Sure, they got an extended life. But each of them had to go on living. This could be the second or third time command had watched Romy’s life span. They had to endure the endless cycle: cultivation tank, grow, learn, recycle. Over and over again. What a lonely existence. It was no wonder the commanders were all so close. She didn’t envy them for a second.

“Dismissed,” Commander Cronus called, sitting back down.

Knot 27 remained seated while the rest of the room filed back to their quarters or internal duties.

“Guess we might get a chance at the action.” Thrym broke the silence, voice tense.

His excitement was contagious. Romy grinned along with him, while the twins ignored the others to practice their handshake, and Elara looked inconvenienced by life.

Standby would be a nice break from routine. They were only called to battle maybe once a month, where other knots with higher ranking were called twice a week. More often than not, standby didn’t eventuate to actual fighting for Knot 27. There were far more false alarms. Still, standby was a little thrilling and it was nice to see Thrym so excited at the prospect of getting noticed.

The room was mostly empty now, though the seven commanders remained at their table, heads bent together.

“I can’t wait to bond with you guys over dishwashing,” Phobos said.

Romy and the others groaned at the reminder. It looked like the stack of resources on her nano would remain unread for the next two months.

CHAPTER THREE

Her life was privileged. She was gifted life, to protect, to serve. To serve, to fight. To protect, protect, protect.

Rough hands shook her. “Romy! Wake up!”

Romy jerked away, breath catching when she found Deimos a bare inch from her. Someone else was screaming. No . . . not screaming—the sirens were wailing. All knots are on standby!

“Hurry—even Elara’s nearly ready.” Deimos blew in her face.

Romy flew into action. Elbowing the panel containing her clothing, she dragged out the orange spandex suit and pulled it up with deft hands.

“Don’t forget diapers!” yelled Thrym.

“Are you serious?” Phobos shouted. “I hate those things.”

“Fine, pee your space suit after six hours.”

Romy groaned and caught the white, puffy nappy tossed her way by Thrym. She hated them too, but the thought of her own pee circulating around her spacesuit was worse.

“We are never talking about this. Ever!” Elara complained, turning away to put hers on.

“Come on. All the good crafts will be gone,” Deimos complained from the entrance.