Chapter 33 #2
I thought I knew about despair. I was sure I’d seen how deep it can dig its claws, how it pours itself into you, through skin and muscle and straight to the bone.
But that was back when I believed there was actually still some hope for me.
My life—tumultuous as it’s been—had a path forward.
I could be the Sixth’s gunman. Lament and I could heal the wounds between us.
I thought, yeah, it would take time, but it was possible.
I was wrong. I can’t even believe how wrong. My mother is a villain. My home planet is doomed. We’re stuck on this no-man’s-planet without support, the Legion is rotting from the inside, and my presence here is predicated on the death of the best friend of the man who I—
“Fuck,” I whisper, head still under the faucet. Water spills from my lips. It feels like I’m spitting. “Fuck.”
“Keller,” Master Ira says from somewhere to my left. He must have followed me into the small kitchen. “Come on. Come out of there.”
I give a grunt.
“Do you remember the time I made you untie a front-handed knot?” he asks.
I do remember. That was back when the Master was teaching me the ways of the Order. The skid knot is commonly used to bind people’s hands. Unknotting the rope is impossible unless you know a very specific technique.
I lift my head out of the sink. “If you’re about to impart some sage wisdom,” I say, squirming where the water streams down my neck and soaks my collar, “I am, respectfully, not in the mood.”
“I put your wrists in the knot,” Master Ira continues calmly. “You struggled for half an hour before you finally asked what you were missing.”
“This situation isn’t a knot.”
“No,” he agrees in that even way of his, “but it is like a knot. Just because it seems impossible does not mean there is no way out.”
I’m still feeling too bashed in the head to take his guidance seriously. His words aren’t helping. This situation is impossible.
“Start with what you know,” Master Ira encourages.
“We know Doc Min doesn’t really want to kill everyone,” Vera offers from the other room. I glance up to see the rest of my fleet gathering tentatively around the kitchenette’s opening.
“That would defeat the purpose,” Vera continues.
“Ran Doc Min wants people afraid, and then he wants to save them. Once he wins a devoted following on Venthros, he’ll repeat the scheme on other planets.
He’s already hinted that the voroxide will spread around the galaxy.
He’ll come up with new ways to use his neutralizer to save people, planet by planet, until all of Romothrida is pledged to him. ”
“So what you are saying,” prompts the Master, “is that Doc Min is relying on something.”
“The neutralizer,” I say, despite myself. “He needs it for his plan to work.” I look around. “So … if we want to stop the Determinists, we steal the neutralizer?”
The mood of the room shifts.
“Keep talking,” says Toph’s voice (his head is somewhere above the doorframe).
“We already know Doc Min plans to return to Venthros at the start of the eruption,” I say, wiping water from my chin.
“He’ll deploy ships to distribute the neutralizer and collect his oaths.
What if we stole the neutralizer and just …
gave it away for free? To everyone, no pledge required. Then we would be the heroes.”
Everyone is nodding their agreement. But I still have that feeling in my chest, the emptiness where there should be hope and resolve. Defeating the Determinists, outsmarting Ran Doc Min, it just seems so unachievable. Too much could go wrong. Too much has gone wrong already.
“I’m in,” says Toph.
“Have a skipper,” Caspen agrees.
“There will be time for death later,” Illiviamona notes dolefully.
One by one, everyone offers their willingness until it’s just Vera and me left.
“Well?” she says, trying to sound cheerful even though her eyes are red. “A possibly deadly mission where the odds of success are close to zero. Isn’t this why you joined the Legion?”
“It’s not, actually.”
She hitches a watery smile. “But you’re up for it anyway.”
I look around at my fleetmates. Vera, Jester, Toph, Avi, the Youvu Hums, Caspen, Illiviamona.
They’d fly to a dying planet to help save it because it’s the right thing to do.
And maybe, a little bit, because it’s mine.
I see the encouragement in their eyes, the support and the strength.
And … their presence is steadying. It eases the pain a little, lets me suck in a breath that feels less shallow.
I didn’t choose these people. This unlikely family.
And I’m not okay, having them here doesn’t make things okay, but it does make it bearable. Because I’m not alone.
I return Vera’s small smile with my own. The others are still watching me, waiting for my answer, and I’m almost ready to give it. But there’s something I need to do first.
“I’ll be right back.”
I take the narrow stairs up to the second floor. Lament is sitting alone in our shared room, his forearms braced on his knees, head hanging. He looks up when I enter. Wipes his eyes roughly.
“Hey,” I say softly.
He clears his throat and doesn’t immediately order me out, which I take as a good sign. “Hey.”
“I’m … this seems so inadequate…” I shift on my feet, hovering by the door. “But I’m sorry, Lament. I can’t tell you how sorry.”
He turns his head slightly away, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck. “I know.”
“I would take it all back if I could. Honest to stars. I’d go straight back to the day my mom left and find a way to change things. If I’d had any idea … you have to know I never wanted—”
“I know,” he says again.
“I understand if you hate me now.”
He shakes his head. “I told you already, I don’t.” But he looks like he wants me to leave.
I will. I’ll give him the space he needs. But first: “Do you want to avenge Bast?”
Lament doesn’t quite sigh, but his annoyance is obvious. “For the last time, Hartman, this isn’t some storybook. We’re not superheroes who go around avenging people—”
“I’m being serious. If there was a way to punish the Determinists for what they did. To uproot Doc Min and make him pay…”
“There isn’t.”
“But if there was, would you do it?”
He’s looking at me now. Cautious but not, I note, entirely unreceptive. “Why are you asking?”
“Because,” I say, “we have an idea.”