“Court?!” I call out, panicked. He needs a doctor. My baby brother needs a doctor. His face is losing color fast.
“MykalMykalMykal,” Stork says in a staggered breath. “I can’t die.”
Franny snatches up the ax and hurries to me. “Mykal, your ankles.”
I show her the clamps, and she swings and breaks the metal lock.
Freeing me completely.
Court is checking on Zimmer. The skinny Fast-Tracker moans and coughs up a bit of water. I think they were drowning him in the bathtub. He assesses him before going to Stork.
Someone will be needing to carry Zimmer. I pick myself off the ground, my bones shrieking. My hand hurts the worst. I reach Zimmer, and with aching muscles, I heave him up in my arms.
“They’ll wake up soon,” Franny reminds us, her eyes darting to each of the fallen Romulus cadets. Strewn limply around the suite.
They’re all Saltarian. Nothing can kill them. Not even sea glass to the throat.
“We have to get out of here,” Court agrees as he rips a blanket off the bed. He bends and ties it around Stork’s gnarled wound. Franny looks to Stork’s severed arm, the one lying detached on the ground.
“Leave it.” Stork groans as Court helps him stand.
“Are you sure?” Franny wonders. I imagine she’d carry it for him. For however far and however long. She’d do that. I know she would.
“Leave it,” Stork repeats. “Let’s go.”
The five of us step out into the hallway, and just as we move toward the stairwell, the door bangs open. Kinden sprints with intense urgency. Like he’s been searching for us. We turn back to follow him, and he waves his hands. “Not this way!”
Hurriedly, Padgett and Gem emerge from the stairwell behind him, and the sisters slam the door shut. Boots thud on the stairs like a roaring army. The Soarcastle sisters must’ve been able to break into that electronic drawer because a slim keycard is pinched between Kinden’s fingers.
Quickly, with the master keycard, we’re able to open the nearest vacant suite, and we all slide inside. Kinden locks the door behind all eight of us.
My pulse is racing and my arms ache with Zimmer’s weight. Our silence is strained with panting and heavy breathing. Padgett removes a mechanical cube from a satchel on her hip. I recognize it instantly. It’s the device that she and Gem had been tinkering with and creating back in the barge. She presses the cube against the small sliver of space where the door meets the wall. It makes a whirring sound and locks in place. No one had bothered to question what they’d been building.
But it’s looking useful.
“What is that?” Court asks.
“A better lock,” Gem says with a grin and a nod.
“But it won’t last long,” Padgett tells us.
The footsteps grow louder and then someone starts banging on the door. The suite is small. Four walls. One door. Rushing to the window, I look out at the city below. My stomach sinks.
Hundreds of Romulus cadets are storming the entrance to the hotel. Others barricade the building, pushing back people from getting too close.
It doesn’t take long to realize …
We’re trapped.
FORTY
Franny
Court, Stork, and I don’t have time to explain what happened in the hotel suite. Time travel. Zima. We’re running out of seconds. The eight of us fall into tense silence, all of us thinking of an exit. An escape. And maybe even coming to terms with what might actually happen.
We’re going to die on Saltare-1. Court, Mykal, and I. We’re going to die here, and our friends will be sent to a fate even worse than death. A prison out in the middle of the ocean. To serve a lifetime sentence.
And this baby … my baby …
I’m not sure what will happen to her. I think that scares me the most.
The air isn’t nippy, but my skin chills and sinking dread heavies me. Court carefully passes Zima to me, and I hug her close to my chest. She reaches up with her tiny hands like she wants to grab my nose.
She’s mine. And Stork’s.
It hasn’t sunk in yet. I don’t know when it will.
“They’re everywhere,” Padgett says, angling her head to the window. “We’re blocked in.”
Gem has gone pale at the sight of Stork. He’s drenched in blood, eyes fluttering. The sight of blood has never made me queasy, but my belly twists seeing him in such agony.
Court quickly tends to Stork’s wound, trying to tie the blanket tighter. Stork grimaces and lets out a low yell between his teeth. His reddened eyes catch mine and then drop to the baby. When he looks up at me again, he mouths ours.
Ours.
She’s ours.
Tears sting my eyes.
“I can … stand,” Zimmer says weakly.
Mykal keeps Zimmer in his arms. “Not yet. You’re barely even speaking the words.” He has immeasurable grit and an iron-willed heart, and even drenched in sweat, muscles strained and aching, even with a broken hand—Mykal is able to hold another person upright.
The noise outside becomes caustic. Banging. Sawing. “OPEN UP!” someone screams.
“We can’t go through the window,” I say. “So what else is there?”
“Maybe we can reach the roof?” Kinden offers a solution, staring up at the suite’s ceiling. “There has to be a way up.”
“Or we can use her,” Padgett says pointedly, eyes on Zima.
Court follows her gaze and nods. “She’s teleported me once. She could do it again. But we need to be touching.”
The eight of us huddle together. I’m in the middle, holding the baby, and everyone has at least one hand or finger on me. Stork’s good arm is thrown over Court’s back, and I can feel Stork’s weight like I’m carrying it myself. All along my shoulders.
Stork’s fingers lightly brush the top of my head.
“Okay.” I breathe and glance down at the baby. “You can teleport us now.”
She yawns and then smacks her lips.
Fyke.
Kinden glares. “She’s useless. This is a waste of time.”
“Give her a second,” I snap.
“Take us to Earth,” Stork tells our daughter. “Please.”
“Wait.” Padgett frowns deeply. “We voted. We have to find her parents first.”
“We already did,” Court replies.
Zimmer tries to keep his eyes open. “They’re allowing us to take her?”
“Yeah, they are,” Stork says, looking at me.
Wood splinters, the door cracking, and the voices on the other side become clearer. “All eight of them are in there, sir.” Light streams underneath the frame.
Panic bubbles, and we all fixate harder on the baby in my arms. Come on, Zima. I don’t know how her abilities work exactly, but we have no other solutions.
“Court, you should ask her,” I tell him. The baby was fond of Court in the future, and maybe she’ll only listen to him.
Court takes a tight breath. “Little one,” he says in his softest voice, which isn’t very soft at all. “Teleport us to Earth.”
My world spins.
Everything around me swirls and dizzies like blood rushes from my head too quickly. It’s a worse sensation than coming down from a Juggernaut high. I blink hard a few times, trying to right myself. Warm light illuminates harsh steel walls.
Gods, this isn’t right. Earth can’t be made of metal.
“Bloody hell,” Stork murmurs as he looks around. “She teleported us inside a ship.”
He’s right.
Lights flash on the dashboard, and I recognize the two-person cockpit. The entire starcraft layout is what I memorized all those months ago at StarDust. It looks exactly like the Saga, which is back on the Lucretzia in the docking bay. While not Earth, that’s the second-best place she could have teleported us.
“We’re on the Saga,” Kinden says, thinking the same as me.
“No,” Court refutes. “Look.” We all follow his gaze to the tinted
windshield. Outside are hundreds of parked starcrafts, the sun radiating on the vessels.
We’re on a launchpad, and as ocean slaps against cement and the Romulus crew crowds around battlecrafts, my stomach sinks.
We’re still on Saltare-1.
* * *
After we look around, we come to the conclusion that this starcraft is the same layout as the Saga, only an updated model. Gem pops up the database on the MEU station, and we learn that it’s called the Nebulus. A smaller battlecraft that has a retractable third cockpit for weaponry.
We’re parked toward the middle of the launchpad, but we can’t easily fly out. There are too many Romulus crew walking around, and near them are massive artillery starcrafts. If they caught a rogue battlecraft starting up the thrusters, we’d be immediately blown to bits.
The best we can do is wait until night falls and the crew go to sleep. When the launchpad is clear, we’ll fly the Nebulus away from Saltare-1.
It’s a solid plan.
But Court hates waiting, and I feel the tense, nervous frustration like it’s my own. After we change into the clean StarDust shirts and slacks onboard, we agree to be as quiet as we can and take seats on the ground for extra precaution.
I find a comfortable, quiet spot near the extra jumpchairs and storage compartments. With a clear view of Court and Mykal at the MEU station, I watch them whisper quietly to one another.
Court has Zima tucked to his chest, since she quiets the most in his clutch. And he already bandaged Mykal’s broken hand. With his good one, Mykal threads his fingers through Court’s thick brown hair.
I can feel the soft strands like Mykal’s fingers are my fingers. Court nearly smiles, and those sinking, nervous feelings suddenly lighten.
The three of us are lifebloods, but I know what they share goes beyond this connection. It’s something more, and no matter what happens, I’m so deeply happy for them.
My eyes well and lips begin to rise.
Across from me, Zimmer and Stork are murmuring, too hushed for me to hear. We found the med kit onboard, and Stork seems more content now with medicine. He leans into Zimmer’s shoulder and breathes deeply.
I turn my focus to Gem and Padgett. Near the captain’s chair, they both flip through a paper emergency manual for the Nebulus. I’m unsure what would have happened if they hadn’t come along. If we’d even make it this far.
They were here to prove something to the world, and I don’t know if Earth will understand the enormity of what they did. But I do. And if I live through all of this, I vow to make sure they’re in Earth’s history books.
“Franny,” Zimmer hisses, humor dotting his eyes. I’m not sure what they’ve been whispering about, but by the raise of Stork’s brows, I know it’s either going to embarrass me or unnerve me. Or both.
Zimmer says, “You and Stork bedded each other in the future, and you weren’t going to tell me?”
Well … Stork told him about the baby.
My face roasts. “I think the more important takeaway is that there’s time travel in the future,” I point out.
Stork wears a wry smile. “Can you not imagine it, dove?”
He means us bedding each other.
And I can picture that. We’ve already kissed. I’ve imagined more.
Which is why the baby doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always been drawn to Stork, and now knowing our histories, there is so much more that has existed between us. It’s as though we’ve been wrapped around one another from the very start. As though we were intertwined by the gods.
And even if we never met, if I had died on Saltare-3 like I was supposed to, we’d still have this unseen string, tying us together.
But I dodge his question by saying, “Time travel, yes, I can imagine it.”
He licks his lips into a wider grin. “I meant bedding me.”
“I know what you meant,” I say hotly.
Zimmer stares around the starcraft like he’s trying to etch each face into his memory. His lips lift, and I wonder if he thinks this is the greatest adventure a die-hard Fast-Tracker ever took.
“Did Stork tell you her name?” I ask Zimmer.
Stork wipes sweat off his brow. “I left that part for you, dove.”
Zimmer meets my gaze with a deep frown. “What’s special about her name?”
“In the future,” I tell him, my heart swelling. “We named her Zima.”
Zimmer’s eyes glass and he wears the largest grin I’ve ever seen. One that dimples his cheeks and fills me whole.
Even in the future, however much time passed since Zimmer died, we loved him enough to name our daughter after him.
That means something.
A tear slides down his cheek. “Never thought for a single day that I’d have a legacy,” he whispers. “Those are for Influentials, you know.”
I know.
I nod strongly and he wipes at his cheeks. “Also, what gods-forsaken reason could you have not just called her Zimmer? It’s a better name.”
We laugh and cry and I do something I shouldn’t do. Something so irrational that no one ever thinks it.
I still don’t know the day Zimmer will die, but I pray to the gods to give him more time.
FORTY-ONE
Court
An hour passes and the crew still haven’t left the landing port. I fear they’re never going to leave.
But I’m trying not to think that way. Because if this is truly the last few hours I have with Mykal, I won’t spend them horribly focused on surviving. I’ve survived enough.
I just want to start living again.
He makes a silly face at the baby, and she quietly blows spit bubbles at him. Mykal glances up to meet my gaze. We simply look at one another for a long moment. Sharing emotions, passing them back and forth.
Love flows between us like a featherlight wind. Soft. Tender. And then strong all at once. He smiles into a crooked grin and whispers, “For as long as we live, never stop looking at me that way.”
“I’ll never stop,” I promise.
He leans forward and cups the back of my head. Our lips find each other in a kiss. When we break apart, I spot my brother nodding from the other side of the room. Alone. He’s kept his eyes on the windshield all night, waiting for the perfect moment to leave.
“Go.” Mykal nudges me forward.
I cradle the baby in my arms as I leave, not wanting to pass her along and risk her crying.
When I reach Kinden’s side, he shifts his gaze off the windshield. I sit beside him and tell him something I should have said long ago. “Thank you,” I breathe. “For staying by my side. All this time.”
He wears a rich smile. “There is no better way to spend my long life.” He stares at me like he can see right through me. He used to do that when we were young.
I wait for his unbridled honesty. I yearn for it.
After he places a hand on my shoulder, he says, “I don’t think they’re going to break you anymore, little brother.”
Tears gather. In both our eyes.
“They won’t,” I agree. There’s strength deep inside me. I’ve been trying to reach it for so long, and I’m finally grasping it. Pulling it free.
Finding a place for myself in this world.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him. “When we reach Earth?”
“If,” he reminds me. “And I have plans…” He looks toward Padgett, who’s quietly letting Gem braid her hair. Padgett glances up, and they lock eyes. Smiling inside their gazes.
Someone is unsteady, making more noise than the rest of us. I look over and see Stork trying to right himself up to a stance with just one arm. Zimmer and Franny help, and when he’s on solid feet, he aims for Mykal.
FORTY-TWO
Mykal
My baby brother is a mess. Pale and sickly and stumbling about. I have to catch him before he goes careening into the MEU station.
We both sink down to the ground, resting our backs against the paneled wall. “You coulda waved
me over,” I whisper to him. “Instead of standing and walking about.”
“Yeah, but I wanted to speak to my brother alone.” He flashes a smile at my confusion. He’s never called me his brother. Never admitted to our relation out loud. “And just so you know,” he adds, “I’m technically younger, but not by much.”
I shake my head, letting my lips lift. “You don’t act only a bit younger than I. You’re still more of a baby brother.”
He laughs lightly. “I lost an arm protecting you.”
“Yeh, you have a point.” I glance at his bandaged wound, more gruesome than any injury I’ve had. Protecting me. I’ll never be forgetting. “Are you all right?”
Stork takes a bigger breath. “It feels like … I will be.” He swallows hard. “But I didn’t come over here to argue with you about who’s older.” Carefully, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small earring identical to the sapphire blue jay that dangles from his own ear.
“This was Moura’s,” he tells me. “Your birth mother’s. She gave the pair to me when the trade was agreed on. She told me to keep one and give the other to you when we reached Earth.”
I frown. “We’re not on Earth, you realize.”
He smiles. “I know.”
How many of us on this starcraft are actually saying good-byes and I don’t even know it? Somethin’ strong pulls in my stomach, an ache that I don’t want. “Keep it,” I say. “Give it to me when we’re on land.”
“Mykal—”
“I said keep it,” I growl. “We’re gonna make it there.”
We have to.
Blond hair falls into his eyes and he nods. “Okay.”
FORTY-THREE
Franny
We spend five hours in hushed quiet on the Nebulus, waiting for our opening to arrive. The Saltare-1 crew haven’t vacated the launchpad for bed or a break like we expected.
Kinden rises to his feet, roping in all of our attention. “We can’t wait any longer in the hope that they clear out. Hope is not a strategy.” He’s about to move toward the communications panel, but he stops himself short. His gaze sweeps us. “Does anyone have an objection?”
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