The man’s sympathy and astonishment were gone, vanished as if they’d never been there. Perhaps they never had.
He jerked his head in a nod. No question. No thought to disobey.
Though Cress screamed and kicked, Sybil managed to drag her all the way back to the satellite’s main room, tossing her like a bag of broken android parts on the floor.
The door shut behind them, dividing her from the exit, from her freedom, and with its familiar clang she knew.
She would never be free. Sybil was going to kill her, as she was going to kill Linh Cinder and Carswell Thorne.
When Cress pushed back her mess of hair, a sob shook her to the bones.
Sybil was smiling.
“I suppose I should thank you. Linh Cinder is going to come to me, and our queen will be so pleased.” Bending down, Sybil grasped Cress’s chin in a claw-like grip. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll survive long enough to receive your reward.”
Nine
Cinder groaned, the impact of her most recent landing still reverberating through her spine. The cargo bay’s ceiling spun and wobbled in her vision. “Was that necessary?”
Wolf and Scarlet appeared above her.
“I’m sorry,” said Wolf. “I thought you had control. Are you all right?”
“Frustrated and sore, but, yes, I’m fine.” She forced herself to take Wolf’s outstretched hand. He and Scarlet both helped her to her feet. “You’re right. I lost focus. I felt your energy snap out of my hold, like a rubber band.” That was moments before Wolf completed the maneuver she’d managed to halt for six whole seconds—grasping her arm and tossing her over his shoulder. She rubbed her hip. “I need a moment.”
“Maybe you should call it quits for the day,” said Scarlet. “We’re almost to the satellite.”
Iko chimed in. “Estimated time of arrival is nine minutes, thirty-four seconds. Which, by my estimation, is enough time for Cinder to be defeated and embarrassed in seven more brawls.”
Cinder glared up at the ceiling. “Also just enough time to disconnect your audio device.”
“Since we have a few minutes,” said Scarlet, “maybe we should talk about how to handle this girl. If she’s been stuck on a satellite for seven years, with no one to talk to but a Lunar thaumaturge, she might be … socially awkward. I think we should all make an effort to be extra welcoming and supportive and … try not to terrify her.”
A laugh came from the cockpit and Thorne appeared in the doorway, strapping a gun holster around his waist. “You’re asking the cyborg fugitive and the wild animal to be the welcoming committee? That’s adorable.”
Scarlet planted her hands on her hips. “I’m saying we should be aware of what she’s been through and try to be sensitive to that. This may not be an easy transition for her.”
Thorne shrugged. “The Rampion is going to be like a five-star hotel after living on that satellite. She’ll adjust.”
“I’ll be nice to her!” said Iko. “I can take her net-shopping and she can help me pick out my future designer wardrobe. Look, I found this custom escort shop that has the best accessories, and some discounted models. What would you think of me with orange hair?” The netscreen on the wall switched to an escort-droid sale listing. The image of a model was slowly rotating, showing off the android’s perfect proportions, peachy skin, and royalty-approved posture. She had purple irises and cropped tangerine hair and a tattoo of an old-fashioned carousel that rotated around her ankle.
Cinder squeezed an eye shut. “Iko, what does this have to do with the satellite girl?”
“I was getting to that.” The screen scrolled through a menu, landing on hair accessories, and dozens of icons clustered together showing everything from dreadlocked wigs to cat-ear headbands to rhinestone-encrusted barrettes. “Just think how much potential she has with hair like that!”
“You see?” said Thorne, nudging Scarlet in the shoulder. “Iko and the imprisoned, socially awkward satellite girl, best friends forever. Now, what I’m worried about is how we’re going to be dividing the reward money when this is all over. Because this ship is starting to feel awfully crowded and I’m not sure I’m happy with all of you cutting into my profits.”
“What reward money?” asked Scarlet.
“The reward Cinder’s going to pay us out of the Lunar treasury once she’s queen.”
Cinder rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”
“And that’s just the beginning. By the end of this escapade, the whole world will see us as heroes. Imagine the fame and fortune, the sponsorship opportunities, the marketing requests, net-dramatization rights. I think we should discuss the profit division sooner rather than later, because I’m considering a 60-10-10-10-10 split right now.”
“Am I the fourth ten percent?” said Iko. “Or is that the satellite girl? Because if it’s the satellite girl, I’m going on strike.”
“Can we discuss this imaginary money later?” said Cinder.
“Like, maybe when there’s actual money to discuss?” suggested Scarlet. “Besides, don’t you still have to prepare the podship?”
“Oui, mademoiselle.” With a salute, Thorne grabbed a handgun off a storage crate and sank it into the holster.
Scarlet cocked her head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go? It’s going to require some precise manuvering to attach to the docking clamp, and from what Cinder told me about your flying skills…”
“What do you mean? What did Cinder say about my flying skills?”
Scarlet and Cinder shared a look. “Naturally, she told me that you’re a fantastic pilot,” said Scarlet, grabbing her red hoodie off a crate. Though it had been badly torn in Paris, she’d stitched it up as well as she could. “Absolutely top-notch.”
“I think she was practicing her sarcasm,” said Iko.
Thorne glared, but Cinder only shrugged.
“I’m just saying,” continued Scarlet, threading her arms through the sleeves, “it may not be an easy attachment. You have to dock slowly, and don’t leave the pod until you’re sure the satellite’s system is compatible and you have a secure connection.”
“I can handle it,” said Thorne. Winking, he reached out and gave Scarlet’s nose a tweak, ignoring how Wolf bristled behind her. “But you sure are sweet to be so concerned about me.”
* * *
The docking clamp engaged on Thorne’s second attempt, which he thought was pretty good for never having docked with a satellite before. He hoped Scarlet was watching, after she’d so brazenly doubted his abilities. He checked the connection before putting the podship into standby mode and unlatching his harness. Through the window he could see the curving side of the satellite and one of its circular gyrodines whirling lazily overhead, propelling the satellite through space. He could see only the edge of the docking hatch through the ship’s windows, but it appeared secure, and his instruments were telling him that the pressure and oxygen levels made it safe to exit his ship.
He tugged his collar away from his throat. He was not, by nature, a paranoid man, but dealing with Lunars gave him more hesitation that he was accustomed to, even young, semi-cute ones. Young, semi-cute ones who had probably been driven insane by years of solitude.
Thorne unlatched the podship door and it swung upward, revealing two steps up to a ramp edged with a rail, and beyond it a narrow corridor. His ears popped with the change in pressure. The entrance into the main satellite was still shut tight, but as he approached he heard a hissing noise and the doors parted, sliding seamlessly into the walls.
He recognized the room from the D-COMM connection—dozens of flat, clear screens, some overhead storage cabinets, a mussed-up bed with worn blankets, a wash of bluish white light coming from built-in fixtures. A door to the left led to what he assumed was a washroom, and directly opposite him, there was the door to the second podship hatch.
The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, her hair pooling over both shoulders and ending in a bundle of knotted frizz by her shins.
She was smiling, a close-lipped, polite look that was entirely at odds with the nerve-bundled reaction she’d had over the D-COMM.
But that smile faltered when she saw him.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “I was expecting the cyborg.”
“No need to look so disappointed.” Thorne thrust his hands into his pockets. “Cinder can fix ships, but she’s useless at flying them. I’ll be your escort today. Captain Carswell Thorne, at your service.” He tipped his head toward her.
Rather than swoon or flutter her lashes, as was duly expected of her, the girl looked away and glowered at one of the screens.
Coughing, Thorne rocked back on his heels. Somehow he’d expected that a girl with no prior human interaction would be a lot easier to impress.
“Are you all packed up? We don’t like to loiter in one spot for long.”
Her eyes flickered to him, hinting at annoyance. “No matter,” she murmured to herself. “Jacin and I will go to her then.”
Thorne frowned, feeling a twist of regret at his previous mocking, even if it had only been in his own head. What if the solitude really had driven her crazy? “Jacin?”
She stood up, her hair swinging against her ankles. He hadn’t been able to tell how tall she was before, but now seeing that she couldn’t have been much more than five feet, he felt comforted. Crazy or not, she was harmless.
Probably.
“Jacin, my guard.”
“Right. Well, why don’t you invite your friend Jacin to join us, and let’s get going?”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be getting far.”
She stepped toward him, and in that movement, she changed. The nest of hair grew dark and silky as a raven’s wing. Her eyes changed from sky blue to slate gray, her pale skin turned golden, and her body stretched upward, becoming tall and graceful. Even her clothes changed, from the plain, worn day dress to a dove-white coat with long sleeves.
Thorne was quick to bury his surprise.
A thaumaturge. Figured.
Not one for denial, he accepted the immediate resignation with a stiffening of his shoulders. It had all been a trap then. The girl had been bait, or perhaps she’d been in on it all along. Funny—he usually had better instincts when it came to these sorts of things.
He stole another glance around the room, but there was no sign of the girl.
Something clanged outside the second entry hatch, shaking the satellite. Hope. His crew must have noticed something was wrong. That would be them now, aboard the second podship.
He called up his most practiced, most charming grin, and reached for his gun. He even felt a sting of pride when he managed to get it all the way out of its holster before his arm froze of its own accord.
Thorne shrugged with the one uncontrolled shoulder. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
The thaumaturge smirked and Thorne’s fingers loosened. The gun clattered to the ground.
“Captain Carswell Thorne, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“I’m afraid you won’t have claim to the title for long. I’m about to commandeer your Rampion for the queen.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“Additionally, I assume you are aware that assisting a wanted fugitive, such as Linh Cinder, is a crime punishable by death on Luna. Your sentence is to be carried out immediately.”
“Efficiency. I respect that.”
The second entry door opened behind her. Thorne tried to send mental warnings to his companions—it was a trap! Be ready!
But it was not Cinder or Scarlet or Wolf who stood in the second entry hatch, but a Lunar guard. Thorne’s hope began to wither.