Page 173 of The Last Hope

Gem clears her throat. “The hyperdrive fuel pump is activated.”

“He did it,” Stork says.

I return to my pilot’s chair, just as Kinden shouts, “I have a signal!”

Stork reaches the comms station. Kinden is fluent in four human languages already, but Stork has the clearance level to speak to the admirals after Nia patches him through.

He talks loudly, and I recognize the wordsLucretziaandbaby.Without an EI behind my ear, I can’t comprehend much else.

Kinden lowers a headset. “We’re clear, little brother.”

Court straps into the captain’s chair. “Prepare for hyperdrive to theMilky Way.”

“Preparing for hyperdrive,” Padgett says, initiating the thrusters.

“Preparing hyperdrive,” I chime in and reach up for a switch. Thrill thumping in the wake of my sorrow. The joystick rumbles, asking me to clutch it and hold tight.

“Three,” Court counts, “two… one.”

FORTY-FOUR

Franny

A planet is outside our windshield. One with swirling white clouds, deep oceanic blues, and one single green landmass.

Earth.

Last time we let ourselves be happy when we thought we found peace, we were pulled into theRomulusstarcraft. Court, Mykal, and I seem to cage our breath just a little longer. Though smiles peek, and a powerful excitement trembles in our core.

We should reach Earth in twenty-four minutes.

I lock my joystick in the right direction, and I unclip my straps. Before I stand, Stork walks over and places his knee on my armrest. Towering above.

“Excuseyou,” I snap.

I expect a mocking lift of his brows, but he takes a sharp breath. “We have to take care of his Final Will.”

Breathing takes more energy than usual. Like rocks are in my lungs. “You’ve been carrying his Final Will around all this time?” I watch him unfold a stack of papers that could’ve fit in his pocket.

“I knew he’d die today,” Stork confesses. “He told me a while ago. So yeah, I carried it here.”

I try to inhale deeply but it cuts short.

He notices. “You loved him. So it hurts worse.”

I understand now. What he means.Grief.

And mourning. All along, this is what Stork has been feeling.

He hands the papers to me. “His only possession. He wantedyouto have them. He said you’d ‘get it.’” Stork does the two-finger wag, air quotes that Zimmer made fun of him for. It seems fitting right now.

I wipe at my face with a rough hand and inspect the papers.

My mouth drops.

Pages and pages of torn scraps. All along them are doodles, little drawings of knights and princes and princesses. Of adventures and dreams. Spaceships and rockets.

I flip more—there are so many. Scrawled over every spare inch. Boats and pirates. Fairies and goblins. Fantasies he read from books. Castles dot the edge of a page.