Page 108 of The Last Hope
I had no Final Will. At ten years of age, I became a criminal and thusly all my assets were taken by my country.
Franny—she had no Final Will. At seventeen years of age, she had no belongings to give.
“You have a Final Will?” Franny frowns, her shoulders drooping at talk of death and Zimmer. “What for?”
“I have something,one thing,that I’m going to pass on when I’m gone.” Zimmer mouths to Franny,don’t be sad.
“I’m not sad,” she lies. “Death is normal.”
“Clap for me.” He smiles wryly. “Loudly.”
“You’re not dying today—”
“I’m not.” He nods. “Who knows when I’ll die?” He laughs since he hasn’t told anyone his deathday. “Could be in a few years.”
Franny asks, “Then why’d you leave your socks to someone?”
“Not my socks.”
Kinden sips his pear juice. “No one wants your baggy floral shirts after you’ve died. My brother of six years had better style than you.”
I stare far away at the mention of Illian. Our little brother. A Babe.
Zimmer laughs.
And then Padgett slips in and asks, “You gave your Final Will to Stork?”
He dumps salt in a mound on the table. “I initially planned to give the Final Will to you.” He glances atme.“You’re the most responsible one, but I realized…” He pauses, drawing in the salt mound. “… what good is a Final Will if it’s left on another planet? I can’t be sure you’ll make it out of Saltare-1 alive.”
The air strains between us, and Franny takes a shallow breath.
Death is uncertain.
But how can you be fearless despite that uncertainty? I don’t know. Because I sense her fear. I feel mine. We’re about to land on an enemy planet that wants us dead.
Fear seems like the only sensible emotion.
TWENTY-FIVE
Franny
Eyes still heavy-lidded and mind slowly buzzing to life, I thought I’d wake to nerves. Today, we’re finally leaving theLucretziaand flying to the moon. Fear and worry is instilled in my future, but right now, in this moment, I’m bathed with sheer content.
Like I had the mostmiraculoussleep in all my life.
Soft breath leaves my lips, and I hug closer to the pillow I’ve been curling up against.Wait…
My arms hold something firmer than a pillow, and my legs slide against something rougher than the sheets.
Oh…
Gods.
My eyes shoot open.
The pillow is Stork. White-blond hair tousled from slumber, his arms are threaded with mine. His eyelids are shut—thank the gods.Chest against chest, comfortable, warm heat brews between us. It feels too good. I must’ve rolled over to his side of the bed in the middle of the night.
Zimmer is still soundlessly asleep on the left, and I don’t look over and risk bringing attention to this… situation.
