DAY 28, 8:31 A.M.

Aboard Genesis 11

Vandemeer escorts me down to breakfast. He looks excited about my return. It’s not hard to figure out that he knows nothing about Karpinski. The attempt on my life is a lesson I won’t forget. Karpinski claimed he was forced to do this by Isadora and Roathy. The other contestants want to win as badly as I do. But they went for the wrong guy. I don’t forget and I won’t forgive.

As we walk, it still feels like my insides are wound too tight, but I’m eager to be back, eager to make up lost time. We take the stairs that lead into the massive multipurpose cafeteria. I want to see the others, but I find myself more eager to see the scoreboard.

My eyes flicker there first:

I’m stunned. The math makes sense, but I’m completely stunned. My heart races as I realize how far behind I am. It’s all relative. Others will get injured, I remember. Others will be sick. But that doesn’t take away the feeling that I’m in a bottomless pit without much of a rope.

I’m ten meters from the table when they finally notice me. All of them look like they’re seeing a ghost. I trace faces for signs of guilt, for avoidance or embarrassment. All are too shocked that I’ve returned to give anything away. Only Kaya shows emotion. She looks furious.

Katsu’s the first to speak. “We thought you were dead.”

“Takes more than that to kill me,” I reply.

That brings out a few smiles. Roathy and Isadora exchange a glance. Seen and noted.

“Seriously,” Katsu says. “They wouldn’t tell us anything. You didn’t look good when they took you away, man. I can’t believe they let us think you were dead.”

Kaya rises to give me a hug. As she does, she whispers into my ear. “Vandemeer told me I couldn’t visit. They didn’t tell us anything. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to be alone. I tried to visit almost every day, Emmett, I really did.”

I nod and pretend it’s not a big deal. But I can feel it burning in just about every direction. The idea that Vandemeer, after all the trust we built in the med unit, would purposefully keep Kaya from visiting is messed up. And if Vandemeer was just following protocol, what’s Babel get out of keeping me isolated? As I pull away from Kaya’s hug, I’m not even sure who to blame or who to be pissed off at. I start in on breakfast instead and half listen as Katsu makes me promise to show him the scars.

Defoe doesn’t note my presence as he arrives to escort us to morning activities. We’re back to speed drills with nyxia manipulation. I finish in the bottom three for every single one. I’m rusty and slow; the others have had nine more days of practice. I keep pace in the classroom session but lose ground again in the swim tank. My lungs aren’t used to the exercise. My score stays as far back from the others as it was at the start of the day.

In the pit, I’m matched up with Azima. A nice welcome back to the competition.

I was wrong about her. She’s not a snake striking from the grass. She’s three snakes. Her lashes come too fast for me to block. I’d love to blame my injury, but as I backpedal and miss parries, I know she’s just that good. And only getting better. On the fifth strike my avatar drops, and Azima raises her arms in triumph.

The morning has me sweating and tired. I don’t lose the same amount of ground I lost while in the med unit, but Vandemeer was right. I’m not ready. Not well and not whole. My struggles continue in the afternoon. We’re back at the simulated mining site. The others move at a rapid-fire pace. They have plans now, strategies for maximizing their efficiency. Longwei’s in the drill, and eventually they relegate me to nyxia manipulations.

We lose easily. Katsu mutters something about weak links. His words shouldn’t hurt my feelings, but they do. That night I dream-walk through empty rooms that get smaller and smaller. As the rooms shrink, I shrink with them. I wake up right before I’m reduced to nothing.

The next day is even harder. I have to give up halfway through my swim when the left side of my stomach feels like it’s been set on fire. Vandemeer suggests a forfeit, but I refuse. Instead, he applies a balm to my wound as we cross over to the pit. The pain subsides just in time for Azima to make me look like a weak and wounded thing. I try to use the trampolines to draw out the fight. Play a little hide-and-seek. Azima’s better at seeking than I am at hiding, though. I catch a spear with my neck and head to lunch.

As I gnaw on a piece of chicken, it’s hard not to stare at my score. I’m not catching up. I’m getting farther and farther away. Is it even possible that once I was in first? The thought almost makes me laugh. Longwei doesn’t look at me anymore. To him, I’m not a threat. To the others, I’m only worthy of pity. They’ve given up on me too. I want to give up on myself, but I remember Pops working night shifts and Moms getting side-eyed by doctors who didn’t think we could afford their treatments. I remember that if I don’t do something soon, I’ll go home with pocket change instead of treasure chests.

Wanting something and actually making it happen are two different things. Focused, I still screw up a piece of our machinery at the drill site and don’t manipulate our nyxia deposits fast enough. The other team destroys our time. My teammates don’t hide their glares. Defoe gathers us around, and I’m the ghost in the back of the room.

“Another Sabbath arrives,” Defoe says at the end of the exercise. “A well-earned break. We’ll open the recreation room like last time. Sleep in and treat yourselves to rest.”

I drift to the back of the group as we walk through the sleek hallways. My image reflects back to me along the walls and I wonder who I’m looking at, where the real me has gone. Of course, Kaya drifts back to me. She lets her shoulder bump into mine.

“I missed you,” she says.

“Yeah? Funny way of showing it.”

Kaya’s eyes go dark. “Vandemeer wouldn’t let me visit. That’s protocol on board the ship, Emmett. Babel’s call, not mine. Anytime someone gets injured by nyxia, they have to be quarantined. Only their chief medic can see them. What? Think I’m making all of this up?”

Her explanation makes sense, but it’s been a long day, and I feel like I deserve to be angry at someone, at something. I shrug my shoulders and start walking. “Whatever.”

She grabs hold of my arm with more strength than I thought she had. I stop short and she waits until I look her in the eye. “You don’t have to act tough around me.”

I shake out of her grip. “Why do you even care? Answer that.”

“Because we’re teammates, Emmett. Because we’re friends. Because we’re the same color. You think I forgot any of that?”

“Kaya, I don’t even know what that means.”

“You’re blue, Emmett, the same broken as me. Remember? We’re both forgotten. People look past us or through us or around us. I’m blue too. I know what it feels like.”

I shake my head, and I can tell that frustrates her.

“For me, it was both of my parents,” Kaya says, voice quiet as dying. “We were very poor. We had to move to a new apartment. They took me there, unloaded all of our things, and put me to sleep. When I woke up, they were gone. They left my things. And a note.”

Her words break me. I can see how hard it is for her to talk about, how hard it is for her to admit that someone left her behind. But instead of crying, she tightens her jaw and lifts her chin. She stares me dead in the eye and waits stubbornly for me to say something. I don’t want to be liked, not by her and not by anyone on this ship. I just want to go home and fix the world I left behind. I want to save Moms and Pops and myself. Making friends complicates that.

Kaya doesn’t back down, though.

“I know something happened to you too,” she says. “You don’t have to tell me what it was or why it happened. But you want to know why I care about you? Why I like you? Because I made a promise to myself when I was little. If I ever saw someone who was blue, like me, I’d never leave them. So I’m not going to leave you just because you had a bad day. I’m not going to leave you just because you’re mad at everything. We’re not just roommates anymore, Emmett; we’re family. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She stares at me, and all I can do is look away. I can feel my carefully gathered armor falling to the ground. I don’t want anyone to know my secrets, to see through me like this.

“You really came every day?”

“As often as I could.”

I nod at her. “I’m sorry. Today was hard.”

“I know, but you’re not that far behind. I’ve done the math, Emmett. This isn’t a game of thousands. We’re still a long way away from the final scores.”

“But every point matters.”

“You’re right. So let’s keep earning them. I’ll practice with you tomorrow for our Sabbath. You’ve gotten enough rest in the med unit. Let’s sharpen you back up.”

I glance sideways at her. “You’d really do that?”

She laughs. “Have you even heard a word that I’ve said? You’re so stubborn.”

“I just don’t get it.”

She hooks her arm into mine. “I like you—what’s there to get?”

For the first time, I don’t challenge her words. I need something good right now, and it feels like her words are all I have. We wind our way back to the room and set a time for training tomorrow. Before we part ways for showers, she shows me something she’s been working on. It’s a bulky camera, more vintage than vintage. It shines nyxian black.

“My grandmother had one,” she says. “Come here.”

She flips her grip on the camera and slips an arm around my waist. I put mine around her shoulder and we both smile into the flash. The camera spits out a little square picture. Kaya snatches it, waves it in the air, and hands it to me.

“I don’t need to see it to know it’s a good one. You keep it.”

I set it on the dresser and watch as the picture comes to life. We look worlds away from this competition. We look like real friends. If only a shower could wash away reality. I stand naked before a mirror afterward. My stab wound is a scrape of lighter skin just below dark ribs. A readout of vital signs dances to life. It claims I’ve lost twelve pounds. I can see it in my ribs and my cheeks. The mirror screen scans the interior of my stomach. Everything flashes green.

But there’s a broken that the mirror can’t see. I feel it now more than ever.

Distracted, I snag my player and open up the back. Vandemeer’s access card gleams with possibility. Knowing Kaya, she’ll want to stay up late and read together. Tomorrow is Sabbath, so we don’t have to worry about bedtimes or getting rest for the next day. But I think I can make our evening way more fun. I throw on street clothes and slide back into the living room. Kaya’s waiting there with a book, but she sets it aside when I wave the access card in her face.

“You stole it?” she asks, eyes wide.

“A while ago,” I reply, tucking it into a zip pocket. “It’s his backup card.”

Kaya drums her fingers nervously. “Have you used it before?”

“Not yet. Want to do a little exploring?”

She grins beneath her mask. “Let’s see how far the rabbit hole goes.”

Together we check the hallways. No signs of Vandemeer. No Babel techies roaming the night. Most of our fellow competitors are safely tucked away in their rooms. I lead Kaya down the nearest passage. I haven’t gotten to use the card yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t done my homework. Ever since I first snagged it, I’ve kept my eyes open for corridors and tunnels and stairwells.

We go down a few flights of back stairs, and I stop in front of my first discovery.

“I present to you a normal wall,” I say dramatically. “Except when used by a magician.”

I punch the side of a random panel and it opens. Kaya gasps as a hidden hallway is revealed. “Cool,” she whispers beside me. “But how’d you know it was there?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She frowns at me and stamps a heel down on my big toe.

“Ah! All right, all right!” I point down at the floor. “Scuffs on the tiles. Why else would there be scuffs on the tiles in this random spot? Easy find.”

She makes an appreciative noise as the dim lights ahead of us brighten. It reminds me of the energy-saving overheads they installed at the Food First near my house in Detroit. They’d dim whenever someone hadn’t walked down an aisle in a while. Took about three months for them to break. The yogurt section was all blacked out and the store was slow to get things fixed. I always pretended I was on secret missions to locate snacks. The only goal for this mission is to have fun, but the same feeling steals through me. I feel invincible.

“What do you think they use them for?” Kaya asks.

“Shortcuts, I guess. I’m sure there are a bunch of them around the ship.”

Our path dead-ends and I pop another panel. We slide out into a wide hallway that leads to a massive black-bolted door. I unzip my suit pocket, pull Vandemeer’s card, and thrust it at the sensor. The light goes green, the door slides, and we’re through. Kaya looks a little wide-eyed.

“You’re good at this,” she says.

I wink at her. “Babel’s not the only one with secrets.”

She laughs at that, but as we keep moving, she notices things I don’t. Like how big the ship must be and how Babel has woven nyxia into the walls and wiring of every hallway. She’s always got her mind on the bigger picture. I’ve never been good at zooming out that far. It’s no surprise she’s always got a strategy for everything. Ahead, the passage forks.

“Your choice, Alice,” I say.

She doesn’t even answer, just starts skipping happily down the left passageway. Laughing, I jog-step to catch up with her.

“This is seriously so cool, Emmett.”

“I owed you one. For not giving up on me. I kind of hoped this would make us even.”

I can tell she’s smiling. “I wouldn’t have ever done this on my own.”

“What are best friends for, if not to make you do stupid things?”

She blushes at the words. I mean them. This place is dark enough without friends. I need her. I didn’t realize it before, but I probably don’t stand much of a chance of surviving this competition without her. We walk quietly, lost in the moment, and I almost forget my own rules.

“Whoa,” I say, yanking her back by the collar. “Back to the wall.”

I show her. With my back pressed flat, I ease around a corner. Above us, a black-orbed camera hovers. Even as we pass beneath it, we can see the blinking robot-red eye. I motion for Kaya to cross to the opposite wall, and we repeat the process, pressing ourselves tight and slipping beneath another camera. At the end of the hall, another black door looms.

“How’d you learn to do that?” she asks.

“Midnight raids on the snack closet.”

I swipe the card again and there’s a gushing suction of wind. We both step into an antechamber. Above us, air hisses through metal vents. We wait a few seconds as the room’s sensors adjust to our presence. I just hope Babel isn’t eyeing the readouts too closely. I won’t be surprised if they come sweeping in to end the fun. It’s worth it, though, to have a little freedom before they do.

The second door groans open and I step up to the edge. The room looks like a mechanical center. A bunch of pipes and empty air and wiring. It’s all lit up, with about a thirty-meter drop.

“Dead end?” Kaya asks.

“I don’t think so,” I say, holding a hand out into the room.

Inside the air lock, I can still feel gravity’s pull, but as soon as my hand crosses the threshold it goes weightless. Kaya watches it float upward and raises an eyebrow.

I laugh, let out a whoop, and leap into no-grav air. It’s breathtaking. The lightness, the freedom, the fear. I glance up as I float across. The whole room is a vertical shaft. Only fifteen meters across, but about one hundred meters from top to bottom. The first leap lands me on the far wall. I reach out and grab one of the metal supports, pinning myself there. Kaya comes soaring gracefully out, her angle higher than mine, her face priceless. She adjusts her body and grabs a handhold about five meters above me.

“Where do you think it leads?” she asks.

“Let’s find out.”

I shove off the wall and go flying past her. She laughs and follows. We zigzag our way up the shaft, swimming through the air, dancing absurdly, and acting like kids for the first time on Genesis 11. Above me, Kaya gets a grip on a second black air lock. I angle my body and push off toward her. My aim’s too high, but she snags my leg and pulls me back down.

“There’s no place to scan,” I say. Kaya carefully slips her feet beneath the exposed edge of the frame and bends at the waist. There’s a fist-sized circle punched into the center of the door. I watch her stuff a hand inside and feel around. And then she freaks. Her hand is stuck and her face twists with terror. I panic-reach for her shoulder and try to pull her away when she breaks into laughter.

“Got you,” she says, winking.

“You’re the worst.”

I push off the wall and let myself float away. We spend an hour exploring the place. There are only two air locks in the room. The one we came through and the one we can’t get through. Kaya spends most of the time looking at it, wondering why there are no scans on this one like there are on the other one. Eventually I lure her away with jelly beans I saved from the cafeteria’s snack bar. We tell stories and throw different flavors at each other, laughing until we feel sick.

I keep waiting for Defoe and Babel guards to show up and spoil the fun, but they never come. Even as we head back to our room, nothing. Kaya laughs excitedly when we’re safely back on the couch, and we both dig into the thrill of having gotten away with something. We listen to songs on my player and shuffle cards until we’re too tired to think of anything but falling asleep. Until all the pain and anger and frustration feel a few million kilometers away.