Page 111 of Morning Star (Red Rising Saga 3)

“What?” Victra wheels on me. “Darrow, we have to catch her.”

“There’s something else that needs doing.”

“She’ll escape!”

“And we’ll hunt her down.”

“Not if she gets enough of a lead. We’ll be tied here for hours. You promised me my sister.”

“And I’ll deliver. Think beyond yourself,” I say. “Bridge shield down.” I ignore the wrathful woman’s glare and walk past Roque’s body to peer into the blackness of space as the metal shielding beyond the glass viewports sl

ides into the wall. In the far distance ships flicker and flash against the marble backdrop of Jupiter. Io is beneath us, and far to our left, the city moon of Ganymede glows, large as a plum.

“Holiday, recall all available infantry to protect the bridge and make safe the vessel. Sefi make sure no one gets through that door. Helmsman, set course for Ganymede. Do not make any Society ships aware the bridge is taken. Do I make myself clear? No broadcasts.” The Blues follow my instructions.

“To Ganymede?” Victra asks, eying her sister’s ship. “But Antonia, the battle…”

“The battle is won. Your sister made sure of that.”

“Then what are we doing?”

Our ship’s engines throb and we untangle ourselves from the wreckage of the Pax and Mustang’s devastated strike group. “Winning the next war. Excuse me.”

I wipe blood from my armored kneecap onto my face and let my helmet slither over my head. The HUD display expands. I wait. And then, as expected, a call from Romulus comes. I let it flash on the left hand side of my screen, altering my breathing so it seems I’ve been running. I accept the call. His face expands over the left eighth of my visor’s vision. He’s in a firefight, but my vision is as constricted as his. All I can see is his face in his helmet. “Darrow. Where are you?”

“In the halls,” I say. I pant and crouch on a knee as if taking respite. “Pressing for the Colossus’s bridge.”

“You’re not in yet?”

“Roque initiated lockdown protocol. It’s thick going,” I say.

“Darrow, listen carefully. The Colossus has altered trajectory and is headed for Ganymede.”

“The docks,” I whisper intensely. “He’s going for the docks. Can any ships intercept?”

“No! They’re out of position. If Octavia can’t win, she’ll ruin us. Those docks are my people’s future. You must take that bridge at all cost!”

“I will…but Romulus. He has nukes on board. What if it’s not just the docks he’s going for?”

Romulus pales. “Stop him. Please. Your people are down there too.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you, Darrow. And good luck. First cohort, on me…”

The connection dies. I remove my helmet. My men stare at me. They haven’t heard the conversation, but they know what I’m doing now. “You’re going to destroy Romulus’s dockyards around Ganymede,” Victra says.

“Holy shit,” Holiday mutters. “Holy shit.”

“I’m not destroying anything,” I reply. “I’m fighting my way through corridors. Trying to reach the bridge. Roque is ordering this move as his last act of violence before I claim his command.” Victra’s eyes light up, but even she has reservations.

“If Romulus finds out, if he even suspects, he’ll fire on our forces and everything we’ve won today goes to ash.”

“And who will tell him?” I ask. I look around the bridge. “Who will tell him?” I look to Holiday. “If anyone sends a signal out, shoot them in the head. Wipe the video memory from the whole ship.”

If I ruin Ganymede’s dockyards the Rim won’t be able to threaten us for fifty years. Romulus is an ally today, but I know he will threaten the core if the Rising succeeds. If I must give Roque for this victory, if I must give the Sons on these moons, I will take something in return. I look down. Red bootprints follow my path. I didn’t even realize I’d stepped in Roque’s blood.

We carve our way free of the debris formed by Mustang’s fleet and mine and break away from Jupiter toward Ganymede, leaving her behind. I feel the pulsing desperation as the Moon Lords send their fastest craft to intercept us. We shoot them down. All the pride and hope of Romulus’s people are in the rivets and assembly lines and electric shops of that dull gray ring of metal. All their promises of power and future independence are at my mercy.