Page 85 of The Lottery

I extend a hand to Declan to show my sincere appreciation. He would not bring this issue to my attention were he not overworked by picking up the others’ slack. “Thank you, Mr. Manchester. When I address everyone tomorrow morning, I will discuss this matter.”

Before I can turn to leave, already anxious to see Azalea again, Declan stops me.

“I should also say… there are… rifts… developing between certain couples,” He speaks softly, choosing his words carefully. Astrid still lingers over his shoulder, seemingly listening more intently to this new line of conversation.

“Now that the voyage is over,” Declan continues, “and the work has begun… some of us are seeing our pairings in a new light.”

He leaves me with no doubt about what he insinuates. Perhaps multiple couples are becoming estranged, but Declan speaks very personally about his own relationship. Astrid’s presence is suddenly even more compelling, as a crew member with no pre-selected partner.

“Understood,” I say simply. He raises a larger question, one I do not have time to solve at the moment, especially since it touches so close to home. I cannot speak to Declan’s problems without considering my own, and I must tend to the needs of our people before I can manage my personal life.

With a final nod, I leave Declan and Astrid by the rover, the sun vanishing over the hills. I move swiftly to deliver them their privacy, for whatever they need to discuss.

As I walk back to the ship, I see signs of what Declan had mentioned. Those who served as the ship’s crew while we traveled through space are working into the night, readying building materials and looking at schematics.

Those who came here in hopes of living the same life they had enjoyed on Earth, the ones who once had enough money to buy a ticket off a burning planet, are either drinking in small groups by makeshift fires or nowhere to be seen. Most of them, at least. Even Buddy Fischer, who makes his presence known wherever he goes, is hiding somewhere, far from the work that needs doing.

I swallow my anger as I climb into the maintenance exit and walk down the empty hall toward the gravity lift, my thoughts returning to Azalea and my conflicted longing to be with her.

“Metis, where is Azalea Clark?”

“Outside her quarters on the third level,” the AI answers.

I quicken my pace, knowing she is not yet in her room with Robert, hoping I can steal one more brush against her skin, perhaps even a kiss before we have to part for the night.

The lift takes me up a floor quickly, then I round the corner into the hall and stop, my feet slowing even as my heartbeat accelerates.

There she stands at her door.

Waiting.

For me.

She puts a finger to her lips and takes a few steps away from her room—stopping in front of suite number one.

My suite.

With great haste, I move quietly toward her, place my hand by the palm reader. When the doors shut behind us, we are in each other’s arms in an instant. We stay silent, knowing Robert is only a wall away, and that she will have to return to her suite before morning. I breathe her in, electrified by the scent of strawberries from her shampoo, by the way her body curves into mine like we were made for each other, carved from the same tree, our roots aligned. I caress her face, kiss her lips, memorize the contours of her body, all under the cloak of secret silence.

She is mine and I am hers.

In time, that truth will come out.

For now, I will enjoy the forbidden fruit.

My door chimes.

I freeze.

Azalea stiffens in my arms.

My mind spirals with a thousand worries. What if someone saw Azalea and I enter the suite together? What if Robert heard us? What if he suspects. What if–

“Lana Dubois wishes to enter,” says Metis.

Lana. I have seen her spending time with Azalea. I know they are close. But why would she be here now, at this late hour? Unless…

Unless she did see…

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