2

THE SUB SLOWS DOWN AS a bright bubble the size of a moon blooms into being, its glass walls dotted with small lights that sparkle like stars.

On the way to Squary, Strident Engle explained the lights are mechanical gills, and they’re part of a filtering system that uses electrolysis to split H20 into particles of oxygen and hydrogen. The air is absorbed for breathing, while the hydrogen gets converted into fuel for powering the waterworld.

Planet Sconcion has a dozen of these waterworlds, each its own sovereign territory. Half of them, including Pelagio, are located in waters shallow enough that city tops crest the ocean’s surface; the other half, like Oscuro, are buried in waters so deep that only special Scorp watercrafts can endure the pressure.

Nepturn, Pelagio’s capital city, grows larger in the sub’s window, looking like a reverse aquarium: Rather than fish wading in water, humans swim through air.

Scorps travel within waterworlds using waterwings—metal armbands with vapor jet pack attachments powerful enough to float a person off the ground. Scorps pair the wings with fins that slide over their footwear, enabling wearers to essentially “swim” through the heavy humidity in the air.

We dock into a port along the glass wall to disembark, and then we head down a narrow pathway that leads to Nepturn’s transportation hub, where our identities are confirmed and belongings are searched before we’re granted passage beyond. We follow the crowd of Scorps bustling along sleek silver floors to the wall of lockers where we stored our waterwings and fins before departing to Squary. Once we’ve got on our armbands—which are cold and a little constricting—we carry our fins under our arms and make our way to the exit.

“Wandering Star.”

I turn to see Sirna, flanked by a Lodestar and a Strident. Smiling, I suppress my impulse to hug her and instead reach out to bump fists.

When I wrapped my arms around her after we arrived on Scorpio a couple of days ago, in front of her full entourage of Stridents and Lodestars, her stance stiffened disapprovingly, and I realized I shouldn’t have done it. Sirna is a nurturer by nature, but like most Cancrians, she wears her shell to work and saves her softer side for her personal life.

I guess I just haven’t had much affection the past couple of months. Or feminine company. And I miss Nishi more than water.

“How did your visit go?” asks Sirna, once she’s traded the hand touch with everyone in our group.

“Uneventful,” answers Engle on my behalf.

“No news then?”

“No,” I concede. I didn’t actually think I’d find anything the other Houses missed, but since the Plenum seemed so eager to arrange this trip when I asked for it, I’d hoped there might be a chance I could help.

Sirna turns to the Lodestar and whispers instructions. He nods and takes off with the Strident, and when Sirna straightens, she looks pleased about something.

“But I’m sure the master is far from done,” I caution her. “I’d like to consult with the other teams of Zodai who came through here before giving my report to the Plenum, so please keep this to yourself for now. Anything new from the Marad soldiers in custody?”

Sirna sighs. “Representatives from every House have already tried interrogating them, but they’re stoic. The only person any soldiers seem to have opened up to is . . . you.”

I don’t quite meet her sea-blue gaze. “I guess when you’re about to murder someone, you stop thinking of them as a person.”

Mathias’s arm brushes mine, comforting me with his touch. He understands even better than I do how it feels when someone treats you like you’re worthless. When they draw on your skin like they own it, reducing you to a replaceable canvas for their hate.

“You must be hungry,” says Sirna, and I nod, blinking back my heavy thoughts. “How does dinner sound?”

“I’ll tell Link and Tyron to join us,” says Engle. “Your treat, right?”

Sirna’s mouth twists into something like a smile. “And they say chivalry visited Scorpio and drowned.”

“Who needs chivalry when you look this good?” Engle shoots me a wry glance. “Right, Rho? Tell your ambassador how you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

I start to flush just as Stanton steps in. “Is this banter on the agenda, or can we go already? I’m starving.”

I stare at my brother, not recognizing him. There’s no color in his cheeks, no bounce in his curls, no comfort in his pale green gaze.

“Yes, let’s go,” says Sirna, resuming her professional demeanor. As we’re filing out after her, I try catching Stan’s attention, but he stays out of my reach.

Outside we’re swallowed by the hot breath of a sprawling, spongy city that’s immeasurably high, the view softly illuminated by the starry glow of the gills on the glass walls. The landscape before us unfolds in a rainbow of colors, and once more I have a hard time reconciling the lighthearted look of this world with the dark nature of the Scorps I’ve met.

I slip my fins over my boots and hit the unlock sequence for my waterwings; the vapor jet packs jitter nervously for a moment, then my feet rise off the sandy ocean floor as I float into the humid atmosphere, like a feather flying against the wind. When I’m up in the air, my worries stay on the ground, and I finally feel free.

The four of us fall in line behind Sirna, and we merge with a school of Scorps headed downstream. It feels good to swim again, even if it is without water. But it’s harder going from having the whole ocean to explore to being trapped inside an air bubble.

We pick up speed, swimming in sync with the Scorps around us, until we’re a tightly woven team riding an air current we’re creating together. With every corner we round, we shuffle and reposition ourselves; travelers who are exiting cycle to the outermost lane, while those who have a longer journey stay put in the middle.

Their bright colors make Nepturn’s blocky buildings easy to avoid, and their spongy texture is pliant enough that even if a person flew off course and hit a wall, they’d be protected by its plushy pores. Once Sirna starts cycling over to the outer lane, the rest of us follow suit, and moments later, we peel away from the group, toward a blue building taller than the ones surrounding it: the visitors’ burrow.

Scorps are the Zodiac’s innovators; throughout the ages, they have been the inventors of our most groundbreaking and galactically coveted technology. The tech industry on Scorpio is so cutthroat that companies are intensely competitive with each other, making corporate espionage a constant concern—which is why the House operates under extreme conditions of confidentiality. And if there’s anyone a Scorp distrusts more than a fellow Scorp, it’s someone from another House.

Sconcion doesn’t get many visitors because Scorps make it difficult for outsiders to obtain visas. Approved tourists are put up in a city’s visitors’ burrow, where a Strident is assigned as their guide to monitor their movements and limit their access to privileged information.

When we land on the burrow’s rooftop, we stuff our waterwings and fins in lockers; air swimming is forbidden indoors. Up close the structure’s spongy surface feels fuzzy yet sturdy, and random debris—shells, sand, stones—packs its pores. The temperature is refreshingly cooler inside, and we take a lift down to the dining hall in the belly of the building, an enormous room that spans the full floor.

The scent of fresh seafood tickles my nose as a cacophony of voices assaults my ears; even though the burrow isn’t very booked, the hall is swarming with curious locals who want to hear the latest news from other worlds.

Long communal tables line the room. We grab drinks and silverware from a stand by the entrance, then we survey the space until we spot Link and Tyron waving to us from one of the tables near the back wall, the one closest to the hall’s oceanic wallscreen.

As soon as I sit down, a holographic menu pops up in front of me, and I tap to make my selections—grilled blacktail filet with a peppered seaweed salad. When I submit my order, the hologram vanishes.

Link and Tyron already have their meals, but only Link has started eating. “So? See something the rest of us missed, Wandering Star?” he asks through his mouthful of food. “Find another secret message from your boogeyman? Planning to get more of us killed with an encore armada?”

When I open my mouth to answer, he obnoxiously slurps up an octopus tentacle and chews it loudly. Yesterday’s Stanton and Mathias would have jumped in to defend me by now, but they’re different people today, too busy fighting their own demons to shield me from my detractors.

“Ease off, Link,” says Engle, studying me closely. “It’s not her fault the person behind these attacks is messing with her head. She’s just a little girl trying to play a grown-up’s game.”

I glare at Engle, though I don’t get the impression he’s being serious; more than anything I think he’s trying to provoke me into a reaction. And if he’s testing me, that means he hasn’t formed his opinion yet—so I still have the chance to earn his respect.

“Give me your Ephemeris,” I say.

“What for?”

“So I can call my boogeyman.”

Engle’s red eyes widen a fraction, but Link leans forward with interest. Since he and Tyron are from Pelagio, their sallow skin isn’t as translucent as Engle’s, and their eyes are a darker and less striking shade of red.

“My night just got interesting,” says Link, nudging Engle’s arm. “Do it. Give it to her.”

Engle and I are still measuring each other, neither of us willing to look away first. “Why don’t you use yours?” he asks me.

“Don’t have it with me,” I say. When he doesn’t react, I lower my voice. “You’re not scared, are you?”

He cracks a cold smile. “Not scared . . . just wondering what your game is.”

“Thought you said this wasn’t my game. That I’m just a little girl getting played.” I cock my head and arch my eyebrows. “But grown men like you aren’t scared of monsters, because you don’t believe in them. Right?” The lines around his eyes harden, and I know I’m finally getting under his skin. “So pass me your Ephemeris.”

“That’s enough,” says Sirna, who’s sitting to the other side of Engle. He flinches and looks at her suddenly, brows furrowed, and I get the sense she pinched his skin under the table.

Free at last, I lower my gaze and blink. Just then, a shadow falls over me, and I lean back as drones descend on the stone table, dropping off our dinner before flying back to the kitchen.

As I’m chewing my first bite of buttery fish, the enormous wallscreen beside us flickers on, and a holographic newscast begins. “We interrupt your night with breaking news: We’ve just been alerted that an announcement about the Marad is forthcoming from the Planetary Plenum.”

The food slides tastelessly down my throat, and the whole place falls silent at once. I whip my face to Sirna’s, but she doesn’t meet my gaze. What announcement? Why didn’t she mention that there was news earlier?

“Ambassador Crompton’s transmission will begin at any moment,” says the newscaster, “so stay with us as we await this latest update.”

A montage of recycled news packages begins to play as the station fills the airtime. “The Marad first came on the galactic scene by instigating and later escalating the conflict between Sagittarians and migrant workers from Lune”—another Scorp waterworld—“but as our network was first to report, the Wayfare Treaty has at last quelled that conflict. So where did the army go after Sagittarius?

“The Marad—allegedly made up of Risers—brought its savagery to the others Houses, including our own, when they sabotaged the air supply in Oscuro, killing dozens of our people.” I glance at Engle’s downcast face, and as his hand clenches into a fist, I wonder if he lost someone in the attack.

“Given the random and inconsistent nature of their strikes, it’s impossible to know what they’re truly after. They’ve hijacked hostages and cargo from ships all across Zodiac Space, assassinated Elders on House Aquarius, set off explosions on Leo, blown up part of the Zodiax on Tierre, and, most recently, targeted Piscene planetoid Alamar, which fell victim to a technological strike that knocked out their communication grid and shut down their network for nearly two galactic months.”

The screen cuts back from the montage of images to the somber-faced newscaster. “And now, silence. But have they finished with us, or are they planning their next attack? With no enemy to battle, and no new violence to point the way, how can our Zodai protect us? And how much longer must we hold our breath, waiting for our leaders to tell us what they know? This reporter believes if we don’t breathe soon, we will drown.”

New footage starts playing of an Ariean Zodai University student a few years older than me named Skarlet Thorne.

“New voices are emerging in our leaders’ silence,” says the newscaster as we watch the stunningly beautiful Skarlet speaking at a rally on Phobos, the Ariean planet where the Marad was first discovered. Zodai from all over the Zodiac have been scouting the location in the hopes of finding clues.

Skarlet’s clear, strong voice rings over the gathered crowd of Ariean Academy and University students. “If it’s true the Marad is comprised of Risers, then we already know what they want. It’s what we would all want were we in their position: acceptance.”

Even though I’ve seen this news clip before, I can’t help nodding along to her words. Skarlet is one of the rare people proposing empathy for Risers, but unlike Fernanda, who deflects the issue of unbalanced Risers in favor of defending the whole race, Skarlet skirts the politics by narrowing her focus simply to finding a solution. “We’re fighting to defend our homes, but Risers are fighting for their right to have one—”

Skarlet cuts out abruptly, her speech replaced by the image of a forty-something Aquarian man with pink sunset eyes who’s standing beneath a holographic banner bearing all the House symbols. Standing in the background behind Crompton are a handful of Aquarian Advisors.

There’s a small delay while he waits to speak, and then he beams a warm smile before beginning his announcement. “Brothers and sisters across the Zodiac, I come before you on behalf of my fellow ambassadors with happy news following a long season of darkness.

“For months, Zodai from every House have been investigating the Marad’s hideout on Squary. I can now announce that we have found absolutely no evidence of future attacks, beyond the unfinished weapon that is no longer a threat, as it’s currently in our custody. Consequently, today—which is a relative term, as we are scattered across the solar system, leading dozens of different todays—”

Some of the Elders behind him frown and clear their throats, and his smile falters. “As I say, on this day, in House Scorpio, our own Wandering Star, Rhoma Grace, has visited Squary—”

I gasp at my name, and trade startled stares with Stanton and Mathias.

“—and she, too, has found no concrete proof of anything to fear. Therefore, it is with great hope and relief that this Plenum is ready once more to declare Peace in our Zodiac.”