“Our Zodai are already watching for ambushes,” I insist. “We’ll do lots of reconnaissance before we strike.”
Sirna’s still worried about the secret army on Phobos, but that’s not what troubles me most. I’m worried we’ve been at peace for so long that our Houses have forgotten the art of war.
Except for the five Ariean destroyers, none of our vessels were designed to carry weapons, and other than the Arieans, our crews have no experience in battle. Combat is just a word from the history files for most of us here. The older men like Ignus are almost giddy. They don’t seem to understand there’s a chance we won’t come back from this.
I plop onto a stool while Mathias recalibrates the lens array, and numbers fly across his control screen as the telescope refocuses. He’s working harder than anyone, training new skiff pilots en route and instructing the ship’s crew in martial arts. We all have to be ready for anything—no one knows what’s behind Ochus’s wall of Dark Matter.
I run fingers through my curls, wondering what critical factor I’ve missed. I can’t fight the bad feeling that keeps creeping up my neck, no matter how many times I try to shake it off. “Ophiuchus is just one House, and we’re twelve. We’ve got the numbers. Everyone believes we can do this.”
“Well then, if everyone believes, we’ll definitely win,” he says flatly.
I stare at him. “What is it?”
He finally faces me, and his eyes shine with more passion than his voice betrays. “They’re asking too much of you, Rho. They’re using you like bait.”
Now I’m the one to look away. “Mathias, I launched this voyage. These people trust me. You want to turn back?”
“Of course not. We’re committed now.” He rises from his scope and moves toward me. “I’m having your Wasp armor-plated.”
“Thank you,” I say, even though we both know physical armor won’t hold off a Psy attack.
“I’ll be with you every step,” he murmurs, looking like he wants to say more.
He thinks he’s going to pilot my Wasp, but I’ve already decided there’s no way. I’m not going to let him die with me. He already came aboard Equinox without knowing the full risk, and he could have died too many times. I have to return him to Amanta and Egon. Mathias has to get home.
I nod and try to smile. “The plan will work. It has to.”
He studies my forehead, my mouth, my chin. I can’t read his expression. “When was the last time you had a decent meal?”
“I ate some breakfast.” Actually, I had a tube of fortified energy paste, but it counts. “I’m going to get ready for my meeting with the Psy experts.”
Mathias and I agreed that I would consult the foremost Psy scholars in our fleet while we’re on our way to see whether they can help me defend myself in the Psy, if I’m forced to fight Ochus.
One of the three notables is Chronicler Yuu, a Capricorn. The second is a Piscene mystic, Disciple Psamathe, and the third is a Virgo I met during our visit. Moira’s gray-haired courtier, Talein.
“Eat a little more,” Mathias calls on my way out.
37
VERY SOON NOW, WE’LL BE entering the Kyros Belt. Our scans show the ice field glittering in the distance like a fine mist.
Blinking signal lamps are not the speediest way to communicate, especially when the signals have to be relayed through the fleet from ship to ship, so it will take more than one galactic hour to shuttle Yuu, Psamathe, and Talein aboard Firebird for our meeting.
While I wait, I run through the pilot training course Ignus gave me on my Wave. I decided to bring it with me, since the Psy shield will protect us from Ophiuchus accessing the tutorial Ephemeris.
After a bit, I start to space out and watch the Leonine mechanics armor my Wasp gunship. They’re covering the side and rear windows with thick plates of tungsten carbide, while a guy named Peero tells an awful joke about a Capricorn who was reading an instruction manual for how to lose his virginity. Leos have always had little love for Capricorns.
This training course makes steering a Wasp look easy, though the sight of the ship makes me claustrophobic.
“Would you like to help?” a girl named Cendia asks. I instantly like her wide, friendly face. She keeps her thick mane of brown hair tied in a topknot, and her arms are covered in artistic tattoos. “You can hold this panel while I weld the seam.”
“Sure,” I say, glad for a chance to do something.
Hanging out with the mechanics helps me relax. They’re only a couple of years older than me, and their rowdy good humor reminds me of the dining hall at the Academy. When Cendia and I lift the panel into place over the window, I lean against it to keep it from slipping.