“I thought I told you to not be an idiot,” Felix reprimands me from across the room. He and the other surviving pirates reactivate their magnetic shoes, and Blaze follows suit.

The navigator leads my feet to the floor of the ship, the attraction between the boots and metal increasing until I’m “standing” on the floor. While grateful he saved my life, his presence is perturbing, so I inch away from his touch. “Thank you,” I say in a small voice.

He inclines his head and smiles crookedly. At least he no longer looks like he desires to rip out my throat.

Blaze travels to the navigation station and presses a button on the touchscreen, which transforms the shields and fortresses back into regular stations with mundane monitors. Felix moves close to me, his hand fluttering over my probably swollen cheek. “You alright?” he mouths.

“Yeah,” I mouth back and nod.

Directing his next words to Blaze, Felix expresses, “Ailee didn’t recognize the code phrase. Thank you for rescuing her.”

The navigator covers one eye with the palm of his hand and faces the Captain. Then, Blaze twists his palm outward, toward Felix who’s several meters away. Felix nods in acknowledgement, and Blaze proceeds to type on his computer.

I ask, “What does that mean?”

“Cosmic sign language: An eye for an eye. You saved one of us,” Felix responds, glancing at Thomson, who’s staring at me, “so Blaze saved you.”

That saying has a different definition in my book, but I don’t point it out.

“Should have stayed in the storage room, rock girl,” Blaze teases over his shoulder. “More trouble than you’re worth… I misjudged you. You are not a sheep after all.”

I lift my eyebrows, commenting, “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Blaze meets my gaze and smirks before busying himself once more with the monitors.

Despite disapproving of pirates, I can’t help but admire them.

He risked certain death in order to save my life.

That took cojones.

Somebody seizes my chin, and I habitually jerk back. Midnight eyes bore into mine, and I pause when I realize it’s only Thomson. “Does it hurt?” he wonders, examining my cheek bone.

My fingers encircle his wrist, and I tug on his arm, hinting he should let go. “Just a bruise,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t let go. “You’re bleeding.”

I am? “Not much. Less than you.” My gaze wanders to his other arm, his sleeve rolled up, tourniquet secured, and wound wrapped in first aid kit bandages. I’m impressed he treated himself that fast. All of a sudden, he embraces me, but he’s so much taller that the hug is a bit clumsy. It grows on me after a couple seconds, and my stomach tingles. I soothingly rub his back. “Hey, everything’s okay. Take it easy. You should get that injury checked out by Doctor River. Most likely, it needs to be cleaned.” It would’ve been better if he kept the knife in, but the circumstances were unsavory at the time.

“Sure. Anything for you,” Thomson concurs, then grazes his lips down my neck.

Oh.

He must have lost a lot of blood.

This is a little too intimate for me, especially in a room full of Cosmics gaping in utter disbelief. Plus, his arm has a cavernous hole in it that requires disinfecting and sealing ASAP. We don’t have time for this.

A devilish look appears in Blaze’s eyes as he suggests, “Maybe you rocks should get a cabin.”

Thomson’s shoulder is blocking the majority of my view, but I clearly witness the Captain’s face twist as though he recently ate bitter citrus peels. He grumbles, “We’re on a budget,” and stalks toward us.

“We should re-engage gravity, or your wounds may not heal properly,” I propose to Thomson as an excuse to pull away, but I don’t get very far since Thomson grips my elbows firmly.

I study his expression. I don’t know if he’s playing a game. I don’t know what to think.

He’s smiling radiantly at me with pure, unabashed adoration.

“Agreed. We’ll call for a doctor once we’re decelerating again,” Felix says as he stops right next to us, raising his eyebrows and giving me a tight-lipped smile. Grabbing my upper arm, he pulls me toward him.

Thomson winces and lowers his injured arm, but his other hand remains glued to my forearm.

Glowering at Thomson, Felix inquires, “Did the dagger pierce your skull too? Let the girl go.” When he pulls my arm once more, there’s no leeway on Thomson’s end, causing an acute pain in the ligament connecting my shoulder and arm.

“Ow, alright ladies, I’m not a ragdoll. Why don’t you both let go of me?” I recommend, ripping my arms out of their clutches. I’m nowhere near as strong as them, thus I’m pleasantly surprised they actually listened.

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Felix covers up his astonished look by crossing his arms and huffing, “You’re still my prisoner.”

I look away, maintaining a poker face while I battle with guilt. Cosmics are my enemies, and they’ve done horrendous things. I’m not supposed to care about them, so why do I? It was easier to hate them when I didn’t know them, when I couldn’t see them. But they’re just people, with human emotions, and they didn’t grow up privileged like you, Ailee, and—

My head hurts, and the microgravity means I’ve been semi-flashing everyone for the past half hour. Please, angels above, all I want is some coffee.

“Incoming call from Jual,” Blaze announces, shattering the tension.

Jual’s voice shouts through the speakers, “Hit the decel, now!”

The Cosmics stir into motion, moving floating dead bodies into a corner so that they don’t fall on us when gravity increases. Felix straps me into a chair by the comms station and injects a clear fluid into a vein in my forearm with a needleless syringe.

“What is this?” I question.

“A serum for high G,” he replies.

And then I feel it. The injection site stings, tingles, and then—“Oh, gosh… this feels…”

“Disorienting?”

I blink a few times and gasp. My heart beats faster. I breathe deeply. “Good. Really good. I don’t think caffeine will do it for me anymore.”

He smirks. “Knew you were a closet addict.” He holds up the empty syringe. “I’m keeping this stuff away from you.” He walks away, and I revel temporarily, closing my eyes. Man, if only we had this serum in the IF, maybe we could have outcruised the Martians that day. The thought of Mars’ technology advancing faster than Earth’s worries me, and my eyes snap open. Felix, Thomson, and Blaze are strapped to their seats. The other Cosmics bob against the floor, planning to minimize the impact once we start decelerating. There’s no time for them to find chairs outside the command center and strap in.

Felix talks into the portal attached to his arm, alerting the entire crew, “DeLarge, this is your Captain speaking. Take your ‘medicine’ and prepare for high G.” He nods to Blaze.

Blaze presses a button that tilts our seats back to face the ceiling. “Decelerating at 9 G in three, two, one,” he says, and I shrink in my chair.

I feel the full force of 9 G. The serum doesn’t help at all in that regard. But at least I don’t pass out. Incredibly uncomfortable? Yes. Manageable? For the most part. I hear the corpses and floating spheres of blood splatter against the ground, and if I had eaten dinner, it might be making its way up right about now.

Four minutes of eternity later, the g-force subsides, decreasing from 9 G to 7 G and eventually to a splendid 1 G. Everyone in the command center collectively gasps, including me, blood beginning to flow freely throughout our bodies.

Before I completely recover, Blaze announces, “Silvereye blew up sixty-seven seconds into our 9 G deceleration burn. We weren’t hit with any shrapnel, and DeLarge is undamaged.”

“Speak for yourself,” Thomson groans from the weapons station, holding up his wounded arm with wholly soaked bandages. His pale face glistenes with sweat. “We’ve got men on the floor with bullet holes in them.”

“I’ll call the hospital,” Felix says, using his portal, requesting several physicians to make their way to the command center.

“Can you check if Timour is okay?” I ask him.

“He’s fine,” Felix responds, not fulfilling my entreaty. “Doctor River wouldn’t be able to live with herself if a patient of hers was harmed.”

A few minutes later, seven doctors and five crew members arrive, pushing carts full of portable medical equipment. The doctors get to work on the Cosmic soldiers with the most hits while the crew members drag the four Cosmic and twenty Martian corpses toward the nearest airlock—wouldn’t want the smell in here to get any worse.

I spot a familiar face in the crowd, and unbuckle my seatbelts. Rising, I catch myself against the back of the chair, adjusting to the extreme fluctuations in gravity. Once my head stops spinning, I demagnetize my boots and walk over to the woman with the slick ponytail.

“Oi, where’re you heading?” Felix questions. I don’t answer. I’m halfway across the command center when he grabs my arm and halts my movement. “Hey, I can’t have you wandering around. It’s too risky. I need to stay by comms in case something comes in, ergo you need to stay there too.”

“I just want to ask about Timour,” I tell him. I’ve achieved memorizing Felix’s entire facial structure when he releases his hold.

“Very well, but you aren’t to leave the command center without my permission,” he orders, waiting for my answer, so I nod to appease him then spin around and continue toward my destination.

Doctor River stands near the carts, allocating medical equipment to the other physicians and tracking the inventory on her tablet. She doesn’t look up until I ask, “How is Timour?”

Peering at me from under her lashes, a flicker of amusement appears in her expression. “Nice dress,” she comments. “Physically, the Liansan is stable. I secured him before entering zero G and gave him a dose of—what Felix colloquially dubs—‘medicine’ for the deceleration burn.”

I sigh in relief. “Thank you.”

“Psychologically, however, he’s distressed over where you are and how you’re doing,” she continues. “I told him you were safe with Felix, and he started shouting at me. I couldn’t give him a sedative, since that’s dangerous during high G, and the ‘medicine’ is still in his system, but I left him with our best psychiatrist.”

Biting my lip, I frown, feeling like a terrible crewmate. I should be down there with Timour.

“May I?” Doctor River asks, pointing to my injured cheek.

I nod, and she takes a picture of my cheekbone using the tablet. Examining the picture for a few seconds, she smiles and turns the tablet around to show me the X-ray image.

“No broken bones, just bruises and a small cut,” she says. She sterilizes my cut and sprays it with what looks like water yet leaves my skin wintry. “Great, the cut should heal by the end of the hour. The bruise could take up to five days to heal, so if you plan on posing for a photoshoot anytime soon, you’ll have to wear makeup or edit the photos.”

“Yeah, because that’s totally what I do during my spare time while held captive on a stolen Martian ship,” I state sarcastically.

She shrugs. “Why not?” Her smile withdraws as her eyes scan the room. “Have you seen Nupan?”

“Not since she left with Jual…”

Ten minutes later, the injured Cosmics are stabilized and moved to the hospital. Doctor River fusses over Thomson, who refuses to go with them after his wound is cleaned and blood loss halted. Consequently, while the other physicians leave the command center with most of their medical equipment, Doctor River stays to check his breathing, his circulation, and for any neurological defects.

“I would rather conduct a full examination in the hospital,” Doctor River tries again. “You could have internal bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine, Nalani,” Thomson assures, then he gestures to Felix, Blaze, and me. “We could all have internal bleeding.”

“They’re not shivering like you are,” she argues, glaring at him. “I’m giving you a blood transfusion, and this is nonnegotiable.”

Thomson sighs, acquiescing.

Right as Doctor River begins running new oxygenated blood down a tube into Thomson’s vein, the command center entrance opens, unveiling a lusterless, red-eyed Nupan.

Alone.