To contain.
The distinction mattered less than the reality: she was trapped, surrounded by monsters, on a planet that shouldn’t exist under stars she didn’t recognize.
And no one—not a single soul in all the vast, cold universe—knew where she was.
2
Elsa
Warmth. Too much warmth.
Elsa’s consciousness surfaced slowly, dragging through layers of artificial heat that pressed against her skin like a living thing. Her eyelids felt heavy, sticky, as if weighted down by more than sleep. When she finally pried them open, soft blue light flooded her vision—not the harsh white of emergency lighting, but something gentler. Stranger.
The curved walls around her pulsed with faint luminescence. Runes or circuitry—she couldn’t tell which—traced patterns across the translucent surface above her, their glow rhythmic, almost hypnotic. Like watching stars flicker across a celestial map, except these stars were too close, too deliberate in their arrangement.
She tried to sit up.
Her body didn’t respond.
Panic spiked sharp through her chest. Her fingers twitched against smooth fabric beneath her, but her legs—nothing. Deadweight. The sensation stopped at her hips, as if someone had drawn a line across her body and erased everything below it.
Move. Move. Why can’t I—
The dome hissed.
Elsa’s breath caught. The curved barrier above her lifted with a whisper of pressurized air, and sterile warmth poured over her like water. The scent hit her next—antiseptic and sharp, underlaid with something organic she couldn’t place. Not quite medicinal. Not quite natural.
Her pulse hammered against her ribs.
The translucent shell retracted fully, leaving her exposed on what felt like a medical bed. The surface beneath her back was firm but yielded slightly to her weight, as if designed to cradle without confining. Blue light still pulsed from the walls around her, casting everything in shades of twilight and ice.
Get up. Find a weapon. Get out.
Elsa braced her palms against the bed and shoved herself upright. Her torso obeyed—muscles screaming in protest but functional. Her legs remained uselessly sprawled in front of her, still dressed in the torn white gown from the wedding she’d been forced to attend while her captain destroyed everything she’d charted.
She looked down at herself. The fabric was cleaner than it should have been, the worst of the ash and blood scrubbed away. Someone had tended to her. Someone had undressed her enough to clean her wounds, then dressed her again. Her space suit was gone, leaving only a damaged and frayed gown, which once used to be elegant.
The thought made her skin crawl.
Her gaze swept the room. Small. Dimly lit. Other domes lined the walls—three of them, their interiors obscured by the same translucent barrier that had just released her. Shapes inside.People. The other survivors from the escape vessel, probably, still locked in whatever healing stasis this technology provided.
A low table stood near the far wall, sleek and metallic, its surface cluttered with devices she didn’t recognize. One caught her eye—a gun-like object, all smooth lines and glowing components. Not Earth tech. Not even close. But the shape was universal enough.
Weapon.
Elsa swung her legs over the edge of the bed. They hung there, useless, but if she could just reach—
Her upper body lurched forward. Gravity took over. She pitched toward the floor, hands scrabbling for purchase on nothing but air.
Strong hands—no,paws—caught her before she hit the ground.
Elsa gasped, twisting against the grip. Thick fur brushed her bare arms. Heat radiated from the massive frame holding her upright with effortless strength. She caught a glimpse of brown streaked with gray, amber eyes narrowed in what might have been exasperation.
“Enough.” The voice rumbled low, more growl than speech. “You’ll just injure yourself again.”
The wolfman—because that’s what he was, undeniably, his muzzle close enough that she could see the flex of muscle beneath fur—lifted her as if she weighed nothing and deposited her back on the bed with surprising care. His claws clicked softly against the medical surface as he withdrew.
Elsa’s heart slammed against her sternum. She scooted backward instinctively, her useless legs dragging behind her, until her spine hit the curved wall of the dome’s base.