The war was a farce—a cruel and twisted hoax used to strengthen this ‘Mandate’s’ political position. Acid filled Romy’s mouth as her stomach roiled. Her orbito comrades blown apart, disintegrated in Earth’s atmosphere. All for what?

She looked around the group. Elara, Phobos, and Thrym’s faces all reflected what she felt: like a fist had punched her in the stomach. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she wasn’t ashamed. This was worthy of mourning. And anger. Definitely, anger.

Such a waste.

Atlas spoke softly. “You can imagine how much your presence in space must be worth to the Mandate leaders. They spend billions of dollars keeping you all where you are.”

“But surely we are not the first to crash here,” Thrym wondered aloud.

“No,” Atlas agreed. “But no other knot has survived intact before. There are usually only one or two survivors. And . . . when they see their knot’s remains. . . .”

“Orbito Four?” Phobos asked.

Atlas’s face tightened, and he gave a curt nod.

Romy buried her face into Thrym’s chest, feeling his arms wrap around her. She hoped it would drown out the terrible things Atlas was saying. It didn’t mute his voice at all—and she just wished he would stop talking. Everything that came out of his mouth was raw and horrible.

“You cannot return to the orbitos. The High Command will hand you straight to their superiors. Understand this: You cannot leave and you cannot tell anyone the truth.”

“But why?” Phobos exploded. “If the people knew the truth, the leaders could be overthrown.”

Atlas's face turned to stone. “The Mandate has the technology to eradicate a warship seven hundred kilometres from Earth.” His voice cut the air. It was the first time Romy had heard Atlas raise his voice. “They have the technology to create human life. Use your brains, boy. What do you think happens when Earth finds out?”

“They eradicate all human life and start again?” Elara whispered, staring at her knees.

The blood drained from Romy’s face. Atlas didn’t confirm or deny her friend’s hushed words.

Thrym pushed to his feet, stepping towards the taller man. “And how do you know all of this? Tell us who you are. And who you work for. You might have already reported us to the Mandate. Why should we trust you? Why are you helping us?”

Careful, Thrym, she silently warned. They couldn’t risk raising Atlas’s suspicions if they truly intended to escape.

“I am attempting to cover your tracks,” Atlas replied. His dark eyes were shuttered. “And I will either succeed, or fail. Whether you trust me is of no consequence. As for why I’m helping. . .” His eyes flickered. “. . . I have my reasons.”

This wasn’t the man who had shown her the sunrise on the beach, or who tossed her into the water.

One by one, the faces of the four knot members hardened.