this second flight go supersonic. A sequence of distant cracks sounded in the air, rattling dishware on the refreshments table.
“Spin?” Cobb said. “I didn’t think you were one to—”
“I’ve heard the stars, Cobb.”
He immediately fell silent.
“I saw the eyes,” I continued. “A thousand pinpricks of white light. More. Millions of them. As one, they turned to watch me. And they saw me.”
Cobb went white as a sheet. His hand trembled on his cane. We stood practically alone on the packed earth of the parade ground.
“I have the defect,” I whispered. “Like my father.”
“I . . . see.”
“Was he ever erratic before that day?” I asked. “Did he show any signs before he suddenly turned and attacked you?”
Cobb shook his head. “He saw things, heard things, but nothing dangerous. Judy—Ironsides—always told him that even if the defect was real, he could overcome it. She fought for him, defended him. Stuck her neck out, until . . .”
A third flight launched. They were really committed to getting that shipyard.
I looked up toward the twisting shadows of the debris field. I sighed, then unhooked the radio from my belt and handed it to Cobb.
He hesitated, then took it. I could see from his worried eyes, his pale face, the truth. Knowing I’d seen those eyes . . . it changed his mind. He didn’t want me to fly. I was too dangerous.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he said.
“It’s better this way,” I said. “We don’t have to worry about what I might or might not do.”
I forced out a smile, then turned from him to walk toward the refreshments. Inside, I was breaking.
The person I’d been four months ago would never have accepted some phantom “defect” as an excuse to keep me from flying. But I wasn’t that person anymore. I was someone else, someone who couldn’t look at courage and cowardice in the simple terms that she once had.
I’d ejected. I’d nearly crumpled under the weight of losing my friends. Even ignoring all of this craziness about hearing the stars, I wasn’t certain I deserved to fly.
It was better if I just let it all go. I lowered my head and turned away from the refreshment tables, not wanting to be around people.
A hand grabbed me by the arm. “And where do you think you’re going?”
I looked up, ready to punch . . . Nedd?
He wore a goofy grin. “I missed the actual ceremony, didn’t I. I thought for sure I’d be safe coming a few minutes late—Ironsides always talks for like ten hours. Where’s Jerkface? FM? I need to congratulate them.”
“They’re flying a mission.”
“Today?” Nedd said. “That’s dumb. I’m supposed to wrangle them into joining us for a real party.” He seemed genuinely upset as, behind us, a fourth flight of ships rose into the air. Nedd sighed, then grabbed me by the arm again. “Well, at least I can wrangle you.”
“Nedd, I didn’t make it. I ejected. I—”
“I know. That just means you won’t take demerits for leaving the base for the party.” He tugged me after him. “Come on. The others are there already. Arturo’s family has radio access. We can listen to the battle and cheer them on.”
I sighed, but that last part was intriguing. I let him tow me off after him as a fifth flight of ships rose into the air and flew the same direction as the others.
“Cobb said the admiral was going to try to salvage the shipyard,” I explained as Arturo set a large, boxy radio on our table at the restaurant—rattling the drinks. “Nedd and I saw at least five flights take off. They’re serious about this.”
The others gathered around. It was good to see them again, and strangely refreshing not to see condemnation in their eyes. Kimmalyn, Nedd, Arturo. The rest of the dim restaurant was empty. Just us and a couple of younger teenagers not wearing flight pins—probably the children of field or orchard workers.
“They called in everyone,” Arturo said, running a cord from the radio to the wall. “Even the reserves from the lower caverns. This is going to be some fight.”
“Yeah,” I said. I looked down at my drink and fries, neither of which I’d touched.
“Hey,” Kimmalyn said, poking me in the side. “You sulking?”
I shrugged.
“Good,” she said. “This is a day for sulking!”
“Graduation day,” Nedd said, raising his cup. “For the washout club!”
“Hurrah!” Kimmalyn said, raising hers.
“You’re both idiots,” Arturo said, fiddling with the dials on the radio. “I didn’t wash out. I graduated early.”
“Yeah?” Nedd asked. “And did