The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) Read Free Page B

don’t think you’re lying. We know you would never lie about something like that to us. We’re your friends.”
    “I wouldn’t,” Ezra grumbled, and began to get dressed in Garros’ huge uniform.
    “We’ve said this before but . . . you haven’t been piloting for that long—only a few months; you don’t know what the Creux and the energy that fuels them does to your head, especially when there’s stress involved. Remember what happened to Alice; she was hallucinating Davenport’s voice when her Creux started overloading. And she was the best of us. It’s—”
    “I know what I saw, Garros.”
    “Listen, we can’t go back to Zenith and, I don’t know, do something about Tessa. You know that, right?” Ezra nodded reluctantly. “We’re too far away now, much closer to Kerek than we are to Roue. Remember what your mother said: time is far too valuable. Strap the belt up there so it doesn’t hang—there you go.”
    Ezra did as Garros suggested, and slid the too-long belt of the jumpsuit to a loop under his armpit to tighten it.
    “Erin is setting up an aural beacon with Phoenix Atlas, and I’ll set up one with Quantum Ares. We’ll leave them a looping message to warn them, or at least to tell them to keep an eye on her, in case you’re right. Hopefully it’ll reach them.”
    “But the computers in your docking chambers won’t be active,” Ezra said, and he could tell Garros did not expect him to have such a sound argument.
    “Yeah,” he said, and scratched his beard. “They’d have to activate them to hear the message, which isn’t very likely, but it’s the best we can do for now.”
    Ezra nodded and shrugged. Garros smiled, patting him in the shoulder pad like he always did. The feeling was different when the uniform was so much bigger than him.
    “Sun’s climbing, Blanchard. We have to go. There’s still big things ahead, so try not to think about what’s behind.”
     
    ф
     
    Vivian Poole had been restless for too long, never finding any real peace in these walls that seemed to be closing in. All her friends had left, and she had never felt so alone—not even when she had been truly by herself. All those years before Zenith.
    Where were they? Were they close to reaching their destination, or was the journey still long before them?
    Were all of them still alive, or had the quest made a claim?
    It was times like these when she hated her personality. She drove people away for no reason she could ever discern, and now that the only people who had welcomed her into their good graces were gone, all she had was herself.
    Why was it that every time she had grown even slightly comfortable filling her own shoes in her new life, that life she had been waiting for years, the universe conspired against her? There was so much promise for her—for all of them—not long ago, but destructive chaos was immutable. It would have been so easy for things to go well, but they hadn’t, and she no longer had any of the comforts that used to make her inwardly happy.
    There were no classes in which to excel. There were no drills and no training to challenge her wits and her body. There were no teachers willing to look at her with proud eyes, and offer warm words of encouragement.
    She was alone.
    No . That was not true, Vivian told herself, shaking her head and walking into the bathroom to look at her dilapidated self.
    There was the one survivor of the massacre. At least she understood some of the struggles of being left behind in Zenith, while the others risked their lives in perilous adventure, enjoying the delights of purpose.
    Even weeks after the massacre in Besoe Nandi’s docking chamber, it was hard to believe that they had been a traitor in their midst. The whole time, that bitch had been sabotaging Zenith from within, wearing a mask of virtue, nobility, and sanity.
    She was glad that evil bitch was dead: killed in self-defense by the one miraculous survivor; the one hero left behind.
    Vivian