Soren sat motionless in the pilot’s seat, staring at his father’s avatar. Hess had left him behind in Reverie. He had to be thinking about that now.

Aria licked her lips. Her stomach was already in knots and they’d just gotten started.

Perry caught her eye and gave her a slight nod, like he knew the words on the tip of her tongue.

“Keep going, Soren,” Aria said quietly. “You’re doing fine.”

Soren seemed to collect himself. “I know I am,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual bravado.

Hess’s avatar came to life. His shoulders lifted—the same small shiver Soren had done moments ago. Soren controlled it now. He would use the avatar like a puppet, directing it through the Smarteye.

“Always wanted to be just like you, Dad,” he said under his breath. “I’m linking into the Komodo’s system.”

His fingers glided over the Belswan’s controls, effortlessly controlling the avatar and the Hover’s instrumentation. This was his language, Aria thought, as surely as singing was hers.

In front of the windshield, a transparent screen flickered up, divided into three segments. Hess occupied the center. The screen on the right contained a combination of maps, coordinates, and scrolling flight plans, all lit in neon blue. The left-hand screen showed a cockpit like the Belswan’s, but smaller. It was the inside of the patrolling Dragonwing—the ship they intended to commandeer.

Four Guardians in flight suits and helmets sat in two rows.

Hess—or rather, Soren as Hess—spoke right away, the avatar suddenly brimming with an authoritativeness Aria knew well. “Patrol Alpha One Nine, this is Commander One, over.”

He paused, waiting for the information to make an impact.

And it did.

The Dragonwing crew exchanged worried looks. Commander One was Consul Hess. They were receiving a direct message from the very top.

The Guardian at the comm responded. “Alpha One Nine, copy. Over.”

They’d bought it. Aria let out her breath and sensed Perry relax beside her.

“Alpha One Nine,” said the Hess avatar, “we picked up a distress message from a downed Hover, three—no, make that four—minutes ago on your incoming. Does anyone want to tell me why you’re not responding?”

Soren played his father perfectly, uttering the words with simmering condescension and barely contained hostility.

“Negative on the message, sir. We didn’t receive it. Over.”

“Stand by, One Nine,” Hess said. Soren kept the transmission running, letting the Guardians observe Hess as he turned, bellowing to a control room that wasn’t there, that would be nothing more than a figment of everyone’s imagination. “Somebody get him the coordinates. Now, people. My son is on that ship!”

“Your son, sir?” said the Dragonwing pilot. Surely he knew that Soren had stayed behind in Reverie as it crumbled, but that didn’t mean Soren hadn’t survived—or that Hess wouldn’t welcome him back.