Despite everything, I have to hold back a grin. “Been a minute, hasn’t it?” I call back. The tension in my stomach lessens as I register that not a single gun is pointed at me.
“We counted eleven chutes,” the squad leader says, narrowing his eyes.
“Those were Archon loyalists who thought they’d be taking out the big fellow over there,” I say, nodding to the communications tower in the distance. “When they realized we’d dropped them off the mark and I intended to meet up with you fine folks, they cut and run for the nearest gate. You might be able to catch up to them, but I think it’s more pressing to get me in a room with the academy head. I’ve got intel for him from the Umber heir himself.”
The Umber squad blinks at me.
I hold out my wrists.
Ten minutes later, I’m crouched against the mounts of the chain gun in the bed of the truck, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Ollins and worrying away at the zip ties binding my hands together. The relief of still being alive is tempered only by the fact that I have absolutely no idea where Wen and Gal ended up. They must have made it to our rendezvous point. I have to believe that, because the alternative is too crushing to think about.
The fact that I’ve betrayed Gal is less crushing, but it’s dragging my thoughts to a dark place as we rattle along the dirt road leading back to the academy compound. I try to convince myself that it doesn’t matter. From our point of view, the plan is still on track. We didn’t need those Archon soldiers captured—we just needed to make sure they didn’t take out the main relay and destroy the nexus of Umber’s military communications network in Tosa System. With their comms fried and the base alerted to their presence, the Archon squad won’t have time to relay my treachery to the main fleet until well after Gal and Wen have made it to safety.
All that’s left for me to do is meet with the academy head and tell him every detail of the Archon invasion strategy.
The thought of it, combined with the swaying of the truck, is bringing a swell of nausea slowly but surely up my throat. I duck my chin, trying to brace more firmly against the chain-gun mounts.
Ollins leans over. “Just tell me, was he with you?” he mutters in my ear, low and urgent. “He’s alive, right?”
My orders are to save the details for the academy head, but I oblige Ollins with a tiny nod.
His shoulders go slack with relief, even though his grip on the rifle slung around his chest stays tight. “Knew it. Knew there had to be more. They tried to tell us you were some kind of seditionist after you took off, you know? But everyone thought that was bullshit. Anyone who knew you and Gal knew. Heavens and hells, I gotta tell Rin and Hanji. And I think Rhodes owes me money.”
The mention of our friends sends another guilty pang through me. They never gave up on us. On me. And with the invasion force closing on Rana, there’s no telling what they’ll be roped into if Iral’s advance isn’t stopped in time.
If I don’t tell the academy head exactly how to stop it.
* * *
—
The next part in our grand plan to destroy Iral’s onslaught happens in a tiny interrogation room on the third floor of the academy’s detention center. The squad leader gives Ollins permission to cut my zip ties, and I strip out of my wingsuit, shrug off my deflector armor, and hand it over. The six of them leave me alone, facing a mirror that pretends it’s only a mirror.
I sit down at the table to wait, eyeing the ring in the middle meant to be threaded with a pair of handcuffs. The fact that they haven’t seen fit to chain me to it bodes well. It means that they don’t suspect that I let the Archon soldiers go.
Or it means that they have bigger fish to fry. The muffled rumble of scrambled ships is near constant, and thundering footsteps fill the hall outside. War is coming to Rana again. Archon has risen, and they’re inbound with dreadnoughts of their own. No one believes there will be the mercy of another Warning Shot. The base is in chaos.
When silence falls outside, I know I have only seconds to compose myself. I sink back into the chair and try to relax my shoulders. Try to look like the loyal Umber soldier they need to see, not the shattered kid. Not the truth.
The academy head sweeps into the room. He’s dressed out and ready for battle, deflector armor on, a coat trimmed in brass over it. “Where’s the prince?” he asks, setting his datapad on the table. With quick movements of his fingers, he flickers through communications, tracing his replies instantaneously. He doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the usual contempt radiating off him like the heat that clings to a bombing site.
“The prince is safe. He has orders for you.”
The head scoffs. “The only reason you’re still alive is because we need to find the Umber heir. There’s only one order that will be passed in this room. It’s simple, and it’s already been stated. Tell me where the prince is.”
“The only reason you’re still alive is because Gal emp-Umber thinks you can be useful,” I shoot back, and that earns me his eyes. The head’s pointed brows lower. “He’s confident that you want to earn his forgiveness after the way you tried to hold him here a month ago. And no one wants the empress to find out about that little accident with the automated defense system, do they? The Archon fleet approaching is the least of your worries. You aligned yourself with Berr sys-Tosa, and the system governor has made himself the worst of enemies. There’s no need for Tosa to drag you down with him.”
His lips twist sourly, and he locks his datapad. “I’m listening,” he says. It might be the most grudging way I’ve ever heard a man save his own skin.
I steel myself. This saves Gal. It saves Hanji, Ollins, Rin, and Rhodes. It spares the former empire from being torn asunder by a new war. It’s worth the cost of my soul.
“The Archon attack is Gal emp-Umber’s doing,” I start, and can’t help but savor the look of confusion that flickers across the head’s face. “He discovered Maxo Iral alive and mustering an army in Corinth, and he ingratiated himself with the Shield of Archon. Convinced him to use our knowledge of Rana’s defenses in an assault against the planet. Iral is inbound with his fleet of commandeered dreadnoughts and every ship the resistance has collected over the years. And Gal emp-Umber is making ready to impale them on the planetary defense. How would you like to win a war in a day, sir?”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. I see it in his eyes—the heady mix of fear and hunger that drives people to fight wars in the first place. And it didn’t hurt to address him as a superior. The head leans forward, holds out his datapad, and fixes me with an expectant stare as he unlocks it.
So I lean forward in turn and tell him everything. Exactly how Maxo Iral plans to attack. Every way in which Gal’s deceived the Archon general. The codes and call signs necessary to trick the fleet into thinking they’ve managed to destroy the communications relay, to bait them inward, thinking the planet is theirs for the taking. I spill my guts, and somewhere in the middle of the process, I learn to love the freeing lightness that comes from hurling yourself past a point of no return.