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  I yank the speeder off the ground, nearly blowing Vega and Claudia off their feet. Without any passengers, I don’t have to hold back. I throw the Starshriek into a barrel roll before shooting off into space. Within seconds, I clear Adrestia’s atmosphere and the disorientation shield. The built-in Monitor in my flight helmet buzzes to life.

  “Halley to Holmes,” Halley says in my ear. “We’ve calculated a clear hyperspeed path to your destination. Uploading the coordinates to your speeder now.”

  The Starshriek’s panels update to include the map to the outer planets. It’ll take several hours to get there, even traveling at hyperspeed, but I’m more than happy to make the trip.

  “Thanks, Halley.”

  “Don’t screw this up, Holmes.”

  The buzz cuts off before I can reply. A smile tips my lips upward as I guide the speeder into a stable position for jumping to hyperspeed. All around me, the galaxy opens up like the dark duvet of an infinite bedspread. I could go anywhere—do anything—but I have a mission to complete first. I punch the speeder into hyperspeed, turn the steering over to autopilot, and recline my chair to enjoy the ride.

  By the time the speeder notifies me of our approaching endpoint, I’ve managed to squeeze in a three-hour nap and several frustrating games of “which star is that.” When the panel chimes, indicating the need to drop out of hyperspeed, I hasten to readjust my chair and take control of the ship again. A warning sign flashes right at me.

  “Asteroids in area,” I read off the panel. “No shit.”

  I bump the speeder out of hyperspeed and land smack in the middle of a fast-moving asteroid belt. With a none-too-gentle jerk, I yank the ship out of the path of a massive rock. As it rockets by, a glittery indigo glow reflects off the cockpit glass. I’m in the right place.

  I pull out of the belt to get a better look at where I am. I’m unfamiliar with a lot of the outermost planets. Not many people live on the monstrosities in this area of the galaxy because they’re so far away from everything else. The planets are habitable but unpleasant. Currently, I’m closest to Galene, the water planet. The whole thing is bright blue. It’s pretty from a distance, but I’d never want to live there.

  I take a lap around Galene until I find what I’m looking for. A thrill of excitement bubbles in my stomach when I spot The Impossible lingering near a huge asteroid. There’s still something alluring about the old battleship and everything it represents. I almost miss living aboard it, though I certainly don’t miss Saint Rita’s ruthless rule. However, she’s done well for herself since I last saw her ship. The Impossible has not only recovered from its battle with IA many months ago, it’s made improvements. Once upon a time, Saint Rita only stole and bartered opalite. Now, she has the equipment to mine it herself. Attached to The Impossible is a massive drill that bores a hole into the adjacent asteroid. I can see the reflections of the opalite from here, so I flip on the speeder’s all-call Monitor and narrow the range to target The Impossible.

  “Paging Impossible captain Saint Rita,” I say into the mouthpiece of my flight helmet. “Come in, Saint Rita.”

  My earpiece buzzes.

  “I know that voice,” Saint Rita replies. “Is that you, Holmes?”

  “Affirmative,” I say. “I’m currently piloting a Nebula Starshriek close to your position. Do I have permission to pull aboard your vessel?”

  “You’re asking permission?”

  “Things have changed, Captain.”

  She’s silent for several never-ending seconds, and my fingers clench tighter around the joysticks in case she decides to pull The Impossible around and fire at me. Then:

  “Indeed they have. Permission granted.”

  I approach The Impossible with the utmost caution, navigating through the asteroids to avoid damage to my speeder. Saint Rita’s battleship is impervious to asteroid impact. She’s updated the shields since my time aboard the vessel; the asteroids merely ricochet off The Impossible’s side panels without leaving a scratch. I guide the Starshriek to the belly of Saint Rita’s ship, where a drop door has already opened to admit me. Carefully, I pilot the speeder into the space provided, the drop door closes, and I land in the cargo bay of The Impossible. I unstrap myself and equip my blaster. Even with Saint Rita’s permission to be here, I don’t trust one soul aboard this ship.

  “That’s quite the upgrade,” a voice drawls when the cockpit glass draws back for me to exit. I peer over the edge to see Saint Rita leaning against the wall of the bay. She looks smaller than I recall, and there’s something about her posture that doesn’t feel quite right. She nods at my blaster. “You can put that down. I’m not going to kill you.”

  I keep the blaster in hand anyway as I jump from the cockpit, but as I approach Saint Rita with wary footsteps, I can see why I’m not in any danger. Not only is Saint Rita unarmed, she’s dying.

  “You’re sick,” I say, stopping short to take in her sallow face, thin frame, and electric blue veins. “Opalite poisoning.”

  “Very astute.” She gestures for me to follow her, and we make our way through the familiar corridors of The Impossible. “After IA nearly flattened us, I realized I needed to make some adjustments if I wanted my legacy to survive certain upcoming challenges. First and foremost, I needed to get my ship in order. New shields, new parts, and a fancy new miner to get all the opalite I need.”

  “I noticed that,” I said. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Let’s just say an old friend left it to me before she passed on.”

  “You killed your ‘old friend’ and stole it, huh?”

  She holds a finger to her lips and shushes me. “I did what I needed to do. Anyway, before she passed, my ‘friend’ tipped me off about the opalite near the outer planets. She said it had a different kick to it.”

  We pass the chow hall, where Saint Rita’s crew takes a break from the opalite mining for a bite of lunch. I spot a few familiar faces and some new ones. Everyone has one thing in common. They’re all suffering from opalite poisoning.

  “I guess your friend didn’t mention how quickly this stuff breaks down the human body,” I tell Saint Rita. “I’m surprised you’ve survived for this long.”

  Saint Rita lifts her shirt to reveal a tiny pump attached to her abdomen. “Constant Purifier liquid running through my body. It ain’t comfortable, but it keeps me moving. Not for long, though.”

  We move alone to the bridge. The massive windows give us an unimpeded view of the asteroid The Impossible is currently mining. My jaw drops at the sight of it. Within the freshly-drilled hole are miles of perfect opalite crystals. The mining equipment chips them away from the asteroid’s inner walls and collects them in a mysterious location below.

  Jett—the grizzly helm captain—jumps from his seat when he sees me. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is that First Mate Ophelia Holmes wearing a Veritas jacket?”

  “Hi, Jett.”

  “Back to work, Jett,” the captain commands, and Jett immediately turns to the helm. Saint Rita rotates me to get a better look at my jacket. “It suits you.”

  “Really? I hate it. I’d rather not be a part of any organization.”

  “And yet here you are,” Saint Rita replies. “I assume you haven’t returned to catch up. What do you want, Ophelia?”

  “Your opalite,” I tell her. “And your help.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “An everlasting legacy.”

  10

  On the eve of the final battle, I find myself sitting at the beach alone, watching the waves lap at the shore and wondering if I’ll survive past tomorrow’s assault on Harmonia. We’re attacking IA at its core. Though they have facilities spread out across the galaxy, we’re prioritizing its headquarters and the Academy, where most of IA’s prominent members work or live. Veritas has plans to deploy troops to other planets too—Proioxis and Palioxis mostly—to take apart the half-alien armies there as well. At first, the council didn’t want me to march into battle with everyone else, b
ut since we’re risking it all on tomorrow’s attack, there’s no point in me staying behind.

  Working with the new opalite took more of a toll on me than I thought it would. For a week, I exhausted myself, following Doctor Nova’s instructions to combine my DNA with the opalite, then processing the two ingredients together. Each speeder’s cannons, as well as every blaster, is loaded with our secret weapon. The Impossible, idling beyond Adrestia’s atmosphere, is loaded too. Saint Rita collected so much opalite over the last few years, we’re in no danger of running out. I supervise every aspect of the loading process, making sure anyone who handles the new stuff takes the necessary precautions to avoid poisoning.

  My own health remains questionable. Continued exposure to the special opalite has started to have its way with me. My skin sports an indigo tint to it, and my veins sparkle when the sun hits them. My chest feels tight, and my breath comes a little shorter, but I ignore the discomfort and push through. Every hour, I swallow a Purifier, though I suspect soon I’ll need a pump like Saint Rita’s to keep me moving.

  “Hey, hero.”

  It’s Vega, carrying two takeout trays from the chow hall as she plods over the sand dunes. She sits next to me in the sand and offers one of the meals to me.

  “I’m not very hungry,” I say.

  “You need to eat.” She plops the tray in my lap, dusts her hands, and lifts the lid off her own meal. It’s the usual wild game and mashed tubers with an extra pastry. Vega examines the perfectly brown dough. “Special treat before the final battle. Did you get one?”

  I open my tray and spot the dessert. “Yup. What’s that goo on top?”

  “Berry compote.” She eats the pastry first. “What? Life is uncertain. One of those waves could wash up here and take my dessert away before I have the chance to eat it. I’m not taking that risk. It’s the best part of the meal.”

  “What happened to save the best for last?”

  “That’s for people who don’t know how to appreciate things in the moment,” Vega replies. “If you’re constantly putting off pleasure, you’ll never truly feel it.”

  “It’s called discipline.”

  “It’s called being a bore.” She digs into her actual meal, eyeing me over her fork. “You don’t look good. You haven’t looked good since you came back from The Impossible. Should I be worried?”

  “Probably,” I say. “But it’s no use. Tomorrow could be our last day alive.”

  “You can’t think like that,” Vega says. “We’ve never been so prepared to take on IA, thanks to you. I’m counting on a win tomorrow.”

  “They outnumber us,” I remind her. “And we don’t have the advantage of built-in alien armor.”

  “They won’t either once they meet our guns,” Vega says. “Stop worrying. We’ve got this covered.”

  “I can’t stop worrying.”

  She sets aside her meal tray even though she hasn’t finished eating. “I’ll make you a bet. If we lose tomorrow, I’ll do your wash for the next month.”

  “If we lose, chances are we won’t be alive to do wash at all.”

  “And if we win,” she presses on, “like I say we’re going to, you have to forfeit your pastry to me for the next month.”

  “Deal. I don’t like sweets.”

  “You’re no fun at all,” Vega complains.

  “Vega, I only need one thing from you.” I grab her hand and interlace our fingers. “Promise me everything’s going to turn out okay.”

  She leans her head against mine. “It’s all going to work out, Fee. It’s you and me together. What could possibly go wrong?”

  After a restless few hours of sleep, Vega shakes my shoulder. She’s already dressed in battle gear. Her all-black getup makes her invisible in the darkness.

  “It’s time,” she whispers. “Get ready.”

  When Vega and I emerge from our bunk—strapped into flight jackets and body armor—the rest of the camp is out and about. Everywhere we look, the Veritas people prepare for war. There’s no time for morning chitchat. Vega and I head to the airfield. We won’t be flying to Harmonia together. I’m piloting the Starshriek on my own, targeting the Academy from above, while Vega and her team will be deployed on the ground. Claudia will be on the ground too. I’m more worried for them than for myself. I can dodge whatever IA speeder comes at me in the air, but there are a lot more dangerous elements down below, especially the Revellae.

  Claudia greets us near the speeder line-up. “Ready?” she asks.

  “As we’ll ever be,” Vega replies. “Is this where we part?”

  As she says it, the first carrier ship fires up. Several teams of ground soldiers file in and take their seats.

  “It sure is,” Claudia says. “We’re on the next ship out. O, you’ll follow the team of attack speeders in the Starshriek.” She glances at my watery eyes and sunken cheeks. “You sure you’re up for this?”

  “I have to be.”

  To my surprise, Claudia pulls me into a tight hug. She’s never been much for physical affection, but something is different about today. It might be the last time we ever see each other. Before I can get too emotional, I draw away from my older sister, but Vega pulls me in next. I burrow into her shoulder, taking comfort in her familiar scent. From the very beginning, Vega’s always been there for me, but we won’t have each other during this battle.

  “Good luck,” I tell them. “See you later tonight.”

  It’s an optimistic parting statement that makes Claudia and Vega smile. I wait until they get on their carrier and the ship lifts off before I climb into the cockpit of my own speeder. When I put on my helmet, my earpiece buzzes to life.

  “Ready to kick some ass, Holmes?” Halley says.

  I look to my right. In the next speeder over, Halley grins from her cockpit. I expected her to be in charge of a ground team, but she’s apparently even better in the air.

  “More than ready.”

  “Great. I assume you can fly in attack formations?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Roll out, then.”

  Our squadron is six speeders strong, including the Starshriek. When we lift off, Halley takes point and the rest of us fall into a diamond shape behind her. We shift to hyperspeed, maintaining our distance as we accelerate. My heart pounds as the stars blur into white lines. This is it. This is either the end of the International Armament or the end of my life.

  When we drop out of lightspeed to approach Harmonia, the first thing we have to worry about is navigating the ships waiting outside the planet’s atmosphere. Some of them are civilian ships—either cruise lines or privately owned—while others are IA speeders and patrollers. When our armada surrounds the planet, it takes a grand total of three seconds for everyone to realize what’s going on. The civilians panic and speed away, only to crash into other ships trying to make the same escape. The IA ships retreat to the planet’s surface.

  “Why aren’t they attacking?” I ask Halley.

  “There’s too many of us,” she replies. “They know they can’t prevent us from landing, but they can attempt to stop us from reaching Headquarters once we breach the atmosphere. Heads up, everybody.”

  “Roger that, Commander,” another member of our squadron replies.

  “Descending now,” Halley orders.

  I drive the Starshriek into Harmonia’s atmosphere. When we emerge on the other side, I’m surprised to see it’s a stormy day. Harmonia’s usual good weather has given way to dark clouds, torrential rains, and high winds.

  “Visibility sucks,” I warn the other squadrons’ pilots.

  “Roger that, Holmes.”

  IA takes advantage of the cloud cover as a group of Wasps emerges from the darkness in a sneak attack. I roll the Starshriek over the top of an oncoming Wasp then pull the trigger as I pass between the next two. The blasts rip through the bellies of each Wasp, and the speeders spiral to the ground in smoke. I pull around for another pass, target a Wasp on Halley’s tail, and take it o
ut.

  “Nice one, Holmes!” Halley says.

  “Clear to the Academy,” I report.

  Our squadron falls into formation again, and we continue to our destination. So far, so good. We haven’t lost anyone, and we took out the first batch of Wasps without issue. Hopefully our good luck continues.

  We reach the Academy before ground support, dump a load of opalite bombs, then pull around for another pass. When we return, people spill out of the Academy like ants. Even from this height, I can see the alien influence in the students below. Their green, scaly skin reflects the light as they pour out. Half of them try to flee, but ground support lands at the perimeter of the Academy and closes around the students. The Veritas army fires and fires, until the ground is a blur of indigo glitter from all the flying opalite. Any student that gets hit goes down immediately, writhing out of their scaly skins until they’re human again. Most of them are unarmed, so Veritas makes short work of them. The ground soldiers were instructed not to aim to kill. These kids aren’t to blame for what IA did to them, so we’re giving them a chance to live normal lives if we actually manage to take down IA.

  Another squadron of speeders emerges from the stormy horizon, but this team isn’t flying Wasps. I’ve never seen these sleeker, sturdier ships. IA must have just ordered them in. With dark-gray paint jobs, they’re almost impossible to spot in this weather.

  “Eyes up,” I warn the others. “Not sure what these guys have up their sleeves—”

  The point speeder fires, and the bomb moves so quickly, our guy doesn’t have time to react. The opalite collides with his cockpit, and his speeder explodes. As IA completes the pass, I see the name of the speeder painted along its side: Vengeance.

  “First one down,” I mutter.

  “Show some respect, Holmes,” Halley scolds. She pulls her speeder around and fires three times. The first two shots weaken the shields of the Vengeance that took out our guy. The third actually puts it on the ground.