The massive circular anchor enclosed a piece of space that didn’t match the surroundings. It bulged out, darker than the space outside the anchor’s circumference. The anchor’s green glow visually assured me that we were on the correct approach. Wormholes appeared spherical, but going through one at the wrong angle wouldn’t do anything at all.

The anchors stabilized the wormholes and made micro-adjustments to ensure ships would be put on the correct course to traverse the path to the other side. They also controlled traffic flow. No one knew what would happen if two ships collided in a wormhole’s interior—or if it was even possible—but ships had collided at the entry and exit points, with devastating results.

I confirmed our course and the anchor put us in the holding pattern. Only two ships were ahead of us. A few minutes later, Lotkez entered the pattern directly behind Starlight. Torran’s ship wasn’t going to let us get too far out of sight, which I supposed was for the best if they were our ticket to Valovia.

Luna stalked into the room, her tail bristling. I’d left the door open for her. I didn’t know how she knew we were close to a wormhole, but she always did—and she didn’t like it. She jumped into my lap and burrowed against my stomach.

I ran a soothing hand down her back and whispered nonsense to her. Truth be told, I appreciated her company. Usually Eli and Kee would be on the bridge with me when we traversed a wormhole. It wasn’t dangerous, per se, but it carried more risk than open space.

The first ship ahead of us had just disappeared from Starlight’s sensors when I heard the intentional scuff of a boot on the deck. I turned to find Torran standing in the doorway. His face was set in harsh lines of tension.

I frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “May I enter?”

I waved him in and pointed at the empty comm terminal. “You are welcome to use that station for the duration of our contract. The terminal is set to read-only and access is logged.”

Torran nodded and settled into the chair. He glanced at the screen, but he didn’t relax.

“How is Havil?” The medic hadn’t been back in his room when I’d checked on the rest of the crew.

“He’s recovered. He has returned to his bunk until dinner.” His tone did not invite further conversation.

Luna raised her head and chirruped at him. When he didn’t respond, she stood and stretched. She sent me a lingering wave of affection, then left my lap—unheard of, this close to a wormhole—and jumped onto the comm terminal.