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“What are they then?” Another tech asked, disgust evident.

“They’re mermaids. And no…” She finally pulled her eyes away from the empty doorway to look properly at the tech. “I didn’t know they were here, not until after we arrived.”

“What do we do?” Cole asked as he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the nearest wall.

“I suggest all of you do as she said, and find a way off of this planet while you still can.” Autumn straightened her shoulders. “It’s about to get bloody.”

“And what are you going to do?”

Autumn didn’t answer. She looked them over, unsure of what to say next. She walked away from the tech room. It was a good question. What the hell was she going to do? She thought she had made her decision, again. Why was it such a hard choice to make, to stick to? She was sick of this gray space between right and wrong.

She had never felt so weak in all of her life. She had tried to save the mermaids and ended up betraying her people. She had tried to save the civilians and broken what she had with Soulara.

Her footsteps echoed, each one a boom in her skull.

“Walton!” Marshall snapped her name as he stepped in front of her. “Chalmers wants to see you. Immediately.”

“Why?” Autumn looked up to meet Marshall’s eyes, but he avoided her searching gaze. Well this couldn’t be good. Surely they hadn’t heard about Soulara’s intrusion already, had they?

She looked at the small rectangular windows beneath the top of the walls. The blackness of the night had turned into a dull gray. How long had she been walking aimlessly around the corridors?

“Now,” Marshall ordered before turning on his heel and heading back the way he had come.

Autumn had no choice but to follow.

Choice—as though she had ever truly had one. Her entire life had been filled with the decisions of others.

“General.” Marshall saluted as he and Autumn were granted permission to enter Chalmers’s office. “Walton as ordered.”

“Thank you, Marshall.”

Marshall nodded and then shuffled as though he were about to leave.

“Why don’t you join us, Marshall?”

“Sir?” Marshall’s voice slipped out of the clipped tone he had been speaking in so far.

“Both of you take a seat.” Chalmers’s words were orders, nothing so kind or polite as requests.

Autumn and Marshall took the chairs across from their general. Autumn didn’t dare speak. She kept her eyes on Chalmers, not trusting herself to get a peek of Marshall’s face.

She was fucked.

26

“Walton, you spoke to the intruder and knew it by name,” Chalmers stated, not bothering to ask or to go lightly into the topic. Not that he’d ever be accused of being delicate.

“Yes, sir,” Autumn replied. There was no point in arguing. She had a half dozen witnesses and a desire for it all to just end—in so many ways.

“Not sure how you did it, Walton.” Chalmers smiled and let out a low laugh that crept up Autumn’s skin like something insidious.

“Sorry, sir?” Autumn asked, needing more context.

“It’s all right. All your little disappearing acts make sense now. I never knew you had it in you.” He shook his head at her, a smirk on his lips like he was damn proud of her.

Autumn looked over to Marshall, hoping to find some clue as to what was going on. Marshall continued to stare straight ahead, refusing to turn toward Autumn though she would have bet he could feel her stare on his face.

What the hell was going on?