“Get up,” Regan said, already hauling on my arm. “If you keep sitting on the deck like a beached whale, someone is going to notice you.” I tried to shake her off and succeeded in freeing my arm only to have my bad leg give out and drop back onto the deck with a tailbone-bruising thump. She raised an eyebrow at me. “Smooth. Really smooth.”

“Just stay out of my way,” I said, getting awkwardly to my feet, careful not to put too much pressure on my throbbing calf.

“Your gratitude is heartwarming,” she said. “A simple thank you would be fine.”

“Thank you?” I sputtered. “This is your fault! If you hadn’t distracted me I wouldn’t have almost chopped my leg off. Now scat. I might still have a chance at this.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, and stalked away. I turned my attention back to the chaos of the ship. Zeroing in on every colonist, looking for something, anything that would show them to be a Butterfly. But there was nothing. Everyone seemed to be working with the same resolute focus as they systematically destroyed barrel after barrel of tea. Meanwhile, I was running out of time.

In desperation I turned, just in time to see Regan dart belowdecks with a single-minded purpose I’d recognize anywhere. She’d spotted the Butterfly.

Chapter Twelve

Regan

Spotting the Butterfly was 100 percent dumb luck. Not that I’d ever in a million years admit that. But it was. Pure. Dumb. Luck. For one thing, he practically took me out as he charged away from the action at the rail of the ship. I barely managed to get out of his way before he shoved past me, making a beeline for one of the hatches that led belowdecks. And it was that word, deck, that brought me up short and made me give him a second glance. I was almost positive that the word deck had been in the Cocoon. The fact that I noticed any of this at that moment was a minor miracle because I was still fuming over Elliot’s rude dismissal.

Going on gut instinct, I turned and followed the man. There was nothing about his outfit or his haircut to give me the usual clues, but there was something off about him all the same. This was what I was good at. The actual catch. The nitty-gritty details of the historical event itself might slip in and out of my brain like water through a screen, but this, this I could do. I waited a half second for him to disappear down the hatch before slipping in behind him. Right before my head dipped belowdecks, I looked up to see Elliot watching me. And I know it was childish, and I knew my mother would roll her eyes when she saw it live on the simulation, but I pulled a face and stuck my tongue out at him anyway.