“You want me to spy on my future father-in-law?”
I try not to cringe; hearing the words now, I regret ever having called my old captain at all. “No, sir. I meant—”
“Because Lilac and I have gotten very good at that.”
My eyes snap to the screen, surprise robbing me of speech.
“You don’t want to get involved with LaRoux Industries, Lee. Whatever you’re into, just…let it go. Fight your instincts and walk away.”
“I can’t. People are dying, and I think it’s because of LRI. I had someone—but he’s gone now. It’s just me, sir. There’s no one else to chase this.”
“Lee,” he says slowly, voice softening to match my own. “Where are you?”
“Avon.”
He doesn’t answer right away, but his expression shifts. Though I can’t understand why, there’s fear in his gaze. Concern. Somehow, across the millions of light-years between us, he’s seen the echo of what’s happened here in my face.
“Avon?” he echoes finally, his voice rough. “You’re still on Avon?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I feel like crying with relief. Until Flynn came into my life, I hadn’t cried since Verona. Now it feels as though I’d just been storing up the flood for this moment. But Merendsen’s the last man in the world I want to see me cry.
He’s shaking his head. “Nobody lasts there more than a month or so—I barely lasted two.”
“I’m okay,” I lie. “But their planetary review with the Council isn’t far off, and things are heating up here. And LaRoux Industries might be involved.”
“What’s happening?”
I want to tell him about the impossible disappearing base I saw with Flynn in the swamp, but the words refuse to form. “The Fury.” I start there instead. “It’s getting worse. Stronger.”
“Get out of there,” he says instantly. “Leave. Request a transfer. Go AWOL if you have to.”
“AWOL,” I echo, my voice halting. It feels as though the floor below me is heaving. “Sir, I don’t—”
“You’re not wrong, Lee. About LaRoux.” Merendsen’s voice is grim, his eyes shadowed. “I saw documents that mentioned Avon, back on—around the time I met Lilac. I assumed his experiments there were long over, though. I thought we’d ended them.”
“What experiments?”
He hesitates, watching me in his screen, brows drawn. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says finally. “Lee, just hang on. I’m going to figure out a way to get there.”
“No,” I reply, leaning closer to my screen as though he’ll hear me better. “Sir, I wasn’t asking you to come. The situation with the Fianna is too dangerous, and you’re a civilian now. I’m only looking for information we can bring to the higher-ups to get answers.”
“I’m not going to sit here and wait to find out you’ve been quietly erased for asking the wrong questions.” Merendsen’s voice quickens, a rare display of intensity. He leans in too—we’re inches apart, if worlds away. “Some things I can’t say over a comm line, not even a secure one.”
The relief at his response to my suspicions about LaRoux Industries is rapidly draining away, leaving a tight, cold dread in its place. What could be so secret—so much worse than the Fury, than spying on his father-in-law and admitting to having seen long-buried documents—that he’ll fly halfway across the galaxy to a war-torn planet to tell me?
“I’ll be there,” he continues. “Transports don’t come here often, but I’ll figure something out. I’ll have to leave Lilac here—I can’t bring her into this again. There’s no telling what might happen.”
I resist the urge to tell him that the last thing I want is for him to bring Lilac LaRoux here.
He’s still talking. “Wait for me, will you? I’m serious, Captain. Don’t run off and do something Lee-ish until I get there.”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“You swear?”
Bizarrely, Flynn’s face flashes in front of my eyes. It could be weeks before Merendsen hops a ship to get here—What if, against all odds, Flynn sends for me through Molly because he needs me? How can I promise to sit here and do nothing when the idiot’s life could be in danger?
But then it strikes me: it’s not like me at all to think this way. In what universe would Captain Lee Chase risk life, limb, and the safety of her people for one exiled rebel and the planet he’s willing to die for?
There’s nothing Lee-ish about any of this.
I nod slowly, ignoring the sick feeling in my gut as I speak. “I swear not to do anything Lee-ish.”
Merendsen eyes me, not trusting my hesitation. But then he nods and leans back. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The monitor goes black, flashing the white text SESSION TERMINATED. I press against the keyboard, and the whole thing folds back up into my desk, noiselessly hiding itself away. As if nothing ever happened.
I try not to think about what Flynn would say if he knew what I’d just done. In the morning I’ll leave him a message at Molly’s. I don’t have much to tell him, except that I might have a way forward soon. It won’t be enough. It could never be enough, and I keep imagining his grief, his frustration, his loathing of me and my world.
I know he won’t get my message; I know he’s on the run and this base is the last place he’d return. But leaving word is solace, somehow. Hope. A sign I haven’t given up. That if he comes back…
But he’s gone now. I’m alone.
“Xiao jie, mei kan jian ni lai guo zher.”
The voice stops her short—it’s been years since somebody spoke to her in her mother’s language. She turns to see an enormous, intimidating mountain of a man covered with tattoos standing behind the bar. It’s her first night off duty since she was transferred, and now she’s wishing she’d gone straight back to the barracks.
“Sorry,” the girl shoots back automatically. “I don’t speak Mandarin.” It’s not a lie. She hasn’t spoken it since her parents’ deaths.
“Right,” the bartender replies, his grin friendly, but knowing, like he can read her thoughts. “Well, I’m Molly. Welcome to Avon.”
The girl can’t stop staring, too confused by how strange his friendly voice feels against the backdrop of tattoos and muscle.
He laughs, as though he’s used to people misjudging him. For a moment he looks a little like her father, though they’ve nothing in common. “We’ve all got pasts,” he says, lifting an arm and indicating the tattoos, which seem to shift and change as she looks at them. “But here you get to choose what you hold onto.”
THE PATROLS HAVE TRIPLED IN the last few days I’ve been hiding out in no-man’s-land, and I suspect every one of them has been issued a picture of the rebel who abducted Lee Chase from Molly Malone’s.
What they don’t know is that sooner or later McBride and the Fianna will strike back in retaliation for Jubilee’s massacre—an act of war the military don’t even know took place—and when that happens, hunting for me will be the least of their priorities.
I’ve been careful to keep on the move, never too close to the perimeter, never too far away. The military base is like a squat, sharp monster crouched on Avon’s horizon—Avon, a world of gently curved waterways and slow-moving clumps of algae. Against its foggy backdrop the prefab buildings are unnatural, made of right angles and rusted metal and plastene. I’ve always imagined the base like a scab needing picking away, full of booted feet treading the ground into bruise-colored slush. When I was little I always half imagined the scab would fall away one day and there’d be Avon again underneath, shiny and new and healed.