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  As I walk into the living room, our eyes connect in the mirror hanging over the sofa as he stares at his reflection. Unable to stop myself, I chuckle. One end of his tie hangs down about six inches too far and the other end is six inches too short.

  “Let me help you,” I say as I lay my gift on the side table. I’m not good with hair, but I can knot a tie.

  “Thanks, sweetie. Where would I be without you?” Dad says, wearing a sheepish look on his face as he unwraps the tie from around his neck.

  “Where would we be without each other?” I say as I take the strip of blue fabric from his hand. “We’re a team.”

  Dad smiles and his green eyes twinkle. His eye color is about the only physical feature I inherited from him; everything else was from Mom’s DNA. He’s six feet, two inches. I’m barely five feet, four inches. And, before his hair went nearly gray, the color was chocolate brown, unlike Mom’s and my strawberry blonde tresses.

  “Team Foster,” he says.

  “Forever. Now hold still so I can do this right.”

  He obeys, allowing me to run the tie around his neck. I make quick work of my specialty, a Windsor Knot. When I’m done, he checks himself in the mirror and straightens his charcoal-gray suit coat.

  “There, now,” I say and look him over. “Almost ready.”

  He peers down at himself. “Almost? I don’t think I can handle much more.”

  I smile and grab my red-bowed package. “I have a gift for you.”

  “A gift? I saw you brought me an apple from the arboretum. You know I love Pink Ladies.”

  “Not that.” I hold out the box. “Open it.”

  He takes it, slowly unties the red ribbon, and then removes the paper. Before he opens the lid, his lips pull into a smile. “You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

  “Dad,” I scoff. “The last ten years of your life is being realized tonight. Arrival is an important occasion.”

  “But it’s not as if you want to be here.”

  “Well, I am.” I smile. “Now open it.”

  He pries open the top and reveals the bright, ruby tie tack inside. “Wow,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. But as quickly as the smile had come, it drops from his face, and then he turns and plops onto the sofa.

  My heart plummets into my stomach. “You don’t like it?”

  Dad rubs his free hand over his face. “I love it. But tonight isn’t what I intended it to be.”

  “You mean Mom?” I carefully sit next to him and straighten my skirt. My heart aches for her to be here with us too.

  He nods. “Yes, but there’s so much more.”

  He’s referring to the horrible conference this afternoon, but I can’t breathe a word I know about it.

  Dad straightens and looks me in the eyes. “Cassi, if I teach you one thing—always follow your principles.

  “You know I do.”

  “Yes, yes,” he says. “But there are times when no one will understand your reasoning. And you’ll need to find a way to hold your ground.”

  “What do you mea—”

  Before I get the chance to finish, he taps his Connect. “Oh . . . the time is getting away. We need to go.” He grabs the tie tack from the box and pins it on. “Look okay?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” I say, still full of concern and confusion.

  He pops up from the couch and gestures me to the door. “It won’t look good if we miss the unveiling.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As soon as we enter the glistening gala hall, the on-location management team immediately descends on us. The staff members are dressed in black to blend into the background when their services are not needed anymore. Two men and one woman, with comms in their ears and tablets in hand, escort my father out of sight and to his designated place for our Skybase arrival.

  Of course, the workers don’t care about me outside of duty. A glove-clad staff member supplies me with a sparkly drink called a Grape Galaxy.

  “Take a sip,” the lady wearing a tight bun says.

  Like a good girl, I smile and sip the dark purple beverage. The thing is overly sweet and fizz shoots up my nose. But I nod at her and hold my hand in the air, indicating that I’m fine, so maybe she’ll go away.

  “Have a good time honey,” she says, and then leaves me to my own devices.

  As I watch her buzz off like a worker bee, I run my free hand over my arms. The prickly hairs stand on end. In our excitement to leave, Dad and I forgot our coats. The winter temperatures that someone is fond of keeping in this ship are more extreme than ever tonight. Yet, if I try and slip out to return to my unit, a worker dressed in black will only drag me back here, saying the unveiling will happen soon. I drop the mostly undrunk drink on a tray belonging to the first server who passes by.

  Unfamiliar, fancily dressed adults sip drinks all around me. Drinks with sillier names than Grape Galaxy that I’m sure, unlike mine, are full of more than juice and seltzer water. Everyone seems to have a lot less concerns than I do, laughing and speaking way too loudly, probably from the alcohol. Or maybe the patrons really just don’t have any worries. Human and bot servers both attend to their every need and circulate the room with trays of exotic finger foods. Gigantic floor-to-ceiling windows line the space, but the curtains are all closed in anticipation of the big reveal. The only stars we see are the twinkling lights from multiple crystal chandeliers.

  I wind my way through the jungle of tables, towering floral centerpieces, and partygoers. Finally, I spot my place card on a table and walk toward my seat, relieved. At least if I sit, I can grab a roll from the basket without anyone noticing. I can nearly taste the crusty French bread smeared in butter—

  “Cassiopeia Foster,” a deep voice says from behind, drowning out the chatter and ruining my chances at a roll. “I was hoping to run into you.”

  Disappointed, I spin around to see who’s calling me. It’s not like I really know anyone on the ship except Dad and few of his associates. A tall boy, almost a man really—since I’m pretty sure he’s older than I am—stands about five feet away. His wavy brown hair falls over his forehead and casually across his left eye, though I can still see shades of blue peeking through the strands.

  “Do I know you?” I ask, fully aware I’ve never seen him in my life.

  He struts toward me, hand extended. “No, we haven’t met yet. I’m Luca Powell.”

  I smile sweetly and assume the role I’m here to play tonight: supportive daughter of Richard Foster. Without hesitating, I take his hand and give it a firm shake and look him in the eye.

  He grins and releases my grip. “Confidence. I like that.”

  “My father taught me well.”

  “I’m sure he did,” he says as he stares at me.

  I cross my arms over my chest, not sure of what to do with my hands from the utter lack of pockets in my formal gown. “So, Mr. Powell,” I say and glance around at the other patrons. “You’re a bit younger than the rest of the crowd. What are you doing at the Gala?”

  He chuckles. “I know what you’re thinking. I must be some rich guy’s son who bought his way into the party.”

  “The thought did cross my mind.”

  Luca puffs up slightly. “Well, you’d be wrong. My family didn't even come here with me and I worked my way into this position. You’re staring at the newly inducted assistant to President Hammond.”

  My throat tenses. Hammond? If he’s Hammond’s assistant, this guy must know about the rift between her and my dad. Maybe she sent him to be friendly just to get information on me. Especially after this morning.

  “Oh?” is all that comes out of my mouth.

  “Yeah.” He leans in close, smelling of spicy cologne. My nose tickles worse than it did from the fizzy Grape Galaxy. “I was thinking, since your father is high ranking and I’ll be taking on more responsibility when we reach Arcadia, you and I should be friends.”

  Hammond definitely sent him to spy on me, or maybe even to keep me in line.

  “I . . . I
’m sure you’re going to be very busy. Too busy for someone like me.” My mind spins with possible ways to make an exit, but none of my ideas end in success.

  “Ms. Foster?” a new male voice comes from my left.

  “Yes?” I say, a little too quickly. Another boy my age, dressed in black attire like the crew, a color now representing my salvation. He’s shorter than Luca with spiky, dark blond hair and gray eyes. I know nothing about him, either. But, I’m pretty sure he’s not another one of Hammond’s assistants, so I already like him better.

  “We’re about to arrive and I’ve been requested to escort you to your position,” the boy in black says.

  “My position?”

  The boy shifts on his feet. “Yes, Miss.”

  I glance at Luca, and he nods as if I should go. “Maybe we could meet up later and visit the observation deck to get a better view of the planet.”

  “Um . . . I’m not sure—”

  The blond boy taps on his tablet. “I can see Miss Foster’s schedule is quite full tonight.”

  It is? What does he know that I don’t? I strain to get a peek at his screen, but he drops the device to his side before I get a chance. Anyway, at this point, I don’t care what’s on the screen, since whatever is there is rescuing me from Hammond’s assistant.

  “Maybe another time, Mr. Powell,” I say as the boy guides me away. But I really hope he never accepts the invitation.

  “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other,” he says. “And it’s Luca.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I mumble.

  The second boy leans into me once we’re out of range. “You know . . . you should’ve just told him you didn’t want to meet him on the observation deck.”

  I chew my lower lip. “It was that obvious?”

  He chuckles lightly. “Oh, I’m certain Mr. Powell was oblivious to it. He’s too busy trying to work his way up the food chain. But me? I have a talent for hearing between the lines.” My savior turns to me slightly, and his lips quirk into a sweet smile. “I’m Max—Max Norton.”

  I grin. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Cassi—but I guess you already know.”

  “Yes,” he answers, his smile shifting from sweet to amused. “It was on the schedule.” He leads me to a row of ten empty chairs. Beside the seating gallery is the podium where Dad will make his speech during the unveiling. “Here we are.”

  “But no one is here yet,” I say.

  “They will be in five minutes or so, and you needed an out. I gave you one.” He gestures to the first seat.

  But I don’t sit. Instead, I catch Max’s upper arm. “Think you could stay with me until then? In case Mr. Powell comes back?”

  He taps his tablet screen to bring up the time. “Sure, I don’t have anything else to do.” He raises his eyebrow.

  He probably has a million things to do, but right now I don’t care. I’m short on friends around here, and Max seems like a safe bet.

  “So . . . how do you like your job on the . . . event management team?” I ask.

  Max shrugs. “It’s a temp job. A buddy pulled me in for the night. Most days, I help escort Board members and other big wigs to meetings. Kind of like security, but not quite so important. I’m really more like a tour guide.” He leans in. “You’d be surprised how loose people are with information around me, though. You’d think I was invisible.”

  Curiosity at his words creeps up on me, but I remain silent when a lady in a tall hat passes by where we stand. She takes her place in the row of chairs. It must be almost time to begin. I lean toward him and keep my voice down. “Like what?”

  “Oh, mostly news of how the installation is going well on Arcadia. But, as I said, I’m good at hearing between their words. And then there’s the tension.” Max puts his finger to his ear as if he’s listening to instructions in his comm.

  “Tension?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” he mumbles, but I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or to the person in his comm. “Your father is coming out for the presentation in one minute. Would you mind taking your seat, Miss Foster?”

  So, there are more influential people than just Dad who disagree with Hammond. Or, at least, have tension with her.

  I nod, but wish we had more time to talk.

  “Thanks for helping me,” I say.

  “No problem. Enjoy the show.” Max smiles, and I can only hope this isn’t the last time I run into him. He gives me hope that maybe Arcadia won’t be so bad.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” a man announces over the sound system, and the room hushes. “Please take your seats. We are about to begin.”

  I turn and watch Max hurry away. The gathering of people mostly stop their conversations while they locate their assigned chairs around the dining tables. I lower myself into my seat in the special row, next to the older woman in the tall hat who had breezed past me just a minute ago.

  She leans over to me as I sit. “The party is so exciting, dear.”

  Politely, I nod and fold my hands in my lap over the ripples in my puffy silk skirt. The rest of the “big wigs”—as Max called them—file into the row, making me feel distinctly out of place. Hammond, dressed in a sequined blue gown, takes her seat at the opposite end of me. But, when Dad steps onto the stage, looking handsome in his suit and still wearing the ruby tie tack, I let out a breath and relax.

  The patrons erupt into thunderous applause.

  Dad smiles and holds his right hand up to quiet the crowd. “I’ll make my speech short because I’m fully aware it’s not my face you’re here to see this evening.”

  The gathering lets out a low chuckle at his joke.

  “Thank you for joining me. I’ve anticipated this moment for the last decade, and there were days I thought our arrival might never come,” he says. “But it has. While you were enjoying hors d’oeuvres and drinks, we very quietly dropped out of lightspeed and arrived at our new home.”

  Dad raises his hand high in the air. As if by magic, the floor-to-ceiling curtains fall and reveal a spectacular view of a blue and green planet flanked by two moons. A haunting mist of glowing cyan fogs over the globe.

  Chills rush through my body. The crowd, including myself, releases a collective gasp.

  “Welcome to Arcadia,” Dad says. “The salvation of the human race.”

  Chapter 3

  “ Why do I need to go down to the surface with you today? I can always go when the rest of the passengers do,” I say to Dad as he leads me down the brightly lit white corridor toward the Skybase connector bay. “There’s nothing for me to do except follow you around, cutting ribbons and stuff.”

  He gives me a look peppered with frustration. “Cassi, everything is a ceremony around here, and the passengers can’t begin disembarking until the Board and higher-ups, such as myself and you, make the journey first.”

  I scoff. “It’s not as if there aren’t workers already down there. They’ve been building the city for two years already.”

  Dad tips his head and reaches into his jacket pocket, feeling for something but pulling nothing out. “You’re just nervous.”

  Iciness from the corridor settles over me and I pull my sweater in a little tighter.

  Seeing the planet last night was incredible, I’ll admit that. But I want to tell him I’m just not ready to go down there without Mom. On the ship I at least feel like I don’t actually have to face a new life that doesn’t have her in it. I brush her gold band on my finger. This is all too final.

  “But Mom—”

  “Mom is why I’m so excited today.” Dad’s face softens, and he immediately stops walking and pulls me into an embrace. “There’s something about Arcadia that brings me closer to her,” his voice cracks with emotion. “When the curtain fell last night, I saw our dream right in front of me. It was as if your mother was standing right at my side, cheering me on, and supporting me.” He pulls back. “This planet is everything. Everything, Cassi. And I need you by my side to help everyone see there’s so much more to Arcadia th
an we’re even aware of. I know you don’t understand yet. But you will. So we need to get down there. You’re going to love it.” His eyes sparkle in a way I haven’t seen for over a year.

  Confusion stirs in me. How would (could?) he know this for sure? This will be his first trip to the surface, too.

  I nod and reach for his hand. “I’m with you, Daddy.”

  He smiles and gestures us forward.

  When we arrive at the docking bay, a sizable group of anxious patrons wait to transfer onto the Skybase. After that, we’ll board a transport ship and descend to Primaro, the lone city on Arcadia. I’ve seen all the photos and videos, and everything about the planet should be amazing. Each building is meant to mimic and blend into the existing nature to maintain the appearance that the planet is untainted by humans. Eventually, humans will expand over the surface; but Dad believes keeping everything contained is the smart thing to do until we learn more about how to successfully live on Arcadia. It was one of the few points of little contention between him and Hammond. But that was likely only because his plan kept costs down more than anything else. Hammond is a stickler for a budget. Not that anyone can fault her for that.

  “Quite a crowd,” Dad says.

  From the number of multicolored jewels, gold, and expensive fabrics worn by the majority of the patrons, I know these people are the richest of the rich. They bought first dibs for the privilege of setting foot on the ground before any of the other passengers.

  But then I see Hammond make her way to the front of the assembly and my excitement fizzles out. In contrast to the sequined dress she wore at the Gala, she’s now dressed in a sharp black pantsuit and a pair of flat shoes. Her hair is pulled into a low, short ponytail. The hairstyle highlights the sharp angles of her face and pinched mouth. I glance to Dad, but he’s admiring the buffet.

  Lining the wall behind us is a massive spread of mostly untouched breakfast foods. Piles of bagels are loaded up on one end of the table, and bowls of cut and uncut fruit wait to be eaten alongside a variety of breakfast meats. The crowd’s energy is nearly electric, and I can’t help but let the excitement affect me. My mind buzzes with the activity.