“What if we’re wrong about everything?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could tether it. “What if the people who sent us out here—what if the lies are bigger than we think?”
Aries laughed, a brittle sound. “I’m mapping the gravitational lensing of the next jump. If we miscalculate by even 0.3 degrees—”
The void does not whisper. It does not threaten. That is what Aries Spring feared most as she drifted, tethered by a single silver thread to the rusted hull of the Astra . Below her, the planet they’d named “Shummoor” rotated—a marble of ochre and violet, beautiful and utterly indifferent to the nine teenagers clinging to life above it.