Page 141 of The Last Hope
I’ve seen this before…
I search around for one of the many bulletins, large metal structures that hover near the bridges. Gem theorizes that they’re held up by magnetism. Flyers and messages are pinned, and there’s a button on the side. I press it.
The reporter’s voice suddenly sounds from the slender speaker along the frame of the bulletin. Zimmer and Stork quiet in an instant and turn their gaze to the hologram.
The reporter stands near an oversized starcraft that’s grounded on a tarmac, stilted above rushing water.
TheRomulus.
It’shere.On Saltare-1.
My breathing quickens with a tripled sense of panic.
Commander Theron cups his hands in front of him and stares at the screen—at us. “After five years in the stars, theRomulushas finally come home. For celebration on this Victory’s Sacred Eve, we’re proud to announce that the Andola admirals are dead.”
People in the city cheer around us, but it’s not the type of joy that usually accompanies celebrating deathdays. These fists in the air and loud hollers feel more sinister, crueler.
The reporter grins. “In other news, we’ve been given an exclusive video from a Fast-Tracker. Let’s go to the tape.”
They cut to a shaky video, like someone was recording while moving.
It’s fuzzy, but I recognize it immediately. Eight bodies step onto shimmery planks. The person in the front creates them from a handheld device. Ahumandevice.
Someone spotted and recorded our trek from the garbage island to the mainwater.
Fyke.
I feel the pull of my neck, but it’s not mine. I glance over and see Court swinging his head quickly away from the video, looking for us. When his eyes land on mine, he waves me over to the main pedestrian bridge. He’s scared. Of being separated. Of being caught.
Of prison.
For him, it will be the third time.
I’m rooted to the ground.
The hologram pans back to Commander Theron, and he says, “Three humans and five bludraders are currently living in Montbay. Our processing team is working on retrieving clearer images of their faces. Reward for turning them in is set at one million bills for each of the humans. One thousand for each of the bludraders. Good luck.”
I blink, dazed.
We’re wanted criminals in a cityfilledto the brim with people. All who would gladly turn us over forone millionbills.
Dear Gods, please help us.
“I can’t believe I’m only worth a thousand,” Zimmer says, trying to lighten the mood. “No, wait, yes, I can.” He frowns suddenly. “Franny.”
Something pitches my ear. At first, I think it’s a dream.
But then I hear it again. Cries.
A baby’s wails.
“Franny!” Court yells my name across the other side of the canal. He sees me turning away from them, edging back toward the orphanage. His panic is full-on seizing my insides. He walks toward the unstable, swinging bridge that separates him from me.
I’m focused on the structure ahead. A bridged alleyway snakes in beside the orphanage and the building on the right. I wonder if it goesbehindthe buildings too. This whole place is like a maze.
The alley is narrow, but large enough to squeeze through, and it wouldn’t make sense not to build the orphanage flush against the other building if there wasn’t something in back.
Faint cries pitch again.
