“Stop.” He closes his eyes. “Just—stop.”
“But—”
“You’ve said what you need to say. And I hear you, all right? But I’m going anyway.”
He steps into the elevator. The doors start to slide together, sweeping Lament from view. Just before they close, Vera and I simultaneously jut out our hands to halt their progress. Lament inhales sharply, but Vera cuts him off. “Fine,” she says. “Fine. If you’re seriously set on doing this, I’m coming with you.”
“I don’t need—”
“It wasn’t a question.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally readying herself. “It’s after hours, meaning we can disable the flight deck alarms and skip the official sign-out, but that doesn’t mean Sergeant Forst won’t notice a missing spacecraft. We go quickly, we go quietly, and wereturn before Skyhub-dawn, yes?” Lament gives a reluctant nod. Vera’s eyes cut to me. “Are you in?”
There’s a moment—quick, fizzy, like the crack of a soda can—when I imagine saying no. It’s what my Academy officers would choose for me. What Master Ira would, too. He used to sayRecklessness is the quickest path to self-destruction.But what Master Ira could never understand is that Iamreckless. Wasn’t it recklessness that pushed me to demand an Academy entry test after my application was denied? Wasn’t it recklessness that spurred me to go against Master Ira’s wishes and apply in the first place? It ruined our relationship, but rather than make me more careful, it’s only driven me further down this path. I don’t have a support system to fall back on. No parents, no family. Even Master Ira’s patronage—the security of the children’s home—can’t help me now. Joining the Legion, belonging to a Starfield Fleet…
What do I have, if not this?
What do Iwant, if not this?
I give Vera a nod. “I’m in.”
Vera does something with her watch, sliding her finger across the touch screen before ushering me into the elevator. A short ride later, we’re stepping onto a wide flight deck currently housing a dozen different spacecraft. Some of the models I recognize (the UA-460 Sky Runner, the 1080 StarBattle), but most are foreign to me. I want to gawk, but I want to keep up with Lament more, and he’s already halfway into the cockpit of a sleek little skimmer. She’s beautiful, all clean lines and smooth edges.
As I approach, Lament shoots me a look. “You’ll fly with Vera.”
I glance over to where Vera is unlocking the nearest split-wing, which is a one-seater. “Vera doesn’t have room for me.”
“There’s a cargo trunk.”
I blink. “You’re not serious.”
“I fly alone.”
He pushes a button and the skimmer’s hood slides closed, effectively ending our discussion.
“It’s all right.” Vera’s voice echoes between the deck’s metal rafters. “I’ve messaged Jester. He’s coming, too. We’ll take the Sky Runner. That way we can each have a seat.”
Together, Vera and I raid the uniform closet, which is stocked for moments such as this. I find a pair of boots, gloves, a clean set of whites. I’m zipping up my flight jacket when Jester appears, his visor tipped back to reveal a pair of large, thickly lashed eyes. He gives us a salute, then pulls the visor down so he can say,Lament is pushing his luck with this one.
“Again,” Vera grumbles. Then, more gently: “Thanks for coming.”
Partners don’t fly alone.
Vera glances at me. I am suddenly very interested in my jacket’s zipper.
We pull ourselves into the Sky Runner, which is a midsize craft designed for speed over comfort and features a collapsible trunk that is not, by any means, large enough to fit a grown man. No gunner’s seat. No guns, for that matter. The craft’s body is wide and low with twin engines at the back. It smells brand-new.
Vera hands me a headset. Her expression says she still deeply disapproves of this entire undertaking, but she’s resigned to whatever may come. “Buckle up.”
I do as she says, tucking my ray gun under one leg (my holster is still in the library) and pulling the harness over my shoulders. It’s not until I hear the click of the belt plate driving into the buckle that it finally hits me: my first mission.
An unapproved one.
That could very possibly land me a red card to match Lament’s.
Oh, the adventure.
The Sky Runner’s chamber closes, sealing us in. A moment later, the flight deck’s back wall slides away to reveal a dazzling scene of distant stars and planets and an endless, endless black. I don’t sense the change in pressure, but I do feel the Sky Runner hum to life as Vera fires up the engines, gives us a countdown, and (with what appears to be a single pushof a button but actually involves a complicated series of foot controls) blasts us into space.
It’s always a bit strange, riding passenger. I’m used to cramming myself into a gunner’s seat, which is typically stationed at a spacecraft’s nose. The seat itself is never comfortable, but something about that position has always felt good to me. Right. Nothing like it is here in the back seat, helplessly exposed, without any way to see what’s ahead or defend against it.
