Our conversation dies down, so Orcher suggests we all leave since he’s giving me and Captain Blitner the day off. We say our goodbyes, and then I go to the food court for an early lunch. After that I go back to my room and change for the fitness center. Not many people are here today—maybe because most people eat lunch now—so I run on a treadmill. I push myself to run three miles. The effort exhausts me, and I taste blood in my throat. When I step off, my head swims and nausea floods my stomach. My entire body goes weak, and it’s all I can do to not throw up on the spot.

I eat dinner with Orcher and Victoria and Officer Remmit. As we’re finishing, I see Michael and Ellin walk into the food court, and like always, they sit at the table against the far wall.

Before Orcher returns to the Bridge, I ask him if it’s okay that I might show up late tomorrow morning because Glacia and I want to meet after her shift. He gives me permission and tells me to notify Captain Crowe.

I go to bed early, but it does nothing. I can’t stop thinking about her, especially hugging her. Not even two days have passed, yet I have this urge, a desire to touch her again. It plays over and over in my head: Captain Fallsten humiliating her in front of all the officers at Michael’s conference, and the way she was mumbling to herself when she walked into her private hall. The way she looked at me when I said her name. Pieces of her were missing, pieces that she should never have to lose. Her spark, her bounce, her smile. The life in her eyes. All of it was gone.

When I wake up, my eyes hurt. I barely slept. It was after one o’clock when I last checked the time, and now it’s five-thirty. A rush of nausea prevents me from moving for several minutes, probably from how much I ran yesterday.

After I shower, I drink some water to settle my stomach. It makes the raw tension in my throat go away, but that’s it.

I walk to Floor 10 at six o’clock and lean against Glacia’s door. She should be back any minute. I close my eyes and lean my head back to ease the spinning. It feels good to arch my neck and clench my jaw and breathe. It holds the nausea at bay. Sleep creeps up on me, my head tilts forward—

—and I jolt up in shock, just as the door to the main hall opens. Glacia walks in, eyes red from working all night, her movements clumsy.

“Let me change.”

She disappears inside her room, leaving me alone with the station’s hum. It feels like a long time before her door slides back again.

“Come on in, mister.”