Grown in the Light of a Dying Star

Katpride

Katpride

Story Collector
Pronouns
they/them/ask
The people who built the tiny research outpost that was now locked in orbit around Eurydice had a terrible sense for aesthetics. Seriously, it was all unremarkable hallways and unpleasantly geometric chambers, and almost all of the windows were tiny portholes that were jealously guarded by roving teams of scientists. Or, uh, they used to be guarded by those scientists, anyway. Before things started falling apart, and most of the scientists died. They had been the ones on the side of the station facing Eurydice when the star started gearing up to go supernova, and now they were probably dust.

The station lurched again under Curie’s feet, and she stumbled, catching herself by throwing her much-abused forearms onto a crate before she could fall all the way to the floor. Briefly, she felt her hair float up around her ears, her boots losing contact with the ground as the station’s artificial gravity glitched, but it snapped back into place only a moment later, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Or maybe that was just the air being forced from her lungs as she was pressed against the crate none too gently, the gravity coming back a little stronger than it was before.

Ugh. It didn’t matter. She had to keep moving. She had to get to the failsafe, or-

She just had to get to the failsafe, she thought, swiping her hand over her damp cheek and scrubbing away the last of the moisture there. That accomplished, she levered herself up, and continued across the room to the airlock. She was counting the seconds under her breath as she punched in the code, as the door slid open and she stepped inside, as it closed and the door on the other side opened. “302, 303, 304…”

The ground heaved under her feet just as she hit 305, and Curie grabbed the sides of the airlock chamber to keep herself stable. Okay. Five minutes and change between pulses. She could do this. She just had to keep moving.

Sniffing once, she put her game face on and stepped out into the hallway. Only to immediately stop, staring at the figure she could see silhouetted in the angry red light streaming in from a tiny porthole window. The lights were out, she noted, distantly, reaching for the flashlight tucked into her - don’t think about it - her belt. (It was hers, now. Maven was-) She pushed the thought savagely aside and clicked the light on, shining it on the floor between them.

“Jupiter?” She called, recognizing the figure now that there was a little light and they weren’t just a shadow in a dark room. Her voice was rough, but she found a smile tugging at her lips, despite everything. What a relief it was, to run into a familiar face. “What are you-? No, it doesn’t matter. I need your help. We need to get to the bridge. Eurydice is dying ahead of schedule, and-” Her voice cut, suddenly, as she was blindsided by a spasm of grief so tangible it was almost a hiccup, but she forged on. “-and no one knows but us. The communication dishes went down an hour ago.”

For scheduled maintenance, she didn’t say. It didn’t matter. Except that it did, to her, and maybe only to her. I should’ve been out there helping him, she thought, again, even though she didn’t really want to think about what would’ve happened to her if she had been.

She was the only engineering apprentice that Maven had brought with him to Orpheus. If she had been out there with him, then the station would have no one who knew how to activate the failsafe. That she knew of, at least. There were so many things she didn’t know, though. Maybe all the higher-ups knew about the failsafe. Maybe they all knew the dials to turn and levers to pull. Maybe they'd all been on the side of the station facing Eurydice, and their dust was mingling with that of the scientists’. She just didn’t know.

What she did know was that she couldn’t afford to slow down, on the off chance that she really was their last hope. She tried to force some confidence into her steps as she strode down the hallway, motioning for her friend to follow her to the airlock on the opposite side. Stars, the station had so many airlocks. Just, a ridiculous amount. It was a bit annoying, trying to get around on a usual day, but she supposed that it had paid off, since they were still breathing filtered air and walking around in normal gravity even with a good chunk of the station pulverized.

While she punched in her access code (which was really Maven’s override code), her eyes flicked to the side, glancing at Jupiter and then away again, uncharacteristically shy. “Didn’t think I’d find you at the end of the world,” she eventually mumbled, a faint heat burning high in her cheeks. “Maybe we can find you an escape pod, when we get to the bridge.”
 
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Jupiter never liked her name. Being named after a massive gas giant wasn’t exactly flattering. Worse, Jupiter Primerous and Jupiter Secundous were long gone, wiped away after years of severe experimentation. Now, JUPITER stood for something else entirely- the Judgment Unit for Preemptive Interstellar Tactical Elite Response. A ridiculous mouthful, in her opinion. The fact that her father had named her this felt ironic, considering her career choice. A trainee for the same force, that he despised so much. Almost funny.

Her father wasn’t thrilled with her choices. Choosing the military over the family business had put a strain on things. She couldn’t see herself spending her life monitoring a star or something. It all felt pointless. Funny how, now, it seemed so important when things were all going down in flames, in more ways than one.

She had been stationed elsewhere, far away from Eurydice in fact, but here she was, standing in this space station. Why?

A hunch. That’s all it was. She had no orders, no mission, no real reason to be here. She just wanted to see her friend- Or was it more of an acquaintance? Hard to say. They hadn’t spent much time together, but she liked Curie. She never understood half of what the scientist rambled on about, but she nodded along anyway. It was nice, having someone who didn’t dumb things down for her, even if she had no clue what she was talking about. It had been a rough week in her outpost, she hoped to have a something to smile at, her wish was clearly not going to be fulfilled.


Hours before things went south, she had landed safely on the private port, far from the bridge. One of the rare times her father’s obsession with status worked in her favor.

She had already seen the destruction. Running through the station, searching for Curie, searching for survivors or for anything useful. A data pad, a working communicator, something. But now she understood why she couldn’t call for help, the damn dishes were down, because of course they were.

She ducked slightly through the doorway; surprised Curie recognized her right away, looking at her as if she was the wisest person in the galaxy. Then again, the more she thought about it- Between her bright hair, her stature, her rifle, and her armor suit, she wasn’t hard that hard to identify.

"My ship warned me about potential danger in the area," She lied. "I checked it out and came to help, but... seems like I’m too late."

She slung her rifle over her shoulder, raking a hand through her fiery red hair in a futile attempt to tame it. The station’s tremors ruined any effort at tidiness.

"The bridge is up in flames. I think the fuel station went off- There’s no way we’ll get through in time, and I doubt the pods are working..." She weighed her words carefully, unsure if her plan made any sense. "We can reach my ship if we hurry. How much time do you need to fix this?"

Jupiter didn’t know much about fixing disasters like this. If anyone could, it was Curie; at least, she hoped so. Jupe wasn’t a scientist or an engineer. These days, everything was automated, so she never had to learn any of it, now she felt stupid for ignoring her father's demands.
 
“Damn,” Curie cursed, soft and under her breath. The airlock door slid open, and she stepped inside, but all the while her mind was whirling. If the bridge was down, she’d have to do things the hard way. The… not pretty way.

“You’re sure it’s the whole bridge?” she asked, trying to massage away the twist in her brow before it could give away her thoughts. She needed something to do with her hands. She put her flashlight between her teeth and snagged one finger on her hair tie, pulled it loose from her hair, and snapped it around her wrist while she wrangled the frizzy blue curls into a neater ponytail. “I’unno h’w-”

She took the hair tie from her wrist and wound it around her hair, stepping into the next room. “-l’ng it t’kes. I…”

She took the flashlight from her mouth, but the words didn’t continue. Her mouth worked for a moment, and she rubbed her hand over her lips and chin, stalling, not meeting Jupiter’s eyes.

This room was another storage room, as most were on this side of the station, rendered strange and unfamiliar by the red emergency lighting along the floor. Crates were strapped to the floor in neat stacks, but a few of the taller stacks had toppled and spilled their contents into the aisle. Curie kept moving forward, picking her way over protein bars and other detritus to reach the next airlock.

“I changed my mind. I think maybe you should… get back to your ship. I can, um, I can do the emergency protocol on my own.” She punched in the access code with stiff fingers, keeping her eyes resolutely pinned to the tiny screen as it processed. Please, let Jupiter not question her. Just this once. She didn’t want to explain what she had to do. Hell, she didn’t want to do it, not really. But… if she was really the only one left who knew it needed to be done, then she didn’t have any other choice.

“Where are you parked?” Her voice was light, but her knuckles were white around the grip of the flashlight.
 
Jupiter sighed, a weak, fleeting attempt to suppress the frustration bubbling beneath her skin. It did little to mask the gnawing fear curdling in her gut, twisting around Curie’s suggestion like an unwelcome thought she couldn’t shake.

“All the way to the other corner of the station, opposite to the bridge, VIP lounge-” she repeated flatly, words sharp yet carefully measured. Opposing orders had become second nature at this point, her way of clashing against expectations with stubborn precision. And now, as she stepped closer to her companion, her size alone made the gesture carry weight—though intimidation was far from her intent. The contrast between her looming presence and the warmth laced into her words was enough to blur the line between reassurance and quiet concern.

“I know you will be mad,” she admitted, forcing the confession past the tightness in her throat. “But I can’t just leave while this thing is falling apart, much less while you’re standing here tryna fix things.” She exhaled sharply, shaking off the tornado of thoughts crawling up her spine. “It’s my duty, because-” It’s you. The words stopped short, refused to leave her lips, caught in the tangle of hesitation. “-i’m part of J.U.P.I.T.E.R. We don’t leave anyone behind. Protocol, and all…”

Her hand settled against Curie’s shoulder, gentle, though firm once it had reached its target. She wasn’t sure who needed the reassurance more, her or her friend. But that hardly mattered now. They were both in this, and whatever happened next, she had decided, neither of them would be facing it alone.

“Listen,” she continued, her voice steadier now, more certain. “I’m staying. You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Who knows... Maybe you’ll need someone to bring down a door for you, and I don’t see you managing that on your own.” She teased lightly, a rather pathetic attempt at lowering the tension

Her fingers curled slightly, attempting to ground her thoughts further, no time for doubt or fear.

“When things go-” She corrected herself with a firm shake of her head. “IF things go sideways, my ship is faster than whatever cheap pod model they had in the bridge. We can get out. You just say the word.”

Her voice softened at the edges. She presented herself as brave, though one look in her eyes was enough to see the silent worry that she carried on her shoulders.

“Just- Please. Let me help you.”


 
Curie was frozen, staring at the keypad even as the airlock swooshed open because if she looked up now, she was never going to be able to lie to Jupiter. And she had to, she had to, because Jupiter had a future, she had a family waiting for her and a career all lined up and friends that would miss her, and the simple fact was that Curie didn’t want to drag her into the dark with her, because she was her friend, and she loved her. But she knew that Jupiter wouldn’t see it that way - she would see it as Curie shutting her out again. She might even be right, too.

Maybe it would’ve been a little easier if they were strangers. If they had never learned each other’s tells. But she couldn’t take back what had already happened, couldn’t un-weld that joint. She wouldn’t want to, she thought, privately, but she pushed the thought aside.

She cut her eyes to the side, to Jupiter’s hand on her shoulder. From there she followed the line of her arm up to her shoulder, her neck, her chin, and stalled out there, not brave enough to meet her eyes. She could still see them, fuzzy and indistinct in her peripheral vision, but there was enough interference that she could pretend that she wasn’t noticing the worried furrow in her brow.

“If you don’t leave now, there might not be a ‘getting out’,” she said, too honest, eyes flicking up that last few inches to touch briefly on Jupiter’s. And a memory hit her like a tidal wave, something about the low light and the look in her friend’s eyes, that stubborn determination, rocketing her back to a simpler time.


The sound of the airlock door opening startled Curie off his precarious perch, and he tumbled down a level on his carefully arranged tower of crates, banging his knees and arms on unforgiving metal. He only barely managed to catch the small box he’d been using as a tinkering station, tucking it close to his chest and fumbling the flaps closed as though that would hide it.

“I’m on break!” he proclaimed, even as he whipped his head around to see who had caught him. The excuse was paper-thin - he still had his toolbelt on, even if he was off in an unlit storage room working on his side projects.

Oh. It was just Jupiter. Curie relaxed a little bit, enough to uncurl and find a new sitting position with his back against the box he’d been sitting on before. “Oh, hey Jupiter. Didn’t know you were in the system. Should I be worried?”

The last time she’d visited, it’d been on the trail of some sort of criminal operation… thingy. He hadn’t really been paying all that close attention, after it’d been clear that they were past the ‘chasing ships at high speed’ phase. (And that that phase may not have existed, but hey, he could dream.)
 
Jupiter did not flinch, did not hesitate, not even an ounce of doubt lingered as the words escaped her.

"If it comes to that, I guess we're both lucky we aren't on our own, right?"

Her fingers curled gently around Curie's hand, her grip soft yet reassuring. There was no sign of surrender in her touch, no silent admission of defeat, just a simple, quiet smile in the face of uncertainty. She wasn't going to surrender to the possibility of death, despite the fact that it lingered so close.

"But it will not end like that," Jupiter insisted, her voice unwavering. "I know you can do this. We can do it. Now, let's get you where you need to go so we can fix this mess."



-


As she made her way into the storage unit, a smirk tugged at the corner of Jupiter's lips.

She raised her right hand, forming a playful finger gun and aiming it straight at Curie.

"Oh, you should definitely be worried..." She teased him. "I'm arresting you for procrastinating."

She gave a dramatic pause before delivering the final blow- "Pew pew."


The joke lingered in the air for a moment before she let out a breath, shaking her head to, hopefully, fix the mess her helmet had made of it. She twirled a loose strand of hair between her fingers. The playful glint in her eyes softened, giving way to something more thoughtful.

"Honestly? I'm just running errands," She admitted. "I was in the neighboring system handling something, but... Family duty calls. Supposed to be supervising the inauguration of some new landing bay, but things are going fine without me. So, I decided I'd rather visit my favorite nerd."

She didn't say it outright, but the truth was easy enough to read between the lines, the errand was for her father. Who else would waste an officer's time on something so trivial?

Her family carried influence, even if they didn't mix with many people. They had their own vision of how the world should work, one that kept them distant, unapproachable, sending representatives to events rather than showing up themselves. Jupiter found it pretentious, even rude, but the powerful didn’t seem to mind as long as the money kept flowing, whether for a luxurious resort on some moon or fresh fuel mines orbiting a star.


It was tiresome. More than that, it was frustrating, and a little bit sad to think her family considered her distant enough to send her as if she was a simple messenger. But she wasn't about to let it ruin her little detour. If she had to deal with the business her family barely cared for, she could at least do it on her own terms.

"Anyway- What are you hiding, can I see? Pleeeease?" As always, Jupe loved sticking her nose where she probably shouldn't. She used her most powerful technique... Looking at Curie like a sad puppy, hoping to convince him.
 
“Oh noooo!” Curie trilled, clapping a hand over his heart and rocking his shoulders as the imaginary lasers hit him. “My only weakness. Being shot.”

He was grinning even as he peeled himself off the box he’d dramatically fallen against. The station just wasn’t the same, in the time between Jupiter’s visits. There were so few people his age, and of that group only a fraction tolerated him. It was nice to have a friend, even if that friend was only ever in the same system about half the time.

“Yeah! Well, uh, it’s not fully done yet, but here, let me show you.” He clambered down the tower until he was at the same height as his friend, then carefully unfolded the flaps on the box. There was a little fold-out light, and he clicked it on, illuminating the work space within. It was a mess of metal and wires, but he brushed most of the spare parts over to one side so that his main project could have center stage.

Carefully folded bits of scrap metal formed a kind of wobbly rectangular prism with rounded edges and two little triangles stuck on top, the hinged panel in the back currently open to reveal a mess of wires and tubes, some of them spilling out into the larger box. Curie carefully tucked the wires back into the shape with a pair of needlenose pliers, then shut the access door and flipped a switch just above it. Something whirred within the box, and it lifted up, righting itself with a rush of air.

“Like I said, it’s still pretty rough.” He gave it a little tap with the pliers, and it began to spin slowly in place, revealing two bright LED eyes shining above a drawn-on dog’s nose and ‘w’ mouth. The two triangles revealed themselves to be ears, one perked up and the other folded over. “I think it’s cute though. And it’s been a fun challenge, to get it to register when it’s bumped into something and change the airflow to compensate.”

Rather than slowing, the little dog-box was spinning faster and faster, until it was just a little circular blur. Curie sighed, and gently caught it, stopping its spiral. It bobbed in place when he released it, bright dumb eyes illuminating the side of the box it was in. “Ha, yeah, it keeps doing that. Silly dog.”

His gaze was undeniably fond as he continued to nudge it around, watching it bump into walls and then rocket off in the other direction. It almost seemed like he’d forgotten that Jupiter was there, his posture loose and unguarded as he slouched against another crate, voice more than halfway to a mumble. “Maybe I should name you, hm? Little space-dog… Hmm… You look like a Laika to me.”
 
Jupiter leaned forward a bit, watching Curie's creation with interest. Truth be told, the trooper had very low standards of entertainment, regardless of her friend saying it was still a work in progress, she found herself admiring the mechanical parts twirl and whirr on their own. She already wanted one for her own, maybe place it on the dashboard of her ship and watch it spin around on long trips.

It wasn't the first time she had seen an automaton, but this was different. Robots and machines nowadays were only for industrial purposes, and sometimes, military ones.

Needless to say, the little living box was much more whimsical and appealing than the sleek, horrifying killing machines J.U.P.I.T.E.R. kept locked away in their armory.


As she watched the machine do its thing, her eyes slowly moved away from the floor.

Her posture eventually matched Curie's; she loved to see him so proud of himself. She relaxed her shoulders, forgetting about the small robot until it inevitably made some sort of noise as it bumped into something, and yet she couldn't tear her gaze away from her companion.

Finally as the moments advanced, she felt a warmth spread across her face, she dismissed it as a stupid thought, and looked away, flustered.

She listened to Curie's mumbling about the creation's name, and simply agreed with him with a nod of her head, though her mind was somewhere else.

"That's... Lovely."


-

So, that is why you're here. She told herself, an acknowledgement rather than a question.

Jupe stood before the door to the main office, she was, frozen there until she shook her head. It was jammed, right.

Back in the present she gently gestured for Curie to stay back and charged the locked entrance with her shoulder, putting all her strength into it to ensure she'd manage to get the thing out in one clean movement.

The metal panels that comprised the door, one on each side, resembled that of an elevator or bunker rather than anything fancy or sleek, which made sense considering the importance of the equipment inside, and yet, the one Jupiter targeted came apart with ease, bending inwards and giving her enough space to pry it open.

Thankful for her suit's extra strength and the protection of the sharp edges, she moved away for Curie, looking around the computer filled laboratory, getting a headache just from the amount of holograms and buttons each had.

"Alright- Finally here."

She exhaled sharply, pumping her first lightly in a small celebration.

"You can do it."

Jupiter tried her best to encourage her friend, yet, she still sounded just as worried as when she found Curie.
 
Curie pressed herself against the wall while Jupiter charged the door, casting a nervous look over her shoulder before remembering that the station was falling apart anyway and it wasn’t like a little property damage was going to get them in trouble at this point.

(The shockwaves from Eurydice had been coming quicker with every hallway they fumbled their way down, less and less time between the jolts that rocked the station and sent the wiring into sparking fits. Curie knew what that meant, even if she was trying not to know, or not to remember that she knew. It was getting harder to ignore, but she had Jupiter with her. (With her until the end of the line, at least, she thought, and pushed it away.) She had to keep herself together.)

“Right,” she said, her voice sounding much steadier than she felt. She stepped over the fallen door and hurried to one of the stations, immediately beginning to boot it up and punching in Maven’s login information before she could second-guess herself. “Thanks. Now I just have to- It’s- um…”

Her voice trailed off as she frantically typed commands into the terminal, bracing herself against the wall without looking up even as the station shook and the holograms all flickered in unison. She was scanning the code too quickly for any normal person to follow, but she’d always been a bit of a tech-head even before she'd put in her application for engineering augmentations. (Retroactively, in some cases, not that anyone could definitively prove it.)

It was quiet for a long few minutes, Curie going silent except for the sound of her fingers pressing the keys. Then, finally, she grinned (a small, mean, victorious smile) and flicked an image up to the main display. “Aha! I knew it was in here!”

The image was a diagram, with a big circle for Eurydice and a smaller circle in the heart of the star that was shaded black. There were scrawled notes spiraling out from nearly every part of it, crawling off into the margins in smaller and smaller fractals, but Curie just pointed at the picture. Her smile faded, the joy of finding what she’d been looking for replaced by the sobering remembrance of what she was about to do.

“It… It doesn’t look like anyone’s activated it yet. I guess that makes sense. It was supposed to be a hypothetical. A failsafe, if we couldn’t figure out a way to harness her energy before she died. But… the first step was supposed to be getting Orpheus out of the way. And…” She stared at the screen in front of her, suddenly drawing her hands back from the keyboard as though it had burned her. Then, shaking her head, she typed another line, and the diagram shrank, diagnostics for the station replacing it on the blown-up screen. Her voice was quiet when she continued. “Yeah. The thrusters are down, and even if they weren’t half the station is… see, there, it’s just gone, it got hit just, super hard in the initial burst and the shields weren’t enough to stop it from getting disintegrated-”

She had to stop. She closed her eyes and clenched her hand into a fist, pressing it hard against the desk. The station rocked, and she rocked with it, knocking her shoulder roughly into the wall. She kept her eyes closed but forced her mouth to open, forced herself to tell Jupiter what she’d suspected she might have to do all along. “They’ve been feeding her extra juice for ages. If she goes supernova, she’s not just taking out Orpheus. She’s taking out most of the system. The only way to stop it is to- to invert it. I can make her into a black hole, and it’ll cut the range on her destruction.”

Finally, Curiousity opened her eyes, pinning Jupiter with her gunmetal-gray stare. Her voice was soft, almost pleading, as she asked, “Do you understand what that means?”
 
Jupiter stood frozen in the middle of the room, her breath shallow, her eyes locked onto Curiosity’s with an intensity that stripped away every false layer of confidence she had fought so hard to maintain. This wasn’t determination. It wasn’t defiance. It was fear. pure, raw, and honest. The kind that clawed at her from the inside, threatening to unmake everything she had trained herself to be.

She had always understood strategy she understood the art of calculating risk. She wasn’t particularly tech-savvy, but she was smart enough to grasp the difference between mitigation and prevention. "Cutting the range" was just a delay. Not a solution. Not salvation.


Her hands pressed against the sides of her head, fingers tangling in the strands of her hair as if she could steady herself through sheer force of will. The pressure of the situation threatened to collapse on her, but she was a soldier. She had trained for interstellar warfare, had faced the horrors of training for planetary invasions, had fought alongside J.U.P.I.T.E.R. to push back threats with her strength but this was different. This couldn’t be how it ended. It couldn’t be.

Yet, as much as she tried to stave off the creeping tide of desperation, it was winning.

Because she was here.

Worse, she was here.

Jupiter could take it, she could accept the weight of catastrophe, could resign herself to sacrifice if that was the cost of stopping the destruction. But Curie? Curiosity was never meant to be tangled in this nightmare. If she had never been stationed in this damned research center, if the greed of investors hadn’t overstepped their bounds, if their hubris hadn’t siphoned more than the fragile system could withstand, Eurydice wouldn’t be fracturing, wouldn’t be preparing to drag everything down with it.

Maybe if Jupiter had spoken up earlier, maybe if she had pushed harder, maybe if she had voiced her concerns, maybe, maybe, maybe...

Maybe.

The word hung in the back of her mind like an echo she couldn’t escape.


She forced herself to breathe and break free of the spiral threatening to consume what sanity she kept. Her eyes darted around the room, scanning, analyzing, searching. Think. She had to think. There had to be a solution. There had to be a way to stop this. Do something. Anything.

Her hands were trembling, but her feet moved, one step, then another, until she was standing before Curiosity, forcing down the doubt, the fear, the terrible weight of everything they could lose if it all went wrong.

"There has to be a way you can do this from afar," She said, forcing steadiness into her voice, though it wavered at the edges. "I thought of something, but it’s risky." She exhaled, tightening her fist until it hurt. "I can get to the bridge. They stored old maintenance automatons there. If you manage to get into their system, you could do it remotely- You could do it, right?"

She was hoping against logic, against reason. But at this point, hope was all they had left, even though she was aware the bridge was on flames, she somehow hoped that there was a chance that she could get off this hell-cube with Curie. And in the worst case scenario, at least getting Curie away
 
Seeing Jupiter come undone nearly shattered Curie’s resolve. She had never seen her friend so scared, but here they were at the end of the world (no, their world- no, her world, Curie’s world, it should never have been the end of Jupiter’s, she should never have come back-) and she looked so afraid that she had to look away, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from falling.

Jupiter’s boots were all she could see as the woman approached her. Curie wiped her eyes before looking up again, trying for a smile and finding only the faint, shaky ghost of one. Ah, fuck it. She reached out and took Jupiter’s hand, sandwiching it between her own as though if she squeezed hard enough she could funnel enough reassurance into it for both of them.

At her suggestion, a watery laugh pushed its way past her lips, sudden and stark in the tense atmosphere. The station chose that moment to shudder again, even more viciously than the last time, and she stumbled, still shakily laughing, into Jupiter, her head lightly knocking into her friend’s shoulder. Even when the shaking stopped, she stayed where she was, not minding the strange half-embrace they’d found themselves in. “I… ha, it’s okay, Jupe. I can do it from here. I just needed to hack in, but you got me in, and... yeah. It’s… I think it’s missiles, or something they put into her heart already? I don’t know. Ha… Maven would know. But he’s gone. She got him in the first wave.”

Her throat felt tight, the admission almost choking her even though she knew that Jupiter probably already knew. Or could’ve guessed. She shook her head, her skin feeling almost feverish where her forehead pressed into the side of the taller woman’s neck. Was it getting warmer in here already? Were more systems failing? How much time did they really have? “I could try to… uh, put it on a timer, or something? But I don’t know how much time… um. How much time we have. Or anyone has. And if I wait too long, or if something goes wrong, or it needs a final access code…”

She let it go unsaid, burying her face in her friend’s armor. This close, she could smell her perfume, under the metal and sweat. It was nice, she thought. Being close to her was nice. She hadn’t taken as many opportunities to do it as she wished she had, looking back on it. All they had was that one stupid night, after the party…

The last time they’d seen each other. When Curie had almost ruined everything.


Curie loved parties. Well, they loved normal parties, at least. The ‘Everything’s Going Super Splendid Over On Orpheus’ gala was so far from their usual scene it was probably orbiting another star. But hey, free booze. And they’d gotten the opportunity to both get away from Orpheus for the night and dress up a little. They’d almost forgotten what they looked like without grease smeared somewhere on their skin.

It was a relief to be on a planet again, too. Artificial gravity couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing, and it was strangely freeing to be able to just… walk outside, and see plants that were different from what grew in the greenhouse. Not to mention the sky. They missed the sky.

The gala was still in full swing, and everyone inside was schmoozing it up like there was no tomorrow, but Curie had just discovered that this place had a garden, and they were determined to explore it. They took their little plate of fancy snacks and their little flute of whatever bubbly alcohol the waitstaff was serving, and made for the doors to the garden, their blue hair and dark dress like a beacon against the shimmering gold and white of the decor.
 
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