But I’m deathly afraid it’s too late for that. What about Vance and Arik? Lara? Dr. Veragelen? Are they still alive? Am I just leaving them here to perish?
And what about the heptosphere? Will it survive the certain destruction of the Caelestis? If it doesn’t, what will that mean for the system? It was our only hope.
Which leads me to wonder if this was deliberate sabotage. Maybe the rebels? They hate the Ruling Families, blame us for everything that’s wrong with the system. But destroying the Caelestis hurts them as much as it does us. It doesn’t make sense.
There’s nothing I can do about it right now, so I try to shake away the thoughts. Some might say I’m borrowing trouble, but a lifetime surrounded by palace intrigue has taught me to trust my gut…and not to trust people who seem to have their own agendas. Ian and Max are not behaving like legitimate members of the security forces—I’d know; I’ve been around them my entire life. And while I instinctively like Rain, even if she is a part of the misguided Sisterhood, it’s very obvious that she has no training in being an ambassador…which means that she’s here for some other reason. And that her bodyguard is, too. The only one who might actually be genuine is Gage, who seems like a nice guy. But that could just be because it’s what he wants me to see…
Right now, he’s busy working away under the console, trading jokes with Max while Ian paces back and forth and curses under his breath. Rain and Merrick are in their seats, talking quietly in Seratian.
Restless, I wander up to the console, more out of curiosity than because I think I can actually help. But I’m guessing this ship is old—really old—and the history buff in me can’t help but be a little interested. At least it takes my mind off my imminent death.
Will it hurt?
Don’t think about it.
I peer at the console. It’s just a smooth black surface, except for what looks like some sort of bio-scanner on the top. But as I bend down to get a closer look, a loud crash sounds outside the room. I whirl around so fast that I lose my balance and stumble into the console.
A woman suddenly appears in the open doorway. Maybe a year or two older than me, she’s medium height, with olive skin and curly black hair. The skin around her yellow eyes is stained darker than the rest, and I recognize the telltale signs of a native of the desert planet Permuna.
There’s a scar running down her neck, the black ink of a tattoo snakes down her bare arm, and I’m pretty sure that’s blood staining the front of her ripped gray jumpsuit. One look into her face has me straightening up—and then going still. She’s staring back at me out of cold, flat yellow eyes, and I catch something dark and twisted flickering behind them.
But then she blinks and it’s gone.
“Holy shit! I really am a genius!” Gage’s enthusiastic shout breaks the tension in the air as he scoots out from under the control panel. I drag my gaze from the newcomer and focus on the front of the ship, only to realize that he’s right. The console is glowing.
“You did it?” Ian asks, sounding doubtful. It might just be the first thing we’ve ever agreed on.
“I did it!” Gage confirms, his smile quickly giving way to a frown. “I have no clue how I did it, but she’s coming online. Whether or not we can fly her is something else entirely.”
“I can fly,” comments the woman who just appeared from nowhere.
“And you are?” demands a very suspicious-looking Ian.
Okay, make that two things we can agree on.
The woman blinks a couple of times as if she’s not sure what the answer is. “Beckett,” she finally says, but she sounds uncertain.
I tell myself it’s because she got hit in the head during the explosions, but my gut is working overtime telling me not to trust her.
“How did you get up here?” I ask, because her name tells us absolutely nothing. “I thought we were cut off from the rest of the space station.”
Her gaze shifts back to me, and she frowns. “I was on the other ship.”
“The other—” I break off as I realize what she’s talking about. She came from the Reformer, what Ian called the prison ship. I didn’t realize any of the prisoners made it to our side of the docking bay before the bulkhead dropped.
She could be a pirate. Or a murderer. Or any number of other types that shouldn’t be left to run free around the system. Not that any of that matters right now. It’s not like we’re about to leave her behind on a space station that’s going to crash at any moment.
One more thing Ian and I must agree on, because instead of wasting time on a bunch of useless questions, he says, “Then take a seat. You can be my copilot.”
Then he turns to me. “You plan on standing there all night, Princess, or are you going to buckle up?”
“Oh, I’ll definitely buckle up. I’ll need to, if your flying is as good as your engineering skills.”
I eye the big chair in the center of the room, but Ian beats me to it, and I’m too exhausted to fight for what my mother would call my royal privileges. Instead, I sink into the nearest seat, next to Max.
Buckling up isn’t that easy, however. The seat restraint is so old that it takes me a couple of minutes to figure out how to work it. I don’t feel too bad, though; everyone else is doing the exact same thing. And it occurs to me that if the controls are just as archaic, then we might be jumping from one kind of trouble to another.
“Please tell me you know how to fly this thing?” I ask, sounding a little desperate even to my own ears. “You do, don’t you?”
“Not a clue,” Ian replies.
At that moment, the station rocks as a giant explosion tears through the docking bay, and Ian grabs onto the controls. “But I’m about to take a crash course.” He flashes me a grin. “Having fun yet, Princess?”
“You know it. So much fun.”
Ian slams his hand down on the control panel. Nothing happens.
Another shock rips through the Caelestis.
Don’t puke, don’t puke. Don’t fucking puke.
He beats his fist against it again, just as I wrap my hands around the armrests and squeeze for all I’m worth. The hit must be what the ship needs, because it gives a little shake, and then the console flashes with colorful lights. The shields covering the screens lift, and all of a sudden I can see out into the chaos of the docking bay of the ISS Caelestis. The somewhat tarnished and rapidly crumbling jewel in the Empire’s crown.
The ship we’re on starts rising, hovering above the floor, and I hold onto the armrests even tighter. Beside me, Max smiles.
“Ian has got this,” he reassures me.
Then we’re moving, weaving around the detritus of the crumbling docking bay.
“Hey, you’re doing great, Ian,” Max calls after a few seconds.
“Actually, I’m doing fuck all.” He sounds bewildered. “I think I must have switched on the autopilot. She’s doing it all on her own.”
I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one, but it’s too late to do anything but hold my breath and pray, considering we’re aiming for the airlock but the doors are tightly closed.
That doesn’t stop Ian—or the autopilot he says is controlling the ship. In fact, she just keeps speeding up, even though we’re heading straight for the toughest, most crash-proof metal in the Senestris System.