Page 158 of The Last Hope

Future Stork tries to speak, but his words break into a sob. He fights to raise his grief-stricken gaze, and he says clearly, “I love you, dove. One day, you’ll know how much.”

Another boom, and he runs out of sight. Leaving my older version and the baby.

Franny has her hand partially over her eyes. Distraught, her pulse like a knife unknowing where to cut and stabbing haphazardly.

Stork is watching her with concern, and then looks to the hologram as future Court speaks.

“No one knew this would happen,” he continues quickly. “Not until she was conceived. Zima is the first child born of a Saltarian and a lifeblood. When Franny was pregnant, Zima’s abilities started emerging. The green hair was just as unexpected.” A gun blast pops in the distance. He holds her closer. “You both wanted to name her after him.”

“Zimmer,” Franny mutters his name, pain twists her stomach.

“Stork and Franny, if you’re listening, you need to know—you did not make this choice lightly. You never imagined sending her to a foreign planet. Franny, you did not want to do what our parents did to us.” He checks over his shoulder. “If the baby stays here, she will die. We will all be gone soon, and by sending Zima, you knew she’d have a chance at life and to extend the lives of thousands of others.”

The hologram sputters out, and then rapidly blinks back. More gunshots popping.

“I have no more time left. Once you find Zima, do everything in your power to make it to Earth. It’s then you’ll know you’ve succeeded, and you’ll have changed our future.” He pauses to say, “We never made it. Mykal, Franny, and I—we never saw Earth.” Gravely, he tells us, “May the gods be in your spirit.” He looks down at the baby. “And she in your heart—”

The hologram sucks into the stone, the video vanishing.

My head suddenly whips to the left—a blow to my jaw.Not my jaw.“Where is Mykal—?”

I duck, metal crashing down on my shoulders,his shoulders.Before he can make sense of what’s happening, he’s kicked to the ground.

I’m kicked.

I kneel—gods dammit.I stand up. He tears at limbs, his rage surging, and I hear Franny and Stork beside me. Screaming my name, but their voices are distant to his overwhelming senses.

His wrath. And pain, ripping through me.

“Mykal!” I cry.

I can’t lose him.

I can’t let that future be ours.

THIRTY-NINE

Mykal

SixRomuluscadets.

That’s how many it takes to restrain me in the hotel suite.

They’ve shackled my ankles together with some sort of metal ring and chained my other hand to the leg of the bed. All the while poking me with an electrowand.

I grit my teeth in pain and boiling ire. Spit spews between my furious lips, and I struggle to escape. Growling and wrestling against the restraints. I tug and tug, the bed creaking but not moving.

They laugh like they finally caught their prey.

Another zap to my thigh, and my muscles spasm. My shoulders fall back against the shiny wooden floorboards. Lying face-up on the ground, a steel-pointed shoe stomps on my opened palm, each little bone snapping underneath the weight.

I release a gritty scream, and then a boot suddenly crushes my throat like a mountain lion sits atop my windpipe.Get off.Instinct grabs hold, and I ache to tear this boot off my neck.

But I can’t lift my left hand out from under the steel shoe. And so I jerk my right wrist against the chains. The leg of the bed starts cracking. Wood splitting.

The cadet presses harder on my throat.

Air is stuck in my lungs, and tiny spots blanket my vision.