Page 70 of The Last Hope
A quarter of a smile lifts his lips and he shakes his head slowly. “You’re incorrigible.”
I should be grating on him, but he looks amused. Pressing my lips together, I stare at him openly, trying to find a crack I can wiggle through.
He studies me just as freely. And then suddenly,piercingsirens blare. We all turn. My hands fly to my ears, and blue lights strobe aggressively.
Stork’s face folds into seriousness. Swiftly, he’s on his feet and running to the door.
We’re all quick to follow. Storming after, I yell over the sirens, “What’s going on?!” I’m not sure he can hear me.
Stork shoves into the courtyard. More blue lights blink along balconies, and the caustic siren wails more.
I wince and distinguish an automated voice.
“East Wing Lockdown. West Wing Lockdown. North Wing Lockdown. South Wing C-Jays to the Docking Bay. Code Blue. Code Blue.”
Stork peers back at us. “Saltarians are on the ship.”
FIFTEEN
Court
Stork instructs us tostay putin our barracks. For our safety. He leaves us in the atrium.
Pure chaos, sirens blaring, blue lights flashing and glistening off the plunge pool,Lucretzia’s crew rushes forward and backward. Some seek solace in their rooms, others prepare for a confrontation. Armoring their chests and heads, their hurried footsteps descend a spiral staircase.
Nothing inside me says to listen to Stork.
To wait.
I’ve never been good at waiting. Logic, reason, they beckon me to see the fight firsthand. To not remain in darkness in this room. The only interaction between Saltarians and humans that I’ve witnessed has been an execution of the fleet admirals.
I’d like to see more. To understand more.
Knowledge has always been my greatest asset, and denying myself of that is like purposefully wedging my body in a suffocating cage.
It’s settled. Just like that. I can’t—I can’t wait.
But it’s a risk, one that I’m not so willing to pull Franny and Mykal into. “You two stay here—”
“No,” Mykal growls, eyes darkening. He understands what I’m about to do.
“I need to see both sides,” I tell him, conviction in my voice. “I need toseethe differences.”I need to see what we’re fighting for.
Mykal’s nose flares. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
“We’re coming along,” Franny says heatedly, “thank youvery much.”
There is no time to weigh options and dangers and lives. Hastily, I say, “Then we have to be quick.” I hurry.
Sprinting, I chase after the clamoring C-Jays in military garb. We pass through the first silver-curtained archway and descend the spiral staircase in dizzying turn after turn, Franny and then Mykal right behind me.
No crew flinches at our presence, all engrossed in this mad dash. All focused on the threat at large.
As soon as we touch the flat tarmac—combat jets and various starcrafts parked in endless rows—I easily spot the C-Jays. Nearly one hundred of themblocksomething from view on the docking bay. They stand at the ready. Sporting bronze helmets and leather skirts, weapons are unsheathed and aimed straight ahead.
I can’t see the Saltarians, and my only plan is to remain on the outskirts. Get a better vantage, but try and stay unseen. My wish is to watch, not interfere.
Screams ravage from the Saltarian enemies. And then I hear something more distinguishable between the garbled yells.
