I aim the scanner, and I’m relieved to see a dozen skiffs zooming my way. Hysan and Mathias made it out. They’ll be fine. It’s time for me to clear out. I set a course straight for the Sufianic Clouds.
“Rho, slow down. I’ll escort you.” It’s Hysan. He’s calling from one of the skiffs.
“Stay and protect the fleet, Hysan. Please stick to the plan. Trust me.” I shut off the radio before Mathias calls, too.
My Wasp’s hydrogen powertrain was engineered for speed, and no skiff can catch up with me. All I have to do is put a decent amount of space between the fleet and myself. Ten minutes at hyperspeed should do it.
Sailing outbound toward the galaxy’s edge, I feel a burst of adrenaline. This is my fate. I’m not a fighter, and I don’t invent things, but in the Ephemeris, I grow powerful. Even though it means meeting Ochus, part of me is thrilled to be returning to the astral realm, where I feel closest to the soul of the Zodiac.
My Wasp zooms lightning fast, and my fingers tingle with energy. After ten minutes, I lower my shield and flip on the Wasp’s Ephemeris. Let’s see if Ochus finds me as tempting a target as I hope he does.
This onboard Ephemeris is designed as a crystal ball mounted on my console, but something’s wrong with it. It won’t light up.
I toggle the digital switch off and on. Nothing. I command the Wasp to turn it on. My console talks back. “Please provide the encryption key.”
Admiral Ignus didn’t have time to unlock it. How am I supposed to distract Ochus now?
I aim my optic scanner back toward the fleet. Firebird’s closing in on the space station, but she’s skimming through the planet’s upper clouds, losing altitude fast. Xitium’s beside her, and Equinox buzzes around them both, diving in and out of the atmosphere to shield them. Farther out, the skiffs fly in echelon formation, probably waiting to retrieve escape pods, should the need arise.
I get on the radio and try calling Ignus again, and when that doesn’t work, I hail the skiffs. “My Ephemeris is locked. Does anyone know the key?”
Hysan answers. “Sorry, Rho. Ignus didn’t trust me with his secrets.”
“What about Mathias? He’s piloting one of the skiffs, right?”
“No, he’s not with us. I haven’t heard from him or anyone on Firebird. Their transceivers are down.”
Mathias is still on board?
“Hysan, can you signal them with your running lights?”
“I’ll try.”
My scan shows one of the skiffs leaving formation and swooping down toward the gutted flagship. He’s going to position himself in front of the bridge, where Ignus can’t miss his blinking lights. I ease forward in my seat, watching the scanner screen, hoping to see more skiffs leaving the flagship.
Sirna comes on the radio again. “Mother Rho, where’s your Ring? Mathias is trying to speak to you through the Psy.”
I twist my Ringless finger. “I don’t have it. I never took it with me from the strongbox. What’s he saying?”
Hysan’s still twenty kilometers out when Firebird’s gutted belly starts shooting sparks. It’s hitting the planet’s denser methane clouds, building up friction. I cover my mouth as I realize what’s happening: The cruiser’s breaking in two.
Sirna comes back on the radio. “He says . . . You were born for this. I should have told you every day.”
I want to look away from the blazing ship, but I can’t. The bow section noses upward, bounces and rolls, then bursts into flames. The fire dies almost at once, but debris flies against Xitium, knocking her off course.
Equinox shoots into the clear, and so does Hysan’s skiff, just as the stern half of the cruiser skitters into a spin, flaring streaks of burning fuel. Fire engulfs it. Mathias was near the stern when I left him.
Shaking, I grab the radio mike. “Hysan, do you see any more skiffs? Or escape pods?”
“I don’t, Rho.” His voice grows quiet. “I’m sorry.”
The stern breaks into a thousand pieces, and their fiery trails streak downward through the clouds. In seconds, the fires snuff out. The Piscene atmosphere holds too little oxygen to keep a flame alive.
“Look again, Hysan!” I scream at the radio mike.
Mathias can’t be dead.
At first, no one responds. All I can hear is a rhythmic rush of noise . . . then I realize I’m hyperventilating.
“Someone do something!” I shout.
Lord Neith replies. “Scans show no survivors.”
Sirna adds in a somber whisper, “Their voices have fallen silent in the Psy.”
40
MATHIAS.
I grip the view screen with such force, the plexine housing creaks.
For an instant, I consider turning my Wasp around and diving into those methane clouds to find him. I almost do it.
My hand’s on the tiller, ready to make the turn. “Mathias,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I was scared, too. It was easier to focus on the things that stood between us—his doubt, our disagreements, the age difference—than explore how I truly felt about him.
I loved him my entire adolescence.
I love him still.
Sirna hails me from the Ariean destroyer. “Guardian, stay on course. I’m trying to find the encryption key you need.”
On course?