Like everyone else on this alien ship, Cage was an anomaly, a superpowered teen recently escaped from the orbital prison Sanctuary. Of course, even though I was an anomaly too, I’d worked as a guard before being taken hostage by the prisoners. I’d only banded together with them to survive an attack from vicious alien creatures, all while discovering my own lurking powers, which gave me much more in common with the prisoners than with Omnistellar, the company I had once devoted my life to. By capturing this alien ship on a wing and a prayer, we’d barely avoided the aliens hell-bent on assimilating us, and for some stupid reason, I’d thought that now things would calm down a little. Sure, we still had Omnistellar to deal with, and we were all criminals on the run, but the combination of freedom and a near-death experience had to count for something, right?

Not so much. Not living in the very pit of the vipers who’d tried to kill us. Taking the alien ship had been a victory. It was the only reason we’d survived their attack on Sanctuary and escaped with our lives. But every time we turned around, we faced alien technology, alien architecture. The ship didn’t want us here. We’d taken it, but it wasn’t ours. And nobody forgot that for a second.

As if constant prickling unease weren’t enough to keep me busy, I had my dad back on Earth probably thinking I was dead. I’d ignored his messages at first because I didn’t know what to say, how to tell him about Mom’s death or confront him with my knowledge that he’d implanted the power-controlling chip in me when I was young. As time went by, things only got worse, and now my comm battery was dead, so I couldn’t talk to him even if I wanted to. Add another layer of guilt, please.

And I wasn’t the only one who’d lost people. With so many friends and family members vanished from our lives, living with the perpetual shadow of the things we’d done to survive, it was no wonder our escape hadn’t proved an easy solution.

Some of us seemed to be able to live with those things more easily than others, of course. Cage jogged to a casual halt in front of me, leaning his hands on his knees and casting me the boyish grin that always made my lips twitch in return. Our current workout seemed to absorb every bit of his attention without a hint of the relentless stress in the back of my mind. Cage set the mood for the others, and I knew he took that role seriously. But even with me, he hadn’t offered any indication that his past decisions cost him a moment of sleep. “I give up,” he gasped now. “Mercy.”