Page 65 of The Last Hope
“I’m ineligible,” Stork admits.
Court flips through theDis Paterencyclopedia, not even looking over. “Because you’re Saltarian.”
He pauses. “Mainly, yeah.”
I chime in, “But you were raised human.”
Stork abandons his bowl on a bench and puts his hands to his sculpted chest. “I’m still biologically Saltarian, dove.”
Court lifts his gaze. “We’re anatomically different?”
“We all have the same body parts, same organs,” Stork explains, being more forthcoming today. Probably to help educate us for the mission’s sake. “We look alike, but there are separations.”
I sink down on our cluster of benches. Listening keenly, my pulse scampers fast. “Like what?”
“Your DNA. You have a double helix.” He tips his head. “I have a triple.”
Mayday.
Realizations sway me backward. “The Helix Reader,” I mutter. On theRomulus,that’s the name of the device that declared we were human.
Court looks faraway in thought. “It read our DNA.”
Strangely, Stork lowers onto the bench beside me. One is occupied with books, but there are two other free ones in our circle.
I try not to give him attention, but I’m wholly invested in his words.
“A triple helix doesn’t change my outward appearance, but my cerebral cortex develops at a faster speed.” He unstraps a flask attached to his skirt’s band. “Cognitively, Saltarians can do more at a younger age. We’re more aware, more adept, brighter—”
“Court is a Wonder,” Mykal says, licking grub off his fingers. “Blessed by the gods, he’s as smart as they come.”
Stork barely glances at Court, unsurprised by Mykal’s declaration.
I narrow my eyes. “You know about Wonders?”
Stork nods. “Wonders exist on all Saltare planets. It’s a way for society to make use of intelligent Babes and Fast-Trackers before they die. They allow the brightest children to attend school and enter Influential jobs.” Court has a sternI told you soface.
Mykal makes a noise, still believing our gods kissed Court.
My brows bunch. “If human children aren’t as smart as Saltarian children, how’d he become a Wonder over others?” He had to take a test. And at StarDust, Court consistently ranked at the top of the class.
Stork uncaps his flask. “Court is a genius.” Before he sips, he clarifies, “An extraordinarily smart human.”
Genius.I pocket all these new words.
“Wonder suits him more,” Mykal declares. “Sounds prettier.”
Court nearly smiles, but his mouth forms a grave line. “What’s the average age of human pilots and drivers?”
I drop my head, pulse ratcheting.
“Why do you ask?” Stork questions, looking curiously between us.
He’s asking for me.
Court knows I’d want this answer. To make more sense of who I am.
I thought I’d be gushing forth all my stories about driving by now. Even the notion that the retrieval operationmayinvolve piloting enthuses me. What I’d give to fly one of those jets parked in the docking bay.
