Helpless. Angry.
“I know you all think I’m crazy,” I murmur.
“Nobody thinks you’re crazy, Auri,” Scarlett says, touching my arm. “You’ve been through a lot, we all know that.”
“The Hadfield was bound for Octavia III, Scarlett,” I say, low and fierce. “I studied years to get on that mission, you don’t forget something like that. Every spare minute was training—memorizing maps, rock climbing, orienteering competitions. And all of it with one word in mind: Octavia.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, but shakes her head. “Auri, we checked the records. Octavia III is uninhabitable.”
“That’s what I said,” comes a small chirp from my pocket. “But does she listen to me? Noooo—”
I clap my hand over Magellan to shut him up. “Why don’t we go check it out, then? I know the composition of the atmosphere, the layout of the continents—I’ll show you where Butler settlement and the outposts are, I’ll …”
“Octavia III has been under Interdiction for hundreds of years,” Zila says.
“And the last time we set an alternate course, you almost destroyed the ship.” I look over at Kal as he speaks, and his expression is unreadable as always. But remembering that footage of me attacking Scarlett, holding the ship in place while it shook and my eye burned white, it’s hard to argue with him.
“Seems like this is where you’re meant to be.” Scarlett says. “And maybe we’re heading where we’re supposed to go, too.”
She touches my arm again, and her smile is warm and kind in comparison to Kal’s frosty stare. I can’t help but smile weakly in return. She voted to take me back to the academy, but now their course is set, I realize …
She’s trying to be nice to me.
“Come on,” she says. “Ty wants you on the bridge.”
I don’t miss the glance Zila and Kal share as we leave the room, or the fact that Zila’s hand hasn’t left her gun the whole time we talked. But together, we make our way down a long corridor, Kal in front, Scarlett beside me, Zila walking behind. My bones creak and my pulse is pounding and I’ve got one mothercustard of a headache.
As we step out onto the bridge, the others turn to glance at me, but only for a moment. Looking at the huge screen above the central console, I can see we’re coming in to dock at what must be Sempiternity. Cat and Tyler seem occupied navigating us through a maze of ships and docking stations and loaders and shuttles, surrounding the most amazing sight I’ve ever seen in my life.
The future is grimier than I expected. Dirtier than it was meant to be. Sempiternity kind of looks like an inside-out termite’s nest, with endless additions bulging in every possible direction. It’s huge, much bigger than any city I’ve ever seen. So many glittering lights and strange shapes and odd angles, thousands of ships molded and bolted and welded into one giant World Ship.
“Holy cake,” I murmur.
How did I know this place existed?
How did I know its name?
And how did I slow our ship, drag it to a halt and turn it toward this mashed-together world, made up of hundreds of thousands of ships that all ended their stories here?
If I can answer even one of those questions, I’ll be closer to understanding what’s happening to me. Why my own government’s trying to erase every trace of me. I’m aching to set a course for Octavia, to see if anything’s left of the colony I know was there. But this thing that’s overtaking me has led me here, to Sempiternity.
So I’ll follow this path, try and understand why it’s twisted in this direction. Hope it’s brought me here because this is where my answers are.
Scar helps me to a seat at an auxiliary station, then takes her place around the central console. I know I should be watching the amazing station we’re slowly moving toward, but instead I find myself looking at the squad around me. At these six young soldiers I’ve suddenly found myself thrown together with. The strangers my life seems to depend on now.
Squad 312.
I wonder what makes them who they are.
What’s driving them to even be here.
Cat’s attention is mostly on steering, through dozens of vessels coming and going, detaching from the messy sides of this sector, or clamping on to airlocks and joining the throng. But she’s watching me out of the corner of her eye as well, her gaze flicking my way like clockwork every thirty seconds or so.
She