Scarlet

forward, landing in Thorne’s arms.
    Cinder staggered against the wall, dizzy. “Oh stars—is he dead?”
    Thorne groaned from the weight. “No, but I think he’s having a heart attack!”
    “It’s not a heart attack,” she murmured. “He’ll … he’ll be fine.” She said it as much to convince herself as him, having to believe these accidental flares of her Lunar gift weren’t dangerous, that she wasn’t becoming the terror to society that everyone believed her to be.
    “Aces, he weighs a ton.”
    Cinder grabbed Alak’s feet and together they dragged him into the building. An office to their left had two netscreens—one with a security feed showing the warehouse’s exterior, just as the door closed behind two white-clad fugitives and the unconscious man. The other screen showed a muted news anchor.
    “He may be a selfish jerk, but he sure does have good taste in jewelry.” Thorne held up Alak’s hand by the thumb, fiddling with a silver-plated band around his wrist—a miniature portwatch.
    “Would you focus ?” Cinder hauled Thorne to his feet. Turning, she scanned the massive warehouse. It stretched out the full length of the city block, filled with dozens of spaceships, large and small, new and old. Cargo ships, podships, personal fliers, raceships, ferries, cruisers.
    “Which one is it?”
    “Hey, look, there was another jailbreak.”
    Cinder glanced at the netscreen, which now showed the chairman of national security talking to a crowd of journalists. On the bottom of the screen scrolled the words: LUNAR ESCAPES FROM NEW BEIJING PRISON, CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.
    “This is great!” said Thorne, nearly knocking her over with a slap on her back. “They’re not going to worry about us if they have a Lunar to track down.”
    Cinder dragged her attention away from the broadcast, just as his grin fell.
    “Wait. You’re Lunar?”
    “ You’re a criminal mastermind?” Spinning on her heels, she stalked into the warehouse. “Where’s this ship?”
    “Hold on there, little traitor. Breaking out of jail is one thing, but assisting a psychotic Lunar is a bit out of my league.”
    Cinder rounded on him. “First, I’m not psychotic. And second, if it wasn’t for me, you would still be sitting in that jail cell ogling your portscreen, so you owe me. Besides, they’ve already got you pegged as my accomplice. You look like an idiot in that picture, by the way.”
    Thorne followed her gesture to the screen. His own jail picture was blown up beside hers.
    “I think I look pretty good…”
    “Thorne. Captain. Please.”
    He blinked at her, a touch of smugness wiped quickly away by a brisk nod. “Right. Let’s get out of here.”
    Cinder sighed in relief, following Thorne as he marched into the maze of ships. “I hope it’s not one in the middle.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” he said, pointing up. “The roof opens.”
    Cinder glanced up at the seam in the middle of the ceiling. “That’s convenient.”
    “And there she is.”
    Cinder followed Thorne’s gesture. His ship was larger than she’d expected—much larger. A 214 Rampion, Class 11.3 cargo ship. Cinder pulled up her retina scanner and downloaded the ship’s blueprint, speechless at everything it could claim. The engine room and a fully stocked dock with two satellite podships took up the underbelly, while the main level housed the cargo bay, cockpit, galley kitchen, six crew quarters, and a shared washroom.
    She rounded to the main entry hatch and saw that the seal of the American Republic had been hastily painted over with the silhouette of a lounging naked lady.
    “Nice touch.”
    “Thanks. Did it myself.”
    Despite her worries that the painting could make them more easily identified, she couldn’t help being faintly impressed. “It’s bigger than I expected.”
    “There was a time when she housed a twelve-man crew,” Thorne said, petting her hull.
    “Should be plenty of room for avoiding each other then.” Cinder paced beneath the hatch, waiting for Thorne to open it, but when she glanced back she found him lovingly rubbing his temple against the ship’s underside and cooing about how much he’d missed her.
    Cinder was in the middle of rolling her eyes when an unfamiliar voice ricocheted through the warehouse. “Over here!”
    Turning, she saw someone crouched over Alak’s body, haloed in a square of light. They wore the unmistakable uniform of the Eastern Commonwealth military.
    Cinder swore.