DEAR is a concept you hope to never have to use.

It’s almost a cute acronym, if you can get past the terrifying connotations.

And right now, I’m trying to outrun those terrifying connotations.

Aurora in one hand and instructional packets in the other, I race for the entrance to Omega Centauri, no longer worried about the volume of noise I’m creating. That’s a luxury that literally went out the window.

The machine and its heavy metal footsteps are trailing behind us, but edging closer by the second. I’m too scared to even see what the culprit looks like.

The amount of running I’ve done the past few days is criminal. I didn’t even do this when running the mile at school. Sports was never my forte. I’m a big fan of science, not science fiction, and especially not athletics.

We round the block, just now arriving at the halfway point. At this rate, we won’t be able to make it back to Omega Centauri. I need to find some way to distract this thing. Noise is what they’re most susceptible to, and right now, my footsteps and breathing are the only thing making noise. If only I had something I could throw—

I’m sure an assortment of metal rings would do the trick.

I reach into my hoodie pocket and grab a handful of the rings I took from the jewelry box. There’s no telling how valuable they are, but right now, their only value is keeping me alive.

I throw my head back just enough to get a quick glimpse of the monster. It has four arms and is segmented in weird places, like centipedes. Its whole body is a shiny metallic white, blemished from ash and dust on the surface. It doesn’t have a head, but in the center of its chest is a large, circular screen glowing bright red.

These things are straight out of a nightmare. I don’t know why anyone thought they were a good idea to build.

I toss the rings as hard as I can to my right, scattering them against the side of a nameless, crumbled building. They ping loudly against the brick, rock, and broken glass. Behind me, the galvaknight lets out a roar. Its footsteps move away from me, if only for the moment.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Now is our only chance. I run harder than I’ve ever run, stretching my legs painfully with each step. Almost there. All I have to do is—

“I don’t know why she would’ve gone up here, if she did,” I hear Holly’s voice say. I see her and Sola emerge from the entrance to Omega Centauri. Sola looks over and sees me dramatically running their way. Their eyes go as wide as mine feel.

“Tess, is everything alright?”

“We need to go,” I say. I don’t even wait for them to process before zipping past them and descending the stairs. They follow close behind, trying their best to keep quiet.

Twenty minutes later, the three of us are sitting at our table, allowing me to unwind from all the excitement. There’s clearly been something on Holly’s mind this whole time.

“So, why do you only talk sometimes?” she finally asks. “I get not wanting to talk to people, but at least be consistent with it. We thought you were mute.”

I am, I write in the notebook. I mean, I wasn’t always mute, but I am now. I don’t know why or how I’ve been able to talk the past few times I have.

“Do you think it’s trauma-related?” Sola asks.

We stare at them blankly.

“Trauma can be an indicator of selective muteness—which doesn’t mean you’re doing it willingly, it means you’re not always mute—and it’s especially more likely in those who are traumatized at an early age.”

“Sounds fake to me,” Holly says.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got three thousand years of psychology on you, so maybe it wasn’t a discovered thing back then.”

“Have you been through trauma, Tes?”

“You can’t just ask people that, Holly. Also, it’s possible she wouldn’t even know. A lot of serious trauma is repressed in the brain and can only be unlocked with some serious work.”

Well, it happened around the time my dad went to jail, I write. They both look at me with a hint of pity, which I more than expected. Everyone always does.

I don’t know what he did to get put in jail, though.

“Okay, well, what about your mom?” Holly asks.

I’m not sure, but I know she’s dead.

Their faces turn to grimaces.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know that stuff happened to you.”

I shrug. It’s not like I remember either happening.

“Well, if this is trauma related, neither of those would help.”

“That’s still doesn’t explain why she’s been able to talk these past couple times. It’s like whenever we’re in a life-or-death situation, she can say a word or two.”

“It might actually have something to do with high-pressure situations.”

Let’s change topics, I write. How are you two doing?

“Feeling a little homesick, unsurprisingly,” Holly says, giving a weak smile.

“Hopefully that’s something dinner tonight with Mom can fix,” Sola says. “Which reminds me, we never went to the scientists. We should go do that real quick.”

Holly and I exchange a quick knowing glance.

“Can’t hide forever,” she says.

We get ready to leave, and Holly swoops Aurora off the ground, who lazily flops her ears. “Let’s go see if the scientists have any new theories on the mechanics of traveling through time and space. And universes.”