“Good luck!” Mortimor yelled. The tenor in his voice sent a wave of goosebumps down Cole’s arms. Mortimor jumped down from the platform and went to the back of the line next to Cole’s, completing its full complement of four—five, counting the seated pilot.

Larken squeezed Cole’s shoulder, then patted it twice. “Good luck!”

Cole grabbed his buckblade from its holster. He made sure he had it facing the right direction and that the safety was on. He looked over at Mortimor. “I didn’t know you were going.”

“Ran out of people that speak Bern. Now pay attention.” Mortimor nodded toward the platforms.

Cole looked.

The light over the pilots went green. There was a loud beeping sound followed by a pop of displaced air, and the cages in the back of the room vanished.

The pilots sitting on the platforms followed soon after, winking out of existence. The row of navigators jumped into position, taking the place of the pilots and falling to their butts. They wrapped their various species’ version of arms around their legs and fell still.

Penny was the navigator in Mortimor’s line. He watched wisps of red hair spill out of her hood as she settled into place. Their eyes met right before her head went down—then she disappeared from the room.

It was all happening so fast. Cole’s heart fluttered as he took a step forward. He chanced a glance to the side, at the neighboring line. Mortimor was looking straight ahead. He wished he’d known the old man was going; he would’ve switched places with someone to be in his group so he’d be able to keep an eye on him.

The lines surged forward again, and he felt Larken’s hand on his back, pushing.

Another pop of displaced air. Cole stood beside the console operator, right in front of the platform. Marx, the Callite plopping down ahead of him, looked up, and time slowed to a crawl. Cole watched the alien’s arms wrap around his shins, his scaly chin tuck down—and then he was gone.

Cole jumped up to the platform and sat down as quick as he could. He spun around to face what he hoped would be an exit once he popped out of hyperspace. In the back of his mind, he counted:

Three.

He grabbed his shins and tucked his head, squeezing his sword as tight as he dared without crushing it.

Two.

The last thing that flashed through his mind, right before he popped out of the room, was the Bern Seer. He couldn’t help but recall the last conversation they’d had, and a sickening sensation clawed at his stomach as he wondered if this was all one colossal mistake—

One . . .

51

Parsona settled in the clearing, her struts once again sagging under the weight of a full load of haggard survivors. Molly lifted her visor; she could hear the cargo bay’s loading ramp opening up behind her. She watched as Cat crawled out of the nav seat and over the control console to go and help the others. Molly unbuckled her own flight harness and spoke to her mother:

“Once we get everything unloaded, I’ll be back and we can get out of here.”

“Excellent,” her mom said. “Don’t forget the welding goggles.”

“I won’t,” Molly promised.

Molly jumped out of her seat and hurried back to the cargo bay where an eerily familiar scene greeted her: a weary and traumatized group jostled its way into the clearing, the sounds of their shuffles and cries reverberating through Parsona’s hulls.

The difference this time was that they weren’t alone. Outside, Molly could see Scottie conferring with several of the carrier’s crewmembers; Gloria’s survivors had already begun tending to the drained and exhaus-ted Callites. The food and water meant for one group of survivors went around to all, and the profusion of blankets and seated groups multiplied, combined, grew, and became diverse.

Molly reached down and grabbed a crate of vegetables from Walter, who was helping hoist items up from the deep cargo pods. The boy had worked wonders haggling for supplies throughout Bekkie, while Molly, Cat, and Scottie had tended to the Callites, debating about where to take them.

“Keep one week’s worth of supplies for four people,” Molly instructed him. “The rest will remain here.”

Walter frowned and his face lost some of its luster, but he eventually nodded his assent.

“We’ll lift off as soon as everything is unloaded,” she said. “Make sure we’re clear, okay? No stowaways.”

Walter nodded. “Okay.”

Molly lifted the crate of food and joined the chain of people making their way outside. At the bottom of the ramp, she met Saunders, who took the crate from her and walked toward a blanket already pinned down by staged supplies.

“I’m guessing there’s quite some story to go with all these people,” Saunders said.

“You won’t believe me.”

“C’mon. It can’t be worse than the last thing you let me in on.”

Molly gave Saunders a look that made his eyes widen.

“Really?” He set the vegetables down and stepped out of the way as more food and material arrived. Molly pulled him aside.

“You remember what my parents were sent here for?”

“Illicit fusion fuel.”

“Right. Do you remember anything else from that folder? Another case they were working on?”

Saunders stared down at his feet and rubbed his chin. “I do remember something else.”

“Missing people.”

He snapped his fingers and pointed at Molly. “That’s right.”

Molly turned to watch the columns of Humans and Callites work to unload her ship. “Might as well have been the same case,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

Molly let out her breath in a long, exhausted stream, then shook her head. “The organisms, the stuff fusion fuel is made of, it’s in the water here on Lok. Cat and Scottie think this might be the very planet the stuff first originated from.”

“Fusion fuel?”

She faced Saunders, and in his scowl, Molly saw that he was as clueless as most of the galaxy on where the stuff came from. Even admirals, it seemed, weren’t privy to its manufacture.

“It’s a microorganism, a unique creature that can see and move through hyperspace. It’s attracted to water, and to light, but mostly to life. It’s why so many of the species of our galaxy are similar—they’ve been sharing information, interbreeding, feeding off the same stuff for billions of years.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Yeah. My friends have been unwitting participants in this mess. Only, they never knew where the ingredients they were mixing came from.” Molly shook her head. “Another thing I’m sure of is that these creatures are in the water. That’s probably how it gets in our blood. Cat thinks it changes something, that it makes the fuel interact within our bodies in some way.” Molly reached up and stroked the Wadi under her chin. “I believe her. I’ve seen what it can do.”

“Can do? You mean besides moving ships through space?”

Molly looked up at him. “I think it can be like a drug, or some kind of medicine. I don’t know. But these Callites, they were bleeding them to make it. And there were hyperdrives in this place—” Molly shook her head. “It looked like they were sending one variety of this stuff off to hyperspace—”

“Do what?” Saunders ran his hands up the sides of his face. “Why?”

Molly shrugged. “I think Cat knows, but she won’t say. My guess is it’s something traumatic. Scotties says he’s never seen her so shaken up. But we’re pretty sure they were sending it to hyperspace. We found the jump drives and the coordinates of the last delivery.” Molly didn’t feel like explaining how the center of Lok was a sensible place to “send” things.

Saunders turned and watched the Callites and his crewmen inter-mingle and help arrange supplies. “So, what now?”

“Now? Now you get some rest. A Callite will be coming out tomorrow by buggy. His name is Ryn, and he’s trying to arrange a safe place for everyone. The Navy no longer has a presence in Bekkie, and anyway, these people can be better trusted.”

“So that’s that, then.” Saunders clasped his hands behind his back.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re off to rescue your father.”

Molly nodded. “I’ve been off to rescue my father for two months, Admiral. The flight out here from Bekkie was almost unbearable.”

“I can imagine.”

Molly started to tell him that he couldn’t, but she saw the way he looked out over what remained of his crew. She knew he hadn’t been with Zebra long, but it still must’ve felt like he’d lost a huge chunk of a very large family. She imagined he had known most of the younger crewmembers from their Academy days.

“So I guess you know what I’m going through.”

Saunders nodded. He pulled her even further away from the blanket and the crowds forming around the supplies.

“I know why you need to go,” he said. “I imagine if I were in your shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing, and it would be a greater sin for me to do it. It would be my duty to stay here and help these people. It would be my duty to fight, even if it was futile. Hell, I absolved you of any of that responsibility the day I kicked you out of the Academy, didn’t I?”

Saunders smiled, but it was laden with sadness.

“I was wrong about that,” he said. “You might be the best damn pilot that ever set foot in that Academy.”

“It’s okay,” Molly said.

Saunders shook his head. “It wasn’t okay. It was part my fear of you, part my over-protectiveness, but mostly my love for those boys and how you made them feel about themselves.”

“It’s okay,” Molly said. “I forgive you.”

Saunders looked away and wiped at his eyes. “I better see to my people. You be good, okay?”

Molly stepped close and wrapped her arms around his waist. Saunders froze for a moment, then draped his own arms across her back. He squeezed her gently, and she could hear him sniffle. She pressed her cheek into his chest before pulling away. Without making eye contact again—for fear of becoming a mess as well—she spun around and hurried toward Parsona.

“Hey,” someone said to her side.

Molly turned to find Cat emerging from the supply line. She handed a large jug of water to another Callite and stepped out of the queue. “You weren’t leaving without saying goodbye, were you?”

Molly shook her head and fought back the tears welling up in the bottoms of her eyes. “Never,” she croaked.

“C’mere.”

Cat pulled her close and wrapped her arms around Molly’s shoulders. Molly kept one arm in front of herself so she could wipe the tears from her eyes.

“You’re a good kid. You be sure and tell your pops I said that when you see him.”

Molly nodded. “Watch over Urg’s family for me, okay?”

“Hey. Stop that. You saved a lot of people, girl. Don’t you go beating yourself up over the things you couldn’t control. Take that from an expert.”

Molly nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Alright. You go on, now.” Cat let go and pushed her away. Molly practically ran back to the ship, past the long line of Navy crewmembers and Callites working together to prepare for whatever befell them next.

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Cat stood in place and watched her go. She marveled at how young the girl seemed as Molly stomped up the loading ramp and disappeared into that great starship. She thought about what she had just told her, and all the myriad more things she wished she had said.

“Among those you saved was me,” Cat whispered to nobody.

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“You ready?” Parsona asked.

Molly checked the indicators. Everything was green. She had her welding goggles on her forehead, ready to slip down. The hyperdrive was cycled and the tank showed full. She looked over at Walter, who already had his goggles pulled into place. He was waving his hands in front of himself, hissing at the complete blackness.

“I guess,” Molly said. She banked over the woods and did a low fly-by. It was getting dark, but she knew the survivors below could see her silhouette against the stars—the stars and the glimmer of the menacing fleet that had brought the two groups together. She looked out her side porthole as Parsona leaned over, and she could see the strobe of so many small fires flashing through the leaves below. She pictured Saunders, Scottie, and Cat sitting around one of those fires, catching each other up as much as they dared. She hoped all the survivors could dig deep and find something to smile about, perhaps even dare laugh about. Most of all, she hoped they wouldn’t try anything crazy while she was gone—or blame her too much for leaving them.

“Anytime you’re ready, then,” her mom said.

Molly lifted the cover that shields the hyperdrive switch. She rested her finger under the toggle and glanced at the destination coordinates. Any mass would do, but they weren’t taking any chances and had chosen the center of Lok. It felt strange to ignore the various warning lights and alarms, but the sickness Molly felt inside about leaving the groups below made it tolerable. Deep down, she felt completely resigned to the worst that could possibly happen.

Before lowering her goggles, she took one last look up through the canopy. The scourge responsible for all her recent miseries hung overhead, the density of the constellation growing with each passing hour. Molly longed to strike at them, to morph her love for Cole into a rage, to transform her longing to see her father into an ability to lash out. She thought about what she would do with a cargo bay full of bombs and the special powers of her hyperdrive. She imagined how great it would be if all the survivors around those campfires below could harness their own enmity and somehow direct it toward their mutual foe—inflicting damage.