“How are we going to face him and tell him that we handed over his daughter to the Alameeda?”
“We’re not going to tell him. I’m going to tell him.”
“But he won’t—”
Giffen jerks hard on my elbow as he stops and faces the soldier at his side. This one has long, straight brown hair and soft brown eyes. “You want Astrid back alive or not?” he seethes.
“Of course I do!” The soldier is aghast at the question. He glances past Giffen and gives me an apologetic look.
Giffen starts striding toward the aircraft again, pulling me along with him. In frustration, he calls over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, Fidar. This one will have the Alameeda begging us to take her back.”
He guides me up the ramp and into a large bay. Fluorescent lights come on, turning our skin tone a pale whitish blue. This part of the ship is probably used for loading and unloading cargo and for transporting troops. High-backed seats attached to the walls run the length of the aircraft on both sides. Giffen turns me around and uncuffs one of my wrists. Guiding me to a jump seat, he puts his hand on my shoulder and presses me into it. The seat belts crisscross over me as he snaps the other cuff to the handrail by my head, locking it. “Don’t go anywhere.”
The comment was made to get a reaction from me. I just stare at him with loathing. With a frown, he straightens. He wants me to say something—he needs it. He’s okay when he’s fighting with me, but the quiet between us bothers him.
When I don’t oblige him, he turns his back on me and closes the cargo bay door, then disappears farther into the ship. There is an emptiness in the dim, pale light of the cargo bay. Nothing is familiar. Lights flash, blue, red, yellow, and green on a control panel on the wall. Instruments buzz and beep at odd intervals. It’s agony, this unfamiliarity. My hands begin to shake first, and then my legs—my knees bounce from it. I look down at my hands, seeing streaks of dried blood smear my skin. Rubbing them together, I can’t get their marks to go away. My teeth chatter like I’m cold, but I don’t know if I am or not, because I’m numb. I make hacking sounds with my breath, because I can’t seem be able to get enough air past the lump in my throat.
The ship lifts off, moving straight up fast enough for me to lose my stomach. I clutch the belts surrounding me. Normally, this would’ve scared me and brought on a panic that we might crash. Now, it has the opposite effect: it calms me. We might crash. If we do, this ends. Another part of me whispers, I need to know the future . . . I need to prepare . . .
“I wish to see the exchange at Diadem Rock,” I murmur. My icy breath curls out before me and I leave my body.
Giffen’s large hand is cupping my chin as he kneels in front of my jump seat. “Kricket,” he says while shaking my head to try to get a response from me.
Groaning, I mutter, “Are you really shaking my head right now? It already hurts like a spix kicked it, so stop!”
“Getting in touch with your spirit animal, were you?” His question is flippant, but there’s relief in his tone that he can’t hide.
“Yeah, it said to give you this.” I raise my middle finger at him. He stares at it, because the gesture means nothing to him.
“I should take your finger?” he asks.
“I hate you,” I reply, burying my head in my hands. I know I must be ghost-pale, because I feel like all the blood has left my brain.
“Good”—his lips turn sullen—“because they should be here soon. I’ll set up contact with you in a few rotations.”
“I’d rather not see you ever again,” I reply.
“Sorry to disappoint you. I’ll be the one communicating with you while you’re with the Alameeda.”
I scoff at that. The arrogance! “Keep dreaming. I’m never speaking to you again, lost boy. This is it for us. You should say good-bye now.”
He growls, “You should stop thinking of just yourself! There are people counting on us not to fail, you ignorant child!”
“You must be my father’s favorite,” I retort, like that’s a bad thing.
“I am,” he agrees with pride.
“Well, I’m the one he threw away, so I don’t think I owe you, or him, or anyone else anything.”
Soft beeping sounds overhead. “They’re here.” Giffen swears under his breath. Getting to his feet, he moves to the cargo bay doors. He opens them, and the ramp begins to descend. Sunlight streams in from the outside. As the ramp clunks down on gray stone, the panorama spreads out beyond. We’ve landed on a ridge atop a high peak. I know what it looks like outside; I was just here—the future me—or is it the past me now?