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  “I certainly could not.”

  “How’s your mother now?” I ask. “Is she okay?”

  “She was,” Vega says, her face falling. “But I’ve been missing from my position at IA for over three weeks. If I don’t find a way back, IA will take away all those provisions, and my mother—” She bows her head to hide her overflowing eyes, but her tears drip to the floor in a sporadic pattern that betray her emotions anyway. “Don’t you see, Ophelia? I have to go back, but if I leave you here, you’re at the mercy of your captain.”

  “Like you care about me.”

  To my utter shock, she climbs onto the bed, wraps her arms around me, and buries her face in my neck. Hot tears roll off her nose and drip onto my collarbone. I can’t bring myself to hug her back. My body remains stiff and unyielding. All I can think about is whether she’s got a knife hidden somewhere as she waits for the opportune moment to stab me.

  “I do care about you,” she mutters into my shirt. “I worried about you every single day since graduation. I figured you were dead, but I always hoped you weren’t. When I saw you on Proioxis that day, I thought I was dreaming.”

  “It was surreal for me too,” I reply, relaxing into her grasp. “Why were you stationed on Proioxis anyway? If IA wanted you so much, they should’ve kept you at Headquarters on Harmonia, right?”

  Vega’s breath hitches, and she takes a moment to collect herself. “Intelligence has increased exponentially in the last few years, so they expanded the departments on both Proioxis and Palioxis.”

  “Why didn’t—”

  “Why didn’t they assign me to my home planet?” Vega slides to the end of the bed and puts her head in my lap. “I wondered the same thing. My guess is they wanted to keep me from checking on my mother whenever I wanted.”

  “I told you they were scum, Vega.”

  “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she murmurs. “I just want to go to sleep and wake up in a galaxy where things aren’t so complicated.”

  Somehow, I find myself running my fingers through her curls. “You and me both. If the crew ever found out Saint Rita’s been colluding with IA, there would be an uprising for sure. Everyone’s already on edge about flying to Phobos.”

  “Is this what you want?” Vega traces the lines of my palm with a single fingertip, as if reading my future in the creases. “To be at the mercy of Saint Rita while she goes behind your back to work with the very people you sought to get away from in the first place?”

  “I already told you,” I say. “I don’t have any other options. If I leave The Impossible, either Saint Rita or IA will catch up to me. I’m safer here.”

  “What if I could guarantee your safety with IA?” Vega replies. “Would you help me escape then?”

  My eyes roll upward. “Vega, come on. IA’s already holding enough over your head, and you have nothing to bargain with.”

  “That’s not true.” She sits up and turns to face me. “I’ve been aboard the most notorious pirate vessel in the entire galaxy for the past three weeks. You think I’ve been sitting around twiddling my thumbs this whole time? Hell no. I’ve been watching everyone here, including Saint Rita. If IA wants to take down The Impossible, they’re going to need me to do it.”

  I go quiet, mulling over the options, but Vega isn’t done with her proposal.

  “We can tell IA that Saint Rita captured you and forced you to join her crew,” she says. “You wouldn’t be held accountable for any of your crimes since your defection.”

  “Except for my defection.”

  Vega dismisses this with a wave. “You were young and scared. Say you were on your way to the graduation ceremony when Saint Rita found you. It’s not that far from the truth.”

  “What would I do once I got away from this ship?”

  “Live the life you always wanted,” Vega suggests. “IA wouldn’t take you back after a defection, but you never wanted to work for them anyway. Join the Box if that’s what you’re after.”

  It’s too tempting not to consider, but there are a whole host of reasons why escaping The Impossible with Vega is a bad idea. Freedom, though, is a decent bargaining chip.

  “If we’re going to do this,” I begin, “I need the information to land on Phobos.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I say. “Vega, when you were twelve, I watched you hack into IA’s planetary war files. My guess is you’re pretty high up in Intelligence, but you’re pretending not to be to withhold information from Saint Rita. It’s smart. It makes her value you less, but that also makes you more expendable.”

  Vega’s gaze shifts around the room but never lands on me.

  “But,” I continue, “if we hand over the files on Phobos, we get extra points from the captain. She’ll give us a window of trust, one that we can exploit. Once we approach Phobos and the rest of the crew is engaged in the landing procedure, you and I can escape on a speeder.”

  “Which one?” she asks dryly. “We blew yours up.”

  “You blew it up,” I correct. “The Impossible has plenty of other ships on board. What’s your decision? Either do it my way, and we both get out of here, or forget about it. I’m not taking the risk.”

  She returns to her pacing and takes a minute to process her options. I pick at the opalite dust under my nails. I can’t fathom what life is like outside this ship. I’ve been traveling through space for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to live on the ground. No shortage of food or water, the ability to grow whatever you like, no cramped quarters or ship-wide viruses, and most importantly, no Saint Rita. I would be free from her indenture, and according to Vega, IA would protect me if the captain ever tried to recollect me. But did I really trust IA?

  “Fine.” Vega sticks her hand in my face. “You’ve got a deal.”

  We shake on it.

  “Well?” I say, leaving my palm face up. “Hand it over?”

  “Hand what over?”

  “The data disk with the Phobos files on it,” I say. “Where is it?”

  Vega chews on the inside of her cheek. “There is no disk.”

  I blink. Once. Twice. Processing. “What do you mean there’s no disk? Where’s the information we downloaded while we were on Homados?”

  She flicks a data disk at me, and I catch it easily.

  “That’s it,” she says. “Those are the landing codes, but it won’t do you much good. The information I took from IA has nothing to do with Phobos. It’s just construction plans for a new building on Proioxis. Nothing special.”

  I squeeze the disk so tightly that the rounded edge cuts a groove into the palm of my hand. “So all that stuff about getting off The Impossible just now was a lie.”

  “No,” Vega replies. “Because there’s only one thing about Phobos Saint Rita needs to know in order to land there.”

  Saint Rita is passed out on her velvet sofa when I return to her quarters, another bottle of moonshine between her fingers. When I tap her on the shoulder, she jolts awake, pulls a knife from out of nowhere, and presses it to my windpipe. With her other hand, she holds me in place.

  “Captain, it’s me!” The blade nicks my skin, and a warm droplet of blood runs down my neck. “It’s Ophelia, your First Mate.”

  She retracts the knife but doesn’t put it away. Instead, she flips it around and lets the blade rest against the inside of her elbow.

  “Funny, isn’t it?” she says, tracing her veins. “How close we all are to death.”

  I can’t tell if she’s still drunk or not. Her eyes are red and watery, but she seems coherent enough. I fill a canteen with cool water from her fridge and bring it to her.

  “Captain, I’ve been speaking to the hostage,” I say. “I finally got what you needed.”

  She chugs the water and manages to look glamorous doing it. “What is it, Ophelia?”

  “There’s no secret to landing on Phobos,” I reply, “because Phobos’s atmosphere isn’t actually poisonous to humans.”<
br />
  Saint Rita straightens her back and sits up. Her eyes light up, and she’s alert for the first time since we left Homados. She kicks aside the empty bottle of moonshine.

  “What did you just say?”

  Excitement bubbles in my chest. For once, I have good news to give the captain. It’s been so long since the last time she praised me, I find myself wanting her approval. Then I remember why I’m doing this—to escape The Impossible—and my chest tightens around my lungs.

  “Phobos is inhabitable,” I say. “Vega just told me. After the First Planetary War, when IA was established, they decided they needed a private planet to house anything top-secret. They spread word that the gaseous atmosphere was toxic to prevent any ships from landing there. If anyone tried, Defense ships stationed there blew them out of space and rewrote the story for press release.”

  “What of the weapon?” Saint Rita demands. “IA’s biological weapon?”

  “It’s contained,” I reply, echoing Vega’s explanation. “But it doesn’t have to do with Phobos’s atmosphere. IA discovered an alien species when they first landed there and concocted a serum out of its venom.”

  Saint Rita stands. Her footing is sure despite the massive quantities of moonshine she’s consumed. She goes to the observation window. Far, far away, a tiny ball of yellow light hovers. It’s Phobos, thousands of miles away.

  “Why hasn’t IA employed this serum yet?” she asks. “It’s been a hundred years since the First Planetary War.”

  “From what I understand, they haven’t cracked it yet,” I say. “The mixture is unstable. Unreliable. That’s why the project is top secret and housed on Phobos. One mistake could take out entire planets.”

  She folds her hands behind her back and rolls her shoulders. “Then we won’t make any mistakes.”

  9

  When I enter the atrium with Saint Rita to my right and Vega to my left, I can’t help but square my shoulders proudly and smirk at the other pirates. I’ve regained my position above them, and everything’s going according to plan. Tariq gives me a nod of approval, while Soleil—resting under Tariq’s arm—does a mocking attempt of the IA salute. I salute her right back. Vega elbows me.

  “Don’t do that,” she mutters, her breath whispering against my ear. “It’s fucked up.”

  “That’s the point,” I say back. “Be quiet. Look penitent. We’re still trying to convince everyone you’re useful.”

  “But not too useful,” she reminds me.

  I hush her as Saint Rita takes the stage and fans out her long cloak to sit in her chair. As she waits for the crew to settle down, she absentmindedly pets the soft velvet armrests.

  “Everyone, shut up!” Soleil shouts over the muttering crowd. “I want to hear what the captain has to say.”

  It’s the first crew meeting that’s been called since before we landed on Homados, and the crew expects Saint Rita to finally give us a heading. Through the bay windows, the tiny orange ball of light that is Phobos grows a little bit closer. We can be at the planet in mere hours.

  “We’ve had a breakthrough,” Saint Rita announces. “Thanks to Ophelia, we can now land safely on Phobos.”

  The crew members exchange doubtful glances, but Soleil is the only one with enough guts to speak up.

  “What changed, Captain?” she asks.

  “The circumstances,” Saint Rita replies vaguely. “Each of you is responsible for the success of this mission. When we approach Phobos, we will need to scout for a place to land that won’t attract IA’s attention. Once on the planet’s surface, we’ll set up camp and formulate a plan to infiltrate IA’s inner workings. I’m sure they have quite the base on Phobos.”

  The crew, still unaware that Phobos is not actually poisonous, continues to mutter to each other. Saint Rita ignores the growing dissent.

  “We’re so close, friends,” she says, closing her eyes and swaying on her chair. “I can taste victory, and it is so, so sweet.”

  “What about the black hole?” Soleil calls out, voicing the other crew members’ concern. “Three weeks ago, you told us it was expanding at an exponential rate. By the time we reach Phobos, it will be large enough to suck in anything that goes too close. Can we still get around it?”

  Saint Rita stares Soleil down. Soleil’s throat bobs, and she moves behind Tariq’s broad shoulders. The captain crosses one long leg over the other.

  “Does anyone aboard this ship question my leadership?” Saint Rita asks the crew. No one replies, but several pairs of eyes shift to check everyone else’s reactions. “I have never failed my friends,” the captain adds. “I do not intend to start now. If you are one of us, you will leave this meeting and prepare The Impossible to land on Phobos. If you are dissatisfied with your company or our purpose, feel free to jump out of the bay hatch. I have no room or patience for mutineers or cowards. Anyone?”

  No one dares reply, and no one dares to stand up. The atrium is so quiet I can hear the crew members closest to me breathing. Saint Rita abandons her throne.

  “I suspect Jett will get us to Phobos within the next few hours,” she announces. “You have the first to decide where your loyalties lie and the rest to prepare for our mission.”

  When the captain leaves and the doors slide shut behind her, the atrium erupts in conversation. The pirates lean in toward each other, and many of them wear expressions of discontent.

  “This is going to be a fiasco,” someone says. “Does the captain know anything about Phobos, or are we flying by the seat of our pants?”

  “She wouldn’t take the risk of approaching it if she didn’t think we could do it,” Soleil interjects, but doubt tinges her tone. “Saint Rita isn’t trying to get us killed.”

  “But Phobos is uninhabitable,” Tariq adds. “Did she forget or something?”

  “It’s not,” I call out over the crowd. Next to me, Vega shrinks into the background. “IA lied about Phobos. The black hole is still a problem, but there’s nothing stopping us from landing on the planet.”

  “You mean other than Defense?” Soleil returns. “Why should we take your word for it?”

  “It’s not my word. It’s Intelligence’s.” I jab my thumb behind me, and the crew’s collective glance flickers to Vega. “Major’s finally fessed up. As long as we pilot around the black hole and don’t attract IA’s attention, we can land on Phobos safely.”

  “Then what?” Soleil asks. “Go to war with IA? We won’t make it out alive.”

  I step off Saint Rita’s stage, and the crowd parts to let me approach Soleil. For once, she doesn’t curl her lip up at the sight of me. In fact, she backs up a step.

  “You’re the last person I expected to doubt Saint Rita’s abilities.” I whisper to her sweetly, but the entire crew is so quiet, they catch every word. “Have you lost your nerve, Soleil?”

  “Everyone here knows Saint Rita’s been off her game lately,” Soleil replies. “She reeks of moonshine, she’s barely around, and now she’s leading us into a gunfight we don’t know if we can win. I think I speak for everyone when I say I don’t exactly trust the captain anymore.”

  The crew mutters consent, but no one has the guts to look me in the eye and back up Soleil’s claim.

  “She’s taking too big of a risk,” Soleil continues. “We lost a large fraction of our crew during the raid on Proioxis. We can’t afford to lose any more, and this fight on Phobos is bound to create casualties.”

  “Listen up, everyone,” I say, projecting my voice throughout the atrium. “We can’t fail Saint Rita now. In a few hours, we’re landing on Phobos whether you like it or not, so you can either buck up and save your own skins or doom yourself to IA. Personally, I’d rather make this a successful mission. Since the captain’s not in the best headspace, we need to rise to the occasion. Is that understood?”

  The stirring speech doesn’t go over as well as I hope. The pirates are no less anxious, and Soleil rolls her eyes. She pushes past me to get to the stage.

  “I h
ave a different proposition,” she announces. “Let’s get to Phobos first, assess the situation, then decide whether or not we should denounce the captain’s choices. It’s the way she should have done this in the first place. Intel then infiltration. Who’s with me?”

  I exchange a nervous glance with Vega as the crew shouts in approval of Soleil’s plan. Nothing about this bodes well.

  Saint Rita calls me to the observation bay over my Monitor. I bring Vega with me. From this point on, I don’t intend on leaving her on her own. The crew might mess with her to get to me or she might go back on our deal. Either way, I’m not risking it, even when Vega practically shakes in Saint Rita’s presence.

  The captain stands at the wide window that stretches the length of the bay. Jett is behind her, manning the ship’s course. He glances over as we enter and nods his head toward Saint Rita.

  “Captain?” I say, approaching her slowly. Vega stays with Jett.

  It’s almost alarming how quickly Saint Rita’s recovered from her bender. She no longer reeks of moonshine, and she’s back to her usual stalwart posture.

  “What are they saying about me out there?” she asks, her gaze trained on the dark space beyond The Impossible’s bow.

  “What makes you think they’re saying anything about you, Captain?”

  Saint Rita smirks at me. “I am not naive, Ophelia, and you do not need to spare my feelings. I consider it a slight.” She checks behind us and spots Vega. “Oh, good. You’re keeping her close. A wise choice.”

  “Just in case,” I say. “Captain, the crew is worried you haven’t considered the risks of landing on Phobos. They believe the information you’ve received is unreliable.”

  “Which translates to believing you are unreliable.” The captain cocks an eyebrow. “After all, you’re my source.”

  “And Vega’s mine.”

  “Do you consider her reliable?”

  I glance over my shoulder. Vega pretends to be absorbed with Jett’s navigation, but I know her better. She’s listening to every word between me and the captain.

  “She seems sincere,” I tell the captain.