Of course, an army of Omnistellar soldiers wasn’t necessarily better.

We reached the server room without incident. Everything was just where I’d predicted, but there were no people, no sign of anyone. “Where the hell did they go?” Mia demanded, picking up a tin cup from a nearby metal crate serving as a table. She sniffed it, then touched her tongue to it. I made a face, but she set it down and explained, “Still warm. Whatever happened here, it was recent.”

And she couldn’t have tested the temperature with her finger? “Rune?” I gestured to the server room.

This time she nodded and stepped forward with determination, sweeping her braid over her shoulder. The server used archaic technology, and it was even smaller than the ones on Sanctuary, more a closet than a room. None of us went in with her, arranging ourselves outside. Cage and I leaned against the wall by the door, ready in case she needed us. Mia, of course, disappeared. Alexei paced, muttering to himself, while Jasper, Reed, and Imani perched on crates in various poses of discouragement and fear. I wished I had words to make them feel better. I glanced hopefully to Cage, but he was staring at his folded arms, apparently deep in thought. If anyone was going to speak, it would have to be me.

“Whatever’s happening here,” I offered at last, “we’ll deal with it. I mean, we beat those assholes on Sanctuary, and that was a handful of us with no weapons, no training.”

Reed glanced at me, bleak amusement in his face. “And without Omnistellar trying to summon the damn things,” he pointed out.

“Not to mention recapture us,” added Imani.

Jasper sighed, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head, propping his feet on another crate. “You two are real rays of sunshine.”

“And you’re in such a great mood? I thought you were worried about your family,” Imani snapped. It was a cheap shot and not like her, and I read the regret in her face the instant the words left her mouth.

It had its desired effect, though. Jasper abandoned his casual pose, his mouth drawing into a tight line, his fists tightening. But his anger wasn’t directed toward her. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Yeah, I am. If anything’s happening to them, it’s my fault. I dragged them into this, and I can’t even call to check on them. You’re right. I should be sinking into a pit of nerves.” Suddenly he leaned forward, bracing both arms on his thighs and staring Imani right in the face. She recoiled, startled. “But I’m not,” he said. “And you want to know why? Because it doesn’t accomplish anything. All those feelings just get in the way of what needs to be done. They slow me down, and they might get me, or one of you, hurt. So I’m going to ignore them for now, and when I have time, then I’ll deal with my guilt and my fear and my anger.” He gave her a slight smile.