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  Saint Rita’s gaze finds mine in the reflection of the bay window. “I hope you’re right, Ophelia. Otherwise, today’s casualties, if there are any, will be on your head.”

  “I’d like to avoid casualties if possible.”

  “Wouldn’t we all? Look.” She points through the window. Far off in the distance, a tiny dot of light indicates Phobos’s existence, but it’s the gaping hole in the galaxy beside it that draws my attention. “The entrance to the void.”

  “We’re almost there,” I say. “Shall I inform the crew?”

  “In a minute.” She squints at the black hole. “We won’t be landing right away. Let’s approach and assess the situation.”

  “That’s what the crew wanted to do too.”

  “What did they think I was going to do?” the captain asks. “Barge on down to Phobos’s surface on the word of an IA Intelligence operator? What little faith this group has in me. It must be time for a change of personnel aboard The Impossible.”

  “Captain, with all due respect, it’s more that they’re not accustomed to this kind of mission,” I say. “Rather than a lack of faith in you.”

  Her mouth tightens in a straight line. “If they truly respected me as Captain of this ship, they wouldn’t question my motives.”

  I can’t disagree with her, so I turn to face the bay window, watching as Phobos grows larger and larger. The planet itself is ugly, a mottled brown and red with blurred edges. As the ship gets closer, my skin tingles and the hair on my arm stands up. It’s not Phobos that makes me nervous. Oddly, I trust Vega’s advice on the matter. The black hole, on the other hand, makes my skin crawl. It looks like the mouth of a beast, sucking in everything in its path. Phobos leans toward it. Soon, there won’t be a planet left.

  “Ophelia.” Saint Rita’s tone is surprisingly soft. “If things go sideways on Phobos—”

  “They won’t.”

  “But if they do,” she persists, “It was always my intention to make you my successor.”

  I twist to look at her, but she doesn’t return the eye contact. All I get is her grim profile, and I can’t read her expression well from this angle. “Really?”

  “Why do you think I made you my First Mate?” she replies. “I knew you were capable of leading this ship should I meet an undesirable end. You can take The Impossible forward and continue our goal.”

  “What exactly is our goal, Captain?”

  She finally looks me in the eye. “To defeat IA.”

  I don’t have the audacity to ask her why—if that’s the case—she’s been colluding with a member of IA in her spare time. Despite her shady actions, I believe her statement. Saint Rita has always wanted to bring down IA but lacked the firepower and cunning to do it. Perhaps she’s finally found a catalyst.

  “Uh, Captain?” Jett says from the navigation panel. “You should see this.”

  Saint Rita marches away from the window to join him. I nudge Vega out of the way to see the navigation and control panels for myself. Jett points to a heads-up display only visible from behind the panels, indicating the red dot that marks the black hole.

  “We’re coming in hot,” Jett says. “I should be getting all sorts of warnings about the black hole, but I got nothing.”

  “What does that mean?” Vega asks. I elbow her to be quiet.

  Saint Rita answers the question. “It means IA put a Patch Shield over it. They don’t want the hole swallowing Phobos any more than we do.”

  “There’s no security ships orbiting the planet.” I study the finer details on the HUD. “Hell, there’s nothing at all orbiting the planet. Are we sure IA is here?”

  “Oh, they’re here,” Jett says. “This smells like a fucking trap. Captain, how do you want to proceed?”

  “As intended,” she says.

  Jett, Vega, and I stare at her, any speech lost in the shock of her reply. The scenario calls for a quiet, deadly approach, not a fully visible landing like Saint Rita wants.

  “Captain, we’re risking a lot flying out in the open like this,” I say. “Just because IA isn’t visible doesn’t mean they’re not around. I agree with Jett. It looks too easy. They’re probably waiting for us to take the bait.”

  “And if they’re not, I’m not about to pass up an opportunity like this,” Saint Rita replies. “Continue as intended. Ophelia, announce our arrival to the crew. Everyone on this ship needs to be prepared to disembark as soon as we hit the ground.”

  “But Captain—”

  “Do it,” she barks.

  I switch my Monitor on and hit the all-call button. “Attention, crewmembers. We will be landing on Phobos in” —I check the HUD— “approximately thirty-eight minutes. Captain’s orders are as follows.” I glance at Saint Rita. She nods firmly. “Disembark with every weapon available. Prepare for war. First Mate out.”

  I turn off the Monitor, and Saint Rita claps me on the back.

  “Well done, Ophelia,” she says. “Worry not about the crew’s dissent. As soon as we get what we need from Phobos, they’ll be worshipping the ground you walk on.”

  I don’t reply. Instead, I look for comfort in Vega’s eyes, but she’s too focused on the planet up ahead to notice me. Nothing feels right. The floor of The Impossible vibrates under my feet. It travels up through my body, and it’s like someone has a shaky grasp around my heart.

  “Here we go,” Jett says as the ship nears the ugly brown glow of Phobos’s gaseous atmosphere. “We’re coming in.”

  That’s when the fleet of IA battleships emerges from the gloom, cannons glowing indigo as they take their positions around us.

  10

  At least thirty massive battleships encircle us. As predicted, the entire mission to Phobos was a trap. The odds of escaping are slim to none. Jett is the first one to panic.

  “Executing escape plans now!” he hollers, hammering on the control panel. Saint Rita stays his hand.

  “Stay on course,” she orders. “Ignore IA.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jett sputters. “They’ll blow us to smithereens!”

  “They’ll fire no matter what,” the Captain replies. “If we back out, they’ll follow us, and we won’t have time to jump to hyperspeed. Our best bet is to continue on. We can stand our ground if we land on Phobos.”

  “Captain, not to disagree,” I interject, “but if they have this much air support, I’m sure they’re expecting us on the surface too. I hate to say it, but this is looking more and more like a suicide mission. Maybe we should surrender—”

  Saint Rita’s palm comes out of nowhere, striking my cheek with such force that my head spins like a top. Vega gasps and reaches out. At the last second, she thinks better of comforting me in front of the captain, and I’m glad for it. My skin stings and my eyes water from the slap, but it reminds me of why I’ve allied myself with Vega to begin with. Everyone aboard The Impossible is a traitor of some kind, but Saint Rita’s the worst. Her little speech about making me captain is all talk, a ploy to get me to confide in her. I’m finally done with playing her games, especially now I have a way off this ship that doesn’t end in death.

  “I’ll ready the crew,” I announce, ignoring the burning look in Saint Rita’s dark eyes. “We’ll be prepared to land in minutes.”

  Saint Rita says nothing as I grab Vega’s hand and tug her out of the bay. I grab one last look at the situation beyond The Impossible. It’s grim. Every single cannon is ready to fire, and we don’t have the numbers or firepower to put up a decent defense. Saint Rita has condemned us all to death.

  “What are you doing?” Vega asks when I lead her away from the main areas of the ship. “Isn’t the crew waiting for you in the weapons bay?”

  “I’m sure they are,” I reply. “But we’re not going down there. Do you have everything you need?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Good.” I pull her to a halt at a trash chute. “Get in.”

  She eyes the chute. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a shortcut.
”

  “Really? Because it sure feels like you’re trying to dispose of me.”

  Quick as a flash, I duck under Vega, pick her up around the thighs, and heave her headfirst into the chute. She yelps and flails her arms, trapping herself against the dirty metal walls to prevent herself from sliding all the way down the long, winding path that eventually leads to The Impossible’s dumpster.

  “Would you relax?” I clamber in after her, pressing her forward with the soles of my boots. “I’m coming too. Let go!”

  With a big shove, I dislodge Vega from her position, and we both go flying down the chute, collecting trash and debris as we go. We gain speed as the angle of the chute deepens. I grab the back of Vega’s jacket to keep us together. The chute is completely dark until someone on a main deck opens a hatch and dumps their lunch in. Half-eaten jerky and a bowl of cabbage soup lands on Vega’s lap. She shudders in disgust. After a minute or so, the chute widens and spits us out into the dumpster below. We land in a pile of reeking garbage.

  Vega attempts to get to her feet, but it’s hard to find purchase on the floor of mushy, discarded food and damp paper products.

  “I hate you,” she says.

  “I’m trying to keep us alive. Give me your hand.”

  She reluctantly locks her fingers with mine. I leverage myself against her and use our combined weight to wade through the waves of trash. On the opposite side of the dumpster, ladder rungs are drilled into the wall.

  “Up you go,” I say to Vega.

  She starts climbing. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “This is the fastest way to the escape pods,” I say. “We don’t keep them on the cargo deck like everyone else. They’re near the hull of the ship. Saint Rita always said it was to divert expectations. I never realized how right she was until now.”

  “Is this it?” Vega says as I follow her up and out of the trash pile. “Are we really getting out of here?”

  “We made a promise to each other,” I remind her. “I sure as hell hope you’re not going back on your word. If I get us off this ship, you convince IA I was kidnapped and none of my crimes are punishable. Right?”

  She hesitates.

  “Right, Vega?” I insist.

  “What if we don’t go to IA?” she says. “What if we can make it on our own, just the two of us?”

  My boot slips off the next rung, but I catch myself before I plummet all the way back down into the garbage. “What are you talking about?”

  “Neither one of us was happy there,” she reminds me. “They tortured me by neglecting my mother. You never wanted the IA lifestyle. So why is our plan to give ourselves back to them? The way I see it, once we’re free of The Impossible, we can go anywhere we like and start a new life.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “IA checks in on her once a month,” Vega says. “Otherwise, they ignore her completely. With your help, I could pick her up and take her somewhere nicer. Somewhere I could actually care for her. We could get other jobs—”

  “I’m already a wanted criminal,” I remind her. “The entire galaxy is looking for you. Where would we go?”

  “Some outer planet,” she replies. “Take on new identities. Set up a better situation for both of us. You can’t say it doesn’t sound like a little piece of heaven.”

  “But Saint Rita—”

  “Won’t survive this attack,” Vega finishes. “Face it, Ophelia. Your crew mates are dead. The IA isn’t going to let The Impossible make it out of this mess.” She reaches a hatch along the wall. “Is this our stop?”

  “It sure is.”

  She shoves open the hatch and shimmies through it. I duck my head as crumbs fall off her boots and rain down on me. Vega sticks out her hand to help me up. When we emerge from the dumpster, we land in a part of the ship I’m mostly unfamiliar with. The hallways are dark and cold. I pull up the map of The Impossible on my monitor.

  “This way,” I say, pulling Vega along.

  We hear IA’s first cannon boom before we feel it. The sound is deafening, and if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought the black hole had imploded. Then The Impossible quakes, knocking me and Vega off our feet. I tuck my head and roll, going with the ship’s rocking motion to keep injuries to a minimum. As soon as the ship steadies, I help Vega to her feet and urge her to keep running.

  “It’s started,” I shout. The ship creaks and moans. One opalite hit has already begun to tear it apart. “We don’t have much time.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Vega says over her shoulder. “Do you want to escape IA and Saint Rita with me or not? Once we get into the escape pod, we’ll need to chart a course right away.”

  “It wouldn’t be easy,” I reply. “We’d have to fly under the radar for the rest of our lives. Are you okay with that?”

  “It’s better than being an IA robot,” she says. “I finally get where you were coming from all those years ago, Fee. I don’t want to be a part of this organization anymore. I want to be free. I want to be with you.”

  The way she says it—with such heartfelt sincerity—takes a crack at my heart. For a second, I’m eighteen again, trying to choose between obligation and freedom. The decision is no easier to make now than it was then, and this time, there’s a whole lot more at stake. Still, I know what my heart wants more than anything is liberation.

  “Let’s do it,” I say.

  Vega links her fingers in mine, and we sprint onward. I follow the map on my Monitor, and we careen around corners in an attempt to locate the escape bay. Every few minutes, IA fires another blast at The Impossible, sending us flying.

  “If we get off this ship, I’m going to need a whole tub of bruise balm,” Vega complains as we pick ourselves off the floor for the fourth or fifth time.

  I check the Monitor. “We’re almost there. The escape bay is just around the corner.”

  We round the last bend and stop short of the escape bay. Someone’s already there, guarding the door. I recognize the platinum blonde hair before she turns to face us.

  “Soleil.”

  She grins and holds an R-One—my R-One from the weapons bay—at the ready. It glows indigo, ready to fire.

  “Hello, Ophelia,” she says. “Going somewhere?”

  I shove Vega behind me. “Get out of the way, Soleil. You have no business being down here.”

  “I always knew you’d betray us,” she says. “From the second I met you, I could tell you were a weasel. IA Defense girl gone rogue? Yeah, right. I bet IA planted you on The Impossible to bring Saint Rita down once and for all. Isn’t that right?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you caught me. I’ve actually been with Defense this entire time.” I pull the pistol from my belt and aim between her eyes. “Do you really want to do this? Everyone knows I’m the best shot on the ship.”

  “I’ve been practicing—”

  I fire. Vega yelps. The tiny opalite bullet hits its mark, and Soleil goes down like a bag of concrete. Her body drops with a thud, and the R-One spins across the floor.

  “You killed her!” Vega gasps.

  “She took my gun.” I step over Soleil’s body and grab the R-One. Vega remains frozen in place as she stares at Soleil. “Come on,” I urge. “It was either her or us. You want to survive or not?”

  Vega joins me on Soleil’s rear side, and I punch in the code to access the escape bay. Inside, five escape pods wait for pilots. Each one holds four to six people, depending on weight. We never had enough pods for everyone on The Impossible to make it off safely, but Saint Rita didn’t bother to share that information. I pick the pod closest to the drop door.

  “Get in,” I order Vega.

  She clambers into the seat next to the pilot’s. I climb into the pilot’s seat and drop the R-One into a weapons holder. Then I reach behind me and pull out the emergency flight jackets all escape pods are equipped with.

  “Put that on,” I say, handing one to Vega. Both jackets are too big for us, but it’s be
tter than no protection at all.

  Vega slips her arms into the jacket. This time, she doesn’t struggle with the straps, fastening them like she’s done this a hundred times. Then she straps herself into the seat with the same amount of expertise.

  “You’re getting better at this,” I note, getting myself situated as well.

  The escape pod is completely different than the speeders I’m used to flying. It’s round and bulbous, and the visibility is absolute shit. The cockpit window is tiny to minimize destruction from debris. Escape pods are meant to protect its passengers from damage, but all the heavy-duty armor makes them slow. I’m hoping IA is too busy containing The Impossible to notice us.

  “My mother used to say a good plan relies on wit and luck,” I tell Vega as I punch a sequence into the escape pod’s control panel to fire it up. “I’ve got the wit, so you’re bringing the luck, right?”

  Vega grins at me, and for the first time since we reunited, I feel that old camaraderie we used to have between us again.

  “You bet,” she says. She reaches forward, her finger hovering over the button that will open the drop door below us. “Ready for this?”

  “Hit it, Major.”

  She punches the button, and the floor drops out from beneath us. My stomach flips as the escape pod plummets. I grab the joysticks. The key to launching from drop doors is to clear the ship before engaging the thrusters. Otherwise, you might end up plastered to the ship’s hull. We fall into deep space, but it’s not dark like I expect. The entire galaxy is lit up. The Patch Shield over the black hole glows bright blue, preventing anything other than stardust from getting sucked into it. The IA battleships are alight with glowing opalite. The Impossible has already taken too much damage. If we don’t get away from it soon, the falling debris could incapacitate our escape pod.

  “Engaging thrusters,” I say once we’re clear of the ship. The escape pod shudders to life and begins supporting itself. The Impossible looms above us. Chunks of metal rain down, and I steer the pod around them. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Vega turns on the navigation panel and pokes around. For someone who’s only flown under duress, she get the hang of the panel quickly. Then again, it’s not much different than the Intelligence machines she usually works on.