by Kass Morgan
Vesper jumped back in surprise as the door swung open. “Are you in there, Commander?” she asked tentatively, then cringed. That was how you called for your roommate, not the head of the Quatra Fleet. There was no response, of course. The commander wasn’t in his quarters.
If she hadn’t known she was on a battlecraft, Vesper would’ve believed herself to be in an elegant estate outside of Evoline, where many of her Tridian friends, like Frey, had country homes. The sitting room wasn’t huge, but it was sumptuously decorated with a leather couch, a set of green velvet chairs, and a number of oil paintings in gilded frames. The most striking item was a large, ornate wooden desk with various sea creatures carved into the legs, an antique from the days when the fleet patrolled the seas instead of the skies. It had been updated, of course, the top replaced with a link monitor.
Vesper took a few steps toward it for a closer look. Perhaps Commander Stepney’s schedule would be open and she’d be able to track him down. She’d just take a very quick look and then hurry away as fast as possible. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and while she was risking severe punishment by trespassing in the commander’s quarters, she had to do whatever necessary to help Rex before it was too late.
She held her breath and inched toward the desk, as if afraid that her mere presence would trigger an alarm. The commander’s schedule wasn’t pulled up, but his messages were.
Stop it. Turn around right now, Vesper ordered herself. If she was caught reading Commander Stepney’s correspondence, she’d be put into the cell next to Rex. Yet some kind of invisible force seemed to be pulling her closer to the desk. Nothing about the events of the past few days made sense—Arran’s discovery about the explosion, Stepney’s strange behavior during today’s conference with the Sylvans, Rex’s arrest. She needed answers, and this seemed like the best possible place to start.
The first few messages would’ve been interesting if she’d been driven by pure nosiness, but they didn’t contain any information pertinent to her mission. She kept scrolling, and her dismay grew. What the hell was she doing? She wasn’t going to help Rex by reading about salary budgets and new guidelines for safety inspections. She was just about to give it up as a lost cause when a word caught her eye. Malware.
Heart pounding, she began to read from the beginning. It was a message assuring Commander Stepney that chips had been installed, and that the malware could be activated remotely to destroy an oxygen converter and close the hydrogen vents. “Arran was right about everything,” Vesper whispered, dumbstruck. The explosion had been caused by someone in the fleet—Commander Stepney. She read one of the lines again, her shock freezing into horror. The chips had been installed. Did that mean he was planning to do it again?
“What the hell are you doing?”
It wasn’t easy to overwhelm Vesper Haze. She was known for keeping a cool head in every situation, whether in the simulcraft, where she could land on an asteroid without breaking a sweat; in the classroom, where she answered trick questions with confidence and poise; or in the dining hall, where she responded to taunts from her rivals with charm and wit. But as Vesper spun around, she felt her heart scramble into her throat for safety.
“I was sent to leave you… this,” she said, fumbling for a file on the side of his desk. “I was just looking for a safe spot, since it’s confidential.”
“You don’t have the security clearance to handle those types of documents,” Stepney said coolly. “And if you did, you would know that delivering them to my room would be an absurd breach of protocol.”
Even if Vesper had been able to think of a response, there was no way she’d be able to form the words. Her heart was beating so quickly she thought she might actually pass out.
“Do you want to tell me what you’re actually doing here? Did your charming mother send you?”
“No.” Vesper managed to force the word out, desperate to make it clear that this had been her decision, her mistake. Not her mother’s.
“I’m not sure whether that makes it better or worse,” Stepney said, shaking his head. His disappointment looked so genuine that, for a moment, Vesper felt a flash of shame. She’d spent so much of her life trying to impress high-ranking members of the Quatra Fleet that it was a hard habit to break.
But not him, Vesper reminded herself. Stepney might wear a fleet uniform decorated with medals for bravery and valor, but underneath, he wore the skin of a traitor. It didn’t matter what he thought about her, save for the fact that he had the power to punish her for gross insubordination. Or, worse, treason. But looking into his strangely cold eyes, she realized it was over; there was nothing she could do to protect herself now. The realization felt like being submerged in icy water—painful and shocking, but clarifying at the same time. With nothing to lose, there was no reason not to indulge her curiosity. “Why’d you do it?” she asked.
With a sigh, he pressed a button on his link. “There’s been a security breach. Please send backup,” he said wearily, before looking up at Vesper. “Do what?”
“Cause that explosion on the patrol ship and let everyone believe it was a Specter attack.”
Commander Stepney forced a laugh. “You’re out of your mind.”
“No, I’m not,” Vesper said, no longer afraid of insubordination. She was already in such profoundly deep trouble, one more charge hardly seemed to matter. “They’re giving you orders, aren’t they? The fyron corporations. They want access to Sylvan’s supply and you’re making it possible.”
“The world is a far more complicated place than you seem capable of understanding, young lady,” Stepney said icily. “I’d worry about your naïveté, but that hardly matters now that you’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison.”
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Vesper said, nearly shouting. The bubbling anger in her chest had subsumed her fear. “You’re going to cause another explosion and blame it on the Sylvans. The peace talks are going to fall apart, the war will continue, and millions of people are going to die.”
The door hissed open and Vesper spun around to see that the room had suddenly filled with helmeted guards pointing their guns at her. She lifted her arms over her head in a gesture of surrender, but none of them lowered their weapons. “I’m afraid this cadet is in league with the Devak terrorist,” Stepney said, arranging his features into an expression of pity. “We’ll need to keep her locked up until we determine what sort of danger she poses.”
Vesper felt her arms being jerked behind her, her wrists bound together by restraints. It was painful but she didn’t cry out, nor did she resist as they dragged her out. She kept her eyes locked on Stepney the entire time. If she was indeed executed for treason, this could be the last time Stepney ever laid eyes on her, and although her heart was beating so frantically she thought it might crack through her chest, she wouldn’t let her fear show. His final image of her would be one of defiance. But what would that matter once he sabotaged the fragile peace treaty, ripping it out of the ground before it had time to take root? She needed to tell someone—anyone—about Stepney’s plan before it was too late.
CHAPTER 20
ARRAN
“Arran? Are you listening?”
Arran glanced at Rees, slightly startled. His mind had been a jumble of thoughts since the first session of the peace summit earlier that day, and he hadn’t realized he’d zoned out while Rees was speaking. He still couldn’t believe Orelia had pulled it off, that she’d gotten Zafir to do what he’d been too afraid to do. Because of their joint efforts, the summit would continue. Peace was on the horizon.
He’d tried to send her a message, but she was once again out of range. After the session, both the Quatran and Sylvan ships had dispersed and docked in undisclosed locations. They’d meet back up for the next day’s talks, but until the peace treaty was actually signed, it was too risky for their battlecraft to remain in such close proximity.
“Sorry,” Arran said, shaking his head with a smi
le. “What were you saying?”
They were having dinner in the battlecraft’s spare, utilitarian mess hall, which Arran found to be a refreshing change. While eating flavorless food at a slightly dented metal table wasn’t as elegant as dining with antique silverware under a chandelier, it was nice to escape the slightly oppressive sense of history in the Academy’s dining hall—a history that’d excluded people like him.
Rees glanced at the cadets at the other end of their long table and lowered his voice. “I was asking if anyone’s figured out it was you who told Orelia about the malware.”
Arran shook his head. “No. But I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. Do you think it counts as passing secrets to the enemy?”
“If the peace talks are successful, then she won’t be the enemy.”
“I’m not quite sure it works that way,” Arran said, forcing a smile to hide his growing nerves. Eager to change the subject, he asked, “It’s going to be strange going back to the Academy, won’t it? I mean, for decades it’s been synonymous with the war against the Specters.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Rees said grimly. “They’ll keep us plenty busy quashing rebellions on Deva and shooting at striking miners on Chetire.”
“You think so? We haven’t seen that type of violence in a while.”
“Don’t be naïve. Without the threat of the Specters, the Federation is going to have to find something for the Tridians to worry about. That’s how the government and the fleet maintain their power—they create an enemy and then convince people that they’re the only ones who can protect them.”
As Arran struggled to process this unsettling thought, a commotion rose up from the other end of the table. A young Tridian officer had run over and was saying something to a group of startled-looking cadets. One of them nudged Fabien, a friend of Dash’s, and they both turned to stare at Arran.
“Why are they looking at you like that?” Rees asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I don’t know. Maybe I should go see,” Arran said.
But before he could rise from his seat, Fabien jumped from his chair and hurried over. “Something’s happened,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Rex was arrested. They think he has ties to the rebels on Devak and that he was the one who caused the explosion.”
“What?” Arran said, rising quickly from his own seat. “That doesn’t—”
Fabien cut him off. “That’s not all. They’re saying Vesper helped him. She’s been arrested too.”
“That’s ridiculous. And who the hell is they?”
“The fleet, I guess. Commander Stepney was there when they took Rex. Frey saw it happen.”
Of course, Arran thought, as his heart began to race with fear and fury. “Everyone knows that’s a lie. There can’t be any evidence. I have to go talk to someone.”
Fabien took a step back, as if he were afraid Arran would ask for his help. “I just thought you’d want to know. So, yeah…” He trailed off awkwardly.
“You were right. Thank you.”
Fabien shuffled back to his seat, leaving Arran standing. He knew he had to do something, but he had no idea what that was.
Rees stood up and came around the table. “You okay?” he asked, rubbing Arran’s arm.
“No, not really,” Arran said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe they’ve blamed the explosion on Rex. It’s absolutely insane. Even if he’d had access to the tools and to the battlecraft—which he didn’t—there’s no way in hell he would’ve put me and Vesper in danger like that.”
“Unless he did it before he knew that you and Vesper would be assigned to that crew,” Rees said, a strange light in his eyes.
“What? No. He wouldn’t have done it regardless.”
“I’m just saying that maybe it’s not as awful as it sounds. If he didn’t know that you and Vesper would be on the ship, then you can’t really blame him for what he did.”
“He didn’t do anything,” Arran snapped. “It’s all a lie. But it seems like you want to believe it.”
Rees raised his chin. “And what’s wrong with that?”
“For the love of Antares, Sula died in that explosion.”
“Sometimes it’s about the greater good.”
Arran stared at Rees with growing horror. “I can’t talk about this right now,” he said.
As he hurried out of the mess hall, Arran’s confusion and disgust over Rees’s comments faded. Every buzzing thought in his previously frenzied mind was pushed aside by one overwhelming question: How the hell was he going to rescue his friends? He began to tap on his link, searching for the message Rees had sent him with the master lock code. If ever there was a time to follow Rees to the “dark side,” this was it.
CHAPTER 21
VESPER
The door shut with a heavy thud, leaving Vesper alone in the tiny cell. If she sat on the edge of the metal bench and stretched out her arms, her fingers would brush against the opposite wall. It was even smaller than a simulcraft, smaller than the tiniest closet in her parents’ house. I’m never going home again, she realized. What would she have done differently if she’d known she was leaving forever when she’d departed for the Academy? Would she have gone around the house touching the surfaces to commit them to memory? Would she have gotten up early to watch the sunrise in the panoramic living room windows, marveling at the spectacular view she’d taken for granted for too long? How would she have said goodbye to Baz, their faithful attendant who sometimes seemed to care about Vesper more than her parents did?
“Vesper, are you in there?” The voice was so heartbreakingly familiar that she wondered if her exhausted, terrified brain had imagined it. Perhaps that’s what happened when you knew you were going to die—you heard the voices of the people you loved. Even if you never had the chance to tell them that you loved them.
Even if you weren’t sure whether they loved you back.
“Rex?”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone going from confusion to panic. “I heard your voice when they were bringing you down the hall. What happened? Are you okay?”
She told him about getting caught breaking into Stepney’s quarters, and what she’d discovered before he’d arrived. “He’s going to sabotage the peace summit,” she said, her voice trembling with frustration. “We have to do something once we get out of here.”
Rex cursed under his breath, then she heard a thud that sounded like him banging his fist against the wall. After a long pause, he said, “I think… I think this might be it for me.”
“What are you talking about?” Vesper asked. The despair in his voice kicked her into a new gear, rendering her determined to find a sliver of hope for them to cling to. “As soon as my mom finds out what happened, she’ll force them to release us.” She wasn’t sure if she believed it herself, but she had to convince Rex of the possibility.
“There are things I haven’t told you… things I couldn’t tell you.” He paused and she heard him take a deep breath, as if summoning the strength to extract words buried deep inside his chest. “My name’s not Rex, it’s Cormak. Rex is… was my older brother. He was the one admitted to the Academy, not me. But he…” He trailed off as his voice cracked. “He died before he ever got to go. He knew there was a chance that would happen, so he left me a note telling me to take his place. That way at least one of us would make it off Deva.”
For the umpteenth time that day, Vesper’s brain felt on the verge of short-circuiting. “I don’t understand,” she said, picturing the face of the boy who’d dominated her thoughts since she’d arrived at the Academy. “You’ve been lying to everyone the entire time?”
“I didn’t have a choice. I felt like I owed it to Rex. He died trying to earn enough money for me to go off planet, so he wouldn’t have to leave me behind when he went to the Academy. If I hadn’t tried to take his place, it all would’ve been in vain, and I… I couldn’t let that happen.” She could hear the pain in his voice and could imagine it written on his face
. Before she realized what she was doing, Vesper raised her arm and pressed her hand against the wall separating their two cells. “I couldn’t let my brother die for nothing.”
The words I understand flew to Vesper’s lips, but she didn’t release them. Because the truth was that she didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine the grief of losing a sibling. “Tell me about him,” she said softly.
“Tell you about Rex?” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “He was goofy, scarily smart, immensely kind, and the best person I ever knew. Because of him, it really seemed like I was going to have a future… even if it’s one I didn’t actually deserve.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t pass the entrance exam. I don’t really belong here.”
“That’s bullshit,” Vesper said with so much conviction that, for a moment, it pushed aside her fear. “You got the highest score on the aptitude test, made captain, and led your squadron to victory in the tournament. No one belongs here more than you do.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “You don’t really do things by half measures, do you? When you’re angry, it’s like facing the fury of a thousand suns, but I have to say, you being supportive is almost as scary.”
“So what happened?”
“For a little while, it looked like I was in the clear. That’s what I needed the money for—I paid someone on Deva to hack into the Academy’s medical database and swap out Rex’s files for my own. And it worked. But your charming ex-boyfriend grew suspicious and ended up talking to my contact. Ward doesn’t know everything, but he knew enough to blackmail me. He told me that if I didn’t break up with you and keep my distance, he’d report me as an imposter. And then he did it anyway.”
“Are you kidding me?” Vesper leapt to her feet, buoyed by a surge of fury. “I’m going to kill him. I don’t care what I have to do, but I’m going to kill him.”
“Forget about him,” Rex—no, Cormak—said. “Ward doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is figuring out how to get you out of here.”
