The second said, “This is senseless.” He ran a blade through that one’s chest.

“She is safer with the Emperor.” He simply cut its head off.

“You will die here.” That one he broke a sweat killing.

Muttering a string of Old Language obscenities, he wrenched his blade from the last Messier’s chest and continued toward the control room. The outer wall of the hallway was a sheet of glass that looked out to space, filtering in enough starlight to give him energy to keep going. Solani didn’t fare well in the dark.

He wiped his sweaty brow with his sleeve and hurried down the emergency-lit hallway. Through one of the windows he saw a large room. Once it would’ve been used as a mess hall or a meeting space, but now it was simply filled with lines and lines of Messiers, their eyes blue and sharp, staring straight ahead into the next Metal. There must have been a hundred—maybe two—crammed into the space. Just waiting.

There were so many.

And there were no outlaws or criminals. The convicts who had been brought here were nowhere to be found.

He hated to think the rumors were true.

Nervous energy itched just under his skin. His thumb-kiss with Robb lingered on his lips like a regret. He should have kissed Robb. Really kissed him—with tongue, just to make it worthwhile.

To leave Robb something to remember him by.

His . . .

Nervously, he pulled at the collar of his space suit.

“Jax! Jax help me!”

He whirled in the direction of the voice. “Ana?”

“Jax!” she screamed, so frightened her voice crumbled at the end. “JAX!”

He didn’t even think—he just ran toward the door at the end of the hallway. It was closed, unlike most of the others. He slammed his lightsword into the door. The white-hot blade cut a molten-red line down the door. Then he leveraged the hilt against his body and began to pry it open.

With one final jerk, the door cracked open enough for him to shimmy inside. “Ana!” he called desperately. “Ana, where are y—”

He was halfway into the room when he realized where he was.

The bridge of the dreadnought.

It was dark, the consoles and panels dead. One wall of windows looked out toward space, the other down into the docking bay below.

Two Messiers stood up from their stations. Ana was nowhere in sight. His throat constricted. He remembered this bridge from Robb’s stars.

“Identifying—” one Messier began, the other answering, “Jaxander Taizu.” And then, like a secret, “C’zar.”

“Sorry, haven’t been that in a while,” replied Jax, irritated. The HIVE had tricked him—the voice hadn’t been Ana at all. He raised his sword to point at the two of them. “That little trick of yours has made me very angry, but I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a choice: Do you want to die first”—he turned the tip of his blade to the other one—“or do you?”

The Messier on the left reached for the pistol on its hip, and that was all the answer he needed. He threw the lightsword at the Messier before it could draw its weapon. The blade slammed into its chest—