Empress of a Thousand Skies

His heart was thudding. He was clutching her arm too tightly, scared to look, like somehow it would make it more real. He counted to three, raised his head a fraction of an inch, and looked back toward the compound.

“It’s an NX droid,” Aly whispered. It was the same model that had come after him in Vin’s room, and he remembered how easily the droid had chucked him across the room, like he was nothing but an empty tin can. “We must be out of his range. He would’ve charged us if he knew we were here. But that means the UniForce is here. They’re here. How is that possible?”

“I can’t believe it,” Kara said. She looked shell-shocked. “The signal wasn’t broadcasting . . . I checked it . . .”

“The UniForce probably got to it,” Aly said quietly.

“Taejis,” she said.

Taejis indeed. If the UniForce was here, it meant all the G-1K scientists or whoever else was in the safe house had definitely cleared out.

Or they’d been killed.

What next? Aly figured the manly thing to do would be to come up with some sort of plan to get them out of there. But Kara didn’t look like she wanted to run. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, the bones of her face wide and strong—like she’d declared herself, refusing to hide.

“We need to find out whether the satellite dish is still operational . . .” she said. “We have to broadcast your playback so the galaxy knows you’re innocent.”

His stomach sank. “We? No. No way. This is my problem. You still have at least four hours of sunlight, and if you backtrack the way you came—”

“This is no time for chivalry, Aly.”

“I’m trying to save your life.”

“Don’t you get it? It’s not about my life, or your life, anymore. The stakes are too high.”

She reminded him of Vin, of his conviction. Aly thought of the revolution he’d been so quick to make fun of. But unlike Vin’s plan, this was really happening. “We’d have to go through the refinery to access the broadcasting tower,” he said. “The UniForce will have every entrance covered, and we’re sure as taejis not going to slip in unnoticed.”

“Good thing I have an ex-UniForce soldier to tell me their protocol.” She scanned the compound in the distance. “There’s always another way in, Aly. Always a way in, always a way out.”

He closed his eyes, pictured the old Wraetan refineries, the sky blackened with smoke, the constant hiss of steam . . . Steam. “The cooling tunnels,” Aly said, opening his eyes. “There are tunnels running below the compound. They divert the current that runs through the refinery to cool the generators.”

Kara nodded. “What are you waiting for?”

? ? ?

They made their way carefully and slowly through the rocky terrain, staying low in case any UniForce soldiers or NX droids were patrolling. He hadn’t been too keen on signing up for this suicide mission, but it was his last chance to clear his name. Plus, he’d already lost Vin. He wouldn’t lose Kara too.

Aly was banking that the sheer quantity of tunnels that must be running under a refinery this size would serve in their favor: There was no way the UniForce would have deployed forces to keep them all guarded, not when there was no convincing reason for them to be on Rhesto in the first place.

The tunnel’s entrance was tucked into the slope, covered with moss. This one hadn’t been used in a long time, but someone had artfully scrawled BALLS on the crusted walls. It was dark and coated in a slug trail of mud, so narrow they’d have to crawl.

“Right. Okay.” Kara dropped her hand in her pocket and fished out a small bottle, emptying a pill onto the palm of her hand. She broke it in half and made a face as she swallowed.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I just have a headache.” Even with her eyes all red and puffy, she had this elegant warrior look going on with the braid. He caught himself staring at her lips and quickly looked away.

“I detect traces of some sort of cholinesterase inhibitor,” Pavel said, his eyelights red. “It enhances neurotransmitters and affects the basic chemical messengers associated with memory. What is your ailment?”

“Pavel,” Aly said sharply, even if he was curious himself. He looked over at Kara with a pained smile, all teeth and a tight jaw. “Sorry. Not programmed with manners.”

“It’s okay.” She pocketed the bottle once she put the remaining half of the pill away again. “It’s just some neurological blip. Not a big deal.” She shrugged. “There’s just a lot I can’t remember.”

“Like you forget things sometimes?”

“Like I’ve forgotten everything from when I was little. There was some kind of problem with my cube. It was recalled when I was twelve, and I got a new one. They restored most of my old memories, but I have these bad dreams and . . . I don’t know. It all feels made up. Like I made it up.”

“My problem is the opposite,” Aly blurted out. “All the memories from when I was a kid feel real. Too real. If I ever start to remember, I act like they’re not mine—like they’re fiction. Made-up.”

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