I stare up at the ladder leading who knows where, with people whom I suspect are not particularly good. Still, the pressure eases. And just like that, I know what I’m going to do.
When the ship issues a particularly loud groan, I take it as a personal message.
“It’s not safe here,” I say. “I think we should leave. Now.”
Without waiting for Merrick to come up with any more perfectly logical reasons why we should stay, I grab the first rung of the ladder. I start to climb, and I don’t look back.
Maybe it’s the wrong choice, but surely these feelings are the Light guiding me on the path. Is it really so bad to just want a little more time to be free?
Just a tiny bit more, then I’ll go back, and I’ll do my duty without complaint.
I swear.
Chapter 9
Kali
Is it just me, or is my first official duty going really, really well?
Sure, I’m about to throw out the rulebook once and for all because not only am I not calm, but judging from the look on Merrick’s face, I’m also doing a terrible job at not appearing panic-stricken.
Of course, that’s probably because I am panic-stricken, but it’s all fine, right? Just another day in my life. Everything is totally and completely under control right now. Dear old Mom would be so proud.
As if to underscore my thoughts, the Caelestis gives another loud, shuddering groan that has chills skating down my spine. Because state-of-the-art space stations always sound like that when things are running perfectly. Obviously.
It’s just Merrick and me now, standing in the docking bay, staring up at Rain’s bottom half as she disappears up the ladder. And while I’m still not certain staying on board is the way to go, I’m also not ready to commit to climbing into the bucket of misplaced bolts in front of us, either.
Surely there’s another option. I just haven’t thought of it yet.
The ship shimmies again just as Rain vanishes over the top of the spaceship, and my heart jumps to my throat before sliding right back down my esophagus into my stomach. Her making it on board is clearly the call to action Merrick needs, because he’s suddenly racing up the ladder like her life depends on him getting to the top.
Of course, that leaves me on the ground alone, staring up at his bottom half and wondering what I’m supposed to do now.
I really don’t want to get on this broken-down piece of space detritus. I really, really don’t want to.
But then the alarms stop. And though I try to take it as a good sign, I suspect it’s because even the emergency systems are breaking down. All around me, the station is creaking and shifting, and the common sense I’ve worked so hard to ignore is telling me it’s only a matter of time—very limited time—before she falls apart completely.
I’m between a disaster and a hard place, and neither seems like the way to go.
But standing here isn’t going to get me anywhere but dead, so I make the only decision I can.
I climb the ladder.
It leads to the top of the ship, and there’s an open hatchway in the center. I peer down but can’t see anything, so with a last look at the chaos surrounding me, I lower myself inside.
Once my bare feet touch the metal floor, I look around and try to get my bearings. I presume I’m in what passed for an airlock thousands of years ago. There’s an open door to the left of me, so I go through it. There’s no one in sight, but I can hear voices, so I follow them and find myself on what must be the bridge at the front of the ship. It’s a triangular space about twelve meters long. There’s a seat right at the front, then three seats down each side, and another, bigger one with an impressive array of controls on the arms right in the center of the room.
Looks like it’s calling my name.
Viewing screens stretch the full length of each of the side walls, but they’re covered with some sort of shields right now. Probably because this thing has been in dry dock forever.
On the plus side, the inside of the ship looks like it’s in a lot better condition than the outside, as though she’s been protected from the vagaries of space. But the layout is unfamiliar, some sort of antiquated setup that’s different from anything I’ve seen before.
Rain, Merrick, and Max are standing along the right wall near a row of seats. Ian is messing with some sort of control panel at the back, while the purple-haired guy—who looks to be around my age and is wearing a black lab suit, so he certainly works on the Caelestis—leans around him with a screwdriver in one hand and a giant wrench in the other.
“I’m telling you she doesn’t work,” he says. “I don’t care how many buttons you push or how many times you push them; the ship isn’t going to magically activate. I’ve been trying to get her to start since I ducked in here, and nothing.”
“Yeah, well, Gage, maybe you’re not as clever as everyone says you are,” Ian snarks as he crouches down to look underneath the console, like he’s going to find some magic button Gage missed.
“I’m a fucking tech genius,” Gage retorts with a roll of his eyes. “And you know it, or you wouldn’t keep coming to me to fix shit for you. Right, Max?” He glances over his shoulder with a smile—then freezes when he locks eyes with me. A slight choking noise comes from his throat, and before I can so much as blink, he bows. Really low. His hair falls to the side, revealing the CT tattoo on his neck—definitely Corporation—and a long, dangly rondolinite earring. Then he peers up at me with a cocky grin. “Your Very Royal Highness. I am a big fan.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard it put like that, but after the day I’ve had, I’ll take it. “If you can get this thing flying, the feeling will definitely be mutual.”
Ian glances up at Gage, a scowl on his face. “If you could stop the royal ass-kissing for a moment, I could use some help here.”
“And I’ve already told you there’s no help to be had. This ship isn’t flying.” But Gage finally straightens from his bow and heads back over to the control panel beneath the console. “Get out of there, will you, before you break something worse than it’s already broken.”
I’m really starting to like his style.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“No!” Ian pounds his fist against the control panel a few times before crawling out from under the console so fast he nearly takes his own head off. “For fuck’s sake, the last thing we need is you poking around down here.”
“Why? Because you’re doing such a bang-up job of it?” I ask archly. “Emphasis on the bang?”
“How about both of you take your seats and let me have another go at this?” Gage asks. “It won’t work, but, what the fuck.”
“I’ve always said your optimism is the best part of you,” Max calls from where he’s now seated against the wall.
“That’s because you haven’t actually seen the best part of me,” Gage retorts as he ducks under the console.
I’m too wired to sit down, though. In here, we seem cut off from the chaos surrounding us, but I can’t help wondering what’s going on outside and how long we’ve got before this whole thing comes tumbling down. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want any of my subjects to die, either.