“Kyra . . . ,” Molly’s voice rasped. “Are you seeing this? Are you receiving these transmissions?”
It was the first time I realized that what I was seeing wasn’t coming from Molly or the ISA . . . these charts and graphs and diagrams. Maybe, like everything else, that awareness should have freaked me out too, but it didn’t. Whoever was out there transmitting signals wanted me to have this information.
“Hell yeah, I am,” I answered as I settled back, gearing up for something remarkable. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.
And why not, wasn’t that exactly what this was?
“What do you think it means—?” she started to ask, but I cut her off as I reached forward and gripped the joystick. When I did, a harness dropped over my shoulders and locked me in place.
Adrenaline rushed through me.
“Open the bay doors,” I said into my mouthpiece.
“The bay . . . what? You can’t . . . ,” she sputtered, and their voices buzzed and blurred, as whoever was on the other end conferenced about what I’d just commanded them to do.
I tuned them out. They could do like I said or straight up ignore me, but one way or another I was getting this thing outta here.
I concentrated, because that’s what this required—I knew because of all the information I’d just absorbed. So I did, just like I had before when I’d moved things with my mind, only this time I wasn’t angry or agitated or panicked, I was just . . . focused.
“Kyra, are you listening to me?” Molly was yelling into the headset now.
All around me the spaceship rumbled to life. It wasn’t loud but I could feel it, its energy vibrating in every muscle and nerve fiber, every cell and every molecule of my body until we were one . . . me and this mind-blowing machine.
“I got this,” I responded, infinitely calmer than she had sounded, which was somewhere in the range of: her head might explode. And then I repeated, “Open the bay doors.”
Even though she’d never confirmed there actually were bay doors, she knew what I meant, and she knew I knew it. When the aircraft lifted again, it raised up so smoothly you would’ve thought I’d been flying this thing my entire life. It hovered evenly . . . perfectly beneath me.
I didn’t wait for her to agree, I just went for it, and the spaceship did exactly what I wanted it to, gliding the way I meant it to, the way I told it to . . . with my mind! I didn’t pretend it wasn’t the coolest thing ever, because it one thousand percent was.
I was doing this. I had total control. This thing was responding to something inside me. I could think—just think!—a command and the spaceship did what I wanted it to.
Up, I’d thought, and it had risen, just the right amount, exactly as I’d imagined.
The area inside the hangar was massive, and the ship navigated smoothly, with room to spare. I couldn’t see where I was going, not like in a car or truck, where you watched out the window. But I wasn’t flying blind either. I knew from the screen exactly how far off the ground I was, and how much distance there was to the ceiling and to the walls on either side.
Ahead, there was a tunnel carved through the mountain, and even without being told it was the right way to go, that was where I headed.
With a simple: Forward. And then Faster.
I grinned again as the ship slipped inside the wide channel.
Toward the bay doors, I thought, and stifled the follow-up words: The ones that are still closed.
But I couldn’t let myself care because that wasn’t the point. That was their problem.
“Open them,” I said again, this time out loud, more insistently.
“Kyra . . .” There was hesitation in Molly’s voice.
“Do it,” I demanded, forcing myself not to think about slowing. I refused to give them the satisfaction. This was their baby . . . Molly’s baby, this project. I was only the pilot. Hadn’t Dr. Clarke said as much? If it crashed, odds were I’d heal.
The truth was, though, I didn’t believe they’d let that happen.
On the screen I saw the end of the tunnel fast approaching, and realized I was coming toward them—the bay doors.
They were still sealed shut, and if she didn’t open them soon, I’d find out just how resilient my body really was. The first flash of doubt filled me, but I didn’t waver.
Faster, I thought again, this time clutching the handles, and the ship did as I commanded, plunging ahead.
The display in front of me showed that we were within one hundred kilometers and closing.
Seventy-five.
The gap was narrowing with each heartbeat.
Fifty.
Just when I thought they’d decided to dismiss my order, I saw the doors begin to part.
Too late, I thought. They’ll never open in time. Not all the way.
Twenty-five . . .