The trudge through the shallow field of ocean water lasts forever. At my side, Nuna holds her board above her head, her steady gaze studies the horizon as we continue on. Moon walks ahead, the hem of his black coat—something I've normally seen dancing around his knees—lies heavy against his body, the ends wet from the splashing through the trek. My boots breach the surface of the murky water and stomp through again. I kick a little extra hard as I step, wetting Moon's coat further.

He blows out his tell-tale breath again. I guess he knows what I'm doing.

There's a hum in my ears. At first, I thought it was the air circulation system in my helmet. The longer I strain to hear discover the source of the noise, the more convinced I am that it's emitting from the speakers, not the vents. The noise increases. A low rumble jostles up my legs.

When I look up again, I gasp. The others sharing our peripatetic journey plunge face-first into the water. But there is no splash. They step right over the curt end-of-the-road and drop into a void. Startled, I grab Moon's bicep and shove him aside as I stretch past his body to watch for their carnage and listen for their screams. I hear none. I see nothing.

I stall when it's our turn to proceed. Flashes of the URE, my childish desperation to attend the first meeting of Operation Homecoming, the ten-story vent I free-repelled and the fear of becoming human jelly at the bottom of the vent crashed against my chest. I press the heel of my hand against it to squash the sudden rapid beating.

Moon spins around to face me. "Why is your heart rate accelerating? We're not even on the track yet."

I can't speak.

"It is manipulated gravity," Nuna says. "This planet is famous for it. I promise you are safe."

I feel her sidle closer as she tucks her board under her arm. She grabs my shoulders and steadies me as I lean farther over the edge to see how far the descent is. There is no bottomless abyss as I suspected. The road is a vertical drop. Waterfalls surround it and the perimeter of the basin, creating the hum I detected earlier. In the center of the ravine is a city shielded by rushing water, covering its walls and its tallest towers in an enormous arch of water. Shaped like a perfect bubble, I can just make out the structures on the other side. The skyline is a complex pattern of circular buildings mimicking the hills of Earth. It's stunning.

Moon leads us on. I hesitate still.

Put me in front of a thousand enemy ships, and I'm fine. Ask me to defy my understanding of gravity and I become a trembling mess.

Nuna takes my hand. "Close your eyes."

I glare at her, rip my hand from her grasp, and hold it to my chest again.

"Close your eyes. It is not so bad. This I know."

No one has ever asked me to close my eyes before. In the URE, you have to be on-guard always—keenly aware of your surroundings every second of every day. I stare, unblinking, challenging Nuna to ask me to close my eyes one more goddamn time.

She laughs—it's musicality, accompanied by the groan of the waterfalls, is ethereal. "You trust me not to drive you to your death on this course, but you cannot trust me to help you walk down the roadfall?"

Creatures, others in matching uniforms shoulder their way past us. She holds fast as they shove her out of their way.

She has a point. But I can't close my eyes. Never. Not unless I'm sleeping and that never lasts long.

I clasp her hand. "Fine."

Together, we take one large step over the edge. My stomach heaves as, suddenly, I'm face-to-face with the ground.

But the gravity is no different from this angle. It feels as normal as if strolling along a normal, horizontal street. No forward pull, no core-clenching balance to keep. I walk. I walk like I always walk. We press on.

A few minutes later, I realize I'm still holding Nuna's hand. Faking an itch on the back of my neck, I pull it away. She says nothing but keeps her eyes forward, and shifts the long starboard higher under her other arm.

"Can I carry that for you? Looks heavy," I say, continuing to scratch an itch that doesn't exist.

"It only looks heavy because it is so big. But looks can be lies."

Moon snorts.

Nuna glances at me. "Captain Moon does not agree. He feels that appearances can give away everything you need to know."

"If you know what to look for."

I consider their words. "I have experience in both theories. Back on Earth, the Invaders hid in the sunlight. Even if it was a blue, cloudless day, death was a possibility with every passing shadow."

Nuna and Moon paused to gaze at each other.

"There were a lot of things we'd consider beautiful but turned out to be evil. And," I choke as I images of John appear in my mind's eye. "The Xani are ugly as hell, but they're—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Moon snarls. "They are a galactic pestilence."

"Have you ever given a Xani a chance?"

He swings around and leans so close, I can see my reflection in his gold eye. "Don't say their name in front of me. Ever. Again."

I lean forward until our noses are an inch apart. "Or what? You throwing me in the brig again?"

"Captain. Janika. Please. We have more important matters to attend. The plan will not work if you two are bickering like little babies."

Babies. My baby.

I back off, clearing my throat. "You're right, Nuna. Truce."

When I extend my hand for him to shake, he glares at it, then me, then it again and turns away, returning to his place in the parade.

Whatever. I know where my head has to be. Hopefully, his is there too.

The road levels off and returns to its normal horizontal alignment once we arrive at the bottom of the basin. We reach the water wall and it takes all my control to keep my hands to myself and not touch the roaring water of their city barrier. I follow along as Moon ushers us from checkpoint to checkpoint, guiding us closer to the final stage where we will begin race preparations.

This place is nothing like the one Nuna showed me on her tablet. They must be different tracks. I imagine how we might skim an ocean rather than glide through a canyon. This could be as easy as swallowing Simon's special meatloaf.

I'm knocked out of my daydream when Moon shoves a weapon in my hands. I immediately set to understanding every nuance of the device—rounded like a telescope, slick, approximately the length of my arm, thin barrel like a rifle, heavy casing to replace the magazine, which seems to be a battery of some kind, easy to lift, nice grip for my small human fingers, and button to press rather than trigger to pull. It'll do.

Nuna sets up on the large table-top and polishes the shiny coat on her starboard. Moon lurks in the shadows, as always. A little too-aggressively, I click my battery into place and hold it in my arms, finding its comfortable position. Any weapon easily becomes an extension of my body if I breathe with it against my chest, close my eye and touch it, getting to know the curves and lines like it's a reunion with an old lover.

I laugh. If only Dean could see me now.

Moon clears his throat. "Have you fondled your weapon enough? I hope you plan to take it out for a drink before you go any further."

"Jealous that it's seeing more action than you have in the last century?"

He flicks a speck of something off his jacket. "And I'd rather keep it that way if that apish groping is what you consider foreplay. What poor idiot did you torture to get you knocked up?"

Oh.

He didn't.

With the rifle in my hands, my blood boiling, it takes every ounce of willpower I have to refrain from blasting his ugly head right off his shoulders. I should have shot him on the HMS Valediction. I should have stabbed him harder in the alien marketplace, ensuring his death. If we survive this thing, I will end him while he sleeps.

But I can't do that now. We have a race to win so I can avoid butchering by chef. I need to find my son. Instead of lashing out like old Janika Lorn would have done, I laugh. "For your information, there were two idiots lining up for a bit of this." I squeeze the air like I'm fondling large, round fruit. I step closer to him, in the same, heated proximity we were on the road. Staring into his organic eye, I make sure he's watching my hand that's still pulsing the invisible globe. I squish it between my fingers, clenching into a hard fist, twist the air and yank it down. "Watch out, Moon. You might be next."

I head toward Nuna who grins maniacally as she waxes.

Hoisting the rifle closer to my chest, I brace myself for duty. "We need to move out before I murder him."

"Good luck," she says. "I have failed many times in that. Eventually, I quit trying and accepted his job offer."

"I guess, since I'm not sticking around long, I can make as many attempts as I want."

Moon crosses his arms over his chest. "We'll see."