HMS Valediction

Chapter 25.2

The trudge through the shallow field of ocean water lasts forever. At my side, Nuna holds her board above her head, her steady gaze studies the horizon as we continue on. Moon walks ahead, the hem of his black coat—something I've normally seen dancing around his knees—lies heavy against his body, the ends wet from the splashing through the trek. My boots breach the surface of the murky water and stomp through again. I kick a little extra hard as I step, wetting Moon's coat further.

He blows out his tell-tale breath again. I guess he knows what I'm doing.

There's a hum in my ears. At first, I thought it was the air circulation system in my helmet. The longer I strain to hear discover the source of the noise, the more convinced I am that it's emitting from the speakers, not the vents. The noise increases. A low rumble jostles up my legs.

When I look up again, I gasp. The others sharing our peripatetic journey plunge face-first into the water. But there is no splash. They step right over the curt end-of-the-road and drop into a void. Startled, I grab Moon's bicep and shove him aside as I stretch past his body to watch for their carnage and listen for their screams. I hear none. I see nothing.

I stall when it's our turn to proceed. Flashes of the URE, my childish desperation to attend the first meeting of Operation Homecoming, the ten-story vent I free-repelled and the fear of becoming human jelly at the bottom of the vent crashed against my chest. I press the heel of my hand against it to squash the sudden rapid beating.

Moon spins around to face me. "Why is your heart rate accelerating? We're not even on the track yet."

I can't speak.

"It is manipulated gravity," Nuna says. "This planet is famous for it. I promise you are safe."

I feel her sidle closer as she tucks her board under her arm. She grabs my shoulders and steadies me as I lean farther over the edge to see how far the descent is. There is no bottomless abyss as I suspected. The road is a vertical drop. Waterfalls surround it and the perimeter of the basin, creating the hum I detected earlier. In the center of the ravine is a city shielded by rushing water, covering its walls and its tallest towers in an enormous arch of water. Shaped like a perfect bubble, I can just make out the structures on the other side. The skyline is a complex pattern of circular buildings mimicking the hills of Earth. It's stunning.

Moon leads us on. I hesitate still.

Put me in front of a thousand enemy ships, and I'm fine. Ask me to defy my understanding of gravity and I become a trembling mess.

Nuna takes my hand. "Close your eyes."

I glare at her, rip my hand from her grasp, and hold it to my chest again.

"Close your eyes. It is not so bad. This I know."

No one has ever asked me to close my eyes before. In the URE, you have to be on-guard always—keenly aware of your surroundings every second of every day. I stare, unblinking, challenging Nuna to ask me to close my eyes one more goddamn time.

She laughs—it's musicality, accompanied by the groan of the waterfalls, is ethereal. "You trust me not to drive you to your death on this course, but you cannot trust me to help you walk down the roadfall?"

Creatures, others in matching uniforms shoulder their way past us. She holds fast as they shove her out of their way.

She has a point. But I can't close my eyes. Never. Not unless I'm sleeping and that never lasts long.

I clasp her hand. "Fine."

Together, we take one large step over the edge. My stomach heaves as, suddenly, I'm face-to-face with the ground.