The station’s hum follows me to my living quarters, where I drop onto my bed and cross my arms over my eyes to block the light. It’s eleven-thirty in the morning. So early, and I’ve already hit a mental wall. Captain Blitner stopped my momentum. I’ll be stuck with him four hours a day. I don’t mind the work, I mind working with him. We didn’t speak except for when he asked for water or checked if I had questions. Other than that, I heard only the eerie, constant hum of the station. The hum deadens my thoughts. The supernova, the observatory, the Perihelids, Belvun, Ladia… They all drift away, and I soon follow.

I wake up more exhausted than I began. My stomach is growling, so I coax myself up and go to Floor 10. In the food court, I sit by myself. Michael and Ellin are nowhere to be found. Glacia isn’t here either. Nobody asks to sit with me and I don’t offer to share the table.

Afterward, I aimlessly explore the station to kill the spare time between now and dinner. The lower living quarters arranged differently than the upper ones, branching into a maze of halls and private wings. The Medical Bay is free of patients, as I expected it would be. Doctors tap on panels or examine holographic diagrams of various organs, limbs, or cell bodies. I leave before my stomach turns queasy.

I pass Captain Crowe in the Engineering Sector of Floor 7, but he’s heading to his lab and doesn’t have time to talk. The labs on Floor 5—where Officer Remmit works—are sealed shut. I can hear the muffled sounds of conversations behind some doors. At one point, three people carrying data orbs rush from one room to another without even glancing at me.

The fitness center on Floor 4 is more crowded than I imagined it would be. Officer Remmit wasn’t kidding when he said exercise was necessary out here. People take it seriously. Almost every machine is occupied, and dozens of people run around the track down the hall. Even the pool is occupied to capacity. Small waves lap over the edges and run into drains. I’ll have to make an exercise routine. If nothing else, it’ll help pass the time.

Compared to the fitness center, the docking platforms aren’t crowded. Here and there, a group of officers and pilots inspects a Molter, and up in the control area, several engineers are gathered around a panel. Their voices reach me, but I can’t make out any words.

I leave and try to access the military levels, but don’t have clearance without an escort. Instead I walk the length of the hall to the front of the station and—rather than taking an elevator—climb the ramps all the way to Floor 14.

Bad idea.