“Yes, and the experts at the Academy who teach classes on this stuff don’t find my methods reliable, so neither should you.”
Nishi’s voice rises higher, and now Deke and Kai are listening again. “Rho, they just don’t understand your methods, that’s all! I know you’ve been taught to trust your elders, but on Sagittarius we’re raised to question everything—it’s the only way to get to the truth of a thing. You and our instructors are being blinded by prejudice right now. You’re so distracted by how you got the right answer that you’re missing the point that you are right—”
An alarm blares across the room, and an automated voice echoes through the ship: “Debris field ahead. Brace yourselves.”
A heavy object jolts against our hull, and Nishi and I grasp hands just as the retro engines fire, flinging all of us to the ceiling. We must be flying through Thebe’s rubble. “Grab something and hang on!” I shout, wrapping my fingers around a handrail.
The engines thunder so loud, my teeth vibrate. We hear the thuds of more space rocks striking our hull, and we cling to our handrails while the ship veers in every direction, blowing our bodies around like seaweed in a riptide.
Kai looks green, so I pull myself over to him and tug on his elbow. “Come on!” I call over the thunderous rumbling. “We have to belt in.”
As the ship rolls and swerves, I help him into the nearest hammock and squeeze in beside him, hooking the belt tight across our ribs. An especially large chunk of debris slams our hull, and Kai clutches my hand so hard, I wince.
The ship keeps lurching unpredictably, the wreckage so extensive it feels like we’ve been bumping through it for hours. After a while, Kai starts singing an old Cancrian seafaring song:
“The wind she blows from north to east.
Our schooner flies ten knots at least.
So ever forward we shall roam,
Until the sea shall bring us home. . . .”
I join in, flat and off-key. When Deke’s voice seeps in, he meets my gaze for the first time. His eyes look like dying stars, nebulas of turquoise whose lights are fading.
Now I’m the one crushing Kai’s hand.
We sing the song so many times that Nishi memorizes the words. After so much crying and shouting, her voice is nothing more than a soft purr, but it’s still beautiful. Gradually, the rest of us drop out so we can listen to her mournful tune.
The ship’s trajectory starts to smooth out. When the engines cut off, Nishi’s voice fades away, and we wait in tense silence.
“All clear,” the automated voice announces.
I take a deep breath, free my fingers from Kai’s grip, and undo my belt. When I’m in the air, Nishi’s already by my side. “Let’s find the Stargazer and tell him what you saw.” Stargazer is the Sagittarian word for Zodai.
“He told us to stay here,” interrupts Deke.
“Nishi’s right,” I say, taking her hand and digging into my pocket for my Wave. “Besides, I want to know what’s happening.”
Nishi and I zip up to the hatch in time to barge right into Lodestar Mathias Thais. With a frown, he motions us back into the bunkroom. Inside, dim light falls across his face, shadowing his cheekbones. “We’re making a course change.”
“The other moons?” I ask, my breath catching. “Did something happen to them?”
He stares at me, and I get the sense he’s observing me for the first time. He looks for so long, I begin to feel uncomfortable, but I don’t turn away. The same instinct that helps me read the stars seems to be whispering to me now. If I want him to treat me like an equal, I need to act like one.
He swipes the Wave from my hands and opens it. I don’t protest. He scans the holograms surrounding him and pulls up the Ephemeris. When the spectral Space map blossoms out, he asks, “You can read the stars with this?”
He sounds so doubtful that I blush. “Not very well. It’s just a tutorial version.”
He tips his head to one side, searching my face, continuing to float in the same steady position. “Your reading’s correct,” he says, his voice stony. “Our four moons have collided, and the rubble is streaking through our atmosphere. In the next few hours, it will strike our ocean and cause planet-wide tsunami waves. We can’t land on Cancer.”
The edges of my vision darken. I feel like he’s sucked the light from my world with his words.
Everything that happened tonight was almost endurable at the thought of setting foot in the Cancer Sea, of sleeping in my old room, of hugging Dad and saying all the things I never said. I take a ragged breath, and Nishi steadies me with her arm. Dad—Stanton—the Academy—home—everything I know is sinking away.
I’m Centerless.
Mathias clears his throat, and I realize he isn’t finished. Lowering his eyes, he whispers, “Our Guardian Origene is dead.”
5
THE SHOCK ROBS ME OF speech and thought, almost of breath itself.