilded with gold leaf, casting a warm and soft light that softened the age of some of the people here.

The foyer had towering, sky-high walls, as tall as those in the cavern in exile, he thought. He felt like being inside a vast mountain cave. Tiny and small. But it seemed he was the only one on the station feeling that way. His footsteps echoed across the cold marble floor. The lighting wasn’t dark, exactly, but dim enough to rejuvenate an old witch and soften a hardened face. Maybe it could even conceal a corrupt soul, masquerading as something noble. Lex glanced at the company lounging on luxurious armchairs scattered throughout the foyer—the world’s elite exchanging pleasantries. He recognized Per Olofsson, the former head of Wolf Glider Inc., bankrupted not long ago. Hao Long from Future Dynamics sat opposite him, placing her champagne flute on a side table made of violet amethyst, covering her mouth delicately as she giggled at his witty comment.

"Sir? Sir, aren’t you listening?"

Lex stopped in his tracks, realizing that the receptionist behind the sleek sideboard had been waving him over.

"You must check in before you’re allowed to leave the lobby," she said.

It was hard to guess her age. She held herself with perfect posture, her skin smooth and flawless, her friendly features betraying no sign of hardship—nothing at all, in fact. She wore the uniform of the DENOVA-2 staff, her hair pulled back in a neat bun like the other women’s.

"You’ve arrived at quite an inconvenient time, sir," she continued. With swift gestures, she navigated the holo-computer, taking in the information on each screen in an instant. Her movements matched her speech and her appearance: everything about this woman seemed perfect.

"I’m very sorry, sir, but we have only two rooms left for tonight: the luxury suite in Sector E-F-3-7-2, with a 180-degree panoramic view, whirlpool, wall aquarium, and private bar on a glass-enclosed starlit balcony. Or a standard room in Sector L-F-A-8-7-8 at the end of Corpus Dei, which has only a bed, a wardrobe, and a small window with a view of the Milky Way’s center."

"I’m just here to see someone," Lex replied. "I’m not planning to stay."

"If I were you, I’d take the luxury suite, dreamer. The bed doesn’t creak like in the standard room." Another attendant, seated on an office chair, flicked boredly through an e-magazine on the counter, not even bothering to look up as she spoke. Unlike the woman in front of him, she lacked the polished, chiseled look: an oversized nose, a receding chin. Lex liked her unfinished appearance as much as her irreverent manner. In a world of appearances, honesty was worth more than any precious metal.

"Sir, I'm very sorry, but you'll have to take a room, whether you intend to stay the night or not."

Lex’s gaze drifted over the marbled tabletop as his mind traveled to a point in the future where the reunion and reconciliation with Veela were already behind him, and the two of them were together, sharing a bed. But which one?

He still had fifty thousand credits left. That had to be more than enough for the luxury suite, he thought, deciding on it.

"Very well, sir," the woman replied. "That will be five hundred thousand credits."

Lex furrowed his brow. "I mean, I’m not trying to buy the room. It’s just for a night."

"That is the rate per night, sir." The attendant cast him a look that could have been pensive—or calculating. She held his gaze just long enough for him to feel uncomfortable.

"I’ve changed my mind," he muttered. "I’ll take the standard room."

"Of course, sir. The standard room is on special today, which is why we’re seeing so many visitors. Today only, it’s forty-nine thousand credits."

He paid and received a digital key on his PDA, showing the apartment number and section. Tapping his artificial fingernail rhythmically against the table, he said, "Like I said, I’m here to see someone, but I’m not sure where she is. Could you help me out?"

"I'm very sorry, sir, but we're not permitted to provide information about residents or visitors on DENOVA-2 to third parties."

"Maybe she’s not a resident," said the girl, setting down her e-magazine, leaning back in her chair, and sizing him up.

"Highly unlikely," replied the efficient attendant. "Statistically, almost all visitors prepare in advance, meaning the gentleman in front of us should know that all essential information about DENOVA-2 personnel is available on our infonet page, including appointment bookings. I know I’m advised not to express everything in percentages, but in this case, it's prudent to reinforce my point: ninety-nine point seven percent of visitors prepare for their trip—based on user preferences and dwell time on our infonet site."

"No offense, Michelle, but you can pull up all the data you want. A look into his eyes is enough to tell me he has no idea where he really is. He's only here because he’s hoping to see someone. Someone who means a lot to him." Her gaze lingered on Lex, and then she turned back to her colleague with a smile. "That's called empathy, Michelle, a pretty useful tool for reading situations. But I guess empathy is outside your toolkit."

The attendant remained silent, her posture impeccably straight. It was hard to tell if the words stung or if she was just processing the metaphor, working to decode it and reach its meaning.

"I'm pretty sure she works here," Lex said. "Her name’s Veela."

The younger receptionist looked at him over her glasses, and a jolt of panic struck him.

I shouldn’t have said her name, he thought, feeling his face tense as if in pain. His heart pounded, his throat tightened, blocking his breath, and cold sweat prickled down his back.

"Veela is indeed an employee on DENOVA-2," the attendant finally said.

"Not just any employee," the girl interjected. "She’s far more popular than we are. A little star on the habitat station, you could say. Or a prized possession to some, a trophy to others. Either way, she's always booked up."

Lex glanced over at her without moving his head, still feeling like a block of granite, now carved with a thousand questions.

He could breathe again, though shallowly and quickly.

"I’m sorry, sir, but booking an employee is an exclusive right of the residents. You don’t have the privilege of meeting Veela or otherwise occupying her time."

Lex blinked nervously. Slowly, his body relaxed; he rolled his shoulders and arms, dropped his gaze—and noticed he’d scratched faint grooves into the tabletop with his artificial nails.

"So, where does she work, then?" he asked.

There didn’t seem to be any regulation prohibiting visitors from knowing the whereabouts of an employee. Instead, the efficient attendant seemed to be calculating the potential consequences of actually giving him an answer.

"At Delilah's Tears," the other attendant offered. "It’s the most popular restaurant on the station. Though it'll take you ages to walk there on foot. It's all the way at the far end of the Corpus Dei."

Lex nodded in thanks and checked his PDA as he left. One thousand credits remained. That would be enough to live for two months in Keldaraan, but what would it get him at that high-end restaurant?

With luck, maybe an appetizer.

With even more luck, a few seconds of Veela's precious time.

What had she become?