Chapter 6

Syn woke up to the same dim LED light piercing through the darkness of the room. He blinked, disoriented for a moment, before the reality of his situation settled in. The bed beside him was empty, the sheets neatly tucked in, as if Vera had never been there at all. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and glanced out the window. The endless void of space stared back at him, cold and unyielding. Nothing had changed. He was still a prisoner, still trapped behind the force field that hummed softly, a constant reminder of his captivity.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched, trying to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. For a while, he sat there, listening intently for any sounds that might give him a clue about what was happening outside the walls of his cell. But the ship was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the engines and the occasional creak of metal. It was as if the entire crew had vanished, leaving him alone in this sterile, lifeless room.

Just as he was about to give up and resign himself to another day of boredom, the doors slid open with a soft hiss. Vera stepped inside, carrying a small stack of boxes in her arms. She looked as composed as ever, her purple hair tied back in a loose braid, her olive uniform crisp and clean. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she greeted him.

"Good morning, Syn," she said, her tone light and mocking. "Sleep well?"

Syn didn't respond, his attention immediately drawn to the boxes she was carrying. They were wrapped in colorful paper, each one adorned with a small bow or ribbon. He frowned, his curiosity piqued. "What are those?" he asked, nodding toward the boxes.

Vera's lips curved into a smile as she set the stack down on the floor just outside the force field. "Presents," she said simply. "I've been saving them for you. For the day we'd meet again."

Syn stared at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Presents? For me? Why?"

Vera's smile softened, and for a moment, the teasing edge in her voice disappeared. "Do you remember," she began, her tone nostalgic, "back when we were younger, and I was always short on money? I'd come to you, and you'd give me whatever I needed, no questions asked. I never paid you back, not once."

Syn's expression shifted as the memory came flooding back. He did remember. Vera had always been reckless with her spending, and more often than not, she'd find herself in need of a loan. And every time, Syn had handed over the money without hesitation, never expecting anything in return.

"Whenever I told you I'd pay you back," Vera continued, her voice warm with fondness, "you'd just ruffle my hair and say, 'There's no need to pay me back. Instead…'" She paused, her eyes locking onto his.

Syn's lips moved almost instinctively, the words coming out in unison with hers: "One day, when you're rich, bring me presents from every place you visit."

Vera's smile widened, and she nodded. "Exactly. I never forgot that, Syn. I took it seriously. Every time I went somewhere new, I picked something up for you. Just in case."

Syn was stunned. He had meant it as a joke, a throwaway comment to make her smile. He never imagined she would actually follow through. "I was joking," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Too late," Vera replied, her tone playful but firm. "I took it seriously. Now open them."

She pushed the stack of boxes through the force field, and they tumbled to the floor at Syn's feet. He stared at them for a moment, his heart oddly fluttering with excitement. It had been years since anyone had given him a present. He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"They're all for me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes, Syn," Vera said, her smile genuine now. "They're all for you."

Syn hesitated for a moment, then reached for the first box. It was small and lightweight, wrapped in blue paper with a silver bow. He tore off the wrapping carefully, revealing a snow globe. Inside, a tiny spaceship floated amidst glittering stars. He shook it gently, watching as the stars swirled around the ship. It was childish, maybe even a little silly, but he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes still fixed on the snow globe.

"Please don't," Vera replied, her tone teasing again. "Consider it the returns on your investment."

But Syn wasn't listening. He was already reaching for the next box, his heart racing with anticipation. One by one, he opened the presents, each one more thoughtful than the last. There was a hand-carved figurine from a distant moon, a rare book from a forgotten library, a piece of jewelry crafted by a renowned artisan. Each gift was a piece of Vera's journey, a token of the places she had been and the things she had seen.

As he opened the next box, Syn realized that his chest felt oddly light, as if a weight he hadn't even known he was carrying had been lifted. He looked up at Vera, who was still standing outside the force field, watching him with a warm smile.

A small tremor shook the entire spaceship, rattling the walls and sending a faint vibration through the floor. Syn paused, his hands still clutching the half-opened present. He knew what that tremor meant—another ship had docked with theirs. And if the tremor was that noticeable, it wasn't just any ship. It was big. Powerful. And it could only mean one thing: trouble.

Before he could fully process the implications, a voice echoed down the corridor, growing louder with each passing second.

"Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?"

The voice was sharp, demanding, and unmistakably familiar. Syn's stomach dropped. He didn't even need to see her to know who it was. Vera, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered. She leaned back on the sofa at the far end of the room, her lips curling into that mischievous smile Syn had come to dread.

"Your friends have arrived," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. She crossed her legs and rested her chin on her hand, her eyes flicking toward the door.

Syn barely reacted, his fingers idly pulling at the ribbon of a half-unwrapped gift in his hands. His mind, however, was racing, recalling every instance he had heard that voice in the past—especially the last time. He kept his back to the entrance, pretending to ignore the approaching storm. 

If he acted like he couldn't hear her. Will she ignore him and leave?