Page 41 of Galaxy Between Us

We eat a few more bites in silence before Knox puts the spoon down and grips my chin firmly.

“What is it?” he reads my expression like a book, and I cave instantly with a sigh.

Now that we’re together again, our past has been haunting me. For seven years, I shut down any thoughts of Knox, letting the world convince me that I needed to straighten up and behave like a proper Omega. Now, it’s like I’m undoing everything I was taught. It’s a mindfuck.

“The last time I saw you, Knox…you were going to BOW camp, and I couldn’t go because I’m an Omega. Space equipment isn’t built for Omegas.”

“Well, it is now. This is different,” Knox guides his hand along my cheek. “Dr. Ritza knows what she’s doing. And she knows what’s on the line if you get hurt. We’re going to space, and then we’re coming right back down to earth. That’s it. In and out. Realistically, we probably won’t see anything anyway. Technology like this still has a far way to go, but let’s just be happy we’re doing it together.”

Chapter XVIII

“Mr. Beckett,” I turn my head carefully to face the head of Comet XI’s board of directors, Alejandro Del Muendo. The man who saw my potential as a young, aspiring engineer and gave me a chance. The pride in his eyes means the world to me as I lie on the Quantum Force Transfer Station, hooked up to it like a car battery. Arius is strapped into the one beside me, being photographed for documentation and media coverage. “See you on the other side,” Mr. Muendo salutes me.

I nod as best as I can with the contraption on my head. The number of supporters who showed up for this makes me wonder if it’ll actually work. I might mentally be in outer space soon. Whatever the hell that will be like.

The room is swarmed with scientists and assistants who have been preparing for this for years. Nobody is allowed onto the platforms with the beds, but I see them all in my peripherals, observing the project. It’s a little intimidating, but I’m comforted to see Gomez among them.

Dr. Ritza said that the first thing we should do when we come back, whether it works or not, is look for a familiar face. That will allow our memory to adapt after such an accelerated journey to another timeline. With Ari in this beside me, I figured Gomez would be my anchor.

Behind the quiet chatter, I only hear my heartbeat on a nearby monitor and my heavy breaths. This has certainly distracted me from the scandal, so I can only imagine everyone else feels the same. I’d doubted this project every step of the way, but now that I’m lying here, I’m starting to feel the gravity of it.

“Knox.”

My name sounds fuzzy, projected over the noise in the room. I stare up at the high ceiling, knowing there is only one person in here who calls me by my first name.

“Ari,” I reply.

People around hush so we can communicate.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Excited.”

“Nervous?” Even from over there he can tell. I suck in a breath and let it go with a dry chuckle.

“Yeah. But I’m ready. We’ve got this.”

I wish I could hold his hand. I wonder if we’ll be together in space, our minds on the same wavelength. That would be beautiful if we could experience this together, but it might be different for the both of us. That’s why the test requires an Alpha and an Omega. Dr. Ritza will be able to assess the similarities and differences of what our brains capture while we’re under the control of the transfer station.

A speaker crackles, and many scientists move into their respective positions. My mom and dad are somewhere in a room up above, observing through a window with Ari’s parents. I know that if anything goes wrong or we show signs of distress, our mothers will shut this place down in a heartbeat.

“Alright. Testing focal lenses and ocular neuron receptors,” Dr. Ritza announces.

The bed I’m hooked up to makes a whirring noise like a computer waking up.

“Subjects, engage frequency discs.”

I pull a lever near my left hand. The machine beneath me makes promising noises, as does Ari’s.

“Closing cover slides.”

A glass dome the size of a biker helmet encloses my head with all the mechanics. My eyes follow the darting lines of the translucent screen as it scans my retinas and reads my brain functions. So far so good. The green checkmarks of stability calm my racing heart.

The transfer bed clicks and shifts, growing louder by the minute. We were warned that it can take a few hours to start up and prepare for a successful launch. Dr. Ritza’s voice is now in my ear coming through the small speaker that was inserted.

“Vision checks cleared. Subjects, brace for phase one.”

I try to relax and follow the procedure. I’m hardly worried about myself, but I hope Ari is doing alright. This is intense.