Page 65 of The Lottery

My heart flutters as the lift travels down a floor, so eager to see Azalea that I wonder if the trip through space has reversed our aging and I am once again a gawking schoolboy, all knobby knees and lofty ideas. Except no schoolboy crush could ever compare to the feelings Azalea Clark elicits from me. When I walk forward from the lift area and round the corner into the main mall, my heart swells and plummets all at once in a strange emotional dance I have no control over.

Azalea is looking at me, now dressed more comfortably in a black T-shirt with a skull emoji and jeans, and somehow even more beautiful.

Yet her cheeks are stained with tears.

Nicolette’s lifeless body lays at her feet, covered with a sheet.

I move swiftly to Azalea, about to take her in my arms when I see another person sitting on one chair with his leg propped up on a table. Robert.

I stop just short of a costly affectionate display as Robert meets my gaze. His face is red and agitated, and I quickly see why—his right leg is grotesquely twisted at the ankle, badly broken and bleeding through his pants.

“Guess I should have made sure my harness was locked,” Robert says through a gritted smile.

“What happened?” I ask as I move to him, kneeling to check the severity of the break. While I could help Azalea with her dislocated shoulder, my skills do not extend to setting broken bones. In this case, bone has broken through skin and will require surgery to repair.

“I stayed… ah, stayed on level four when I found out there were harnesses here,” Robert answers. “I saw Nicolette kinda wandering around, saying she didn’t want to be in her room with Buddy. I tried to get her somewhere safe, but…” He trails off.

I am about to ask for more details when Ivan comes out from a kitchen entrance with two glasses of water. “Marek,” he says, looking a little surprised by my presence. “Privet.”

Having another Russian on board brings a comfort I always forget I appreciate until in his company. “Privet,” I say, returning the greeting.

Ivan hands a glass to Azalea then the other to Robert. “You should drink,” he says, then looks up at me. “Dr. McCoy, she has left for supplies and will return in a moment.” Ivan’s gaze slips to the young woman under the sheet. “The doctor, she said her life has already gone.”

I stare at the white sheet, clinically covering our deceased. A wave of guilt washes over me as I picture her stumbling about the ship, putting herself in danger just to avoid being near her lecherous partner. Her assigned mate.

Her blood is on my hands.

I choke back these thoughts and feelings, forcing myself to carry on.

“Metis, please advise all third-level passengers to move to level four as quickly as possible,” I say. “And tell them to dress in warm clothes.”

“Notices sent,” Metis replies.

“What’s happening?” Robert asks.

“We are going to exit the ship together. Afterwards, people can come and go from their rooms as needed,” I say. “You, however, will be in the medical bay until further notice. Your first steps on Mars will have to wait.”

Ivan kneels next to Robert, looking at the injured man’s face.

“I will make a few piroshkis, eh? Take to hospital.”

Robert offers a slight smile. The choice to bring Ivan on this voyage was a difficult one. I trusted my gut, and I have no doubt it was the right decision.

As Ivan distracts Robert with a discussion about lunch, I turn back to Azalea, whose eyes lock on mine the moment I stand. In my suite, our love felt open and honest and perfect. The perfection has not waned, but now we are forced back into the shadows, sneaking looks and trying to read each other’s thoughts. It pains me, no doubt it does her as well, to bottle emotions so desperate to be free. At the same time, it is rather titillating. Who knows when we will next be alone… and what we will find to do with that time.

When all the passengers have arrived on the fourth level and found a place to sit amongst the scattered tables and chairs, I address the ship. I inform them of Ms. Larsen’s passing and assure them that our first act as a Martian society will be a proper burial.

Then I move on to business, explaining how we must exit the ship and what we will do once out. The spacecraft will become a dormitory for the immediate future, while we spend our time developing our homes and community outside the vessel.

With nothing more to be said and a doctor tending to Robert, I lead my people to the lifts and down to level two.

We make our way single file toward the small exit, the crew standing in their doorways waiting for us to pass. Azalea walks behind me, and I am filled with an unexpected joy that she and I will be the first ones to step from the ship and onto our new home. I am nearly overcome with anticipation at seeing her reaction to a world that is not just livable, but flourishing.

Assuming that is what we find when the door opens.

The maintenance door sits at the end of a walkway between two engines, resulting in a cramped exit. It will make for a slow offloading of passengers, but it also awards me a moment with Azalea.

“Are you ready?” I ask in a whisper.

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