“I agree. It’s far too risky,” says Agatha, and now the tide’s turned back against me.
“Do you think I want to leave home?” I snap, for the first time sounding semi-hysterical to myself. I take a deep breath and with my eyes closed say, “We can’t stand by while Virgo and Gemini are attacked.” I turn to Mathias and make my voice deeper and steadier. “Advisor Thais, I order you to find me a ship that I can take to the other Houses, alone. Please.”
He glares at me, and while we stare, no one interrupts. Then he starts speaking soundlessly, and as the others begin to do the same, Nishi pulls me aside. “Don’t leave me behind, Rho. You said I could help.”
I reel her in for a tight hug. “Nishi, I do need your help. I need you to spread the word.”
Beneath her tangled hair, her amber eyes grow wide. “How far?”
“Start with my Advisors. Keep trying to convince them, but don’t stop there. Tell everyone you can, in as many Houses as possible, because we’re all in danger. Try contacting members of 13—they won’t help your credibility with the rest of the Zodiac, but they’ll have more information than what we know, and maybe there’s something that can help us. Send me everything you find out.”
Her eyes shine with tears. “Stay safe out there.”
I nod. “Take care of Deke. And Kai.”
Crius drums his fingers on the table. “If you insist on this mad journey, we’ll tell the people you’re raising disaster relief funds. We don’t want to incite mass panic.”
Anxiety lines Agatha’s face. “Come back to us soon, Mother.”
“I think you’re all insane.” Dr. Eusta’s hologram blinks and vanishes.
Mathias strides to the door and swings it open for me. “I’ve commandeered the fastest ship on the dock. A visiting bullet-ship. It should be fueled and ready by the time we reach the hub.”
“We?”
He steps forward, until I’m swallowed by his shadow. “Your training isn’t finished. And besides, you’ll need a pilot.”
This flight could be suicide. I can’t let Mathias come with me.
“I’m sorry, but I’m doing this alone.”
His indigo eyes flash. “There are no self-flying ships. Either I go with you, or you don’t go at all.”
I bite my lip. There’s no other way.
“Welcome aboard.”
13
WHEN I WAS EIGHT, Stanton used to give me rides on his sailboard. I remember the feel of the board pressing against my belly as I lay on
it, sprawled between Stanton’s feet, while he danced around, manhandling the
sail.
One day when he wasn’t looking, I took the sailboard out by myself. I almost couldn’t lift the heavy sail, but as soon as the wind caught, I went zooming across the water. Salt stung my eyes, and I felt free and—for the first time in my short life—young.
It was only when my foot slipped and the sail slapped down in the waves that I looked back toward home. Kalymnos was a thin black line on the distant horizon, and every second, the offshore wind was carrying me farther away. I was lucky people on a passing boat spotted me.
The terror I felt that day on the water comes back to me now. Mathias and I are thousands of kilometers out from Cancer, so far away that the full shape of our Crab constellation is visible. I’ve never seen the real thing before. I’ve never been this far from home.
We’re sealed in the nose of a bullet-shaped craft, shooting toward Gemini, our nearest neighbor. I just hope we get there in time.
Now that we’re alone in the sky, I decide to activate the black opal. I need Ophiuchus to see I’ve left Cancer. If he’s going to attack me, better he do it here.
My muscles are clenched so tight, they ache. I need to program an escape capsule for Mathias to ensure he’ll survive this—only I’ve never programmed anything in my life. I’ll just have to shove him into a capsule when Ophiuchus shows up and trust that Mathias can take it from there.
The rounded front nose of the bullet-ship is capped in thick, diamond-hard glass, creating a fishbowl at the bow, and that’s where I’m floating in midair and peering into Space, like a damselfish confronting infinity. Behind me, Mathias is monitoring an arc of control screens at the helm. Now and then, he glances up, and our eyes meet. He looks pale and tired.
I’m too nervous to be tired. My black opal is clipped to a peg so it can’t float free, and its ovoid hologram of starry light fills the ship’s glass nose with its radiant map of the universe. Just beyond the glass, the real universe cradles our ship.
Like most spacecraft, this ship has handrails and safety belts for use in zero gravity, and Mathias has his legs hooked around the pilot’s seat while he works. Meanwhile, I float free on my back, stargazing.
I deliberately slow my breaths and relax my muscles, trying to open my inner eye. The hologram shimmers over the black fabric of my space suit, dappling my body with stars. For the past hour, I’ve been focusing on the region of the Thirteenth House.
“What do you see?” asks Mathias.