The Paradox Initiative (28 page)

The walls collapsed. Cement and drywall smashed onto the floor. Wires sprang loose, sparks sprayed. The back of the corridor went black.

“Come on!” her mom shouted. Kestrel regained her footing and ran harder, pumping her arms as Marcus and Wolfe led the way. They burst through the wide doorway, gasping and searching.

Dust fell from the high ceiling. Sunlight glared in from the huge open bay off to their right.

Only one ship remained in the entire vast hangar:

A white, streamlined multi-passenger ship unlike any Kestrel had ever seen. It had no markings, no numbers. It was gorgeous and lethal-looking.

“That has to be Jakiv’s,” she panted.

“Why hasn’t
he
left already?” Aidus wanted to know as they trotted toward it.

“He’s dead,” Kestrel answered.

Up ahead, Wolfe turned, and met her eyes for an instant.

The ceiling cracked.

A thunderous groan traveled through the whole hangar.

“Run!” her dad yelled.

They lunged forward—

Rocks tumbled from overhead and
smashed
all over the paving. Aidus grabbed Kestrel’s shirt sleeve and tugged her forward—the six of them bolted toward the ship, Marcus skidded underneath it and slapped the ramp release…

The floor shook. A large piece of air-cooling machinery tumbled from the ceiling and shattered all over the cement, splattering metal and glass.

“Go on!” her mom commanded, and they all charged up the ramp. It started shutting before they all had gotten in—Kestrel’s foot almost caught. It slammed shut and sealed.

Her brothers immediately and wordlessly swung through the red interior toward the cockpit. Kestrel followed, her parents and Wolfe on her heels.

Her brothers sat down, Marcus in the pilot’s seat, Aidus in the copilot’s, and began firing up the engines. They barked information back and forth as they flipped dozens of switches. The console lights flared to life, and the engine beneath them began to hum.

The ceiling outside kept crumbling. Kestrel winced as rocks tumble
d down, and dust obscured the view of the bay.

“Can we get shields up yet?” her dad asked, pressing up by her shoulder.

“Yup,” Aidus answered, and punched his thumb down on a big red button. “There we go. Up and running.”

“Does this ship have weapons?” her mom asked, crowding up next to her dad. “We might have to shoot our way out of here…”

“Yes, actually,” Marcus replied. “Here and here. But we’re up already—that was quick.”

“Go, then,” her dad said.

“Rightoh,” Marcus gritted, grabbed the controls and fired the thrusters. The ship lifted up as debris showered across the bow.

“Careful…” Kestrel warned, wincing.

“Oh, relax,” Marcus retorted. “
We
can actually
fly,
remember.”

And the ship shot forward. Kestrel grabbed the back of Marcus’ chair to keep from falling into her dad. A rock broke loose in front of them, plummeted—

Missed them by inches.

The ship burst out into the sunlight, screamed over the tops of the trees—

And swooped into a heart-stopping climb.

The gravity machine kicked in.

The g-force eased, and Kestrel stood without having to hold on. The ship leveled out. Marcus turned in his seat and winked at her.

“That’s how you do
that
,” he said. She made a face at him, reached forward and flicked his ear. He laughed.

“Hey, Kes—we’re gonna need our subspace scanners,” Aidus interrupted. “Okay…” Kestrel raised her eyebrows.

“Not sure, but we
might
get shot at out here,” Aidus went on. “And right now our scanners are off.”

Kestrel’s stomach
jumped.

“Why?”

“They’re probably manual,” Marcus assumed. “Back there. Somewhere. Go look and turn them on, will you?”

“Okay,” Kestrel said quickly, turned and slipped past her parents and into the tiny corridor.

“Kestrel—”

She jerked to a stop, whirled—

Wolfe stood
right
there, still panting. His eyes captured hers.

Her heart thundered. She smelled him again—earth and gunpowder…

She turned away.

“I’ve got to find the switch for the scanners.” She hurried down the little hall toward the cabins, searching the walls…

“Kestrel, I’m sorry,” he gasped as he followed her. “I tried to catch you—”

Kestrel found a console. Flipped the door open, scanned the buttons…

“I dove in after you, when everything exploded,” he said in a rush. “I almost had you—I felt your hair go through my hand—”

Kestrel’s
fingertips trailed down the buttons, even as her heart banged against her ribs. She battled to make her eyes focus.

“I hit a fork in the tunnel,” he went on, stepping even closer to her. “I fell through the ceiling in
to one of the hallways. I had no idea where you were, what happened to you—”

Kestrel found the button. Pressed it with all her strength. Slammed the panel shut.

“Found it, the sensors are on—” she gasped, starting back toward the cockpit.

He seized
her arm. Hard.

She spun to face him.

His eyes burned.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she panted, nodding. “Yes, I’m fine.”

He halted. His gray gaze sliced right through her.

And suddenly he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her to him—

And his warm mouth collided with hers.

He slid his hands down and bound his arms around her waist, crushing her to his chest, kissing her lips rapidly, repeatedly, fiery and desperate —

And her hands came up, took fistfuls of his hair, and she kissed him back.

Heat flooded her body. Their mouths moved together in a wild fever—unfamiliar and floundering. He pulled back for an instant—both of them gasped—then he pressed back in, deep and strong, his arms shivering.

Salt on her tongue.

His lips broke from hers. He sucked in a breath. Kestrel’s eyes opened—she stared back up at him. His long lashes were wet, as were his cheeks—his eyes vivid as the morning sky. He panted hard, his gaze locking with hers.

His head dropped. Kestrel swallowed, fighting tear
s of her own. Together they just stood, breathing shakily.

Finally, Wolfe
drew himself up. He cleared his throat, let her slide out of his arms, and swiped at his face. He turned away, and stepped back toward the cockpit.

“Let’s go
home.”

The ship didn’t even shiver as
Marcus touched down in the gleaming, bustling hangar bay of the Darrow Station. Kestrel stood behind her brother as he flipped the switches and started post-flight. She sighed, her whole body aching, and rubbed her eyes.

They’d flown all the rest of the day at top speed, all the while discussing what they ought to do once they got here. Kestrel had explained everything
that had happened after their kidnapping: that she’d traveled on the cruiser using a false identity—an identity that, as far as anybody on the
Exception
knew, had crashed and died on Alpha. Therefore, her dad decided that they ought to ditch this ship in the hangar of Darrow and get public transport back to Earth from here, using all their
real
identities. Her mother and brothers had agreed. Her dad could make a few calls, recite a few security codes, and get copies of their ID cards sent to them. Kestrel had found no reason to argue with any of it—it was a relief to just let them handle everything. In fact, the relief of simply hearing their
voices,
seeing their
faces,
being able to
touch
them, often threatened to overwhelm her.

But during all
those hours of intense discussion, Wolfe had secluded himself in a rear cabin, and hadn’t spoken to her once.

Now,
Kestrel straightened as she heard the exit ramp pop open back there. The gears groaned as it lowered to the hangar floor. Her dad and mom crawled up into the cockpit, smiling.

“We’re here,” her mom said, rubbing Aidus gently on the head. “Want to go get something to eat?”

“I’m starving to death,” Aidus commented, sitting back heavily in his chair. “Have we gotten to eat
anything
except that hospital paste for the past two weeks?”

“I’m going to commence blocking these past two weeks from my memory,” Marcus answered. “Like they never even happened.”

Kestrel felt a sudden twinge in the center of her chest. She glanced at her mom.

“I’d better go get Jack.”

Her parents glanced at each other.

“Honey, we’ve been wondering…” her mom began.

“We wanted to ask you about him,” her dad finished. “Who is he? Where did he come from, exactly?”

Her family waited. Kestrel smiled softly.

“It’s actually…” she said quietly. “A very good story.”

Her parents’ eyebrows went up.

“But it’s also really long,” she added. “And he can probably tell you better than I can.”

Still smiling to herself,
Kestrel ignored the concern in her mom and dad’s eyes, slipped between their shoulders and strode carefully down the very narrow hallway toward the cabins. She passed the first two doors, which stood open, then paused in front of the third, which was closed. She pressed the buzzer next to it.

“Jack,” she called. “We’ve landed. We’re
getting off.”

Nothing.

She waited a beat. Pressed on the buzzer again.

“Jack? Are you okay?”

No answer.

She pressed the door release. The door slid smoothly open.

The bed was made. The bathroom door hung open. The cabin was empty.

Her legs went weak.

“Jack?
”
She pulled back and charged aft, plunging into the luggage compartment. It was empty. So was the little white kitchenette.

“Mom!”
she yelped. “Dad! Have you seen Jack?”

“Isn’t he in that
back cabin?” her mom shouted back.

“No!” Kestrel’s throat choked shut as she hurried toward the front
again. “Jack!”

She stopped. Stared at the open ramp.

The busy bustle of the hangar bay rose up to greet her.

“
Jack!”
She raced down the ramp. Her boots pounded on the metal floor as the cool air of the huge, bright hangar rushed through her clothes and hair.

She stumbled to a halt, gaze darting back and forth, searching through the milling crowds of new arrivals and crewmembers. Lighted consoles blinked, carts hummed as they toted luggage back and forth, people laughed and talked. Crowds of people. None of them familiar.

“Jack!” she shouted, heedless of the people who turned to gape at her. “Lieutenant Wolfe!” Her hands clenched into fists. She heard her family come hurrying down the ramp behind her, but she started away from them, toward the crowds…

“
Jack!”
she cried, taking a fistful of the front of her shirt. She waited.

But he didn’t appear. And he didn’t answer.

He was gone.

“Honey?” her mom called from the back door. “You’d better come in. Looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Okay, give me a second,” Kestrel answered. She adjusted the way she was kneeling on the blue towel, secured her grip on her hand shovel and kept digging, deepening the hole in the rich, black earth. The metal scraped and grunted, and dirt got all over her already-stained yellow dress. She didn’t notice.

A moist gust of wind blew through the courtyard, cooling the July heat even as the sky darkened. The leaves of the center tree rustled wildly, as did all the rosebushes around the perimeter.

Kestrel finished her hole, then eased the very last purple petunia down into it. She swept the spare dirt all around its base and smiled.

“This rain will be
perfect
for all of you,” she told it. “And I don’t even have to turn on the sprinklers.”

She sat back, resting her muddy hands on her knees, and glanced around the courtyard.

A month ago, she and her mom had dug up all the flagstones around the wall, filled the empty space with rich soil and planted climbing roses, morning glories and ivy, all of which had just taken off with new shoots and blooms. Then, Kestrel and her best friend Anny had taken charge of planting all kinds of other flowers in the beds—including several different colors of roses—and when they’d produced, the two girls had started selling them to the neighbors. Everyone loved them—the roses had a
smell
. So different from the forced blooms at the stores, and infinitely better than the 3D Gramcomm message roses.

Now, a dark shadow fell over
the whole garden, and the contrary wind whirled through the courtyard. Large drops of cold water splattered onto the stones—two struck Kestrel’s arms. She looked up.

Dark, weighty clouds loomed,
churning. Lightning darted around inside them. She took a deep breath of the wind, which hung heavy with the scent of rain. Thunder rolled. She stood up, admiring the shape of the mighty clouds. There was nothing like a summer thunderstorm.

“Kestrel!” her mom called out the back window.

“I’m coming,” she answered, dusting her hands off on her skirt and striding bare-footed back toward the house, just as the storm broke loose and the rain began to pour.