Page 35 of The Last Hope
Court has been eagle-eyeing me this entire time. Trying to excavate my intentions.
What I’d give to just look at him and say,we’re on the same side, mate,and for him to believe me without a second thought. But I’ve said those words too many times and to too many people to know that they carry little weight. I’ve come to realize many things on this ship. One being: actions mean more here. More thanmywords, at least.
Off to the right, the control window has been blacked out with dark linen. Just so Court, Mykal, and Franny are unable to spot any people behind the glass. Before docking, I was told that Captain Venita and a few lieutenants would be observing us from the control room’s camera monitors.
My orders were simple:rescue the humans and put them to bed.
Easy enough.
With the snap of my fingers and a curt wave, I gather their attention. “I’m about to bring you to the main deck.” I point out the spiral staircase several yards away. “You can’t gallivant around the ship tonight. You need water wings before you can jump into the deep end. Stay by my side. Don’t touch anything.”
“Water wings?” Franny makes a face.
I rub my mouth with a weak laugh. “You don’t know what water wings are.” I nod, remembering.
Terrific.
At five, ten, fourteen, and on—I was extensively trained in language, and I’d boast about being fluent in Saltarian to really everyone, classmates and superiors. Chuckling when C-Jays maimed the dialect. Smirking at captains who begrudgingly asked for my services.
And here I am, ironically only “somewhat” able to communicate with these three.
Even as a kid, I consumed every piece of literature and online text about Saltare-3 with an unrelenting ferocity. Knowing I was born there, I thought the knowledge would connect me to the faraway world. But no page, no word could bridge that distance.
So the next time I read about Saltare planets, it was with the purpose to defend Earth. And prepare for war.
It’s not like there are whole encyclopedias about Saltare-3. I’d be lucky to find a paragraph. In history, the planet has scarce documented information due to its regressive technology and detachment from its sister planets—no exports, few imports, almost solely autonomous.
What I know for a fact: Saltare-3 is a frozen planet. No one would swim in an iced lake. Assuming indoor pools exist, swimming could’ve easily been a luxury. Intended for the rich or Influentials only.
Plasticalso isn’t a resource on Saltare-3. So water wings—definitely bad on me.
I tie my hair back with an elastic band, a small ponytail at my neck. “Forget the metaphor,” I say. “Let’s go.”
I warn them that theLucretziais unlike Saltarian ships.
Stepping off the staircase onto the main deck, I’m interested in what draws their eye first. These are the three people I heard about in stories, after all. Like fabled characters come to life. Abruptly, they roll to a stop.
The three of them are struck silent beneath the first towering archway, staring at the long length of a shallow pool. Steam skates across the calm surface, water murky green from a mix of perfumes.
No thyme and daffodil aroma can mask their stink.
Hours earlier, I pressed my body against Franny while holding a blade to her throat, and her pungent odor still clings to my skin.
I’ve almost grown used to the smell. No longer tingling my eyes or ransacking my nostrils.
Shockingly.
Court unfreezes and strolls warily along the walkways around the pool. Mykal and Franny close behind.
The domed glass ceiling reveals an expansive, boundless view of the star-speckledDis PaterGalaxy. Looking up, I sometimes feel like I’m back home. Lying on the earth after fleet class and relishing in the crescent moon. Laughing as I spot the Big Dipper.
But we’re far from Earth’s galaxy.
Dis Pateris a tumultuous location where a quarter of the Earthen Fleet has remained for a decade. TheLucretziais the most important ship here, residing in a threatening range to the Saltarian Fleet so we can protect our civilians back home from possible invasion.
Earth is a honey pot to Saltarians, and humans are wingless, stinger-less bees defending their hard-earned home from undying bears.
As the crew always tells me, in this scenario, I am the undying bear willing to protect the bees.
