around her mouth seemed heavier.
“I need to talk to you,” Mali said.
Cora glanced out at the ship’s cabin, where the others were discussing logistics. She nodded for Mali to come in.
“I have come to talk about Cassian.”
And just like that, Cora’s tension returned. Only now it was met with the guilt that pounded hard, as she remembered seeing him through the crack in the tunnel. “I saw Cassian,” Cora admitted. “When we were fleeing the station in the drecktubes. They were interrogating him with some machine; it looked like torture.”
The guilt pounded harder. Cassian was Mali’s friend. She might never forgive Cora for just having left him there to suffer.
“I am not going to chastise you for leaving him,” Mali said, as though she could read her mind.
Surprise made Cora straighten. “You aren’t?”
Mali held up her scarred hands. “This is why I wish to speak to you. These scars are because I trusted a Mosca. It is a mistake to believe Bonebreak will adhere to his deal. If he gets a better offer, he will sell us the moment we set foot on his planet.”
“He doesn’t own us. We’re wards of the Kindred state.”
“Not since we left the station. We are unowned by anyone, which means Bonebreak could do whatever he wishes with us. Anya and I were once in a similar situation. We fled from our previous owner and trusted in a Mosca trader to take us to a safe preserve. He didn’t. He took possession of us himself and planned on selling us back to the same owner.”
The space was so tight that Cora could smell Mali’s scent: salt and cotton. “What did you do?”
“We sold ourselves to someone else first. Anya coordinated it with one of the Mosca trader’s underlings. He was not very clever. We were able to convince him to betray his commander. We said we’d be worth twice the price our previous owner would have paid. He fell for it, and stole a small vessel that would take us back to the Kindred’s station. But the first time we stopped to refuel, Anya and I spread a rumor that there were thousands of tokens on his ship. Dozens of other Mosca swarmed to steal from him, and in the chaos, we were able to escape again.” She lowered her hands, flexing the scarred fingers. “My point is, we must sell ourselves to someone else. Someone from an intelligent race who will not let Bonebreak betray us. Someone we trust.”
Cora hugged her arms tightly. “Cassian.”
Mali nodded. “He is the only one we can rely on.” She held up Lucky’s notebook, which Cora had left on the control panel. “Perhaps the weapons Lucky describes are not enough against an entire Kindred army, but they might be sufficient to free Cassian.”
Cora blinked in surprise at the possibility.
“But we already talked about this,” she stammered. “We can’t go back there. I’ll be arrested.”
“You cannot,” Mali said. “But the Kindred are not looking for me or Leon. We could go back, he and I, and free Cassian with the weapons cache.”
“You’ve discussed this with Leon?”
“No, but he will come. He will do what is right. I know it.” She lowered her voice. “Armstrong preserve is on a moon not far from here. We will pass close to it. Have Nok and Rolf insist that they be dropped off there. It will be a convincing argument that they would prefer to have their baby there, among other humans, rather than in the unpredictability of a Mosca planet. While we are there, Leon and I can sneak off. Kindred supply ships make frequent runs. We can find a way to board one back to the station.”
“Armstrong?” Cora squeezed the knife harder. “That’s the place Dane was talking about. He said it was a paradise, but Cassian warned me about it. Are you sure it’s safe for Nok and Rolf?”
“It is the only choice we have.”
Mali opened the door behind her and disappeared.
With a shaky hand, Cora set Lucky’s notebook on the counter. A part of her wanted to pore over every page right then, soak up every last bit of him, even from beyond the grave. But there would be time for that; time to absorb every word, remember every detail.
She squeezed the knife hard, looked in the mirror, and cut through her hair in one slice.
It came away uneven from her shaking hand. Her reflection showed a messy asymmetrical cut, starting just under her left ear and hanging nearly to