Page 6 of Last of Her Name

Dad doesn’t move, but his face drains of color. Pol looks on the verge of attacking the man, but Spiros puts out a hand to hold him back.

“It was not a request,” the vityaze says quietly.

“Well, then, to town we go,” I say carefully. “Won’t we, everyone? No problem. Thank you, officers.”

The vityaze’s eyes flicker to me, and he lowers the weapon. “You should listen to the girl.”

Dad nods, his eyes burning.

The vityaze returns to their dory, and the larger ship follows us all the way down the road, hovering like a large predator. I watch it as dread seeps through me.

Vityazes, on Amethyne.

Vityazes inAfka.

It’s wild. It’s surreal.

I think of all the war films I’ve seen in school, of the revolution when the Red Knights stormed cities and executed everyone who resisted. And the film we’ve all seen but never talk about: the murder of the imperial family—of Emperor Pyotr Leonov, his wife, all their little children—recorded and spread throughout the remains of the Alexandrian Empire, now the Galactic Union.

It was the people’s victory, they’d said.

It was the end of tyranny.

I’ve never really questioned it before. I’ve never thought much—caredmuch—about the world outside Amethyne. That’s Pol’s obsession. He always follows events in other systems, political uprisings, Committee crackdowns, the sort of stuff that makes me zone out during our history lectures, to his irritation. “People are vanishing!” he often tells me. “They’re thrown into prison camps or never seen again. No trial, no explanation. This stuff isimportant, Stacia.” It all seemed so far away, the concerns of the central systems, hardly real for us living in fringe territory. I felt bad about the unrest, but there didn’t seem to be much I could do to help those involved.

But now I wish I’d paid more attention. Then I might have a clue why the Committee’s killers are here, in myhome, threatening myfamily.

“You okay?” I whisper to Clio.

She lets her head fall on my shoulder, her hand gripping mine tightly. “I’m scared, Stace.”

Dad parks our dory outside the town hall just as the sun sets. The dory with the vityazes continues on, once the men on board seem content that we won’t suddenly take off again. Running would be a stupid move, given that the street around the town hall is bristling with more Red Knights. There must be a hundred of them in sight. They all carry the same deadly guns as the man who’d threatened Dad, and they all look like they want an excuse to use them. Between the vityazes’ armor and the dying sun’s rays, the whole scene seems washed in scarlet.

Behind the town, the astronika looms larger than I could have imagined; the whole of Afka could fit inside the ship. But my excitement over seeing it has dissipated. Now I only want it far from my home.

I catch sight of my mom standing among the crowd and let out a cry, running to embrace her. She still wears her physician’s coat and cap. She must have come straight from her office down the street. Her dark hair is twisted into a loose bun, but tendrils have pulled free and are stuck to the sweat on her temples.

“Mom, what’s happening?”

She squeezes my hand. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out soon.”

She’s worried. More than worried—terrified. I’ve never seen my parents like this before, looking ready to run or fight, as if this were some central system where uprisings are a weekly occurrence.

Way out here on Amethyne, we were supposed to be safe. We were supposed to be beyond all that, but now I wonder if I’ve been a fool to believe such a thing.

Dad whispers to Spiros, who nods and slips away after squeezing his son’s shoulder. He vanishes in moments, but in the chaos, I barely have time to wonder what he might be up to.

People are coming in from every direction, many hurrying from the red-armored vityazes who push them along. They seem to be sorting us, sending many back to their homes, pushing others toward the town hall. A few of the citizens are horned aeyla who’ve chosen town life over the communes of their own kind, and all these the vityazes turn away. They only seem interested in nonadapted humans.

The mayor of Afka, a tall, befuddled-looking man named Kepht, is in the midst of it all, trying to help. “Please, everyone! Just do as they say!”

A vityaze prods Dad with an odd metal staff. “You three! Inside! Now!”

Dad throws up his hands. “Easy, friend! We’re going.”

“What about Clio?” I ask.

Dad gives me a harried look. “Bring her along. Keep moving, now.”