After what felt like an eternity in line, Carlos finally got Linneya onto a boarding tram.
Boarding the Sunflower felt less like getting on a ship and more like moving into a city. The tram rolled through a vast mouth of an entrance and straight into the vessel’s interior.
Linneya pressed her face to the glass, eyes wide. The corridors inside were as broad as avenues. And the compartments that branched off them—one after another—looked like something you’d only see in a real metropolis: parks, plazas, shopping halls, libraries, sports courts. She even spotted a small patch of trees.
The only difference was that everything looked brand-new.
“Linneya, see those round little pods ringed around the walls?” Starling said as the tram glided along. “Those are the living pods. That’s where you’ll stay.”
“They’re so pretty! Which one is mine?” Linneya’s excitement glittered in her eyes.
“You’ll find out after liftoff.”
“I want to be next door to you.”
Starling laughed. “That’s not something I get to decide.”
“I don’t care. You’ll figure out a way.”
…
The boarding tram stopped at a circular elevator hub, unloaded its passengers, then turned around to fetch the next wave. Starling was already in work mode. She herded everyone into an elevator and took them upward.
The doors opened into a large cabin packed with seats, plus a small counter that dispensed drinks and snacks.
Only then did Linneya get that familiar “transport” feeling. It was like an airliner, just bigger. Each wide seat came with a safety bar. And the rules felt the same, too: until they cleared the atmosphere and the ship engaged artificial gravity, everyone had to lock the bar down and stay put.
Carlos found their seats by the numbers on his wristband and collapsed into the plush chair. Starling gave them a quick nod and went to guide the next batch of passengers. Carlos had been running on fumes for days; within minutes, he was snoring.
Linneya grabbed a few snacks and a drink and watched the boarding trams shuttle back and forth beneath the window. She tried to spot the broken little boat on the beach—the place she stared at every day—but the dark swallowed everything.
An hour slipped by. The cabin filled.
Starling returned with another group, then paused when she noticed Linneya standing in the aisle, craning her neck as if searching for something.
“Linneya, do you want more snacks?” Starling asked. “It’s crowded now. Sit down—I’ll bring you some.”
“No.” Linneya squirmed. “I need the bathroom, but there are so many people.”
“Oh. Come on. I’ll take you to another one.”
Starling led her off the main corridor and down a narrower passage that ran longer than it looked. They turned once, reached the end, passed through a fire door, and arrived at a staff-only restroom.
Starling waited by the sinks—and touched up her makeup.
Then a scream ripped out of the stall.
“Linneya? What happened?”
Starling’s stomach dropped. She shouted again, but in the mirror a dark shape flashed behind her—
—and a hand clamped over her mouth.
“Shh,” a rough voice breathed into her ear. “Don’t make a sound, sweet thing.”
In the next instant, Linneya stumbled out. A man built like a bear held her up one-handed, his palm covering her mouth too.
Starling couldn’t process it. This—on a starship under military protection?
“I’ll say it once,” the voice warned. “If you yell, I’ll snap her neck.”
Starling nodded, stiff.
There were two men. One wore a brimless cap, his beard thick and wild. The other had a buzz cut and a burn-scar that crawled across half his face, making him look carved from violence.
Both wore uniforms that didn’t fit—too big in the shoulders, too loose at the waist. The color marked them as facilities porters. And the dark stains on the fabric… made Starling’s throat tighten. She didn’t have to ask what happened to the original owners.
She forced herself to inhale. To think.
“Let her go,” Starling said, steadying her voice. “I’ll pretend I never saw you. Go wherever you want.”
The bearded man snorted.
“Sounds nice,” the scarred man said from behind Starling. He leaned in and drew a long breath at her neck. “Ah. That’s the smell of a woman.”
His hands slid over her in a quick, ugly pat-down—less a search than a claim.
Starling ground her teeth. “Listen. I’m on duty. If I don’t go back soon, people will notice. I can… I can help you get off the ship. While there’s still time.”
“Appreciate it, ma’am,” the bearded man said. “But we worked too damn hard to get on board.”
“What do you want?”
“Take us to the shuttle bay,” the bearded man said. “And I’ll let her go. And you.”
“The shuttle bay is far.”
“Then we’d better start moving.”
Starling hesitated. “Fine. Let her go. I’ll take you.”
The bearded man laughed. “I wasn’t asking.”
The scarred man pressed the cold muzzle of a pistol to Starling’s head. “Walk, sweet thing.”
Starling looked at Linneya’s tear-slick face and swallowed her rage. For now.
She turned the wrong way down the corridor, opened a door into a stairwell, and headed down.
Starling went first. The scarred man followed, gun raised. The bearded man brought up the rear, hauling Linneya along.
They descended several landings before the bearded man halted.
“Hey. The kid’s got a smart wristband.”
Linneya had kept it hidden in her sleeve. She must’ve tried to message her father the moment his grip loosened.
The man tore the wristband off, tossed it to the floor, and crushed it under his boot.
He glanced at the scarred man. “Bop. Take hers, too.”
A second later, Starling’s wristband shattered the same way.
***
Carlos woke to the shrill alarm of his wristband.
“Linneya… is it liftoff already?” he mumbled.
No answer.
He blinked hard—and realized the seat beside him was empty.
“Linneya?”
He pulled up her call. No connection.
His heart went cold.
He surged to his feet, scanning the cabin, the aisle, the crowd. Nothing. He tried calling Starling. Same result.
Carlos didn’t panic out loud. Years of training clamped down on the instinct.
He brought up the last location ping left on his wristband—and ran.
***
As Starling walked, she fought not to shake.
Why the shuttle bay?
A shuttle bay was for EVA work and emergencies. Stealing a shuttle at liftoff was suicide.
Should she lead them to Security? But how did she keep Linneya alive if the wrong person panicked and opened fire?
Her anger had nowhere to go. Almost everyone on the ship was packed into pressurized cabins. Ninety percent of the Sunflower was empty right now.
Perfect for hijackers.
They reached the end of a corridor. Starling pushed through a door into a vast, high-ceilinged chamber filled with neatly arranged walls of green.
Algae. Longleaf algae—an oxygen powerhouse, grown in panels like living architecture.
The ship’s lungs.
Bright lights washed the space. The green walls formed a maze.
Starling walked them in, stalling, looking for anything—anything—she could leave behind as a clue.
“Hi!”
The voice came out of nowhere.
Starling jerked around.
A young man in uniform stood there, a tablet terminal in his hand. He frowned at their clothing. “Those uniforms don’t belong here. What are you doing—”
Then his gaze landed on Linneya.
His expression tightened—
A gray blur crossed the gap.
One second. That was all it took.
The scarred man’s knife opened the young man’s throat.
Starling stared, her mind blanking out as the body crumpled.
“Bop,” the bearded man hissed, low and furious. “How many times do I’ve to tell you? No knife. Blood gets everywhere.”
Before Bop could answer, a woman with glasses stepped out from around a corner. She saw the scene, froze, and dropped whatever she was carrying.
Bop moved again.
A sharp crack echoed through the chamber.
The woman folded to the floor, her neck broken.
“That better?” Bop said.
“What is wrong with you?” Starling snapped, voice shaking with rage. “They weren’t even threatening you. Why did you kill them?”
“I don’t want to,” the bearded man said flatly. “Bad luck, that’s all. Move.”
Bop had drifted several paces away. No gun on her. The bearded man’s attention flicked toward the bodies.
Starling saw her opening.
She lunged for the pistol at his waist.
The man barely had to try. He hooked her arm, turned, and slammed her onto the floor. She managed only to rip his sleeve.
A forearm snapped bare—
—and Starling saw it.
A tattoo: a polar narwhal, inked dark and proud.
The bearded man raised his pistol and pointed it at her face.
“Don’t do that,” he said, almost tired. “Sweet thing.”
Starling swallowed, staring at the tattoo like it was a confession.
“You’re Plando soldiers?” she whispered.