She stays that way for a heartbeat, letting out a breath. When she lifts her head again, I see her soldier’s mask slide back into place, despite the tears still wet on her cheeks. But there’s something different about that shield now, a warmth I can’t identify until she looks at me once more, and I realize her heart is still in her eyes. “Can you move?” She’s speaking as she climbs to her feet, taking my hand to pull me with her. “There are monitors everywhere—LaRoux will know what we’ve done.”
“The comms tower.” I stagger upright, keeping hold of her hand. “Like Lilac said, a galaxy of witnesses, so he can’t destroy Avon. So he can’t silence us.”
“The military and the Fianna are out there.” She shakes her head, gasping the words as she shoves the gun she took from the whisper into her holster.
“A broadcast is the only way to keep Avon safe.” I squeeze her hand, knowing what I’m asking. The odds that both of us will make it through the chaos of open war unscathed are almost impossible. “If I can make our people hear me too, maybe we can end this.”
Jubilee gazes back at me for a long moment, then tightens her hand in mine. “Then let’s go.”
The facility is chaotic. Mercenaries freed from their trances stagger from room to corridor, trying to understand where they are and why. Scientists and researchers in white coats lie still where they fell, though I can’t tell if they’re dead or unconscious. Perhaps it’s LaRoux’s last fail-safe, part of whatever he did to their brains, a way to make sure they couldn’t talk.
We work our way up staircases and through hallways, climbing to the surface. We’re just two more bodies in the chaos, and I keep my head down, hand wrapped tight around Jubilee’s as we race down the hallway. With every step my energy’s returning, hope surging through me. The fight’s not over yet. My head’s clear, my lungs are working more easily. By the time we reach the door to the compound, I feel better than I have since we climbed onto the shuttle to head for the spaceport. I feel alive. Now all we have to do is stay that way.
Outside it’s still dark, dawn at least an hour away. There’s a faint light to the east, enough to make out the silhouettes of people running everywhere. This facility, hidden until now, has become a battlefield. We stare out of the open doorway until, with a low cry of warning, Jubilee yanks at my arm to pull me down to the floor. Half an instant later, a laser ricochets off the metal door frame inches from where I’d been standing.
The muddy smell of swamp seeps in to overtake the filtered air of the facility, carrying with it the acrid stench of burning from laser and gunfire. Somewhere on the other side of our building I can hear McBride roaring like a man possessed, bellowing orders. Through the crack in the doorway, I see Pól and Liam O’Mara dash past, faces visible for an instant in a flash of light as half a dozen Gleidels go off at once. My heart clenches, but neither of them stumbles.
Jubilee’s face lights in a flash of laser-fire. Her eyes are wide, gaze scanning the battlefield like she’s trying to find openings or search for patterns. “This is suicide,” she breathes.
I scan the chaos as her soldiers gain ground against my Fianna, breaching the fence here and there and pinning them against the building we’re hiding in. I trace the line of the fence until I reach the comms tower, studying it through the muted light. There’s a door at the base, but it’s closed, and for all I know it’s locked. There’s a maintenance ladder running up the outside of the building, though; rusted, rickety, but it looks like I could climb it, maybe.
“We have to try.” I flinch as one of the Fianna goes down with a scream. I don’t recognize the voice, but my gut clenches at the sound. “Can you get me to the tower? If you can hold them off, I think I can still stop this.” The guns are roaring outside, lasers screaming and lighting up the compound in quick flashes. More every second, louder every minute. I glance at Jubilee as her eyes sweep across the battle, taking stock of all that’s happening. I can see her mind working, trying to figure out how fast we can run, whether we’ve got any chance of making it before someone shoots us. She draws in two long, slow breaths, easing her gun out of its holster. I hope her aim is good enough to avoid killing anybody—neither of these armies is our enemy anymore. Then she nods, saying nothing, but there’s determination in her gaze.
Sheltering behind the cover of the doorway, I reach for her to tug her in closer, until we’re a hand’s breadth apart. Beyond, I can hear the shriek of Gleidels and the crack of the Fianna’s ancient weaponry—then the ground beneath our feet shudders with the force of an explosion. Heart thumping, I look across at Jubilee, and despite the low light, I can see the lines of her face—her lips, her cheekbones, the swoop of her lashes. “Hey,” I murmur. I don’t know what I want to say, but I have to say it before we walk onto a battlefield, into the path of two armies that both want us dead.