I leaned back against the automobile and rested my head against the cool metal door. The stars were brighter than usual, at least it seemed that way. The moon was new and not polluting the sky with its light. Several satellites zipped across the expanse and I wondered briefly if they were ours, Russias, or fancifully, if they were an alien craft checking in on us. I picked out Ursa Major and Minor with ease and I could just see the edges of Cassiopeia peeking over the edge of the horizon. Jupiter and Saturn shined bright in the sky but Mars wasn’t visible and I was glad for it. It had been a long day and the only accomplishment they had to show for it was loosely organized groups of Albins and a rough plan of where to start. “Have you ever wanted to go up there? See the stars first hand?” I asked, my low voice barely above a whisper. “Why? Everything I want is right here on earth.” I dragged my gaze from the stars above. Albin leaned against the car a few inches from me—my arm warm from his radiating body heat. His gaze never left my face. “Besides,” one side of his mouth shifted into a half smile. He bent over to pluck a blade of grass from the side of the road and chewed on it as he stared at me. “I bet it’s cold as hell up there.” It was. It was what I hated most about the routine moon missions in preparation and training for Mars. I had always been cold. What was happening here? I checked the tingles running down my arms and over my legs making me feel nervous and gooey at the same time. He was nothing like my Albin—all brooding and smoldering. Well, that’s not exactly true. He had a playfulness and a sharp intelligence that were masked by his enigmatic demeanor. Which was very familiar indeed. He is not your Albin. You don’t know anything about him. None of us do. The whispers in my head came hissed through me in rapid succession. I straightened, cleared my throat and, as subtly as I could, moved away to the front of the car, and leaned against the hood.