Doctor River stops by my room early the next day, a Saturday—exactly a week since the disastrous mission to Mars—to drop off a tube of cream that heals minor cuts and bruises. Unnecessary, but kind of her. I notice she wears a silver wedding band with embedded opals and turquoise on her right hand.

I place a “Do Not Disturb” notification outside my door and spend the rest of the day sleeping, absolutely exhausted. When I wake at around nineteen-hundred hours, I open my portal to see a couple messages from Timour, Felix, and even one from Thomson. Timour’s messages read:

11:25 Hey Ailee. You okay? Want to meet for lunch?

12:03 I passed by your room, and it seems you are busy. Let me know if you’re alright.

18:51 I apologize for messaging you so frequently haha. I’m just worried. Let me know if you’re up for dinner.

I reply:

19:04 Sorry for not responding sooner, I was tired. I’m gonna go to the gym before dinner, so don’t worry about me :). Were you invited to afternoon tea with Felix?

I close the chat with Timour and open the one with Felix. His messages read:

10:30 Morning love, ready for a tour of the ship?

13:56 How are you holding up?

18:07 If you’re dead, this will have been a very bad investment.

I scoff, responding:

19:05 Gambling is a loser’s game. I can get around using the map, but thank you for offering. See you tomorrow.

I’m about to open Thomson’s chat, but Timour’s message chimes in, distracting me:

19:06 Yeah, I got the invite. Let me know when you finish your workout, and we can go to dinner together :)

Quickly, I text back along with a green tea emoji:

19:06 No, please go ahead. I don’t want to hold you up. We’ll meet tomorrow for “tea.”

He sees the message, but after a minute of him not responding, I move on to Thomson’s chat. The one message says:

12:31 Hi Ailee!! Hope you are well. Can we talk soon?

The last time I saw Thomson, he wasn’t in a great mood. I’m glad he’s happier, but messages can easily mask true emotions. I reply:

19:08 Hey Thomson, I’m doing pretty well for a prisoner. Hope you are well too. We can talk anytime I’m available on my calendar. You can create a time block to meet if you’d like.

I ignore my portal while changing into running clothes, but check it once more before I exit the cabin, catching Timour’s incoming message:

19:12 No problem. Have a good workout =)

I heart the message and clear my head for the next hour.

* * *

The galley Blue Horizon is still open late at night, with pre-portioned meals on plates under heat lamps and dessert showcased in see-through freezers. The room is a quarter full, with Cosmics huddled into little groups around fancy tables, gossiping. I pick out a plate of spinach, tomatoes, blueberries, chickpeas, walnuts, and farro; grab a glass of water and a fork; and head to a table in the corner. I almost drop my food when I see who’s sitting there.

It’s Boss. Staring at me with blue eyes so vivid they’re bioluminescent in the dim lighting. He smirks and rises from the booth, drifting toward me.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I dash out of the galley and don’t look back. He doesn’t follow, and I return to my room unscathed. All that talk earlier about how “it’s my choice” was just talk, because I can’t even tolerate getting within a few meters of him.

* * *

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

As I surmised, while the location of “Afternoon Tea” is a secluded area inside a tearoom, we’re not here for the sedate atmosphere and cottage decor. After the waiter brings us a pot of black tea and a three-tier stand of simple carbs, Felix tells the poor man to “bugger off” and closes the door, encasing the tiny room in silence.

The table is circular, surrounded by four chairs. Felix is on my right, Timour is on my left, and the chair across from me is vacant.

I’m not much of a tea drinker, so I watch as Timour and Felix pour themselves a cup. Only Felix adds milk. And whiskey. Minutes pass, and barring the occasional throat clearing and tea sipping, nobody makes a sound. I grow impatient, asking, “What’s on the agenda, Felix?”

He finishes his cup and refills it with the same peculiar concoction of tea, milk, and alcohol. Delaying his response to the point where I want to kick his leg, he finally says, “You, sweetheart, have not been entirely honest with me.”

“About what?”

Like a strike of lightning, Felix’s hand snaps toward my neck, and Timour snatches a butter knife off the table, aiming for the Quartermaster’s throat. The knife stops a hair’s breadth away from puncturing Felix’s skin as Timour realizes I’m not in any danger. The back of Felix’s fingers tickle my collarbone as he holds the Eye in his palm, studying it with fervor. “Lower your weapon, boy, I’m just curious as to what this is.”

Felix’s face is so close, I inch away from him. “You could’ve asked.”

“I would’ve if I’d known your boy-toy would overreact. I’d never hurt you.”

“Boy-toy?” Timour asks, incredulous as he removes the knife and places it back down.

I open my mouth to reply when clicks come from the necklace. I automatically dip my head, but of course I can’t see anything, and Felix’s finger puts pressure under my jaw. “Chin up, Ailee,” he orders.

“What’s happening?” I query.

Eyes widening, Timour furrows his brows, answering, “It spins. Or, I mean, the rings rotate…”

“The center looks like a button, but… nevermind, it’s nothing,” Felix states, continuing to fiddle.

“A combination lock?” Timour proposes. He grabs one of Felix’s wrists, “Wait, it could be a bomb or something. Don’t play around with it.”

Smirking, Felix releases the Eye and lowers his arms. “No worries,” Felix tells me, “if it decapitates you, I’ll put your head in a tank full of embalming fluid and keep it on my desk.”

“Romantic,” I comment aridly, glancing at Timour, who’s ready to kill someone.

Felix leans back in his chair. “Right, so evidently, based on your reactions, this isn’t an heirloom. What is it?”

Timour and I enter a silent altercation, his eyes warning “don’t you dare” while mine say “come on, we need to trust him.” He shakes his head, and I roll my eyes, asking Felix, “Why are you so interested?”

He shrugs. “It could be of use to us. Perhaps it’s a teleportation device.”

“Or perhaps you’re drunk.”

“Well, that’s a given.” He smirks, drinking his concoction for emphasis. “Seriously, where did you obtain a piece of jewelry that doesn’t come off? Who put it on you?”

“What do you mean it doesn’t come off?” Timour questions.

“It… doesn’t come off,” I state. “I’ve tried removing it, Doctor River’s tried, but it’s stuck on my neck for now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t matter. I figured we’d go back to Plato, and they’d know what to do.” I turn to Felix. “You’re curious about this.” I touch the cold pendant. “So are we, but it won’t help us, because we don’t know what it is either. It’s property of the IF, and that’s all I’ll say.”

He grimaces, but doesn’t push me, changing the subject, “Only a couple days have passed, therefore I’m not quite sure whether this is applicable, but I searched through our purchase history, and within the past year, Boss has increased purchases in stealth tech.”

“From Mars?” I ask.

“The seller is under a pseudonym, but most likely. Although, we also decreased purchases of nuclear weapons.” He shrugs. “Nothing clearcut. Apologies for the lack of information this week. I mainly wanted to ensure neither of you got lost trying to find this place. We’ll be meeting here discreetly every Sunday if that’s convenient.” He stares at me. “Has Boss attempted to contact you since Friday?”

“I saw him last night at Blue Horizon while I was getting dinner.”

Timour frowns, and Felix leans forward. “What transpired?”

“Nada. I went back to my room.”

“He must’ve been waiting for you. He doesn’t usually eat in public unless… was he alone?”

I nod. “He wasn’t eating either.”

“Then he was indeed waiting for you.”

“How did he know I would be there?”

“I told you. Surveillance.” Felix pauses, a thoughtful expression on his face. “He didn’t follow you?”

“I… may have sprinted back.”

He snorts. “A reasonable response.”

“I freaked out. I’ll do better next time.”

Timour protests, “Ailee—”

Felix cuts in, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. My proposal before was… insensitive. He’s right”—he gestures to Timour—“maybe it’s best to avoid him.”

Surprise crosses Timour’s features as he states, “I agree.”

“No,” I vocalize, “I can distract Boss. If it at all assists us, then I’ll do it.” I gaze at Felix, who’s dubious. “I want to.”

The men share a look, setting forth their own wordless conversation that I’m not a part of. Timour breaks the staring contest first, resolute and calm. “It’s your choice, Ailee, but you have to let us know whenever you’re with him.”

“Splendid idea,” Felix concurs. “During that time, the process of accessing and decrypting files will be smoother. We’ll need some code words…”

We settle on “Good morning” when I start conversing with Boss, “Great morning” when I end, “Lovely morning” when I’m in trouble, and “Breakfast at 09:00” for our expected end time. Of course, “morning” changes to “afternoon” or “evening,” and “breakfast” to “lunch” or “dinner,” depending on the period of day. Similarly, expected end time changes from “09:00” to the actual expected end time. For example, if my expected end time is twenty-hundred hours, then I message “Dinner at 20:00” to both Felix and Timour. If I do not message “Great evening” by that time, or if at any moment I message “Lovely evening,” then the boys know something’s wrong.

Felix has ingress to the surveillance feed, so he’ll find me amid an emergency. I ask if I can have access to the feed, and in typical Felix fashion, he answers, “When I’m dead.” I pout, and he adds, “I don’t want you more involved than you need to be. Knowing you, you’ll be tempted to get yourself into trouble. It’s too dangerous, darling.”

Narrowing my eyes at him, I threaten, “If you’re hiding something, then you will be dead.”

He grins, showing off paper white teeth. “I’ll be disappointed if I’m not.”