“I have a friend on Xīnjiā,” Zee offers, “but she only just graduated from the Academy and settled there six months ago. She’s got two roommates and lives in the middle of a big city. I don’t see how she’d be able to help us. I’d appreciate the chance to warn her about what’s coming, though.”
“Ditto for my uncles,” Rion says. “What about you, Nax?”
I pause in my egg scraping for a fraction of a section, then catch myself and keep going. “Uh, nope. No contacts out here. Sorry.”
Yeah, that sounds fake, but okay. I’m a terrible liar. I look back out to the group, trying to channel casual nonchalance, but Zee has me pinned with a puzzled stare. Crap.
“Really? No one?” she asks.
Damn it, I never should have told her about Malik. She’s just so easy to talk to, and with my mind on the running, it was way too easy to overshare. There is literally no way I’m going to ask my brother for help, though, especially now that I’m a wanted criminal. Probably wins the honor of my biggest screwup ever. Zee has to let me have this one.
“Nope, no one able or willing to help. What about you, Asra? Know anyone on Umoja? I’ve always wanted to go there.”
Asra taps at her tablet for a moment, and a long-view map of colonized space fades into view in the air over the low coffee table, with colonies marked in blue. “Everywhere you all have suggested so far has been too far away to be feasible in one quick jump with potentially low fuel levels, and Earth First probably has a large presence on all the official colonies,” she says. She works for a few more seconds, highlighting five rocks in red, then taps three of the red worlds and numbers them.
“The red worlds are illegal settlements that the GCC and Worlds United have either decided to ignore or haven’t found out about yet. Option number one is a changer named Serenity, but its terraforming operation was completely under the table,” she says, tapping the world to zoom in on it. “The planet took to it well, and a decent-sized population has been living there for about twenty years. That one might be the easiest to disappear on if something bad happens, since the population is bigger and more established than the other two, and it’ll definitely be easier to get clearance to land. The others are much newer.”
She taps the second planet to zoom in and bring up its information. “Number two, Tau’ri, is a natural. It’s smaller and has a good-sized main city, but they’re kind of . . . insular. We can land there if we need to, but their traffic control might take some convincing. It’s also where my ammu and sister went into hiding after they escaped, so I’d rather not draw attention to them if possible. I don’t want to lead Jace there.”
A quick gesture, and Tau’ri is replaced by planet number three. “Babylon is a bubble planet, which are personally my least favorite, and I also think they’re the most inconvenient for our purposes. We can’t guarantee that the ship will be stocked with vacuum suits, so if they refuse us entry to the dome and we run out of fuel, we’d be space junk.”
Case shudders. “I never liked the idea of bubbles. They creep me out. I always thought I’d get claustrophobic, and I know it’s completely illogical, but I keep imagining the dome cracking open and all the air rushing out. I’d prefer a natural, if possible,” she says, looking around the room as if imagining unbreathable vacuum beyond it.
“Same,” Rion says, “though I could deal with a changer, too. What about the other two worlds?” he says, indicating the two remaining red-marked bodies on the map.
“Those are a little far for a jump from here,” Asra says, “but they’re also controlled by some really nasty types. Not people I’d want to deal with, not even for honest trade. The GCC colony Valen is also in jump range, but like I said earlier, that should be a last resort.”
“Definitely,” I agree, gesturing with the hot pan of eggs as I carry it to the table. Zee studies me closely but holds her tongue.
“So, sounds like Serenity, right?” Asra asks, waving the map away. “They’ll be best able to help us if we have to come limping in. They also have a reputation for hiding people who don’t want to be found.”
I set the pan down on a folded-up towel and dish out the eggs to everyone, serving myself last. “Sounds like the perfect place to park while we work on the Earth First problem.”
Asra is shaking her head before I’m even finished, impatient for the first time. “No, I don’t think so. At most, I think we can hope to refuel and resupply, if we aren’t able to steal the fuel we need with the ship. There’s no way they’re going to let us stay once this ship gets reported stolen.”
She bites her lip. “Jace may be an awful human being, but he has power and influence in a lot of places far beyond al-Rihla. They’ll love that we did something to hurt him, but there’s no way they’ll bring his anger down on themselves by harboring us. We’ll have to either ditch the ship and buy passage back to Serenity, or pay some major money to get the ship stripped down and rebranded, from her paint job to her motherboard. In the meantime, I think our best bet is to put down only as long as we have to, then keep flying while we hunt down the Earth First devices.”
After a moment, Rion breaks the awkward, tense silence.
“These eggs suck.”
My grip tightens on the eggy spatula. I will not smack Rion in the face with it. I won’t. I . . .
I turn to him, and his face is lit with the biggest shit-eating grin, his plate clean and his mouth full of eggs. Bastard. His eyes are bright and mirthful and I can’t help it—the corner of my mouth tugs into a grin.
“You’re welcome to cook any time, mate,” I say, stressing the Britishism. We were spoiled for our first day here, having Nani’s restaurant right under our feet, but someone had to cook, and at least I bothered to learn to feed myself before leaving the Rock.
Case leans over and flicks Rion’s ear, and he yelps, clutching at it like he expects blood. I add a second scoop of eggs to my plate, shake a generous coating of pepper over them just in case they are terrible, then knock Rion with the side of my foot for good measure.
Honestly, they aren’t bad. I shovel the eggs into my mouth and swallow as fast as I can—then choke when the front door deadbolt slides open with a loud click.
My spine stiffens, and my breath stills in my chest. I fish under the table for our stash of chem guns, my heart slamming into my ribs because it’s time, it’s just time for something to go wrong.
The door cracks open—and I crumple in relief. Tahseefa, Asra’s friend, whispers into the room and offers us a kind smile. She lays a hand on Asra’s arm and a quiet conversation passes between them in Bengali. Tahseefa draws Asra up by the hand, and they scoot around the table toward the doorway.
“One second,” Asra says, and disappears into the outside hallway with her. When they return, they each carry a small shoulder bag, and they’re followed by none other than the fearsome and resilient Nani. Rion leaps up from the couch to make room for her and slides around to sit on my other side. Asra sits on the floor at Nani’s side and pulls her bag into her lap.
“Okay, everyone,” she says, throwing back the flap and digging through the bag’s contents. “Tahseefa and Nani have made our lives a whole lot easier. They’ve put together some supplies to help us out, plus the last few things we needed for our plan.”
Tahseefa brushes her thick, wavy hair out of her eyes and cuts in. “Just some medical supplies that I hope you won’t need, a bit of food, clothes, extra ammo for your chem guns. I’m happy to help however I can.”
Nani leans back on the couch and pulls her shawl around her shoulders. With her eyes firmly fixed on me, she delivers a quick and precise speech, which Asra paraphrases as, “She said if you get me killed, she’ll kill you.”
Yikes. No pressure. I swallow hard and lower my eyes. “I’ll keep everyone safe. I promise.”
Nani studies me hard, then nods. I feel like she can see right through me.
Zee pours a cup of tea for Nani from the pot on the table (it really is a compulsion f
or her, it seems) and hands it over with a frown. “Tahseefa, are you and Nani not coming with us?”
She and Asra look at each other for a moment, a pained expression passing between them, but she shakes her head and clutches Asra’s hand tighter. “No. Asra has plenty of reasons to need to leave, and I completely understand them, but they’re her reasons, not mine. I’d probably leave too, if I had her family issues, but I think I can do more good here, for now.”
“And you couldn’t pry Nani from this planet while Jace still draws breath if you tried. She’d use every weapon in that arsenal on you,” Asra adds with a wicked grin. “We’ll have to stay in touch, though. If we haven’t figured out Earth First’s plan before the deadline, we’ll come back for them.”
“Sounds fair to me.” I stretch, yanking the hem of my shirt down when it rides over my stomach, but not before I catch a few wandering glances out of the corner of my eye.
Then Case’s wandering glance lands on the wall screen, and she launches herself from the couch and scrabbles for the control.
“Unmute it!” she commands herself, searching for the right button, then jabs her finger down so the news anchor’s voice fills the room.
“—victim, Ana Velez, was found dead just after seven a.m. in the security wing of the Earth Embassy, just after the escape of recently captured suspect Casandra Hwang-Torres, who is believed to be behind the murder. Hwang-Torres was assisted in her escape by the other suspects wanted in connection with the Ellis Station attacks, Nasir Alexander Hall of the United States, Rion William Kwesi Turner, son of British member of Parliament—”
I snatch the control from Case’s hand and mute the screen. Case’s breaths are coming in short, rapid gasps, and she’s half doubled over, her arms clutched around her torso like she’s holding herself together. I wrap my arms around her, and her knees give way completely; we drop to the ground, kneeling together as a ragged scream tears itself from her throat.
“I didn’t do it!” she cries, her chest heaving against mine. “They killed her, they fucking killed her, they—”
I tighten my hold around her shoulders and deliberately slow my breaths, coaxing her to follow my lead.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry . . .”
Zee gets down on the floor and throws her arms around both of us, rubbing soothing circles on my back.
“Loosen your grip some, Nax. Breathe deep for me now, Case, that’s it. In through your nose, slowly, good, now out through your mouth, as slow as you can. Great, that’s great, now again.”
We huddle there on the floor for some unknown length of time as Zee counts Case through her breathing, with me unconsciously following along, until Case’s death grip on my shirt loosens and the panic subsides. I keep my hold around her loose and easy, run a hand up and down her arm, press my nose into her hair, and just breathe. It’s for her, of course, but for me, too; everything has been so much and having her in my arms quiets the roiling pain in my chest a bit. This is all too familiar, too close to home; it used to be Malik who got panic attacks over school stuff, but I eventually inherited my own brand of anxiety, too. Still, at least it means I know what to do for this, or what worked for me and Malik—close, quiet contact and slow, controlled breathing.
Eventually Case lets go altogether and wipes her puffy, bloodshot eyes, tears still clinging to long lashes. Her lips are swollen like she’s had a minor allergic reaction to something, and her complexion is blotchy and pale. She covers her eyes and takes one more long, shuddering breath.
“Thank you,” she says, as if surfacing from a nightmare in deep sleep. “And sorry. That hasn’t happened for a really long time.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Zee says matter-of-factly, two fingers on the pulse point at Case’s wrist. She motions for Rion to get her a glass of water and takes an offered box of tissues from Asra. “Do you have anything you can take for it?”
Case shakes her head. “It was in my bag on the station. But I’m fine now. It’s over. Just . . . give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Are you sure?” Asra asks, an eyebrow raised. “We can put it off for a few hours if you—”
“No.” Case braces herself on my shoulder and hauls herself to her feet, wavering only slightly. “Sorry, but no. We need to do this. Now more than ever, we need to do this. Besides, the longer we wait, the more time I have to psych myself out. Give me a cup of tea and something sugary and I’ll be ready to go.”
“On it,” Rion says, making a beeline for the electric kettle. “If there’s one thing I’m good for in a crisis, it’s making tea. It’s in my DNA.”
Him and Zee both. That gets a small smile from Case, and something unwinds a bit in my chest at the sight. She really will be okay.
Once she has her tea and a pile of what Rion insists on calling biscuits, and Tahseefa has left to escort Nani home, Case does actually seem to bounce back. She conjures up a faint, watery smile for Asra and says, “Hey, you know what we all need right now? Show us our pretty ship again. The one that’ll be ours in . . .” She checks her tab. “One hour and twenty-eight minutes?”
Hah, I knew she was a fellow aerosexual. Hot. Who can resist a ship like that?
Asra winks at her. “You got it. One Breakbolt Mark III, coming right up.”
She grabs her tablet and brings up the same image she showed us earlier this morning, what feels like a lifetime ago. The ship rotates slowly in the air above the coffee table, all lovely curving lines and sleek aerodynamics. She’s beautiful.
Still, everyone looks about ready to throw up their eggs from nerves, me included. This whole thing is actually happening. We’re stealing yet another ship on the other side of the galaxy on the word of a girl we barely know. Completely ridiculous.
And yet . . . also kind of awesome. A foolish grin spills onto my face, despite everything, and when I look around at the others, each person meets my smile with one of their own. Case’s is small but determined; Rion’s is wide and sincere; Zee’s is reserved, with something like pride as she looks around the circle.
And Asra? Her face glows with the kind of wondrous joy born of hope.
We’re ready. As ready as we’re going to be.
“Okay. We should move to our staging ground, get dressed, and go through this whole plan as many times as we can. Let’s grab our stuff and get out of here.”
“Aye, Captain,” Rion says, and the circle dissolves into bustling preparation and last-minute showers and bathroom runs.
This whole thing is cracked. Way dangerous; god, I know it is. We have to trust one another. We each have to execute our roles perfectly. Grenades flying, weapons firing, beefy security guys . . .
I hope everyone’s trust in my piloting isn’t misplaced. I hope I don’t screw this up like I did the landing. I hope we all live. I hope I’m up to this.
I take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I say, my hand on the door controls. “Let’s do this.”
Ten
“IS THIS THING STILL WORKING okay?” Rion asks, turning to face me in the darkness. I squint; the facechanger is projecting well, but there’s a tiny glitch, a gap in the textures right over his left cheekbone.
“Something’s blocking it a little bit, right here,” I say, brushing a finger over the spot. “Let me—”
I reach out and tug at his collar, tucking it away from the tiny projector on his jaw and pinning it with a black safety pin. The texture over his cheek evens out, and he’s fully someone else. Still tall, still black, still handsome (focus, Hall), but his eyes are a different shape, a new shade of brown. His nose is crooked now, and his mouth slips into an unfamiliar smirk.
“Better now,” I say, and finally remember to step back out of his space. Way to be awkward. “How about me?” I ask, to cover up my blunder, presenting each side of my face for inspection. A last-minute check can’t hurt.
“I like the other one better,” Rion says, his grin widening, reaching out t
o cover the primary projector on my chin.
We’ve only known each other for a short time, but seeing someone else’s grin on his face is weirdly disconcerting. I avert my eyes and bite back a smile. “Thanks, I think?”
“You’re welcome. But seriously,” he says, covering each projector in turn. “I didn’t notice before we left, but I think your facechanger might be broken. It’s like this one here on your cheek is projecting a different face than the rest.”
Asra appears from nowhere and snatches my tablet from my pocket without warning. “You probably damaged one of the projectors when we were running away from Nani’s. That one’s not communicating properly with the app anymore. We’ll just have to find a face setting where it’s not as noticeable.”
She and Rion stand back as she cycles through the options. Then they both wince.
“That’s the one,” Asra says.
“There’s definitely . . . plenty to distract from the inconsistency,” Rion adds, his disguised nose wrinkling in distaste.
I scowl. “What, am I hideous now?”
“Let’s call it distinctive,” Rion said.
Ouch. If I’m getting the diplomat-level tact, it must be bad.
I cast a quick glance around to check on Case and find her fiddling with her facechanger’s settings. She seems to be doing much better, and though I wish we could take more time to let her come down from it all, we don’t have the luxury of time. I watch her for a moment longer, then grab the bag Asra gave me for part one of our plan.
It has the few items I deemed worthy of making the trip out into the black: a share of the food and clothing Tahseefa supplied us, a portable charger. The tab synced to my facechanger goes in my right front pocket, tucked carefully away in case I need to mess with the settings again. Rion grabs his pack, too, and we head for the front room, the others following behind.
We’re hidden away in an abandoned second-floor apartment one block from Jace’s compound. It’s just after midnight thirty, which means we have about five minutes before go time. Case shifts from foot to foot, her eyes closed, her lips moving. Probably reviewing maps of the compound in her head. Zee puts a hand on her shoulder, and some of the tension bleeds out of Case’s posture. Good; she seems to be recovering well, all business and laser-tight focus. Something about compartmentalizing techniques, she said.
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