In that one second of distraction, she’d made a mistake. She’d twisted the puzzle too far, opening a doorway that let a tidal wave of water flow directly into chamber eight. Cassian was paddling his arms furiously. The gray line was already at the ceiling. His arms slowed. His feet stopped kicking . . .
“No!” she cried. “Hold on, Cassian!”
She twisted the puzzle once more, turning it so that the opening was on the side, letting water rush out.
At the same time, the door to her chamber burst open.
She shrieked as a wave of water poured in, and she grabbed the table to brace herself. The laser model sizzled and shorted out. Water drenched her. It was rising. Three feet, now four . . . She trod water desperately.
And then another door opened on the opposite wall. The sea of water rushed out, carrying her with it like a deluge into the next chamber, chamber ten. She crashed to the hard ground, knitting her fingers in the floor slats. Slats. She sat up quickly. The floor of chamber ten was made of a grate that let the water drain straight through it. She nearly laughed with relief, until she caught sight of herself in the chamber’s mirrored walls and saw how haggard she looked.
And then Cassian, soaking wet, came staggering through the doorway.
He was the real one, not the model. An eternity of Cassians reflected in the mirrors.
She jumped up, running across the grates. The sound of rushing water below echoed through the chamber. She threw her arms around him. He coughed hard, water thick in his lungs.
“You’re alive!” she said as they sank to the slatted floor.
He coughed harder, water still pouring down his skin. She pressed a hand to his cheek, felt the warmth there. In her heart, she’d always known Kindred and humans weren’t so different. It bolstered her with hope that they were in this together now, two species from the same ancestor and the same planet.
“It’ll be okay,” she said tenderly. “I can do this, I know I can. Serassi was right about the paragon burst. It makes me stronger, physically and mentally. It’s like I have a little bit of Rolf and Leon and Mali with me.”
But as soon as Cassian stopped coughing, he looked up with burning rage. He threw her hand off of him violently.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. “Where’s Cora?”
She stared at him in incomprehension. And then she glanced in the mirrored walls and let out a ragged breath.
Her reflection wasn’t her own anymore. She was looking at Fian—at the impostor version of Fian. The same wrinkle in his forehead. The same gray uniform. She gasped, touching her forehead and seeing the action reflected in the mirror.
The Gauntlet had made her into an optical illusion this time.
“Cassian, listen,” she said. “It’s me, Cora. This is just the next puzzle. The Gauntlet is trying to trick you.”
Cassian rolled back the sleeves of his uniform. “You tricked me once, Axion. I don’t know how you got in here, but you won’t trick me again.”
He balled his fist.
37
Rolf
ROLF’S PICKUP STIRRED CLOUDS OF sand as he drove a load of Armstrong citizens, packed together tightly and cradling their few belongings in their laps, toward the marron root mines. All morning he’d been making this trip, back and forth, as quickly as he could, as many people as he could fit in the truck bed. The way the mine’s tiers overlapped one another made it the perfect place to hide out from an Axion attack. They wouldn’t be visible from above, and the deep chasm would protect them from any explosions or chemical dust clouds.
He pulled up to the edge of the mine and cut the engine.
“Let’s move,” he said, lowering the back gate and helping the citizens climb out. “Remember, stay hidden until Nok or I come back to give the all-clear.”
The citizens rushed for the mine ladders, disappearing into the chasm one at a time. The sun was merciless overhead. Rolf wiped the sweat from his forehead, scanning the skies.
Nothing yet but thin clouds.
When would the Axion attack come?
He jumped in the truck and revved it, heading back to town for the next load. The strongest citizens had stayed in the tent encampment to fight from the ground and were now disguising the weapons under tent canvas. He spotted Dane’s dirty uniform amid the bunch, along with two of the mine guards, and he narrowed his eyes. Dane had wanted to side with the Axion. The coward.
Rolf checked his list of refugees and citizens who still needed to be taken to shelter. A pair of Mosca pilots, a wounded Gatherer, a dozen elderly citizens, eight loads’ worth of wild caged animals.
A lion! he thought as he sped back to town. How was he supposed to get a lion to climb down the scaffolding into the root mine?
On the outskirts of the town, he spotted Nok, Loren, and two Mosca refugees loading the laser weapons into the back of the other truck.
“Go around the back of the general store!” Nok called. “The next group is waiting for you there.”
He nodded and skirted the town. From here, the desert stretched out as far as he could see. The field where the forty refugee ships had landed was nothing but bare ground now, the ships all hidden beneath tent canvas or in low trenches. He felt eerily exposed, staring at that bare desert. His fingers knit against the steering wheel. He looked up into the empty sky again.
A group of fifteen wounded citizens was waiting for him at the general store. Makayla was with them, helping load the stre
tchers one by one. Rolf jumped out to help. “Hey, Makayla, let’s start with the—”
A distant whine, like a mosquito, interrupted him.
There weren’t mosquitoes on Armstrong.
He squinted into the sky again.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Then, out of nowhere, a droning squeal filled the sky.
Rolf’s heart shot to his throat as a slick white ship rocketed overhead.
“It’s the Axion!” one of the wounded said.
“They’re here!” another cried.
Rolf whipped around to look at Makayla, whose face had gone slack. She let out a ragged cry and then started loading the citizens in stretchers faster. “Come on!” she called. “Let’s hustle, people!”
Another Axion ship tore through the clouds, leaving a trail of white that crossed against the other line. Panic clawed up Rolf’s throat. He clutched his neck, feeling as though he couldn’t breathe. A third ship appeared. Its white line of exhaust crossed the other two lines, making a starburst of white.
“Rolf!” Makayla said. “Let’s move, we gotta get these people to the mines!”
He jolted back into action. Screams tore through the air from the few remaining Armstrong residents who hadn’t yet taken cover. Someone knocked over a stretcher, which landed hard against Rolf’s leg, and he buckled with pain.
Two more Axion ships streaked the sky, leaving white trails of exhaust. They crisscrossed at the exact same point again. Seven lines of exhaust. Now eight. All of them intersecting in the same place, almost as though it were intentional, as though it were . . .
“Makayla!” he called urgently. He held up the keys. “Do you know how to drive?”
She nodded.
He tossed her the keys. “Take these people to the mines. There’s something I need to check on.”
She raised an eyebrow at the strain in his voice but climbed into the driver’s seat, revving the engine, and then the truck sped away, tires kicking up dust, in the direction of the mine. Rolf glanced at the sky again as another Axion ship shot by overhead.