“She’s awake!” says the youngest-looking healer, who’s probably my age—though she’s about a foot taller. “Hi, Rho!”
“Finally,” says a woman who seems only slightly older, her hair so red it looks like it’s on fire. “Check out her dumb expression, though. Could be a sign of brain damage.”
“Oh, do be quiet, Kenza,” says the only man in the group. He’s so heavily muscled that he looks like a professional holo-wrestler. I must be on Aries.
I survey the woman closest to me last, and she smiles down gently. “Welcome back, Wandering Star.” Her voice is soft and soothing, at odds with the static-style white noise buzzing in my mind.
“Focus on the sound of my voice . . . breathe in deeply, go ahead and inhale, slow and easy, and then exhale, taking your time. Good. Can you feel my hand on yours? Blink for yes.”
Most of my body is numb, but I start to feel a small pressure on my hand. I blink.
“Good. Now can you squeeze my fingers?”
It takes me a while to locate my muscle’s strings, to remember where to pull and what to push to activate my various joints. But I think I manage to move my fingers a little.
“Good, you’re doing great, Rho. Any moment now, the buzzing in your head will fade, and you’ll be able to think clearly. Take your time, don’t rush, don’t panic. Just remember you’re safe, and you’re awake.”
When most of the numbness melts, I feel like I’ve just surfaced from a deep dive that lasted days. I blink a few times, and then I clench my hands, one of which is still entwined with the fingers of the woman beside me. “Good,” she says soothingly. “I’m going to raise your backrest so you can sit up.”
The bed gradually begins to curve, and I carefully shift a little, my muscles sore from lack of use. “You’re on Aries, and you’re among friends,” she goes on.
“Hysan is going to be so happy!” squeals the youngest of the women, and then she covers her mouth like she’s said something wrong. “Sorry—it’s just, he’s been sitting here, holding your hand around the clock, and—”
“Th—thank you.”
My voice is soft and insubstantial, but it’s enough to silence her. I swallow, and the woman holding my hand says, “Would you like some water?” I nod, and the man passes her a glass, which she holds for me as I drink.
The cool liquid relieves the tightness in my throat, and after a few sips, I ask, “How long was I out?”
“Almost three galactic weeks,” reports the man.
“Is there any news on Nishi?”
No one answers immediately. Then the fiery-haired Ariean asks, “What the Helios is a Nishi?”
Scowling, I try to get out of bed, but I feel a slight pressure on my arm. “Slow down,” says the woman with the kind voice, as she gently eases me back. “Your friends are in training, but we can summon them here for you if you’d like.”
The youngest healer leans forward. “I can go get Hysan—”
“No,” I say, a little too quickly. “I need a moment . . . please.”
“Of course,” says the older woman. “We’ll give you space to gather yourself. Remember to relax and go slow, okay?”
I nod, and as soon as they’re gone I look down at the three lightweight metallic disks clinging to my crinkly white gown like they’re magnetized. When I pluck one off, it pulls away easily. It seems to be a noninvasive sensor that reports my vitals to the holographic screens around me, because as I pull each one off, the displays disappear.
It takes a while to trust my feet to hold my weight. Once I’m finally standing barefoot on the cold floor, I have to lean against the bed for a long moment before I can take my first step. I flash back to the hospital from my nightmares, and part of me wonders whether I’ve actually woken up or if I’m still trapped inside that Sumber.
Maybe I’ll never know.
I find my clean Lodestar suit and boots inside the dresser. I strip off the crinkly gown, and when I’m naked, I inspect my reflection in the mirror for any signs of Corinthe’s torture from the Sumber. But all I see are the mostly healed scars on my left arm.
The Scarab around my wrist is gone and my nails have grown back, but Sirna’s pink pearl necklace still hangs from my neck. I wonder what happened to the other pearl necklace, the one Mom made me a decade ago that Crompton re-created.
I also wonder what happened to Crompton.
And Mom.
I crack open the door once I’m dressed, and I step into a rocky passage that’s not at all what I expected. It reminds me a bit of the Zodiax, and I get the sense I’m underground. So this can’t be Phaetonis; it must be one of the other Ariean planets—Phobos or Phaet—since neither of them has a breathable atmosphere.
The corridor spills into a high-arched, cavernous space that looks like the hollowed-out inside of a mountain. The balconies of higher levels are illuminated by red bonfires that provide most of the light in the place, and all around me Arieans are marching in different directions, most of them lugging weapons and tools and gear.
This has to be Phaet—the smallest Ariean planet. We studied it in school because it houses The Bellow, the highest-security prison in the Zodiac, which is built inside a mountain. Most likely, this mountain.
The House’s Majors—Ariean Zodai—guard The Bellow. Even when the junta of warlords overturned the government and marginalized the Zodai, they left Phaet alone. It’s just a prison planet, and historically, regardless of the power battles happening on Phaetonis, the Zodai have never stopped guarding it.
From the way the Majors are shuffling back and forth, their red suits covered in soot and scratches and burns, this place feels like an underground forge that’s in the midst of preparing for war. The mountain is so dark and oppressive that I’m immediately depressed about being stuck inside. After all those nightmares, I need to breathe fresh air.
I need to be outside.
The giant Arieans pay me no attention as I thread through them, and soon I start to feel a light breeze that doesn’t belong in the depths of a mountain. I follow it down a small, rocky passage, and as the gust grows stronger, I smell sweet notes that make me think of plantlife.
But when I make it to the end of the hall, there’s only a wall and a burly Major blocking it. “What’s your business here?” he asks in a harsh tone.
Before I can answer, an assertive voice behind me says, “She’s with me.”
I turn to see the statuesque Skarlet Thorne, and every muscle in me tightens. Her hair cascades around her flawless face, her skintight red uniform bringing out the enviable curves of her body. She must have been following me.
The man nods. Then he pulls on a lever, and the whole wall slides down.