Only now, like her stars, this mission felt tainted. A betrayal. Like her midnight galaxy was more representative of a shadowed and creeping destruction than one of hope or aspirations.
She’d been content, having long ago come to terms with the fact that being a raider and serving the AMG meant sometimes compromising her personal beliefs. It meant following orders, even when she didn’t agree with them, for the greater good. Because it also meant security. It meant not having to squabblefor basic human necessities in a tiny cramped apartment with her aunt while the rest of the galaxy closed in on them.
Sure, she’d entertained the hope that they could be that difference and change lives. In the heat of a couple of hours, she’d believed they alone had uncovered this great secret in the galaxy. That this strange, rogue operation could be the saving grace for them all, a galaxy free of dark rays, with plentiful resources to go around. In that moment she’d have stopped at nothing, done whatever it took to make that belief a reality.
But all of that had gone up in flames. Literally. She’d watched those hopes die, ash and rubble lost in the asteroid field of Argos. She’d been reliving it ever since in mini altercations that kept her up at night.
Their visit to Nolan yesterday had raised questions. So many questions. And she meant what she told Lee. She was in it, she would follow this thing with him to the end. One more mystery to unravel. She would choose him, always. But she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit this latest turn scared her. That she was terrified about where this new road she and Lee now sauntered towards might lead.
She gazed out over the pond of cadets staring back at Flyn, their eyes grazing over her and Ness as Flyn led them through the overview and expectations of the course. How many of them were still stargazing, staring out to the heavens with big dreams in their peripherals? When she’d signed up weeks ago to help, she’d still been of that mindset that they could still scramble their way out of this and right things. But the more she learned about the order of their galaxy, the less sure she became. Were they even trying anymore?
“Every time you don your helmet, you represent the Academy, and the AMG,” Flyn was explaining. “As raiders, it is our job to operate under that banner. Our mission is black and white. We protect life. You complete your mission, and youwin. Complete your missions, and you may, if you’re lucky, find yourself at the top of the Academy.” Dipping his head towards Kat, he offered her a nod that was of equal parts respect and jealousy.
But she could care less about the jealousy. Or her status, honestly. It was the black and white part she had a problem with.
These cadets had never been out on a raid. They’d never been off the ship, where danger was concerned. And to picture one of their naive faces next year, standing where they had stood—like Levy had stood, barely a VL—
This wouldn’t cut it.
When it came time to divvy up into groups and initiate the simulation parameters of the holograms lining the various walls of the room, Kat conveniently bumped a handful of keys moderating the extremities.
She could show the cadets black and white.
Or she could show themreal.
Alarms pealed from every corner. Warning lights triggered along each life-support system. Sparks flashed outside one of the simulated ship “windows.” And someone really needed to stop yelling.
Kat would be having flashback trauma from the stress of watching each raid crash and burn, were she not too busy playing daft as she, Ness, and Flyn hopped between projections scrambling to keep the cadets’ “ships” online and understand how this could have gone wrong.
“What happened to the oxygen suit ratios?” Flyn bellowed over the sounds of their groaning cadets and the seemingly obvious choice between fulfilling their mission and saving their dying companions.
“I can’t get this alert to turn off. Hanneman, you’ve got entry point 3?” Ness yelled, the pseudo-reality as vivid from their point of view as to the cadets they were training.
Wordlessly, Kat slid back into the fray.
Black and white. She’d turned their lesson grey.
And an exciting couple hours later, Kat departed the crash-course, bidding a harried-looking Ness and a more-than cranky Flyn that they go grab lunch to cool down. But as she rounded the training level, it was her heart that still hammered—to a beat that had nothing to do with the chaos she’d just unleashed—and everything to do with the chaos that lay dormant. A potential energy ready to explode.
She was searching for something to push her, somewhere to channel that wobbling, off-kilter feeling when she ended inside the door she’d been subconsciously searching for. As it closed behind her, she was met with near-pitch darkness.
Kat almost smiled as the familiarity settled over her. She hadn’t been down here much as of late. And she’d missed it. She’d missed hiding. It felt like she’d had no control of the spotlights the past several months. It wasn’t until she had crossed over to the base of the track before she realized that someone was already in here.
His boots rested way too still, and his breathing was near-silent as he straightened.
Kat couldn’t rein in the huff of annoyance that coursed from her as she joined him on the lightning track. “Of course.”
She swore Zane also laughed in the darkness. But she could share—for now.
They stretched in silence, loosening up their muscles for what would and had always been a break-neck, lung-bursting, exhilaration awaiting each of them.
Then, without a signal, she took off, sprinting out onto the track. The thick darkness wound around her, an old friend welcoming her home. And as it pulled her in close, she ran faster.
She focused on her breathing, on the steady pounding of her feet beneath her. And only after he had passed her, after his footsteps had disappeared in the distance, did her mind begin to unspool. Like it had been aware of that second presence, that limitation. A past from which she was desperate to break free.
She’d had different goals in that past life. And different limitations. Ones she’d probably set for herself back when she was just grateful to have a room for herself and money in the bank. Back when all she’d dreamed about was getting out. Before she’d even realized there could be more. That she couldbemore.
She hurdled over a dip in the path, landing with a soft spring as she kept on going. Like even her legs had found that new energy, new freedom.
