Page 12 of New World

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Later that evening, the soft hum of the ship vibrated beneath the metal cargo container as Mei sat cross-legged by the viewport, staring out at the endless black. The ship, which had been stationary the past week, was back underway. She wasn’t sure what had been wrong, but Xyphos’ curses and Lorik’s greasy clothing led her to guess that it was a mechanical issue.

She released a sigh, leaned back against a piece of metal behind her, and pulled her notebook from her pocket. Her fingers traced the well-worn cover before she flipped it open. The pages inside were smudged with charcoal and pencil, filled with stolen moments, captured in quiet lines and soft shading.

A low chuckle slipped from her, and she looked out of the viewpoint again. She had used her escape pod as a storage unit to hide some of her most personal items during the Gliese’s voyage. She hadn’t wanted anyone, especially Sergi, to see her most inner thoughts. Her drawings were a glimpse of her soul, a peek inside her heart and mind.

Her hand caressed the soft cover of the notebook she was holding. She had been afraid to open this notebook at first. She was afraid of what the memories inside might do to her. But now, as she turned the pages, she realized they didn’t hurt.

They brought her peace.

She exhaled softly, studying the first drawing. She had captured Julia while she was unaware of anything else but what she was focused on. The page was filled with delicate, intricate details—Julia’s slender hands cupping a sprouting seedling, her glasses slightly askew as she studied a computer screen, a lock of blondish-brown hair falling over her cheek as she bent over a microscope.

Mei traced the drawing with her fingertip, the soft edges of the graphite bringing back the memory.

“You always draw people’s hands first,” Julia had once said, watching her from across the lab. “Why?”

Mei had smiled, shading in the curve of Julia’s fingers.

“Because hands tell the truth,” she’d replied. “A person can lie with their face, but never with their hands.”

Julia had laughed, the sound light and unguarded.

“That’s poetic. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Dr. Marksdale.”

“You might be surprised,” Julia had teased. “One day, you’ll have to show me your drawings. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to wonder and never see.”

“Perhaps one day,” she had vaguely replied.

Mei’s breath hitched at the memory. “It might not be too late. She could have survived. I did.”

The thought soothed her. She turned to the next page and shook her head. The image wasn’t refined like Julia’s had been. This one was a collage of moments with Josh. The drawing was pure chaos.

Her face lit up as she remembered drawing this one. There were schematics layered over each other, half-written notes scrawled in the margins, and a tiny, grinning stick-figure version of Josh giving a thumbs-up beside a horribly drawn spaceship labeled Definitely Not Rigged.

Mei chuckled. Josh had loved the ship. Every inch of the Gliese had been his playground, his puzzle to solve.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to fly a spaceship that wasn’t government-approved,” he’d said one night, sprawled out on the floor of the engine room, tools scattered around them as they worked to untangle what the engineers back on Earth had done.

“My dad used to say Earth looked the most beautiful from space. I wonder if he ever imagined this—being out here, where no one’s been before.”

“What do you think he’d say?” Mei remembered asking, watching him tinker with the system controls.

Josh had grinned, wiping grease from his hands.

“That I’m a goddamn genius.”

Mei snorted, shaking her head.

“More like a menace. If only the engineers could see what you are doing at the moment.”

“Please. I’m an innovator. Tell me you’re not impressed.”

She’d rolled her eyes but hadn’t argued. She’d been more than impressed. The next page was a drawing of him deep in thought as he lay under the console. She realized now that it had been one of those rare moments when she and Josh had been alone. As she studied his face, she realized that the mask of professionalism that she associated with him was gone. It was as if she were seeing layers of him that only a few people—like Ash—ever saw.

“You’ve given me a gift that I will always cherish,” she murmured, touching the corner of the drawing before she turned to the next page.

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