DAY 10, 2:18 P.M.

Aboard Genesis 11

Vandemeer releases me, but the words dig under my skin until I find my feet moving in a different direction. Not back to my room, but down. Level after level until I see the signs for the med unit. The orientation labeled this wing as off-limits, but I need to see Roathy. He’s been stuck in the med unit since I put him there on day seven. I tried not to feel too guilty, to convince myself that this was just another part of the game, but Babel arranged our second round in the pit as rematches. Everyone fought the same opponent they did in the first round. Roathy’s avatar appeared next to mine just long enough to register a forfeit. Points trickled into my score and guilt tucked into a corner of my heart. I was telling Defoe the truth. I never wanted to hurt the kid.

The medical wing’s a bright honeycomb of rooms. Six of the seven doors are swung wide open. The sheets on each bed are folded with perfect hospital corners. Light glances off polished medical instruments. My stomach turns a little. Hospitals always remind me of Moms.

I swallow the feeling and push past the empty rooms. The seventh door is a sliver of light. I pause by the opening to look inside. Isadora’s sitting with her back to me. Her hair’s pulled up in a topknot and I can see the crowned eight tattooed on her neck. My eyes trace the delicate lines before noticing the reach of her outstretched hand. She holds Roathy’s limp hand in hers. His eyes are closed, and a monitor ticks off the beats. He’s alive, but God he looks small.

I almost leave, but think better of it. Just because Babel wants a cutthroat competition doesn’t mean I can be less than the person my parents raised me to be. I knock twice.

The door edges open as Isadora turns.

“Hey,” I say. “How’s he doing? I wanted to come down, talk to him.”

She rises and all of her beauty sharpens into a weapon. She stares at me with all the fierceness I saw from her when she was driving a knife into Jazzy’s stomach.

“Leave.”

“I just came to say I’m—”

She turns her wrist casually. A nyxian bracelet slides off, smoking into her hand and reforming in the shape of a dagger. My heartbeat doubles as she grits her teeth in warning.

“You need to leave.”

I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. I raise both hands and back out of the room. I can feel her eyes trailing me until I reach the stairs. I take calm and steady breaths as I make my way back home. Kaya’s words make more sense now: If we team up, it’ll feel like we’re coming back every day to a safe place. I want to feel like I’m coming home.

Back in Detroit, we all knew which places you could and couldn’t go. There were invisible lines drawn around every block, and consequences for being in the wrong places at the wrong times. We learned the rules because learning the rules meant staying alive. Isadora’s threat is a much-needed reminder. Some of the places on this ship aren’t safe. Some corners are more dangerous than others. I make a mental note to learn the new rules, and soon.

Kaya’s waiting for me when I get back to the room. Before I can share more than a few details about what happened, though, she cuts me off.

“You need to take a shower,” she says. “Maybe two showers.”

“For real?”

She leans over, sniffs twice, and pretends to faint back onto the couch.

“That’s messed up, Kaya.”

But she just lies there, pretending to be knocked out. I throw a pillow at her and she still doesn’t move. “Fine. I’ll shower, but you want to check out what Alice is doing after?”

She opens one eye. “That’s a great idea. Hurry up!”

I laugh before heading into my room. Kaya’s quickly becoming my favorite. Obviously, it’s pretty easy to like Bilal. He’s quick with a compliment, and always polite, but he acts that way with everyone. If it had been Longwei on the stairwell that first morning, I think Bilal would have joked and smiled with him too. Or he would have tried.

But with Kaya, it’s like she chose me. First as her teammate, and now as her friend. There’s something completely foreign about having someone just like me for no reason. Back home you had to earn your way into things. A sweet jump shot or a well-told joke. Get your reputation and you got your friends. Kaya’s changed the rules, and I think that’s a good thing.

After I towel off and dress in Babel’s plush bathrobes, I find Kaya waiting in our shared living room. As I sit down across from her, though, I can tell she’s a world away from the person she was just half an hour ago. A dark mood has pushed through her defenses. Her jet-black hair bunches against the arm of the sofa, and her little arms are wrapped tightly around a pillow.

“I can’t stop thinking about what Roathy said at the beginning. About all of us being poor.”

I take a seat at the end of the sofa. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“But he wasn’t right either,” she says. “That’s not why Babel chose us.”

Kaya glances at me. Her eyes are like two dark little pools. I try not to think about the fact that she’s really pretty. All this time she’s treated me like a brother; I want to treat her like a sister. Past all the beauty is a surprising sadness.

“Why’d they choose us?”

“We’re all broken. They picked us because we’re broken.”

I don’t like how close to the truth that sounds. The words have me shifting in my seat, feeling all kinds of uncomfortable. Not sure what else to say, I take a shot at cheering her up. I reach out and pat down my arms and legs before offering her a smile.

“You sure about that? No missing pieces far as I can see.”

“You’re broken,” she answers quietly. “The same kind of broken as me. We’re the same color, you know? It’s not the worst color to be, but it still hurts.”

I glance away. Vandemeer might have the degrees, but it feels like Kaya can see things he doesn’t. She’s right. I am broken. I should have been able to piece myself back together by now, but I spend all my time bracing for the next collision instead. I think about Moms going from warrior to wounded as the disease spread through her kidneys. I think about all the teachers who thought that because I was quiet I wasn’t worth the effort. I think about PJ flirting with Shae Westwood even when he knew I was crushing. Life’s thrown shots at me from every direction. Through all of it, I learned that distance is its own kind of armor.

Maybe that’s the real reason I signed up with Babel. To put distance between myself and the next collision. A small part of me wants to leave now, put distance between myself and Kaya’s knowing gaze. It’s like she’s seeing something in me that I’ve been trying to ignore my whole life.

“You can really see all that?” I ask.

“Like colors,” she says with a nod. “It’s been like that since I was…little. Different kinds of brokenness have different colors. All of the others have a color. Longwei, Jazzy, and Bilal are all red. That’s burden. All three of them are carrying a lot of weight on their shoulders. Azima’s white. She’s searching for a peace that she’s lost. And Roathy’s black, because he’s never known any peace. Katsu and Isadora were both betrayed. It’s like gold, but the color’s all faded. Then there’s you, me, and Jaime. We’re all blue.”

It all sounds so strange, but I can’t help asking, “What’s blue?”

“Forgotten,” she says. “We’re the people the world wants to forget.”

Her words hit so deep and hard that it’s all I can do to release a breath. She reaches out and pats my leg, like she knows exactly how it feels to be this lost in yourself.

“So they chose us because we’re broken, not because we’re poor,” she says.

“What’s the difference?”

Kaya smiles now. “The pieces of broken people can be put back any which way. If we were just poor, they’d have to break us first, to make us into what they want.”

I snort. “I had the distinct impression that they were trying to break us. Throw pennies to beggars and watch them fight. That kind of thing.”

“That’s the way it feels now, but it won’t last. Babel want to make us into something. They want to carve us the right way.” She sighs. “Besides, I don’t care about the money.”

That stops me cold. I care so much about the money that it’s hard imagining someone who doesn’t. I pegged Jaime as the one who didn’t really care about the money, not Kaya.

“But I thought you said you were broken?”

Kaya’s eyes drift back to the ceiling. “I am. Money won’t fix that.”

“Then why come?”

“Eden.”

She makes the word sound like a promise, like a dream.

“I wanted to go to Eden. Can you even imagine it, Emmett? Another planet. With different species and people and places. There’s not much left for me on Earth. I wanted to go as far away as possible. Where better than a new planet?” Her eyes squeeze shut for a second. “But they don’t tell you the pain comes with you. They don’t tell you that hurt travels at light-speed too.”

She slides from the couch, squeezes my shoulder, and disappears into her room. I sit on the couch for a while after that. I hate how right she is about all of it. When Babel chose me, I let myself believe it was because I did something special. My whole life had been one bad break after another and it finally felt like I was getting mine. Kaya’s words cast a shadow over that.

I’m about to call it a day when someone actually knocks on the door. I stare for a few seconds, thinking I imagined the noise, but another knock sounds. What now?

I cross the room and scan my suit, and the door gasps open. Bilal frames the entry.

“Hello, Emmett.”

“Hey, man. Everything all right?”

“Of course,” he says. “I just came to formally invite you to my room.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Right now?”

He laughs nervously. “No, apologies, it is an open invitation. Come any time.”

“To your room?”

He nods. “Exactly.”

“Like…to play games or something? Help me out here, man. I’m lost.”

Bilal frowns now. “Games? I suppose we could, yes. It is just an invitation.”

I laugh now, completely confused. “An invitation for what?”

“My…it is…” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe I’ve been unclear. Where I am from, it is a custom to open your home to friends. I just want you to know my home is open to you and Kaya. I think highly of the two of you and would enjoy your company. That is all.”

“Oh. Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

He nods, like the visit’s been a success, but then he just stands there, waiting.

“Did you mean right now?”

“No, of course not.” He blushes again, backpedaling. “Good night, Emmett.”

I wish him good night and can’t help laughing when the door shuts. He’s awkward as hell, but I like the guy. I slip into my room and spend the next few hours working on manipulations. I try to imagine the others with their feet up while I have my head down and my nose to the grindstone. Eventually, though, the exhaustion has me tucked in hours before my normal bedtime. I lay there, trying to keep my mind focused on the highlights of the day.

I want to pass out to the image of Kaya reading me books, or Bilal extending awkward invitations. But I lose the fight. My mind clings to the image of Isadora. My dreams are filled with crowned eights. They multiply, circling me, and each one’s holding a dark, dark dagger.