I was hoping for better than that. For the first time in five years, I was desperate to land, get off my ship, and breathe air that hadn’t been filtered and recycled a thousand times over. And then I wanted to get the Endeavor repaired while I figured out what the hell to do next.
My father thought the battle was over. For all intents and purposes, he’d imposed his science and his law across the 18 Sectors, but there were still insurgencies to crush all over the Dark. The human spirit was not so easily controlled. For many, the conflict was ongoing and would be until they either won or died. What could those rebels do if I gave them the serum? Turn the tide of war?
But there were already places hovering on the edge of survival, where extinction was a word to fear. Could I live with myself, knowing I might be launching the galaxy into a whole new generation of rampant bloodshed? Knowing I could be changing people’s bodies? Knowing they could evolve into something else, like those giant carnivorous spiders had?
For all the sterile labs, careful experimentation, and strict controls, science was still just a big guessing game. Sometimes, you guessed wrong. And I only knew one thing about those false vaccines: if they were based on my blood, then they were built around whatever was genetically wrong with me. And the more people who found out I was an anomaly, the more hunted I’d be.
“Tess?” Jax questioned.
His voice brought me out of my brooding thoughts. I may have been eleven years his junior and a few inches shorter, but I was the captain, and he waited for my orders.
“Brace yourselves for hyperspace.” I sat in my locked chair and gripped the armrests. Big Guy, who now knew half my secrets, stood next to me. When everyone else looked stable, I nodded to Jaxon. “And go.”
Chapter 4
Our crazy luck held a little longer, and we made it to Albion 5’s exosphere with half a power bar to spare. Jax turned all our solar panels in the right direction the second we came out of warp speed. We still might fall apart, but at least we were recharging.
After a rattling and frankly terrifying descent toward the capital city on the planet’s surface, we called in and were offered a docking port in exchange for a small fortune on the bizarrely named Squirrel Tree. I doubted there was a squirrel within a hundred-mile radius of Albion City—if there were any at all on this overpopulated rock.
We landed on our designated platform on the immense docking tower and then powered down, all of us drooping a little in relief. It had been a hell of a day. After a moment, though, the quiet became almost as nerve-racking as listening to the Endeavor whine and groan about the holes in her walls. Tension snapped through me. I hated being confined when we weren’t moving.
I popped out of my chair and left the bridge. The second I could slap my palm down on the interior lock, I opened what was left of the starboard doors and breathed. A few deep inhales and long exhales helped settle my nerves. Seeing my mangled air lock nearly undid the good the fresh air was doing me, though. The outer door was utterly destroyed.
Despite the obvious and extensive damage, it was surprisingly easy to refocus. I’d worry about repairs—and how much they were going to cost us—soon. Right now, I was just happy to be alive. Once again, and against all odds, the five of us had somehow made it through.
I leaned out of the ship and looked around. The view from the high-up platform was spectacular—if you liked glass and metal and rock. Sprawling, spire-filled cityscapes were fine with me; I wasn’t much for green. Flora and fauna were about a million miles out of my comfort zone. I did like healthy, breathable atmospheres, though, and the sky here was clear and blue, with hints of pink and purple hazing the horizon. Three visible moons hung over the city, and a small planet hovered in the distance—the one that was undergoing terraforming, I presumed.
I sniffed a few times, savoring the mix of freshness and warmth as faint sounds from street level drifted up to blend with the low hum of crafts and transports flying around and above the maze of docks. The sunny, midday air seemed free of heavy smog and gritty