Suppressing an impulse to look back over her shoulder for one last glimpse of her father, Deirdre stepped carefully along the curving tube that connected the Chrysalis II habitat to the fusion ship. She could feel her pulse thumping along her veins. Chrysalis II was all the home she had ever known. She was heading into the new, the unknown. It was exciting—and a little scary.

The tube felt warmer than she was accustomed to. Its walls glowed softly white, as if fluorescent, with a spiral motif threading along its length. The flooring felt slightly spongy to her tread, not hard and solid like the decks of the habitat. She knew it was her imagination, but somehow she felt slightly heavier, as if the docked torch ship had a stronger gravity field than the habitat she was leaving.

She heard the airlock hatch clang shut behind her and a moment later the crabby-looking little ship’s officer scurried past her without speaking a word and disappeared around the curve of the tube. He’s not very friendly, Deirdre thought.

When she got to the end of the tube he was standing there, by the ship’s gleaming metal airlock, glaring at her with obvious impatience.

“Embarkation desk,” he said, jabbing a thumb past the hatch.

Deirdre stepped through the open hatch into a compartment of bare metal bulkheads, not much bigger than a closet. There were three ordinary-looking doors set into the bulkhead opposite her. She hesitated, not sure of which door she was meant to take.