for you.”
Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it, but I want to get us back on track. “Dreadnoughts. Only way to beat dreadnoughts is with dreadnoughts, and there’s no way any of the ships in the Archon fleet can cut it.” I take a step forward and turn, slumping shoulder to shoulder with Gal against the cargo container.
“Even if we did have dreadnoughts of our own, our generous Corinthian hosts would have strong objections to using them in an assault launching from Corinth. That starts a whole new war.” His eyes focus on something in the distance. “Speaking of Corinthians…”
Farther down the runway, Wen’s chattering animatedly with Sims—about blowing things up, if I had to guess. I sigh.
“She needs something to do,” Gal mutters, and I throw him a sharp glare. “Don’t start with that utility stuff—I just mean that she spent the whole meeting this morning sitting on her hands. She doesn’t have anything to contribute—Ettian, I’m trying to be nice about this, but it’s true,” he says, crossing his arms as I throw up my hands. “If we don’t find something to occupy her, she’s going to start making trouble. She probably already has.”
“When you say we—”
“I mean you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll figure something out.”
“You always do.”
Silence settles over us, punctuated only by the noises of the base in motion—soldiers drilling, machinery humming, and a gentle wind blowing in from the south. I can’t shake the unsteadiness that keeps on threatening to knock me over. Ever since we got to the base, there’s been an inescapable sour note in every conversation between me and Gal. I don’t know what to blame—this place, where we come from, or worst of all, some sort of fundamental disconnect between us that’s only surfacing now. I can’t lose him. We’ve come too far for this.
“Why do I trust you?” Gal asks.
My blood runs cold.
But Gal’s tone isn’t cruel or calculating. It’s hopeful. Warming. He’s on to something. “Maybe you don’t trust me—I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t, after everything—but I trust you with my life. I know I can trust you because you throw your life on the line to save me. Time and time again, no matter how little I deserve it. You’ve sacrificed everything for me.”
He shifts his gaze skyward. I don’t know if he’s looking for the Cygnets, a merciful cloud to break the heat, or this system god’s absolution.
“So that’s what we have to do for them.”
CHAPTER 19
I GOT USED to feeling helpless a long time ago.
During the final days of the war, when Trost was under bombardment, I found myself wrapped in an uncanny calmness. I knew there was nothing I could do—that the bombs would fall, the buildings would collapse, and only chance would save me. As the days wore on and the bone-shaking rumbles grew closer, it got easier and easier to accept.
At the academy, that detachment served me well. I could disconnect from my body during grueling drills. Disconnect from my fear in a Viper cockpit. I was a perfect soldier—one who could follow orders without hesitation or limitation. I stopped caring about what happened to me, and it made everything easier. I could sit back and watch things take their course, knowing there wasn’t anything I could have done to change it.
Now I watch Gal set out on the course I plotted, leading Maxo Iral toward his ruination, and for the first time in years I feel like I should do something.
“Tracking the movement of dreadnoughts can only get you so far,” Gal says. He stands at the head of the conference room, combing his fingers through the vectors on the projected map. General Iral watches him from the side, his dark eyes fixed on the lines Gal traces. “As you said, there are ships ghosting in the black whose vectors aren’t a part of the public record.”
I’m seated farther down the table, sandwiched between members of the base’s senior staff. It’s been two days since our first briefing. Two days of getting acclimated to the base’s layout, to the base’s schedule, and