Page 63 of The Last Hope

Even worse, Court tried to find information about Earth, but every time he typed anything related to the planet, an alert popped on the screen that said,password protected.

Either the Earthen Fleet always keeps these details secret, or they’re just hiding this knowledge fromus.

Court is on edge, but we go where we’re told in the morning. First to the dining hall where kitchen staff hand the crew copper bowls. People eat somberly on benches, heads hung. Voices morose. After we collect our bowls, Stork says we’re having breakfast in the library.

He ushers us into the courtyard, balconies largely empty, and he works on opening one of the arched puzzle-locked doors. More sullen faces pass us. Crew lingering in the divine space that now feels haunted with sorrow and tears.

Two girls in military skirts are sitting slumped on the edge of the gurgling fountain. I recognize the red-braided girl as Captain Venita. Eyes bloodshot and hands clasped together, Venita wipes the other’s wet cheek and then presses a loving kiss to her lips.

I ask Stork why everyone is so solemn.

The door to the library clicks, but he pauses and gives me a curious look. “It’s not apparent to you?”

Embarrassed heat roasts my face. “Should it be…?” My voice travels—suddenly, I taste sweetness on my tongue and notice a faint gag.

Court just ate a spoonful of the yellowish breakfast food beside me. And Mykal is no champion offruits.

I try not to dry-heave or glance at either of them.

I bake twice-over and plant a scowl on Stork.

He looksknowinglyat my flush, but I’m still holding down the theory that he doesn’t know about our link. So the joke is on him.

Stork skims the length of me. Nearly smirking with boastful eyes that say,what a naïve little dove.“I guess you wouldn’t know.” He sticks his spoon in his mouth and somehow speaks clearly. “Saltarians don’t grieve death like humans do.” Pushing the door open with his back, he also adds, “The crew is in mourning. They watched their admirals die yesterday.”

Mourning.

I wonder how long their sadness lasts. If it’ll end soon or persist. Death is morbid here, I realize. But I see love in their tears as they weep for those they wished could’ve lived longer.

Yet Stork isn’t grieving like them.

“Where are your tears for the dead?” I ask outright.

He’s a bit taken aback. “You’re a blunt girl.”

“You’re a cagey boy.”

His smile is briny. And then he proves me right. Not answering back, he pushes into the grand library.

Instantly, Court, Mykal, and I halt, looking down at the squishy ground beneath our feet. Springy green-green grass. Dewy like it’s just been watered.

I never thought this could exist on a starcraft. Glittering silver-cushioned benches are clustered in circles so crew can read or study together.

Stork walks backward and studies my awed reaction most of all. “You’ve never seen grass?”

“Not without snow,” Court says austerely, his commanding presence carryingnoounce of naivety, despite us being new to this place.

I’m glad we have Court on our side.

Mykal scuffs a chunk with his heel, but the grass is lodged to the ground. “And our grass isn’t fake.”

Turning his back to us, Stork saunters farther inside. “The roots are hooked into a floor trap so the grass stays alive. Mine is as real as yours.”

I cup my copper bowl and look wide and far. Musty-smelling old hardbacks of every size and color stack up high to the domed ceiling. More shelved books curve around the oval room.

One other person is here.

Nia rides a hovering platform, big enough for each sandaled foot. Hardbacks teetering in her arms, she zips to the left shelf with perfect balance. Curls bouncing on her shoulders.