Hua Fang was a free-falling expert. She had more extensive knowledge of falling than a skydiver. In a single month, she managed to fall out of favor with her family, fall behind on her PhD, fall prey to a neural bond pyramid scheme, fall face-first into a trap set by an old enemy, and fall in love.

  Only seven years ago, she was a graduate of Shenzhen Nexus University, falling just short of High Distinction for her Bachelor of Astrodynamics and Interstellar Navigation. She had been a local celebrity, having won so many orbital spaceship races as a teenager as well as a couple hackathons to boot. Now? She was a space hobo.

  When Fang decided to pursue Interstellar Navigation, her father had yelled at her for three months straight. He wanted her to take up a field that had real utility, something more conventional. On Earth. Hua Xin, her older brother, the model child, had tragically died mining space rocks, and that had implanted an entrenched, constituted fear in those who he had left behind. Those who had never once been in space.

  “Hua Fang, you will not throw your life away like your brother did.” Her father had slammed his fist on the table the day she told him of her choice. But that only fueled her desire to follow through with her decision.

  She had seen Liu Jiye, her cousin from her mother’s side, made it in space, albeit as a Republic watchdog, and had thought to herself countless times. Why can’t I have the same freedom?

  But Liu Jiye was born in space. Hua Fang, on the other hand, was born in Tianjing Monarchy. It was Tianjing, the place where the state could zoom in on your loose strand of hair once you stepped foot out of your door. It was the place where every street was lined with stone monuments of the past emperor, and of the one before that, and of the one before that. The place where every word you spoke carried the weight of centuries of traditions and fourty-eight editions of The Code of Conducts. The place where space was nothing but a tale of horror whispered to children before they were of age, of the treacherous aliens lurking behind the asteroid belts, of the dishonorable overlords siphoning the life essence out of every exploitable planet, of artificial supernovae explosions of horrific proportions. Of every and all evil that would never exist inside Tianjing.

  Tianjing was a good country; the best country on Earth. But that luxury wasn’t enough for Hua Fang. She wasn’t going to study what everyone else was studying, and she definitely wasn’t going to sit quietly and wait for a pre-detemined future. She was going to prove to everyone she could be content, she could be happy, she could be prideful. In her own way. Not the Tianjing way.

  Hua Fang had started with a dream and a small fortune to herself. Now, she had neither. She was a space hobo.

  And her love life might as well fall apart now.

  Most of the crew had scattered—Priest still digging through the drive, Sloan keeping to herself, Hunter off doing whatever kept her sane, probably taking showers until Gravel shouted at her about the importance of preserving water. Gravel was in the common room, watching a Flickball tournament, something that was only possible because Fang had personally set up a pirated uplink for him. Fang couldn’t believe such a gimmick sport had a competitive scene that was broadcasted galaxy-wide. But then again, League of Legends (the 47th reboot) was broadcasted.

  Fang sat curled up in her bunk, holo-slate balanced on her knees, hesitated before opening her messages.

  Five unread texts. Three missed calls.

  Her stomach twisted.

  She already knew what this was about.

  Kai: Fang?

  Kai: Please call me back as soon as you can.

  Kai: Please be okay.

  Kai: Fang.

  Kai: Where are you now?

  Fang exhaled, running a hand through her hair. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  She should’ve checked sooner. She wanted him to not worry about her, and managed to achieve the exact opposite.

  Her fingers hovered over the call button, then stopped. Fang chewed her lip, opting to text instead.

  Fang: I’m here.

  The response was instant.

  Kai: Finally.

  Kai: Are you hurt anywhere?

  Fang inhaled slowly. Keep it normal. Keep it light.

  Fang: I’m good! :D :D :D

  Fang: Flying. Tuning systems. You know how it is.

  Kai: Fang.

  Fang: Seriously, Kai, it’s not a big deal.

  Nothing.

  Then—

  Kai: I’m calling.

  Her breath hitched. No, no, no.

  Fang: Kai, you’re in class.

  Kai: Lecture ended an hour ago.

  Fang: Damn, must’ve been the Trans-Galactic Saving Time at work!

  There was no such thing as the Trans-Galactic Saving Time.

  Kai: Pick up.

  Her pulse hammered.

  If she answered, he’d know. Fang’s fingers curled around the slate. She had one chance to fix this.

  So she did the only thing she could think of—

  She panic-texted him a wall of words.

  Fang: Okay, listen, it’s really not a big deal I swear, we just had a bit of a thing earlier but it’s fine now, I promise, I mean it, totally under control, I wasn’t even in danger really, just some stupid corpo nonsense that was way overblown but everything’s good now and I don’t wanna worry you because you have more important things to deal with like your dissertation and sleep and food and existing in general so you don’t have to call I SWEAR just text me back, okay?

  Silence.

  Then—

  Kai: . . . Fang.

  Then Kai’s voice came through a voice text. Fang’s fingers trembled as she hit play.

  “I’m not mad,” he said in a deep, cooing voice.

  Fang exhaled, pressing her forehead against her knees.

  “I just . . .” Kai hesitated. “I don’t like feeling this helpless.”

  Fang’s fingers twitched over her slate. Guilt. That’s what it was. Curling up inside her, clawing at her ribs.

  She was doing this. She was the reason he sounded like that.

  Her breath hitched, and before she could think, before she could stop herself—

  Fang: I swear, I swear, I’ll tell you everything from now on, I won’t keep things from you, I’ll text you first, I won’t wait until it’s bad, I’ll tell you the truth, just please don’t be upset, I promise I’ll be better, I’ll do better, I’ll tell you everything, okay? Please, please, just don’t worry. Please, sweetie.

  The moment she hit send, her stomach twisted.

  The read receipt popped up.

  Silence.

  Her fingers clenched around the slate.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Then—

  Kai: You know you always text the most basic things when you're in damage control, right?

  Fang’s grip tightened.

  Kai: You always say it like that, like you’re reading off a script you wrote just to keep me from being mad.

  She swallowed as her fingers froze over the keyboard.

  Fang: That’s not—

  She stopped.

  Her own words stared back at her.

  A beat.

  Then Kai’s next message came in.

  Kai: I don’t need you to tell me everything, Fang.

  Kai: But I’d like to know when you’re about to, you know, almost die.

  Kai: But you’re always off doing things that might hurt you, and I never know what exactly you’re getting into.

  Fang curled up tighter, pressing the slate against her chest.

  She typed. Deleted. Typed again.

  Fang: I’m sorry.

  Kai: Yeah, it’s all good. Glad you’re safe.

  Kai: Can I call in 30 mins?

  Fang stared at the screen, heart pounding. Her fingers fidgeted and she kept gripping and releasing her grip on the holo-screen, despite not being able to grab it. It was a holo-screen, after all.

  He was letting it go. For now.

  Her fingers hovered, then she typed—

  Fang: Of course. I’ll be here.

  She hesitated. Deleted.

  Fang: Yeah. Call whenever :D

  The read receipt popped up.

  Kai didn’t text back.

  Fang shut off the holo-slate and dropped her forehead against it.

  She felt like an idiot. Not just because of how she handled the whole Kai situation. Because of everything else.

  She had thought she was so good at hacking systems and overseeing movements, like the second coming of Earth’s Anonymous. Yet she couldn’t detect Koto’s force closing in until it was too late. She had had too many tasks to juggle, too many tabs opened, and didn’t see it until it was too late.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been under pressure. Or so she thought. Turns out, outmaneuvering rival hackers in a Hackathon wasn’t pressure. Real pressure was fumbling a decision and sending your crewmates into a potential death trap.

  Fang was only good at flying and hacking, after all. She could’ve been a commercial pilot or a cybersecurity specialist—something safe, something predictable. Like her father had intended. She didn’t know why Gravel agreed to have her on the crew after she asked for the second time. Maybe the man was prone to mistaking confidence for competence.

  Why the hell did I think I was destined for anything special?

  Two knocks resounded on the door.

  Fang froze. She turned just enough to be able to see the door from the corner of her eyes.

  “You okay?” A voice rang out. It was Gravel, in his trademark casual tone.

  She leaned back against the wall, taking in a sharp breath. He hadn’t said his name. He just asked.

  “No,” she said.

  Another second passed before he said, “You want company?”

  Fang hesitated. Gravel had never given her advice that was actionable. Nothing that helped her take control of things, really. The words he tossed out were usually either unhelpful or, at best, vague. Like the time he’d mentioned that “things don’t always go as planned, but that’s part of the ride,” when she told him about how her brain fried and short-circuited during a hackathon. Totally useful.

  But he always listened. When Priest was too deep in his own work, or Hunter was nowhere to be found, acting like a ghost in her own ship, it was Gravel who sat silently with her in the corners of the common room. He’d stay there while she thought out loud, or quietly in the shadows.

  Maybe I didn’t want advice.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was so low she didn’t know if Gravel could hear her. “Yeah. I’ll take some company.”

  “Then I’ll come in, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Gravel stepped into the room with the deliberate pace of someone worried about startling a cornered animal. He closed the door with his foot, then leaned back against the nearest wall, arms crossed loosely, one boot kicked up against the paneling. He didn’t sit. He never sat unless he had to, or unless he was in the common room.

  He scratched the back of his neck. “So. What’s the deal? Your boyfriend mad at you?”

  Fang scoffed, lips twisting. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Gravel shrugged. “You won’t know if you don’t tell me.”

  For a moment, she stayed curled, debating whether to throw the slate at him or herself. Then she sighed and let her head fall back against the bunk wall.

  Then she told him a summarized version of what’d happened. Even the part where she panic-texted and Kai called her out for it.

  She half expected a lecture. Something about honesty, boundaries, and accountability. Priest or Hunter would’ve jumped in by now—tell him or break up, they’d say. Decide what was more important and all that.

  Gravel didn’t say anything right away. He let out a ‘hmmm’, then touched his chin, then said in an unbothered tone, “Yeah, well. If someone only likes the version of you that never screws up, they probably don’t know you.”

  She cocked her head.

  “You mess up. That’s kind of your thing.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  “That boy doesn’t seem bothered. The only one who’s bothered is you. You can go your whole life living a life like this as long as you don’t put pressure on yourself. ‘What if he finds out?’ So what? Not like you’re a different person all of a sudden.”

  She stared at him, unsure if that was meant to be comforting or just observational. With Gravel, it was always hard to tell.

  “And if you’re trying to live two lives,” he added, “eventually one of ‘em’s gonna get tired of being second place.”

  Fang looked down at her hands. “Yeah.” She ran her thumb along the edge of the slate. “He’s calling in about twenty-five minutes.”

  Gravel didn’t move.

  She glanced at him. “What should I say?”

  Gravel tilted his head like he was weighing a crate in his hands. “Dunno. Depends what you want.”

  “That’s not helpful.”

  “It’s not supposed to be.” He tapped two fingers against his arm. “You could tell him everything. You could tell him nothing. Both come with fallout. One just takes longer to hit.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “You like him?”

  She blinked. “Yeah.”

  “You want to keep liking him, or are you just scared to stop?”

  Fang didn’t answer that one.

  Overhead, one of the ceiling lights flickered—just once—and let out a soft pop before going dim.

  Both of them looked up at it in unison.

  Then it went back up again.

  Still staring at the bulb, Gravel said, “If Hunter was in your place, she’d ask herself if she’s hiding it for his sake, or hers.”

  Fang opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her jaw felt like it’d been bolted in place.

  “Next planet we land, I’ll buy you a funny toy. How about that?”

  “Last time you bought me an inflatable trampoline bigger than the common room when fully inflated.”

  “It was funny, wasn’t it? How about we have that trampoline jumping competition again?”

  Fang forced a smile, even if it felt like her face was still catching up to the rest of her. “Game on,” she said, voice low but steady.

  “That’s the spirit.” Gravel pushed off the wall. “Anyway. If you’re still in here in ten minutes, I’m bringing food. You don’t get to cry and starve. That’s against protocol.”

  “There’s no protocol.”

  “There is now.” He opened the door. Before he walked out, he turned his head halfway and said, “And don’t dwell over mistakes, kid. That’s the fastest way to insanity. You did good today. Keep your head up. Are we clear?”

  “Clear.” She took in a large breath. “Hey, Boss.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well . . . You’ve helped me a lot. I, well, I may not have the best advice to give, but I know how to hype someone up. You can tell me about what’s going on in that head of yours too, you know.”

  “Yeah.” He paused. “Another day, kid.”

  Then he was gone.

  Food came five minutes later. And exactly nineteen minutes after that, Kai called. The man had always been incredibly punctual.

  She picked up on the first ring.

  Maybe I should tell him everything. He’ll get it. He loves me. Right?

  But her mouth stayed shut.

  What could she say? This entire relationship had begun with a lie. She had told Kai that she had completed her PhD and was simply taking an extensive break before considering a job in intergalactic navigation. In truth, she had never finished her PhD.

  She never could tell him.

  The holo-call loaded, and Kai’s face blinked into view. His eyes were warm and he was smiling like always, his curly hair bouncing with each step as he walked.

  “Hey, genius,” he said. “Missed your call.”

  “You look like a panda, dumpling,” Fang grinned. Her grin felt so natural, as if it was her second nature in front of him.

  “Look at yourself. You really need to cut back on caffeine and try sleeping for once. Sleep-deprived, still freakishly hot though.” Behind him, purple-leafed trees swayed in the breeze, branches stretching out like elegant fingers. The sky overhead was a cool rose-gold, the kind that only happened during twilight on his campus planet. The walkway under his feet curved and split like a circuit board, and the bio-light clung to his coat like an army of fireflies.

  “As are you. The hot part, not the sleep-deprived part.” Kai chuckled and adjusted the strap on his shoulder, shifting his screen just enough for her to glimpse a passing hover-drone buzzing by behind him.

  Then he paused.

  “Hey . . .” he said, softer this time.

  Fang’s heart instantly leapt into her throat.

  No.

  What do I say? What if he asks? What if he already knows?

  But he just scratched his head and added, “Wanna hear about the dumbest assignment I’ve had to submit just now? It involves six squirrels, a broken server, and the unfortunate misuse of quantum algebra.”

  Relief rushed in so fast it made her dizzy.

  She laughed, too quick, too loud. “Only if it’s dumber than the time you set your lab coat on fire during a holocall.”

  “Please,” Kai said, dramatically offended. “It was near the coat. My coat is still intact.”

  He was giving her the easy way out. Again.

  She didn't deserve this. She knew it in her bones, in her marrow, in the silent scream behind her smile.

  He was too good for her.

  Too sweet, too warm, too safe.

  If he learned that his brilliant girlfriend had stolen, smuggled, and lied to survive, he’d drop her in an instant.

  As long as she kept her secrets, she could keep him too.

  “Tell me about the assignment,” she put on her most natural smile.