The Gauntlet (The Cage 3)

She listened to his explanation halfheartedly.

“I still have this fear,” she confessed, “that we’ll arrive and only see a hole in the sky where Earth used to be.”

“According to probability, Earth is there,” he reassured her. “The percent chance that Earth has been destroyed is only thirty point one, not ninety-eight point six. I confirmed it myself with the stock algorithm.”

“But there’s no guarantee.”

He moved his hands slowly over the controls. “No.”

The spark from his touch tickled her skin, and she drew her legs up into the chair, hugging her knees. When were they going to have to say what they both were thinking?

“I suppose even if it’s there, it’s still dying, isn’t it? Humans won’t be able to live on Earth forever. We might have a generation left, or ten, but not eternity.”

“You forget that the evolutionary jump has been triggered. It will take time to spread to all humans, especially those who aren’t as aware or advanced as some of those off the planet. But it will spread eventually. Once some humans begin the change, even if they are far away, others will follow. So perhaps it is not too late for humanity to alter its practices and preserve Earth.” He switched on a few buttons and the ship rumbled more quietly. “In any case, humans are no longer Earthbound. There’s Armstrong. And there are other human colonies spreading to other planets, from the humans in the menageries and enclosures who have been freed. There’s Anya and her mentors to advocate for them.” He laid his hand over hers. “Whether Earth lasts a hundred generations or not, humanity will survive.”

She interlaced her fingers with his, studying the contrast of his almost glowing skin against her own pale hand. The spark warmed her palm.

“What’s going to happen when we get there?”

“I will rematerialize you one at a time to your target location. As far as how to explain your disappearance, I would advise avoiding the truth. A few humans have returned after living with us in the far reaches of space, and it has not gone well for those who try to tell the world about our existence. The ones who fare best are the ones who simply claim no memory of their disappearance.”

She gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t remember much.”

He gave her a sympathetic look. “I am confident that your memory will fully recover in time. In the meantime, you will make new memories. Your family and friends will formulate other explanations for your disappearance—a kidnapping, a runaway situation, a blackout caused by drug use. Then, when humanity has evolved sufficiently, they might be able to hear the truth.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. But that isn’t exactly what I meant.”

She hadn’t been asking about the logistics of how he’d transfer them to the planet, how she would find her family again, or how she’d explain her absence. She wasn’t talking about her plans to visit Lucky’s granddad’s farm in Montana, to sit with the old man and hear his stories of Lucky from before she had known him.

“I mean, what will happen between us?”

He was quiet for a moment.

Then his hand tightened around hers, flooding her with warmth. “I told you once that you staying with me was the only thing I wanted.”

She nodded, staring at their clasped hands.

“You showed me sides of humanity I never knew. Forgiveness. Music.” He smiled. “Even the virtues of cheating.”

She smiled too, but a well of sadness was forming behind it.

“But what you showed me most of all,” he said, “was your determination. You didn’t let anything stop you, and I won’t stop you now. I still want you to stay, more than anything. I want you to continue the work we’re doing, together, and I want to have a chance to get to know you as true equals.” He took a deep breath. “But your heart isn’t here. I know that.”

She felt the sting of tears behind her eyes.

“My heart’s always with you,” she whispered.

“But your feet are on solid ground,” he said, “not among the stars.”

She shook her head, because he was right and they both knew it. He had shown her a world she never would have known otherwise. He had taught her to believe in herself despite the odds, he had pushed her to be the best version of herself possible. She couldn’t imagine that anyone on Earth would ever understand what she’d been through. How could she ever love anyone else who didn’t make her skin spark at just a touch? Who could give her the stars?

And what about him—would he ever love another human? Would any other girl ever feel the spark of his touch warm her as much as it had warmed Cora?

She held in a sob, turning away. From Earth, she’d never know if Cassian would continue to draw pictures of stars, of dogs, and of her, in his notebook.

“I don’t want to say good-bye,” she admitted.

He reached over, brushing away her tears, and then leaned across the controls and kissed her gently on the cheek. “It won’t be good-bye,” he said. “And you won’t be alone. I’ll be watching, in case you need me. Or in case I need you.”

She tilted her head, pressing her lips to his. In the quiet of the cockpit, it was just the two of them and the stars. Cora rested her head on his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat.

She closed her eyes and let the spark of their touch flood her. She wanted to remember this exact moment forever. Remember the feel of him, the warmth, the radiating love. The beating of his heart, almost like repeating notes of a song. The rush of his blood, like a melody. The hum of the ship, like a singing voice . . .

She opened her eyes and cocked her head.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered. “That music?”

Cassian leaned forward, pressing a few controls on the panel. He twisted a dial and the sounds that Cora had heard magnified. Not a beat and melody and song in Cassian’s blood, but here. In the cockpit. An actual song. Actual music. It filtered in through a speaker on the ship’s control panel.

The song was something with an old-fashioned, lazy melody. The hint of a clarinet. A woman’s sultry voice humming. Cora pursed her lips in confusion. “I don’t understand. Where’s it coming from?”

Cassian pressed more buttons on the panel, checking the ship’s equipment. Cora glanced behind her at Mali and Leon, but they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Maybe they didn’t hear the music, but there was a smile on their lips just the same.

“It’s a radio signal,” Cassian said.

He continued to check his readings. The song kept filtering through the speakers, the notes wrapping around Cora, soothing her, making her heart beat with longing for home. Music. It was what had given her strength in an alien world. It was one of the things that had brought her and Cassian together.

Cassian’s hand paused. “It’s a signal coming from a transmitter in the Delta sector. A young signal. It can’t have been traveling for more than a few months.”

Cora’s lips parted. “You mean . . .”

He smiled. “It’s a signal from Earth. Broadcast to the universe in the hopes that some other form of life will hear it.”

She broke into a smile and pressed her hands to her face, unable to hide her joy. A signal that recent meant that Earth had to still be there. It couldn’t have been destroyed when the stock algorithm had predicted.

Earth lived.

Its song still played.

She leaned back in the chair, sinking into Cassian. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Together, they listened as the song grew in strength. The notes punctuating her heartbeats. The melody slow and soulful, reminding her of her own bittersweet feelings. Leaving Cassian. Maybe never seeing him again. And yet that spark—she’d never forget that spark.

Her eyes stayed on the screen.

Watching for a blue-and-green planet she knew was there.

Watching for home.