Page 56 of Last of Her Name

Zhar crosses the floor in three quick steps. She reaches for the controls.

And is blown off her feet as Riyan blasts the thrusters. The soldiers go skidding away, crashing against the far wall. That’s all I have time to see before we shoot down the tunnel. I fall into a seat and strap in. TheValentinarattles as we accelerate through the rock chute, and I grind my teeth together and watch Pol shake on his stretcher.

Then we burst out of the asteroid and into open space.

“Holy stars,” I breathe.

I count the Union ships as they drop from warp: nine, ten, eleven. All destroyers, all muscled and bristling. I’d expected a few scout ships, but not this.

Not a war fleet.

There must have been something in the signature beamed out by the asteroid base that gave away its identity. The Committee knows this is a Loyalist stronghold, and they’re coming in hot. To warp into this system with that much speed means burning up entire Prisms, billions and billions of units’ worth of the crystals.

“They’ll wipe out the asteroid,” I say. “All those kids …”

Riyan shakes his head. “The Committee will want to take everyone alive for questioning. They’ll be all right, for now.”

But still the blood drains from my face and I feel nauseated, watching the ships close in on the asteroid. A few Loyalist fighters swoop past us to engage the enemy, but they’re shot down by Prismic pulses from the destroyers. All those pilots from the bar, who were laughing and placing bets over geeball just days ago—gone. The ships burst in front of us, fiery, silent explosions that shimmer and then fade like fireworks.

What have I done?

TheValentina’s controls blare an alarm as one of the Union ships gets a missile lock on us.

“Warp, Riyan!” I shout. “NOW!”

Cursing, Riyan quickly throws a lever, engaging the Takhdrive.

We dive into the ocean of stars.

Once the ship settles into warp, the adrenaline that had fueled me through our wild escape evaporates. I’m left drained, limbs trembling, desperately wanting to collapse and sleep.

But first I have to check on Pol. I unbuckle and stand, and as I make my way toward the stretcher, Riyan lands silently on the floor in front of me, making me jump.

“Riyan!” I raise a hand. “Seriously, you have to give a warning or something before you do that.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, looking abashed. “I just wanted say thank you. For getting me out of there.”

I grimace. “I got youinthere in the first place.”

“You could have left me, and then you might have gotten away with the doctor.”

“That wasn’t even an option.”

He stares at me as I edge past him. Pol is prone on his stretcher, his skin cold and clammy. His lashes flick like he’s caught in the throes of some terrible dream.

“He’s in bad shape,” Riyan says.

“He needs a physician.”

“And we need a safe place to lie low.”

I glance up at him. “You have something in mind?”

He hesitates. “The tensors maintain a gravitational ripple in the space around Diamin, making it impossible for any outsiders to approach. It’s the safest place in the galaxy, if you can get in. And I can get us in.”

“Then take us there.”

A groan from the other sofa draws our attention. Mara is stirring, the sleep patch wearing off. She sits up, pressing a hand to her face. I grab a canteen of water; I know from experience that her mouth will be dry as sand.