Two men. One privatized space shuttle. What could go wrong?
Sebastian Paska is just a nepo-baby billionaire tech bro.
I’m the guy who makes him look good while he takes all the credit for coding our trajectory and piloting his family’s state-of-the-art (piece of junk) spacecraft.
If we crash on our way around the moon, I’ll be the one blamed for his heroic demise. Our trip around this rock had better be perfect. I need the promotion they promised.
What I didn’t expect: Sebastian is actually competent.
Regardless of how he paid for his doctorate in astrophysics, he knows his way around a joystick, and he can doublecheck my math faster than it took me to run the numbers.
When things go haywire, it’s obvious the problem is on the ground, not us. First, the ship falls out of orbit.
Then, just when I think I’ve got us back on track, I shift into a wolf for the first time in my life. Sebastian shifts, too, all calm and infuriating.
So is the voice in my head, shouting that he’s my mate
