Copyright © 2020 by Peter Jay Black

The right of Peter Jay Black to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or transmitted into any retrieval system, in any form on, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, brands, titles, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Depictions of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, and any other forms of life-saving contained within this novel are strictly fictionalised and not intended in any way to represent real techniques and/or advise.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

OAKBRIDGE

PB ISBN 978 1 8380 5350 5

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

*Note to the reader*

This work is a mid-Atlantic edit.

A considered style choice of both British and American spelling, grammar, and terms usage.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Updated

Further Work

One

I thought I’d be at least twenty years old before I met an alien. So you can imagine my surprise when two days after my sixteenth birthday, not only had I seen several, but my first physical encounter started with a cyborg attempting to tear my head off and throw me out of an airlock.

Wait.

Let me rewind this a minute and give you some context.

Hi, I’m Leonardo Cooper. Leo.

I am of average height and build, average looking with dark hair and blue eyes, have an average life—school, hanging out with my mates, and getting average grades—Bs and Cs, mainly.

Dad is a British Royal Air Force pilot, and Mum is an American cardiothoracic surgeon.

I was adopted.

We spent the first fifteen years of my existence in London, England, until my father received a job offer he couldn’t refuse—test pilot in the private space industry, based out of New Mexico, USA, with other training facilities scattered around the country.

He was going to be a freaking astronaut.

How amazing is that?

My parents made a big show of umming and ahing, going into deep discussions regarding the culture shock to my system.

Hey, I knew all about Bob Ross and Selena Gomez. Concerning American culture, I was set.

They also expressed their anxiety about the extreme and everlasting impact on my education.

Ha.

Needless to say, Dad accepted the offer.

Now my father was the new Rocketman in the family. Commuting wasn’t a problem for him due to being able to fly himself across the country, so we could choose to live anywhere in America. All forty-eight lower states. Sorry, Alaska and Hawaii, no British invasion for you.

Of course, my parents vetoed every one of my amazing suggestions. Gone were New York City, Vegas, and San Francisco. Boston? Too busy. Miami? Too hot. Los Angeles? Too . . . well, too everything.

Want to guess the final choice?

This was a two-to-one vote, by the way.

Silverthorne, Colorado.

I know, right? I’d never heard of it either.

Sigh.

This wasn’t a random, throw-a-dart-at-a-map-of-the-USA type of situation. No, there was a definite method to my parents’ madness.

What made Silverthorne their target?

My one and only remaining grandparent lived there and—rather conveniently, I might add—owned a large plot of land, complete with a six-bedroom family lodge.

Mum had convinced her father to visit London on two previous occasions. The first was before I was born, and the second time I was only three. I had no memory of the guy, but was looking forward to being part of his life. My parents had no other relatives, so I couldn’t wait for us to extend our family.

Meanwhile, my mother emailed the nearest major hospital outside Silverthorne—St Anthony—explaining her background, her vast credentials and experience, yadda, yadda, yadda. Thirty-seven seconds later—I know, I timed it—she had a job offer.

Despite repeated attempts to convince Mum and Dad to leave me in London with my friends, we packed up our stuff a month later, gave what we didn’t want to charity, and donated Gavin the hamster to our neighbour. He was a vicious little sod, and America would not have suited his blood-sucking lifestyle.

Gavin, that is, not the neighbour.

Laden with several suitcases each—plus Milo, a dopey Pekingese—our family of four embarked on an adventure to the land of the free and home of the Braves. Or whatever.

We travelled Economy Class, thanks to my parents’ determination not to waste a single penny on anything remotely comfortable or frivolous, and our beloved dog journeyed in the baggage hold.

With the flight akin to sitting on a bouncy castle full of hyperactive children for ten hours, I was thankful I’d taken motion sickness tablets.

Once we got to Denver, the three of us collected a shell-shocked Milo—who looked as though the crew had left the cargo door open for the entire journey—and traipsed off to claim our hire car.

Fifty thousand insurance forms later, we bundled our worldly belongings into a battered-looking SUV with manual—I repeat, manual—window winders and a tape deck from the fifteenth century.

I climbed into the back seat with wonky-eyed Milo, who stank of vanilla and lavender. Seriously, what the hell had they fed him? An air freshener?

My father tried to get into the wrong side of the car.

I laughed. “Not a great start, Dad.”

“Shut up.”

And off we went.

Denver International Airport was like you’d expect—lots of concrete and those loud, pointy, wingy things my father’s so fond of.

Driving away, everything looked flat and uninteresting for a while, but that changed as we wound through the hills, headed up a never-ending incline.

Next came trees and snow, like someone increasing the draw distance in a video game, adding more detail until a vast evergreen forest flanked us on one side, crumbling rock faces on the other, and then rivers, lakes, and . . . mountains.

For the record, and contrary to popular belief, we do have mountains in the United Kingdom—Ben Nevis and Snowdon to name two. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice, perfectly respectable in every way, but the Colorado mountains are incredible, seeming to stand several magnitudes taller, scraping the sky like . . . well, like a Bob Ross painting.

Yep, Colorado is full of happy little trees and a landscape to die for.

We pulled off the main highway, heading down a decline into Silverthorne itself, where everything was conveniently close, but far enough apart to still feel spacious.

I spotted a coffee shop, steakhouse, and several fast-food restaurants, making a mental note of each of their locations and hoping my grandfather’s house was within waddling distance.

Dad continued along the main road, checking a prehistoric GPS from time to time. Five minutes later, we took a sudden—I swear he almost missed it—sharp turn to the right and dove across a steel bridge spanning a river.

From there, we followed a narrow, winding, and occasionally life-threatening trail into the hills, climbing higher and higher until . . . there it was.

My mouth dropped open so far that my chin almost hit my lap, and even Milo managed to focus both of his wayward eyes on the structure before us.

Granddad’s lodge had to be the most impressive building I’d ever seen. Being from London, I’d had no shortage of architecture in my life, but this was something else, formed of cut logs, slate, and angles.

A porch held aloft by wooden pillars and trusses spanned the entire frontage, overhanging rows of sash windows and rocking chairs, all designed to create a warm invitation.

Several stone chimneys jutted from the various rooftops, the largest of which sent a column of bluish-grey smoke skyward.

We stayed motionless in the car, holding our breaths, no one daring to be the first to disturb the calm, magnificent scene.

Milo let out a wet snort.

“He needs to pee,” I said, making sure reality was well and truly back in family Cooper’s lives.

We disembarked from the SUV like grateful pilgrims stepping from the Mayflower.

I set the Pekingese down, facing him toward the forest. Then, spreading my arms wide, I declared in a loud, clear voice, “Be free, Milo. Return to the wilderness from whence you came.” I wiped a mock tear from my eye as he toddled off.

Yet instead of joining the other animals for an exhilarating life jam-packed with wild adventure, Milo huffed and puffed his way back to the SUV and cocked a leg, relieving himself on a rear wheel.

Mum rolled her eyes, knocked on the lodge’s front door, and opened it. “Dad?”

If I’d thought the outside was amazing, nothing had prepared me for the interior.

The sitting room was bigger than our entire three-bedroom apartment back in sunny England. It had high ceilings with natural wood beams, and several squashy-looking sofas and chairs covered in blankets. A fireplace dominated the far wall, flames crackling in the hearth.

I inhaled the scents of pine and old leather.

Heaven.

A side door creaked open, and a stocky man with flyaway hair and a salt-and-pepper beard stepped through. Deep lines weathered his forehead, and he wore a flannel shirt, dark jeans, and hiking boots. When he spotted us, a crooked, welcoming smile spread across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

“Dad.” Mum rushed over and they embraced.

“Glad you arrived safely,” he said in a gravelly voice.

Mum grinned at him. “You look well.”

He nodded.

My father strode over, thrust out a hand, and they shook, exchanging pleasantries.

Then it was my turn.

“Hi, Granddad.” I beamed and offered a hand too, but the old guy drew me into a bear hug and thumped my back.

“Good to meet ya again, kid,” he said. “Call me Grandpa John.”

My smile spread so wide my cheeks hurt. Our family had just expanded by an extra thirty percent—not including Milo—and I couldn’t wait to get to know my grandfather.

Speaking of Milo, he huffed, puffed, and snorted his way through the open door. I guessed he was too institutionalised to make a break for freedom.

Grandpa John cocked a bushy eyebrow at the odd-looking, snuffling purebred. “Looks like the coyotes have a new snack.” He pronounced the word ky-oats.

I chuckled.

Yeah, I was going to like Grandpa John.

I was going to like Grandpa John a lot.

Dad and I brought in our belongings while Mum and Grandpa prepared dinner, chatting about the past, with my mother asking if so-and-so was still alive and saying how overcrowded Silverthorne looked these days.

Overcrowded? Was she insane? The woman had just moved from London, the absolute definition of the word.

Grandpa John showed us to our rooms.

My bedroom was at the far end of a long corridor, behind a whitewashed wooden door with a grandfather clock next to it.

The room itself was many times larger than my shoebox back in London. It had a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, en suite bathroom, and French doors leading to a veranda with a view of more forest and mountains.

A classic movie poster hung above a desk—The Seven Year Itch, starring Marilyn Monroe, Tom Ewell, and Evelyn Keyes.

I sighed as I set my cases on the floor.

“What’s the verdict?” Grandpa John asked.

I shrugged. “Yeah, guess it’ll do.” And beamed at him.

My gaze drifted to a silver-framed photo on the desk, an image of a young woman holding a baby. Grandma Alice.

I stared at her.

She had beautiful long dark hair, and a tall, slender physique. I could see my mother’s likeness in the shape of her jawline, the way her ears stuck out slightly, and her pinched nose.

Mum rarely talked about her mother. Grandma Alice died way before I was born, and my grandfather had lived alone ever since.

Grandpa John plucked the frame from the desk, clutched it to his chest, and gave me a crooked smile. “Best get you fed.”

Back in the kitchen, we ate a dinner of steak, chips—sorry, I mean fries—and peas, followed by shovelfuls of pecan pie. As we sat by the fire afterward, bellies full, laughing and telling stories, I decided this would officially be the best place to live in the entire universe.

Happy days.

Two

Ugh.

Two weeks in and I was going out of my damn mind.

B.O.R.E.D.

Although I was happy to move from the endless bustle of a city to calm wilderness and the lodge, I missed my friends.

We received a letter explaining I wasn’t able to start school for another six months. An eternity. My grandfather had filled out the school form incorrectly. He’d gotten my age wrong, along with the date I was supposed to start. He apologised for his mistake every time I bumped into him, which was rarely.

I’m not sure where Grandpa John wandered off to. The only time I saw him was at breakfast, then he’d vanish. Like, literally vanish. I’d even thought of following him a few times, but the old guy was like a ninja—here one second and nothing but a memory the next.

At first, I thought he was off hunting somewhere, but he never left with a gun or returned with a bleeding carcass. The only way I knew my grandfather had been around was by finding a coffee mug on the side or the odd item or book in the sitting room moved out of place, but that was it.

To make matters a billion times worse, my parents were at work during the day, sometimes not coming home until the small hours of the morning, if at all. On the rare occasions I did see Mum and Dad, they looked exhausted, so my vigorous and heartfelt complaints had no effect.

“Please come home more,” I said one evening as they both sat at the kitchen table, slowly munching on a reheated lasagne with the enthusiasm of cows chewing their cud.

“Leo,” Dad said in a worn-out voice. “We both have important jobs. You knew this would happen.”

I frowned at him. “No, I didn’t. You said it would be amazing moving here. That we’d have plenty of extra time together, not less. That I’d make loads more friends than I had in London, not zero.”

“You will make friends,” Mum said in an equally low drone. “When you start school.”

“That’s months away. What am I supposed to do until then?” I shook my head. “Look, Mum, can’t you get a job at a hospital nearer the lodge?”

She shrugged.

And from that moment on, each moan and rant passed through my parents as though they were mindless ghosts, only getting the odd grunt or “mmmhmm” in reply.

Infuriating.

So much for being a new, extended family.

I wanted Mum and Dad home so we could do things together—chat, play games and visit places with Grandpa John. No matter what I tried, or how much I pleaded—even threatening to join a biker gang—they were too tired and irritable to see sense.

Not what I’d imagined.

Also, I had no internet, no phone, and no television.

Seriously? How does someone not have the three cornerstones of human survival?

I had to admit the first few days in Colorado were amazing; I’d explored the wilderness and marvelled at the varied landscape, with its mountains, forests, and lakes.

Milo came with me a few times too, huffing along the trails, sniffing every rock and pinecone, peeing on every tree trunk and root.

Once, we spotted a bear. At least, I thought it was a bear. It was hard to gauge size and distance through the dense woodland, so it could have been an overweight raccoon. Either way, pretty cool.

Now when I snatched up Milo’s leash and waved it at him with an encouraging smile, he looked at me with his boss-eyed, flat face as if to say, “Pppfffttt. Not a bleedin’ chance, mate,” and he’d go back to sleep.

I’d brought three books in my luggage: The Martian by Andy Weir—a science fiction masterpiece, in my humble opinion; an old-school classic, 2001: A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke; and last but not least, an incredible non-fiction book called Ancient Egyptian Magic by Bob Brier.

I had already read them a thousand times each, but I read them again for good measure, in case I’d missed a minuscule detail here or there.

I hadn’t.

Then I attempted drawing to pass the time, but everything resembled a jumbled mess. So, probably worth millions.

I played music on my laptop over and over until I was sick of it; there are only a finite amount of Danny Boys you can bear before insanity takes hold.

I tried out the one pre-installed game I had, Skylark, where you play as a plucky, pixelated bird, flying across the screen, steering over rooftops, through windows, and avoiding objects while deftly popping balloons.

Yeah. I couldn’t get past the first ten seconds.

Pretty sure the keys weren’t working properly.

Maddening beyond belief.

I watched the four movies I owned too: The Goonies, treasure-hunting classic; Avatar, all-time, blue-alien greatness; Avengers Assemble, pew, pew, whoosh; and Gnomeo and Juliet . . . don’t ask.

Desperate for any other form of entertainment, I searched the house, but apart from a Mason jar filled with marbles, a biography on William Thomson, a novel about King Arthur, and a well-thumbed copy of Alice in Wonderland on a shelf by the front door, I was out of luck.

If I had known about the lodge’s lack of basic amenities before I’d left the UK, I would’ve stolen my father’s credit card and downloaded everything.

But on my sixteenth birthday, a rare thing happened.

All three guardians showed up at once.

How about that?

Redemption.

Mum and Dad pulled up in matching cars—silver with electric windows and stereo systems from this decade.

Unbe-freaking-lievable.

As they strode toward the lodge, I bounced on the balls of my feet and held out a hand, eager for either set of keys.

Back home, the legal driving age was seventeen, but I was sure it was sixteen in Colorado.

For one giddy moment I imagined freedom—driving on Route 66 across the grand old US-of-A, windows down, Milo in the passenger seat with the wind in his fur, heading to the promised land of internet, modern entertainment, and corrective eye surgery for pets.

Mum and Dad chuckled at my outstretched hand, shaking their heads as they walked into the house.

I raced after them. “Can I at least have a moped?”

Another pair of hearty chortles.

What is their problem?

I got the feeling my parents were deliberately keeping me housebound so they knew exactly where I was at any given moment. Because Mum and Dad were so busy with their jobs, perhaps they were using the lodge’s remote location as parenting by proxy, which was kind of smart but extremely irritating.

Either that or they knew I was one hundred percent guaranteed to crash whatever vehicle they gave me. I couldn’t ride a bicycle without having a near-fatal accident within the first ten seconds.

However, I felt a little more forgiving when my parents produced a cake topped with sixteen candles, sang Happy Birthday in surprising harmony—Grandpa John providing the bass—and then brought out the presents.

I got hiking boots, a parka, several pairs of wool socks, gloves, and a knitted hat from my ever-sensible mother.

God bless her.

Dad bought me a smartphone.

Yay.

But I couldn’t help showing my disappointment when I discovered it didn’t have a signal, and therefore no internet.

My father noticed my crestfallen expression. “I spoke to the shop owner,” he said. “Told me a new cell tower is going up in a month or so.” He winked. “Dragging us poor hill-folk from the dark ages.”

“Great,” I muttered.

I had that to look forward to.

Dad also handed over a book about the Ancestral Pueblo culture. I looked forward to learning all I could about my new country’s past and yearned to visit the nearest Native American museum.

Grandpa John gave me a—well, I wasn’t sure what the object was for, but it was unusual. My best guess at the time was that it was an ornament—a crystal, cold to the touch, cylindrical, four inches long and one in diameter, transparent for the most part, and filled with overlapping streaks of blue.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” I said, and meant it.

I decided to put the sculpture on my window ledge, where it would catch the morning light.

Milo received new bowls, chew toys, and a collar, all of which totally unimpressed him.

It was a Cooper family tradition to celebrate the scatter-brained Pekingese’s birthday the same day as mine because he was adopted, like yours truly, and no one knew his real age. Judging by his almost constant need to sleep and greying muzzle, I guessed he was somewhere around one hundred and seventy in dog years.

I surveyed my presents.

Overall, a good birthday.

Minus friends, but Mum was right—I’d make an effort getting some of those when I started school.

If I ever did.

And then the next day came. My parents returned to work—Dad risking his life, Mum saving others—Grandpa John vanished in a puff of smoke, and everything returned to being as boring as ever.

I decided I had no choice; I would have to walk to town. I was certain they had electricity and everything. How utterly twenty-first century of them.

But I wouldn’t go right at that moment.

I glanced at my watch. It was fast approaching ten o’clock at night, and there were no signs of a parent or guardian returning.

I’d already finished off the evening by dozing in one of the lounge chairs by the fire as Milo snored at my feet, his legs twitching, no doubt dreaming about peeing on car wheels.

I took that as my cue to give up on another wasted day. I stretched, yawned, and trudged halfway across the sitting room, then a strange buzzing sound stopped me dead in my tracks.

What was that?

My smartphone was in my pocket, not on vibrate, and still had no signal . . .

Brrrrttttttt. Brrrrttttttt.

The noise came from the kitchen.

Milo opened one eye and lifted his head a fraction of an inch off the floor, but that was the extent of his investigation.

I guess it’s up to me.

“Thanks for your help, buddy,” I called as I headed into the kitchen.

Brrrrttttttt. Brrrrttttttt.

I turned around.

An old-fashioned phone sat by the door, yellowed plastic, big dial on the front.

Brrrrttttttt. Brrrrttttttt.

I answered. “Hello?”

“Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Grandpa John.”

I relaxed. “Hey. Where are you?” Until that moment, I didn’t know he even possessed a landline.

“Hard to describe.”

“It’s a pub, isn’t it?” My lips twitched.

That would explain his prolonged absences.

“No,” came the curt reply. “I need you to come to me.”

“O-kay,” I said. “Where are you?”

“Look outside.”

I stretched the phone’s cord as far as it would go and peered out of the kitchen window into blackness. I squinted. “Am I looking in the right direction?”

As if in answer, thousands of blue and white fairy lights sprang to life, illuminating a faint path I hadn’t spotted before, winding from the lodge through the forest, then disappearing up a hill into the distance.

I gaped.

“See you soon,” Grandpa John said, followed by a click as he hung up the phone.

Three

Heart thumping, I raced to my bedroom, donned my parka, hat, gloves, and hiking boots—thanks, Mum—and after checking Milo was still fast asleep, I hurried to the back door and stepped outside.

The narrow path snaked through the trees, lit by the thousands of tiny blue and white lights like something out of a fairy tale.

I felt like a cartoon princess, but resisted the urge to skip through the forest, trilling about the beautiful world and dancing with any wild animals I met on the way.

Instead, I trudged onward, my oversized hiking boots thudding in the dirt, sweat pouring from my face after only a few feet.

I unzipped my parka, letting in the cool air, and removed my hat and gloves, shoving them into my pockets. “Thanks, Mum. A little overkill,” I muttered and pressed on like a brave pioneer, heading up the hill. I followed the lights for a good third of a mile until I crested the peak and halted, my mouth dropping open.

Ahead of me sat a brick building as big as a factory. At one end, a copper dome weathered green with age towered above the landscape.

A tumbledown sign with faded letters declared it to be the Penny Hill Observatory.

Amazing.

Like a nerd at a comic con, I stumbled toward the building, eyes bulging, drool seeping from the corner of my mouth. My heart filled with the promise of entertainment, wondering what incredible sights the telescope had captured from the far reaches of the cosmos and how I could play a part in finding more.

The main door opened, and Grandpa John stood silhouetted in the light.

I waved a finger at the dome as I approached. “This is amazing.”

He gave a modest nod and stepped aside.

I crossed the threshold and gaped once again.

The enormous telescope looked as impressive as I’d imagined, with the tube and optics mounted to a gimbal, metal steps leading to a fixed seat on the side, and an eyepiece.

I swallowed. “Can I take a peek?”

Grandpa John nodded. “But not today.”

My shoulders slumped. “Why not?”

“It’s cloudy.”

“Oh.” Now my cheeks flushed. “Right.”

It made sense when I thought about it—I was sure I’d read somewhere that stars tended to only be visible in clear night skies.

“Do you know who invented the first telescope?” I asked, wanting to redeem myself.

Grandpa John gave a shrug. “Galileo?”

“Nope. A guy called Hans Lippershey. Well, he applied for the patent, anyway. Galileo was a year later, and the first to point a telescope at the sky.”

“Fascinating,” Grandpa John muttered, looking anything but fascinated, and gestured toward a door.

We strode into a warehouse.

Row upon row of racking filled the space floor to ceiling, crammed full of thousands of video games, everything from classics like Pong, Frogger, Donkey Kong Jr, Asteroids, and Missile Command to the immersive, violent, and bloodcurdling modern bestsellers for the whole family to enjoy.

I followed Grandpa John down the aisles of shelving, reading titles as I went. “This must have cost millions.”

Benches lined the far wall, packed with video game consoles stretching back decades, all wired to TV monitors, and ready to play—an entire history covered from Magnavox Odyssey, Super Nintendo, Atari 2600, and Sega Megadrive to present-day Sony and Microsoft systems, and a lot more besides.

I staggered past them, slack-jawed. “Why didn’t you tell me you had all this?”

To think I’d spent the last few weeks bored out of my skull when the entire catalogue of video-game history was only a short walk away.

Okay, I was rubbish at games, having zero patience and self-control, but even so . . .

Boxes crammed every inch of the remaining warehouse, along with piles of books on game theory, strategy, science, and programming. A couple caught my eye: The Simulation Experiment by Kloe King, Finding Code’s Hidden Treasure by Jake Reynolds, and The Simulation Experiment by Lucian Knight.

An old-school camcorder, tape player, and television sat on a table in the corner of the room.

Grandpa John stopped at three doors—red, green, and blue— and turned to me, his expression grave. “Your mother and father think I’m going on a two-week hunting trip.”

I nodded.

I’d heard them mention it. He planned on leaving the next day. I would miss him, but it made no difference to me. Grandpa John was never at home. I looked around the place, now comprehending why.

“Truth is . . .” Grandpa John cleared his throat. “I’m off to Cleveland, Ohio. To have heart surgery,” he added. “A coronary bypass.”

I blinked. “Why not ask Mum to do it?” After all, she was a world-class surgeon.

“If I died on her operating table,” Grandpa John said, “through no fault of her own, your mother would never forgive herself.” He shook his head. “No. No, it has to be this way.”

I could see the logic in what he was saying, but Mum would be furious when she found out. And she definitely would find out. My mother had a knack for getting to the truth. It was uncanny. Sick, really.

“How old are you?” Grandpa John asked.

“Sixteen. I had my birthday yesterday, remember?”

“Hmm.” He scratched his head. “I was sixteen when I was your age.”

I suppressed a smile. “True story?”

Grandpa John appraised me for several seconds more, then sighed. “Seeing as you’re my only grandchild and—”

“Sorry,” I interrupted. “Mum and Dad said they didn’t have much of a selection that day at the orphanage.”

He ignored my poor attempt at humour. To be fair, most people did.

“I planned on giving you something when you turned eighteen.” Grandpa John stared at me. “Maybe twenty.”

His assessment was right—I needed to grow up. I had to be the most immature person I knew, with zero control over most of my actions, along with what crap flew out of my mouth, so I tried my best to straighten my face.

Grandpa John let out a breath. “Seeing as I might die n’ all, I will give you something now. You can’t use it yet, you’re still too young, but you can hold onto it until I return. Then in a few years . . .” His voice trailed off, and he opened the red door behind him, revealing a set of stone steps leading down.

I already knew what Grandpa John was talking about. The object I couldn’t use—the one I had to take care of until he got back. A hunting rifle.

It had to be.

And I had a good idea of how Mum would react when she found out.

As I followed my grandfather down, the air grew colder with each step. At the bottom he flicked on a light, revealing a basement thirty feet on each side, with plain brick walls and an old, rusty boiler in the corner. Ahead, a concrete ramp led up to double doors, and several crates sat against the opposite wall.

Grandpa John pulled one crate aside, exposing a rectangular opening in the brickwork near the floor—two square feet, with blackness beyond.

He gestured to it. “Get in.”

My stomach clenched as I gazed at the confined space, and I shook my head. No way was I going in there. My muscles froze at the thought of getting stuck.

Grandpa John grumbled under his breath as he got on all fours and disappeared into the hole. A few seconds later, he poked his head back through. “Don’t be a chicken. Get in here.”

I let out a juddering breath, dropped to my hands and knees, and crawled to the hole. Sweat beading on my forehead, I peered inside.

Grandpa John flicked on overhead lights. Instead of a narrow, claustrophobic tunnel or a cubbyhole with no way out, this new area was another spacious room. I sighed with relief and clambered through.

As I did, I realised the wall was fake—not brick, only wood and plaster. I straightened up, dusted my knees, and faced the room.

Dominating the secret space was a large object covered in several grimy canvas tarpaulins.

A boat?

It was hard to tell.

Grandpa John grabbed a corner of the first tarp and tugged it free, revealing a sleek, matte-black object underneath.

I tilted my head, trying to work it out.

When he yanked the rest of the sheets away, I was none the wiser.

I edged forward, staying close to the outer wall, peering around the thing. It was the size of a small car, but there were no windows, doors, or wheels, only a smooth body with a pointed front, a flattened back, and ridges running down each side.

“Wow. That’s really something.” I gathered it must be a sculpture, but I decided to have fun with him. I smirked. “What is it? A UFO?”

Grandpa John shook his head. “Not unidentified. I know precisely what this is.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“An alien taxi.”

The stupid grin slipped from my face. “Huh?”

“It’s an alien taxicab,” he said, deadpan.

My gaze moved back to the sleek object. “There’s no sign on the top,” was all I could manage in reply.

Four

There have only been two times in my life when I’ve felt truly astonished.

The first was when Mum and Dad brought Milo home from the rescue center. Until that moment, they’d not shown the slightest hint of wanting a dog, let alone a wonky-eyed, raspy-breathing, utterly dopey one.

The second occasion was when I passed my mock French exam at school. Bonjour!

Seriously, I have no idea how I managed that.

However, no previous incident compared to that moment, standing beneath my American grandfather’s hilltop observatory in the middle of nowhere, hearing him tell me, with a straight face, that he had an alien taxi in his basement.

Right . . .

Grandpa John may have sensed I doubted his word. Perhaps it was the way I tilted my head, cocked an eyebrow, and gave him a look as if to say, “Have you lost your freaking mind, old man?”

He didn’t appear fazed by this.

In fact, my grandfather looked as though he’d expected that reaction. He walked over to the sleek black object and studied my expression as he tapped the side of it.

The front shimmered and the coating vanished, replaced by a wide, curved sheet of glass, and I could see into the—

I gasped, then shrieked, “A-aliens.”

Grandpa John nodded, and I stared.

It had to be a joke, a prank, but as my rational brain clawed its way back from the depths of the underworld, I knew it wasn’t.

I think the giveaway was the jet-black material turning transparent—far more advanced than anything an old man in the woods could’ve come up with, Grandpa John’s whole mad-scientist vibe notwithstanding.

Inside the . . . thing—I refused to call it a UFO or an alien taxi at that point—were two bodies, one at the front, and another in a rear seat.

Now, I’m not a doctor, but I didn’t need to call Mum to confirm the occupants were neither alive nor human, as both were nothing more than skeletons and fabric.

They wore similar outfits: collarless silver shirts with black trousers and boots. They also had long grey coats, and the dude in the back wore his hood up, casting a dark shadow across his face.

The other alien sat angled in the light with his hood down. His skull had large eye sockets and more teeth than I knew most Earth—non-inbred—hominids to have.

I stood there for what seemed close to ten minutes, slack-jawed, feeling both fear and wonder. Part of me longed to study the aliens, to work out where they had come from and why they’d felt the need to visit our corner of the galaxy, but a larger portion wanted to run screaming from the building, waving my arms about like a lunatic, and call NASA.

Grandpa John leaned against the wall, watching my emotions go from shock and disbelief to even more shock and disbelief.

My lips moved, but no words came out.

A rarity, I know, but come on.

“It crashed,” he said in a flat tone. “Missed the observatory dome by a few feet. It happened before you were born.” Grandpa John indicated the ramp and double doors on the other side of the faux wall. “Dragged it down here myself. Took damn near all night, even with pulleys and chains. Weighed a ton, probably more.” He shrugged. “Built the wall to hide it.”

I managed a nod, then thought again. “If they crashed, why isn’t the spacecraft damaged?” Spacecraft seemed the right term to use, and the only one I could utter without sounding ridiculous.

“It healed.” Grandpa John straightened up. “Their technology can repair itself.”

I pointed at the aliens inside. “But they couldn’t?”

Grandpa John shook his head.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “How can an advanced civilisation develop the know-how needed to travel across the universe and fix their vehicles but not their bodies?”

Grandpa John gestured at the aliens. “These guys are both Jyerool. That’s their species. But they follow the Azurean ways. See their medallions?”

I took a tentative step forward, almost tripping over my own feet, and squinted into the cabin. It had a plain white interior like a luxury sedan, and each alien wore a chain with a pendant in the shape of an octagon enclosing a circle.

“Over half of Jyerool society is based around Bluestone religion,” Grandpa John said. “When they’re injured or sick, some of them will only seek medical help from an Azurean monk.”

I had no clue what he was on about, and I tried to drag the remains of my shattered brain back to reality.

“Why haven’t you told anyone else?” There were over seven billion other people on the planet who would freak the hell out if they discovered what was in there.

Grandpa John motioned for me to follow. Like a baby learning to walk, my legs only vaguely responding to commands, I shuffled after him to the rear of the spacecraft.

He waved, and a hatch opened, revealing a compartment.

If this was a taxi, it made sense for it to have a boot, or as my grandpa would’ve called it, a trunk. But instead of suitcases, overnight bags, a set of golf clubs, and an alien kid’s stroller, there was only a wooden box, two feet long and one wide. It had a circular hole in the front, symbols carved into every inch, and a large glyph dominating the lid—the same octagon and circle symbol from the dead visitors’ jewellery.

My imagination went into hyperdrive, picturing all sorts of objects the box might hold—everything from alien ray guns to a mini rocket pack—and I saw myself zooming over the trees, taking potshots at any dangerous animals that ventured too close to the lodge and threatened Milo’s safety.

Grandpa John lifted the box out as though it were an atomic bomb and turned to face me. “You’re only looking after this while I’m away,” he said in a firm tone. “You can’t open it until you’re twenty-five.”

“Wow,” I muttered. “You keep increasing the age, huh?” I reached out to take it from him, but Grandpa John pulled back.

He fixed me with another stern expression. “Hide it in your room. Don’t tell your parents. Protect it with your life.”

I nodded and crossed my heart. It wasn’t every day you got to see an alien artifact, let alone touch one.

With obvious reluctance, Grandpa John handed it over.

The box was surprisingly heavy and warm. I held it at arm’s length. “Is it radioactive?”

“No.”

As Grandpa John closed the back of the spacecraft and covered it with the tarps, I couldn’t help but glance at the aliens inside one last time.

What had been their mission? And what had gone wrong?

“Why did they crash?”

“Dunno,” came the curt answer.

I followed Grandpa John through the hole in the false wall, and while he slid the crate back into position, I lifted the box to my ear and gave it a vigorous shake. “What’s in here?”

“Don’t do that.”

“But what is it?” I asked as we made our way up the steps. “At least tell me what’s inside.”

“Do as you’re told. Guard it with your life.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ve got it,” I said. He was practically daring me to open it. “Can I look?”

“No.”

“A little peek?”

“No.”

We reached the top of the stairs, and I frowned at him. “You can’t give me a secret alien box and expect me to not look at whatever doodad is in here.”

“If—” Grandpa John held up a finger. “When I return in two weeks, I’ll show you. Not a minute sooner.”

I sighed. “Fine.” Although it really wasn’t fine. If the guy had spent time getting to know me, he would have realised I had a distinct lack of self-control. “Are you going to be all right?” I lowered my voice. “You know, in Cleveland?”

Grandpa John offered a weak, not entirely convincing smile.

At that moment, I wanted to tell Mum what he was doing and where he was off to. I really, really wanted her to be the one to operate. But my grandfather had the same stubborn look in his eyes his daughter had when she’d made up her mind about something. There was no way to convince him otherwise.

As if he’d read my thoughts, Grandpa John said, “Promise you won’t tell her.”

I set the alien box down on a nearby bench and hugged the old guy. “Please be safe.” I pulled back. “Buzz me on the fart phone when you’re out of surgery?”

His eyebrows lifted. “The what?”

“That ancient thing you call a telephone in your kitchen.”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

I picked up the alien mystery box, trudged through the games warehouse and the observatory building, and stepped into the cool night air. I took a few breaths to pull myself together, trying not to think of the you-know-what hidden in the basement and telling myself not to worry or cry over my grandpa. But hey, he was family, and one of the coolest guys I’d ever met. Besides, it wasn’t every day someone gave you an alien relic to look after, and I had exactly twenty thousand more questions for him.

I prayed Grandpa John would be all right.

As I walked back to the path, I looked over my shoulder.

My grandfather stood in the light, as he’d greeted me when I’d arrived, but this time I could make out his face. He wore the strangest expression. I wasn’t sure if it was regret or worry. Either way, it caught me off guard, and I stopped.

Before I had a chance to call out and ask if he was okay, Grandpa John waved and closed the door.

I shrugged. “I guess if I had an imminent, life-threatening heart operation coming up, I’d be a little nervous too.”

Heading down the hill, I followed the trail of fairy lights through the forest in a complete daze and wondered . . . what the heck was in the box.

Five

I felt like a six-year-old on Christmas Eve times a bazillion, and it took every ounce of willpower to slide the alien box under my bed—remembering Grandpa John’s assurance the damn thing wasn’t radioactive and about to nuke me to death—and then I tried to sleep.

Pppffftttt.

At one point I heard one of my parents come home, but I pretended not to wake and thought about all the alien gizmos the box might contain. Transporter? Deep space communication device? What about some kind of scanner?

Out of the eight hours available to me, more if I wanted because I had little the hell else to do with my days, I got maybe a thirty-minute nap during the night.

Probably less.

After either Mum or Dad left for the day, I admitted defeat and swung my legs out of bed, padding to the kitchen.

Sure enough, Captain Huffer-Puffer waited impatiently for me to let him out, almost hyperventilating and crossing his back legs. The second I unlatched the door, he leapt—well, stumbled—into the morning light and headed straight for the nearest leafy victim.

I made myself a cup of tea, screwed my face up at the cereal boxes—breakfast was the last thing I wanted—and sat at the kitchen table, cupping my hands around the mug. Staring out of the open doorway, watching Milo empty his bladder over various shrubs and then move on to inspect a garden ornament in the shape of an odd-looking pig wearing a bowtie, I tried not to think of the . . . thing under my bed.

I really did.

He’d done it on purpose.

My grandpa had given me that stupid box to see if my weak teenage brain could resist the urge to open it.

He was testing me.

He had to be.

And I would not lose.

I didn’t care what was inside.

Could I wait two weeks?

Yes.

Easy.

I groaned, slumped in the chair, then fell forward and banged my forehead on the table in a slow, painful rhythm, hoping the grey cells responsible for the previous night’s alien memories would get knocked out of my skull, or at least shut up for a while.

Milo waddled through the back door and over to me, his head cocked to one side. He lifted one ear, no doubt wondering if my antics would cause a tasty treat to appear.

Everything was always about him.

I got up and snatched the dog biscuits from the counter. “Here.” I handed one over like an obedient human.

As the flat-faced snuffler crunched and munched through his bone-shaped doggy delicacy, I realised I couldn’t take it anymore.

I had to know.

The clock on my phone said it was ten to nine.

I tossed another biscuit at Milo’s feet, topped up his water bowl—he always got thirsty after his hard work consuming morning snacks, next he’d need a well-earned snooze—and marched through the sitting room, down the hallway, and into my bedroom.

Pulling on a shirt and jeans, I grumbled under my breath. Then I paced back and forth, grinding my teeth and clenching my fists, still trying to fight the urge.

“Two weeks,” I murmured. “Come on, you only have to wait two weeks. That’s all. You can open it then. It’ll be an amazing thing to share with your grandpa.”

I stopped.

Hold on. Is that two weeks from today, or two weeks from last night? Do I have thirteen days left to go, or the full fourteen?

I groaned.

Either way, it would be an eternity.

My eyes narrowed.

If I was careful—like mega, mega stealthy—Grandpa John would never know I’d snuck a peek.

I’d love to say I did the right thing—that I went for a walk, met new friends and the girl of my dreams, had an adventure, and forgot all about the you know what, but let’s get real here. That would never happen.

I pulled the box from under the bed and set it on the mattress. I inspected all the strange glyphs etched into its surface, recognising their shapes but not their meanings. They were almost a cross between Ancient Egyptian and Mayan script, familiar yet foreign, each one precisely carved into the wood.

The box alone was a work of art.

“But who gives a crap about that?” I muttered, grabbing the lid on both sides. I took a deep breath and— “Oh, come on.”

Locked.

I sat back in disgust, shaking my head. “Not funny, Grandpa.” My attention moved to the hole in the front of the box. Can I pick the lock? Like any other cautious, intelligent, well-rounded teenager would do in my situation, I shoved my finger inside.

Instead of a lock mechanism, blades, or a jolt of cosmic electricity, wide grooves spiralled from front to back.

I closed my eyes.

The smooth curves reminded me of a seashell. I smiled and opened my eyes again.

Too easy.

My gaze moved to the crystal on my window ledge.

Way too easy.

With excitement twisting my insides, I jumped to my feet and snatched it up. Not wasting a nanosecond more, I knelt back in front of the box and inserted the crystal. There came the soft click of a mechanism releasing inside.

My heart hammered against my ribcage. With shaking fingers, I swung the lid open.

Six

As I stared into the alien box, curiosity swelled within me.

A thick, hard-to-the-touch silver foam packed the interior, clutching a red leather book about the size and shape of a standard Bible.

Engraved into the front was the octagon and circle symbol from the aliens’ medallions in gold leaf. Within this circle, filled with clear resin, was another glyph. I tilted my head. It looked like a stylised letter ‘S’ on its side, or maybe an infinity symbol. Perhaps it was the number eight. I wasn’t sure. Behind it, deeply embedded, was a blue crystal shard.

As I gazed at the book, more symbols formed above the infinity logo, as though ink soaked through the leather. Then they changed into letters I recognised. A title.

CodeX

And that was it.

“CodeX?” I breathed.

I wondered if it was Code X or Codex—as in another word for a book. If so, that was dumb, like labelling a lamp lamp. Left shoe. Right shoe. Dog.

I craved a label maker but ignored the urge and lifted the CodeX from its protective tomb, turning it over.

Fine cracks ran throughout the worn leather, but there were no other markings or writing.

I flipped it back and examined the crystal behind the infinity symbol, angling it into the light. It was neither clear nor murky, but translucent rather than transparent, and unlike anything I’d seen before.

Then again, I was no geology expert. For all I knew, it could’ve been an ordinary quartz shard.

I thumbed through the CodeX’s pages—each one crammed full of more glyphs—and gazed at them, curious as to who’d written the symbols, when, and what they all meant.

The grandfather clock outside my door chimed, snapping me back to reality, and I thought of Grandpa John. I’d had my peek; now I needed to put the book away and forget about it.

As soon as I returned the leather CodeX to the box, the crystal within glowed a vibrant blue, illuminating the symbol and gaining in brightness.

My breath caught, and I stood.

The light formed a single point of energy and rose from the CodeX. It hovered in front of me at head height, and warmth pulsated through my body, paralysing me.

The light exploded outward, filling the room, and I felt as though I were a part of it, and it of me, shoving the walls and objects away as though they were tissue paper in a hurricane, shattering them into billions of particles swirling around me.

The chiming of the clock faded into the distance, replaced by a low humming sound reverberating beneath my feet, and the light decreased.

I blinked a few times, then let out a strangled gasp. “What have I done?” My chest tightened and I cursed under my breath, wishing I’d left the box and alien CodeX the hell alone.

My legs shook, and it took all my willpower to remain upright and conscious.

Instinct made me look down, and I discovered I still wore the same jeans, shirt, and shoes. I raised my hands to my face, finding my familiar slightly-larger-than-normal nose, dimpled chin, and deep brow, all topped with a healthy head of wavy hair.

I relaxed—at least I was still me—and looked about. I was no longer in my cosy bedroom in Colorado, but in a circular brick room. A single door and frame stood in the middle, raised on a plinth, nothing surrounding them but air.

Mounted to the doorframe was a panel with two columns of silver buttons. I walked up to it and leaned forward, reading the labels. Mystery, Science Fiction, Adventure, Horror, Romance, Detective, Western, Action, Thriller, Espionage, Cyberpunk, Military, Historical, Fantasy, Gangster, Time-Travel, Survival, Crime . . .

“Is this thing asking me to select genres? For what? Is it going to tell me a story?”

After standing there for a minute with what must have been a gormless expression, I thought what the heck and picked a few at random.

I pressed the Adventure button, and it lit up.

Action? “Sure. Why not?”

Mystery? “Yep.”

Science Fiction? “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

I mashed a few more buttons for good measure, including a flashing Magical Elements one toward the bottom—whatever that meant—then hit Start at the top.

The edges of the door glowed, inviting me in. After a glance around me, I opened it and stepped on through.

I found myself in a broad hallway that curved behind me on either side—wood-panelled walls, almost black polished wood flooring, the opposite wall taken up by windows covered by thick curtains.

I frowned. “Didn’t I press Science Fiction? What’s with all this wood?” I expected William Shakespeare to come prancing along at any moment, comparing me to a summer’s day and whatnot. “Where am I?” I muttered, not understanding where the story selection had taken me. “Elizabethan England?”

I pulled back the nearest curtain, which triggered each of the other curtains to do the same, and I stared into outer-freaking-space.

Beyond the glass was the blackest black, peppered with a billion pinpricks of light—scattered and random for the most part, with odd clumps here and there forming clouds and bands across my field of view. But what caught my attention the most was that each star was fixed and steady, not twinkling like they did when you looked up at the night sky.

Shoulders hitched, I looked behind me. The door I’d stepped through had vanished. A twinge of panic gripped me as I wondered how I would get back home. Unnerved, I faced the front again and gazed at the universe.

This was absolutely craz—

A massive object moved past.

Startled, I leapt back and slipped on the polished floor, hitting the boards with a loud thwump.

I winced.

A spaceship slid by, forty, fifty, sixty storeys tall, made from a patchwork of wood and iron, the lights glowing behind its windows showing the distinct outlines of people within.

I squinted. “Are they human or . . .”

Thirty-foot-high red symbols glided into view, painted on the ship’s hull. At first they were nothing more than a jumbled mess of random glyphs, but then they shifted and transformed into letters—

HORIZON TWELVE

“Hello.”

I let out a muffled cry like a startled five-year-old caught raiding the cookie jar, then scrambled back.

Seven

I gazed up at a smiling woman with short-cropped red hair and flawless dark skin. She wore a silver and white jumpsuit with blue piping. With my back pressed against the wall, my attention drifted to the golden symbol on her lapel—the octagon and circle from Grandpa John’s crashed alien friends’ medallions and the cover of the CodeX.

“Hello,” she repeated in a soft voice, still looking down at me with emotionless eyes.

I waited for any more creepy, mannequin-like people to appear, but none were forthcoming.

At least, I hoped not.

“Do you require my assistance?” She held out a hand.

I clambered to my feet. “All good. Thanks.”

“My name is Ayesha.”

“Cool,” I muttered and peered out of the window as the spaceship continued to slide past. It went on forever.

I returned my attention to Ayesha.

Ordinarily, I would have thought I’d lost my mind, but everything was far too real, including her. Besides, with alien technology, I supposed anything was possible.

I took a juddering breath. “W-where am I?”

My new friend spread her arms. “This is Horizon Eighteen.”

“Wait.” I pointed at Horizon Twelve. “We’re on one like that? A spaceship?”

Ayesha nodded. “Each Horizon-class vessel follows the same design and specifications.”

Horizon Twelve moved past the window, and I gasped as a whole armada of spaceships came into view. There were hundreds of them, some grouped, flying in tight formations. There were at least fifty different types, most made from wood and iron. A few were as large as the Horizon ships, and others a fraction of the mass, zipping in and out like bees around hives.

How do the ships hold together in outer space? I wondered. And, more importantly, where exactly am I?

“The CodeX brought you here,” Ayesha said in response to my silent question, interlacing her fingers. “First, you must choose a side.”

Two groups of holographic spaceships appeared between us—the biggest about the size of a matchbox, the smallest barely larger than a grain of sand. I leaned in, trying to make out the details.

Ayesha indicated the group of black ships nearest to her. Each hull was angular and reminded me of the spacecraft in Grandpa John’s basement. “These are the Kraythons—cut-throat space pirates who will stop for nothing or no one in their merciless hunt for powerful Bluestone artifacts.” She pointed to the group near me. “Those are Antarians—explorers travelling the galaxy, doing everything they can to beat the Kraythons to the Bluestone artifacts.” She tilted her head. “While trying to avoid being attacked by them.”

“You want me to pick a side?” I asked, making sure I understood. “You’re saying this is a game? I have to choose a team to play for?”

Ayesha’s painted smile remained in place.

I blew out a puff of air, and my attention moved back to the holographic ships. I wasn’t keen on violence—although playing on the side of the bad guys had a certain appeal—and I also didn’t like the idea of being a character that only looked out for himself.

My gaze drifted to the fleet of Antarian ships. They hunted for magical artifacts, and that sounded fun. Besides, their goal seemed more noble, which appealed to me.

I pointed at the Antarian fleet. “These.”

“Very well.” Ayesha gestured, and the holographic ships between us vanished. “If you choose to continue, you will play the part of Captain”—she hesitated for a beat—“Leonardo Cooper.” She smiled again.

I blinked at her. “Captain?”

“Yes, Leo. Of Horizon Eighteen.” Ayesha waved an arm around us. “This is Horizon Eighteen.”

I kept gawking. “I get to be captain of this ship?”

“Unless you would prefer command of another vessel?”

“No,” I said. “This is fine.”

On the one hand, my heart raced at the prospect. A high-tech alien game? Are you kidding? Sign me up. But on the other, I felt out of my depth. Can I still get home?

Ayesha’s smile returned. “Horizon Eighteen is a transport vessel, carrying vital supplies for the fleet.”

A screen appeared between us, showing an interior view of a vast cargo hold, crammed full of racks, crates, and barrels—millions of them. It was hard to judge the exact size, but I guessed the space to be at least a thousand feet long and two hundred high, maybe more.

I shook my head.

“You will also be responsible for the lives of eight thousand people.”

“People?” Now I thought about it, Ayesha was a human too. Or in the shape of one.

I would have expected bulbous-headed aliens like those in Grandpa John’s basement. Then I realised the CodeX must have created a virtual reality game based around me and my species, making the aliens look human. Like the symbols changing to English, everything I’d witnessed was in the shape of what I understood, and the people would be in a form I could relate to.

Made sense.

Well, that was my conclusion, given the evidence.

I sighed. So many questions.

The image vanished, and Ayesha turned to the nearest window. “Your mission and your role within this universe will be whatever you ultimately choose, Leo.” She indicated the spaceships outside. “This is one of several starting points—a fleet exploring the galaxy, hunting for Bluestone artifacts, thousands of light-years from home.” She faced me. “If you wish for a harder challenge or a more engaging story at any point, you only have to ask.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure if I liked the sound of that. If I couldn’t control a stupid pixelated bird, I had no chance with something so advanced.

Ayesha’s expression turned serious. “Would you prefer the command of a fighter? Part of Dragon Force?”

I held up my hands. “Nope. No, this is great. Thanks.”

I’d always been rubbish at those types of video games too—the ones where you had to shoot at stuff.

This would do fine to start with.

Something nice and slow.

Relaxed.

A leisurely flight across the galaxy.

Besides, at that moment in time, it was hard to take in. I definitely needed to make some mental adjustments.

A familiar word in blue lettering appeared in the top right-hand corner of my vision. CodeX. However, unlike the images Ayesha controlled, this followed my movements. No matter which way I faced, the word remained as though dangling on the end of a pole stuck to my forehead.

“The CodeX will advise you during your time here,” Ayesha said.

A guide? I’d definitely need one of those.

More items appeared. In the top left of my view was a green circle with 100 written inside.

“What’s that?” I said. “The circle and one hundred?”

“Your health meter.”

A square map materialised bottom left. A green dot represented my current position, along with a golden dot—Ayesha. As I turned, the map showed rooms on the other side of the nearest wall and blackness beyond the windows.

I focused on the word CodeX, and it highlighted. “You said this is a guide?” I glanced at Ayesha. “How does it work?”

“Would you prefer to carry a book with you during your time here?” Ayesha asked.

I thought about that and guessed it would get annoying pretty quickly, so I shook my head.

“Think of the CodeX as a companion,” Ayesha said. “You can ask whatever you wish, and the results will display in real time for only you to see.”

“Great, but how do I get rid of it?”

“Simply say, ‘CodeX, off,’ or ‘CodeX, on’ when you would like it to return and offer assistance.”

“CodeX, off.” I then let out a relieved breath when the hovering word, map, and health meter all vanished. I looked back at Ayesha. “How do I leave the game?”

“You say, ‘CodeX, exit,’ and you’ll return home.”

“And to get back in again, the glowing crystal in the cover of the book will work its magic?”

“Yes, Leo.”

I exhaled and eyed the fleet of Antarian ships outside. “What’s the catch?”

There was always a catch.

I was old enough to know nothing in this universe or any other came for free.

Ayesha inclined her head.

“Are there any rules I should be aware of?” I pressed.

“There is one.”

I knew it. “Give it to me.”

Ayesha fixed me with a hard stare. “You must not, under any circumstances, reveal to anyone within this world who you really are or how you got here.”

“I can’t tell the characters it’s a game?” I frowned. “What happens if I do?”

Ayesha’s expression darkened further. “The consequences will be dire.”

I flinched at her words. “Wanna expand on that?”

A few awkward seconds later, Ayesha’s painted smile returned. “Would you like to start now, Leo?”

Putting her veiled threat to one side, I thought of my Mum and Dad, Milo, the lodge in Colorado, and how angry my grandfather would be with me for opening the box and stepping into the alien game.

I sighed. “Not yet.” I fought the urge to say, “Hell-to-the-yeah. Bring it on.”

Ayesha bowed. “Until then, Leo.”

After an uncomfortable silence with Ayesha’s blank stare cutting right through my soul, I realised she was waiting for me.

“Oh, right. Yeah. CodeX, exit,” I said.

Ayesha vanished, along with everything else. My bedroom in Colorado reappeared around me, particles reforming into solid matter. When the movement stopped, it was as though the room had been there all along.

I let out a huge sigh, relieved I was home.

The point of light dropped to the leather-bound CodeX, returned to its crystal holder, and went dark.

I stared down at the book, eyes wide, hands trembling, my chest heaving. Then the biggest grin spread across my face.

Eight

“That. Was. Amazing.” I punched the air and let out a whoop for good measure.

The grandfather clock outside my bedroom door chimed again.

Ah, nuts.

How long was I away? An hour? More?

I ran into the hallway and stopped in front of the clock. The big hand was on the twelve, and the little fella pointed to the nine. A quick mental calculation—it’s amazing how fast my mind works—told me it was nine o’clock in the morning.

What?

As the intergalactic game vortex—or whatever—had pulled me in, I’d heard the clock striking nine.

My heart sank. “Is it still Tuesday?” I murmured.

With a feeling of dread, I drew the smartphone from my pocket, wondering how the heck I would explain a prolonged absence to my parents.

Yep, still Tuesday.

Phew.

I checked the month and year to be sure, but everything was hunky-dory.

I frowned.

Hold on—that meant no time had elapsed since I’d been inside the alien game. How was that possible? I was there for at least twenty minutes.

Oh, right, I thought. Aliens and their pesky technology.

That’ll explain it.

Sort of.

Science was never my strongest subject at school. I was more of a history guy. Loved anything to do with ancient civilisations—Egypt, the Roman Empire, Mayans, Aztecs, the Inca, Troy, Greece, Mesopotamians . . .

Apart from that, I wasn’t good at any other subjects and was lazy for the most part.

Guess I was destined to be a manager.

The muffled sound of a car door closing made me spin around.

Either Mum or Dad was home.

I ran into my room, shoved the box with the CodeX under my bed, then sprinted through the house. When I reached the front door, I stopped and took several deep breaths, trying to look calm and composed or bored, even, with a ‘nothing unusual going on here’ type of expression. I stepped outside with a nonchalant air.

Instead of either of my parents’ cars, a taxi stood in the driveway—a normal, all-four-wheels-on-the-ground, human taxi, that is—and the also human driver loaded cases into the trunk.

Grandpa John appeared and strode over. He opened the rear passenger door and went to climb in, but I ran over and slid to a halt in front of him, breathing hard.

“So, small confession.” I waited until the driver had got back into the taxi, and I lowered my voice. “Might have looked inside the box a little.”

Grandpa John’s eyebrows pulled together like fuzzy caterpillars embracing. “I told you not to do that. How old did you say you were?”

I flinched. “Sorry. I had to tell you the truth.” And I wanted his blessing to start the game properly.

Grandpa John let out a breath. “It’s fine. You looked. No harm. Don’t do it again. See you in two weeks.”

He went to get in, but I grabbed his arm.

“No, wait,” I said. “That’s not all.”

Grandpa John faced me with a now-stern expression, as if to say, “What else have you done, kid?”

“I might—” I cleared my throat and braced myself. “Yeah, I might have, kinda, sorta . . .” I leaned in and whispered, “transported to an alien ship.” I grinned.

Grandpa John grabbed my arm. “You bonded to the CodeX?”

“I don’t know what you mean by bond, but okay, sure, we had a moment. I met a woman called Ayesha. She’s, err . . . nice,” I said, not meaning it. My brow furrowed. “At least I think she was a woman. Could’ve been a robot. Not certain. Alien?”

The caterpillars leapt into Grandpa John’s fringe. “You spoke to Ayesha?”

I nodded, still smiling. Couldn’t help it. The whole situation was blinkin’ awesome, and I was itching to go back in. Besides, he’d given me the game on purpose, and I wanted any tips he might have for me.

Grandpa John led me away from the taxi. “You weren’t supposed to see any of that yet.”

I shrugged. “Hey, if you didn’t want me looking at the game, why give me the magical crystal key thingy to open the box?”

“Shhh.” Grandpa John pursed his lips.

“I’m sorry I told you,” I muttered. “You’ve got more important things to worry about. Go get fixed.”

Grandpa John’s expression softened. “I was curious.”

I knew it. “Curious about what?”

“Whether the CodeX would bond with you.” He shook his head. “Didn’t expect it to happen so easily. So soon.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t consider myself gifted at anything, but I took it as a compliment.

The taxi driver beeped his horn.

“Wait,” Grandpa John roared.

I snorted.

The driver looked away.

Grandpa John gripped my shoulders. “You’ve met Ayesha, so she’s explained?”

“She didn’t tell me much.” I took a breath. “How many times have you played the CodeX game?”

“Let’s just say I’ve experienced more than enough adventures for many lifetimes.” He let go and considered me for a moment, then fished in his pocket, pulling out several twenty-dollar bills and shoving them into my hand. “Give these to the driver and tell him to wait. Patiently.”

Before I could ask what he was doing, Grandpa John marched into the house and closed the door behind him.

Feeling sheepish, I ambled over to the taxi, and the driver lowered his window.

I handed him the money. “Grandpa asked whether you wouldn’t mind holding on for a bit. Said he won’t be long.”

The taxi driver looked disgusted at the request, but after a quick thumb through the dollars, he gave a small shrug.

I took that as a yes and headed back to the porch. I sat in a rocking chair, wondering what Grandpa John was up to.

Now I kinda regretted telling him. The last thing I wanted to do was to stress him out.

What if the old guy’s heart pops because of something I’ve said or done?

I thumped my forehead, cursing my stupidity and selfishness. Why did I tell him?

I should’ve waited until after his operation, but I’d been so excited, I hadn’t thought it through properly.

Besides, nothing even remotely thrilling had ever happened to me before.

I glanced at the front door.

No, what I should have done was kept quiet until he got home. Played the game, then told him.

Idiot.

Five minutes later Grandpa John returned, out of breath and mopping his brow with a handkerchief.

I stood. “What’s going on?”

He stared at me for a few seconds with an expression of—

pride? Admiration? Gas? I couldn’t quite make it out, and it didn’t fit with our earlier conversation.

“I’ve left some tourist brochures in your parents’ room. Ask them to take you somewhere interesting. Maybe your dad could fly you down to Mesa Verde.” He turned, strode to the taxi, and called over his shoulder, “Two weeks. I’ll explain everything then.”

Dazed, I waved him goodbye.

Yeah, there was no way I would wait that long—I was definitely going back inside the game.

The nanosecond the taxi swung out of view, I spun around and jogged into the house.

In my bedroom, I slid the box out.

Locked.

“What the—?” I tried prising the lid open, but it was no good. “Grandpa,” I growled, then looked about for the crystal key.

Missing.

He’d hidden it somewhere.

Now I really did regret telling him. I’d wanted Grandpa John’s blessing to go into the game, not have him lock me out.

Tires crunched gravel. Had my grandfather forgotten something?

I balled my fists. I’d ask for the key back.

Beg if I had to.

I slid the box under my bed, leapt to my feet, and ran to the front door.

To my surprise, a silver car pulled up. My mother beckoned me over as the side window rolled down.

I groaned.

If this was the universe’s way of testing me, seeing if I could keep my mouth shut about the alien spacecraft and CodeX game—not to mention my grandfather’s pending heart operation—well, it wasn’t bloody funny. Or fair.

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and traipsed over to her car.

“Get in,” she said.

“Did you see Grandpa John?”

“I got stuck in traffic.” My mother checked her rearview mirror. “I needed to talk to him, but the taxi didn’t stop.” Her focus returned to me. “They cancelled my morning surgery, and I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to head back to the hospital.” She nodded at the passenger seat.

Uh-oh.

With reluctance, I climbed in. As Mum turned the car, I hoped Milo was awake, because he was now the sole defender of the CodeX.

Images of the silly pooch chewing the box open and transporting to Horizon Eighteen flashed through my brain, along with Ayesha explaining the rules of the game to him.

Captain Milo Cooper.

I shook my head.

Doomed.

Nine

Mum drove us into Silverthorne. We bought a coffee and a tea to go and sat by Blue River, watching the water cascade over the rocks and boulders and listening to the sound it made, combined with the birds overhead.

After a couple of minutes of quiet contemplation, Mum looked at me. “I’m sorry, Leonardo,” she said in a soft voice.

“Sorry for what?”

“For not being around enough. For working too hard.” She sighed and shook her head. “Being alone at the lodge is not what your father and I wanted for you. We thought you’d be in school by now.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “You’ve both got important jobs.”

“We also thought Grandpa John would be there for you. That’s why we chose to come to Colorado.”

My stomach tightened. Mum had the uncanny ability to know when I was lying, and I prayed she didn’t ask too many questions.

“I’m worried about your grandfather,” she said.

Ah, man.

Seriously?

I sipped my tea and made a noncommittal noise. “Hmm.”

Mum turned to me. “He’s lying.”

I considered throwing myself into the river, but I decided it would be far too cold. Plus, the part we sat near wasn’t deep enough to whisk me away from her stare.

“Do you know anything?” she asked.

I did my best to look innocent, even though my cheeks burned. “Nope.”

“Are you sure?” Mum wasn’t giving up. “You haven’t noticed anything unusual about Grandpa John? The way he’s been acting?”

I sipped my tea. “Wait, there’s no sugar in this.” I started to get up, but she grabbed my sleeve and pulled me back down.

“Please, Leonardo. I’m worried about him.” She let go of me. “I don’t think he’s gone on a hunting trip.”

“He’ll be fine,” I assured her, crossing my fingers by my side.

Mum cupped her hands around the paper cup as if gaining strength from its warmth, then spoke in a quiet voice, “I told you my mom died forty years ago, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” I said. Another reason why I wanted us together as a family.

Tears welled up in Mum’s eyes. “Your grandfather never accepted her death.” She looked at me. “I think us coming here has made him think about her. Forced him to remember. Dredged up old memories.”

“Grandpa John seemed okay to me,” I said in an attempt to ease her obvious worry and pain. I couldn’t guarantee that, of course, and I felt awful for not telling her the truth.

I wanted to spill my guts and say she was wrong, that it had nothing at all to do with her dead mother, but I didn’t want to explain the real reason. Besides, I’d given Grandpa John the impression I wouldn’t let on to anyone.

Mum looked at her watch. “We have to get back.”

Relieved our awkward conversation had ended and pleased that I hadn’t spilled my guts or made any life-altering slip-ups, I stood, and we strode back to her car.

However, when we got there, my heart sank as Mum fixed me with one of her ‘I’m about to ask you to do something and I hope you do it’ looks.

Awesome.

“Can you do me a favour, Leonardo?”

Here it comes.

“What?” I said in a tense voice.

“Go up to Penny Hill Observatory.”

My eyebrows knitted. “What? Why?”

“Find out where he’s gone. Your grandfather has an office. There might be clues there.”

“Mum, I’m not a detective. And I don’t think anyone should rummage through Grandpa John’s private stuff.”

“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll go myself.” She got into the car, and I squeezed my eyes closed.

She would find the spacecraft.

Could I move the damn thing somewhere else? Or lock the basement door? Knowing my mother, that wouldn’t stop her. A vault guarded by highly trained soldiers would not prevent her from getting to the truth.

With my stomach twisting into knots, I tried to come up with something to distract her from snooping around the observatory. I couldn’t begin to imagine her reaction when she laid eyes on the alien taxi. I shuddered.

Finally, I climbed into the car too. “Okay, okay.” I fastened my seatbelt. “I’ll go.”

Mum’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

Yeah, yeah, I thought, knowing I had been emotionally tricked into it.

As we drove away, I knew Mum wouldn’t take me at my word when I told her I’d found nothing in Grandpa John’s observatory, and I could bet my life she’d still take a look for herself.

I was in deep trouble.

Ten

I had that feeling people get when they don’t want to do something, have no intention of doing it, and yet they still find themselves doing whatever the hell it is anyway. I grumbled to myself as I headed up Penny Hill.

To my utter dismay, Mum had known where Grandpa John kept the spare key to the observatory—behind the kitchen door, in case you were wondering—so I couldn’t even use being locked out as a good excuse not to rake through his belongings.

I had no choice but to make the best of a bad situation, and vowed to see if there were any movies among my grandfather’s extensive video-game collection. There probably weren’t, but it was worth a shot. I was sure he wouldn’t have minded, given the circumstances, but hoped there might be a game or two I didn’t completely suck at. Doubted that too.

My heart skipped a beat as I thought about the crystal key. Perhaps he’d hidden that up there? I had all afternoon to hunt for it.

Hey, if he didn’t want me to have it so bad, Grandpa John should have buried it somewhere or taken it with him.

Oh no.

I hoped he had done neither of those.

My pulse sped up at the prospect of going back into the CodeX, and although I tried to resist the urge, tried to stop imagining myself as a spaceship captain flying through the cosmos, hunting for magical artifacts, I ached to return.

I crested the hill and marched to the observatory.

Using the key, I opened the door and stepped inside. I flicked on the lights and faced the telescope.

Despite the million questions I had for my grandfather on his return, one thing high on my priority list was to come back at night—a clear one—and gaze at the heavens with him. I wanted a good look at Jupiter and all its moons. Was the telescope capable of seeing Europa?

Ooh, Saturn too.

I strode into the giant Blockbuster time capsule my grandfather called a warehouse, and as I made my way between the shelves, I kept my eye out for the crystal key. The quantity of games I passed overwhelmed me, and I was curious to know how many Grandpa John had gotten around to playing.

Mind you, if I had access to the hyper-realistic CodeX game, I wouldn’t bother with anything less.

I reached the end of the warehouse, turned, and scratched my head.

Where was that crystal key?

And what exactly did Mum expect me to find up here?

My attention moved to the table in the corner of the room.

On it sat an old, tube-style television encased in enough plastic to keep a Lego factory supplied for a year, a VHS tape player built into its base.

A camcorder sat next to them, one of those giant red ones where you need to train at the gym for at least a decade to build the upper-body strength required to carry the damn thing. There was also a VHS tape in its colourful cardboard sleeve.

Perhaps my grandfather had some movies after all.

A handwritten label read, Alice Bowman.

My grandmother’s name.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

I chose not to mutter any silly comments about the VHS format; everyone’s heard those jokes a thousand times over, and they’re no longer funny.

So, once I’d used a fossil hammer to chisel the tape from its sixty-million-year-old cardboard tomb, I inserted it into the Flintstones’ player, and much to my surprise—after several clunks, a high-pitched whirring sound, and a few ominous clicks—it worked.

An image appeared—a view over the Colorado forest, framed by the mountains, with a lake glittering far below.

Fuzzy, static lines moved up and down the screen, distorting the video, while a single word in bold letters flashed in the corner. Tracking.

The picture straightened for a second, then wobbled, fizzled, popped . . .

Tracking. Tracking. Tracking.

“Come on,” I urged the little guy. “You can do it.”

Finally, the video stabilised, now with only the odd sparkle and blip here and there.

Hey, it was no mega-billion-pixel image, but it would do. I could make it out just fine.

I pulled up a stool and studied the panorama of—

The picture went black, sputtered, then snapped on again—a streak of colours as the sound crackled too.

“Alice,” a man’s voice called.

There was a rush of muffled movement.

I leaned in.

The camera aimed down as feet hurried across a concrete floor and out into the night, gravel crunching under the footfalls, running, racing, panicked breathing . . .

“Alice.”

The camera reared up. The focus swam in and out, then sharpened on a cluster of trees, the uppermost limbs and branches torn off.

Something, and I knew what, had crashed through them.

Blood pounded in my temples.

More hurried footfalls. The image shook, dark, hard to make out, more trees, then sprinting between them . . .

Panting.

“Alice, slow down.”

Standing between the tall trunks, lit only by moonlight, was a woman wearing a flowing dress. Grandma Alice.

I gauged my grandmother to be older than the photograph I’d seen in my room, perhaps in her early thirties, and I couldn’t help but stare at her, soaking in every wobbly pixel. It seemed as though I could reach through the screen, through time itself, and touch my grandmother.

“Did you see that, John?” Alice turned, saucer-eyed, looking like an excited child.

“Wait for me,” the man’s voice said. It was clearly my grandfather’s. “Don’t get too close.”

“It’s just here. Come see.” Alice gasped. “Oh my goodness. Someone’s hurt. Quick, John.” She darted through the undergrowth.

My blood ran cold.

I didn’t want to watch the next part, but I couldn’t look away.

The camera moved with Grandma Alice, bouncing through the woods, the focus swimming in and out again until it stopped and stabilised.

My grandfather gasped. “Is this real?”

A mangled black object had gouged a trench into the forest floor, banking earth up on the far side. Its impact had uprooted several small trees.

The view moved forward.

“Incredible.”

A hatch in the craft stood open, and a hooded alien passenger dragged himself along the ground, trying to reach the open box with the leather-bound CodeX.

Alice knelt in front of him. “You’re hurt.”

“Alice, get away,” Grandpa John said. “There could be radiation.”

“He’s hurt, John,” she said. “Fetch the first aid kit.”

I went rigid in my seat as the alien’s gaze moved to my grandmother, and he mouthed something.

She leaned in.

I did the same.

The alien repeated the whispered words, but I couldn’t make them out.

“Get away from it,” Grandpa John warned.

Alice stood up and looked back at the camera, all colour drained from her face.

“What is it?” Grandpa John’s voice trembled. “Alice, what did it say?”

I held my breath.

My grandmother opened her mouth to reply, but the crystal embedded inside the CodeX’s cover glowed blue, sending shadows dancing around them, growing in intensity, flooding the forest with light.

Alice, silhouetted, faced the CodeX, and a golden locket around her neck glinted.

I hit the Pause button and leaned in, close to the screen.

Due to the poor quality of the image, the locket’s engraving was hard to make out, but I’d seen this particular symbol recently, and that couldn’t be a coincidence.

It was a glyph in high relief—a letter ‘S’ or number eight on its side. The infinity symbol from the CodeX’s front cover.

I let out a breath, pressed Play, and the screen turned white. Blinding.

“Alice? Alice, no.”

The light snapped off again, the scene reappeared, and the alien slammed the box closed.

The camera fell to the ground, the view now side-on, and everything was calm. Tranquil. The only sound came from my grandfather’s rhythmic, raspy breathing.

My grandma, Alice Bowman, was gone.

Eleven

I stared at the video monitor, tilting my head, scrutinising the spot where my grandmother had stood moments before and the alien still lying on the ground. My fingertips hurt from gripping the edge of my stool so hard. I let go, still refusing to tear my gaze from the scene.

“Alice? Where are you?” Grandpa John’s feet moved into view and his voice cracked. “Alice, please.” He stepped toward the alien. “Who are you?” Grandpa John’s tone turned harsh, angry. “What have you done? Where’s my wife?”

The alien lifted its head, looked up at him, and tried to speak, but its words came out in a wet gargle.

“Where’s my wife?” Grandpa John shouted.

The alien nudged the box toward him, slumped to the ground, jerked once, then moved no more.

Grandpa John slid the box aside with his foot and returned to the camera. He snatched it up and scanned the undergrowth. “Alice?”

His hoarse breathing came over the television’s antique built-in speakers, and I felt every painful, desperate moment along with him, watching in silence as my grandfather examined the alien, documenting every detail through the camera, hunting for clues to where his wife had gone.

He drew a sharp breath and the view swung up to show the black spacecraft shifting, moving in and out, snapping back to its original form.

“Healing itself,” I muttered.

As the camera edged over and looked through the side of the spacecraft, the low battery warning flashed. The picture fuzzed, then went dark.

I sat back, hardly believing what I’d witnessed, trying to imagine the immense pain my grandfather had gone through that night and every day since.

She wasn’t dead. My grandmother had not died. She was in the game. I frowned as I pondered something else. Why had the CodeX taken her? When I’d gone into the game myself, though by accident, I’d chosen to return and had done so with no issues. Why couldn’t Grandma Alice do the same?

I remembered Ayesha’s warning about revealing to any character inside the CodeX that it was a game. Had my grandmother broken that rule? Had she made a mistake? Was that why she hadn’t returned?

An image of a man in his mid-thirties appeared on the screen, making me jump, and I recognised him at once.

Grandpa John sat at a table with the warehouse space behind him, though there were no rows packed full of games yet—only a few scattered boxes and crates here and there.

My grandfather’s face was decades younger but ashen. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was dishevelled, and his voice was solemn, devoid of life. “Macy won’t stop crying. Wants her mommy. How can I tell her what really happened?” Grandpa John leaned forward. “I will do whatever it takes to find Alice.” The screen went dark.

I sat there, waiting, holding my breath.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, he reappeared.

This time, Grandpa John was unshaven, with a month of beard growth.

“I’ve made some progress.” He zoomed the camera out, revealing the open CodeX box on the bench next to him. He held up the crystal key. “This thing was in the alien passenger’s pocket.” He set the crystal down and lifted out the leather CodeX, only it looked more of a greyish-brown in the weak artificial light. “And I found this inside. A book of some sort, filled with mumbo jumbo. Can’t make sense of it, but I will.”

He leaned forward, and the image snapped off again.

I remained frozen like a block of ice.

When the picture returned, Grandpa John paced, wringing his hands. “It’s a game.” His voice rippled with nervous excitement. “It’s a game, and they trapped Alice inside. She’s a prisoner.” He stopped and faced the camera. “Ayesha said the CodeX gives you what you desire in return for completing the levels—your wishes, your goals—and I want my wife back.” He leaned in close and smiled. “I’m coming to get you, baby.”

The image fizzed and disappeared.

I sat there, trying to process.

Grandpa John thought Grandma Alice had fallen into the game somehow, which I’d already gathered, but if that was the case, why hadn’t she popped back out right away? Why did he think she was trapped? A prisoner?

When I went into the CodeX game and met Ayesha, no time had passed, and she’d let me leave. Why hadn’t the same thing happened to Alice? The CodeX had kept her inside. For what purpose?

The whirring and clicking from the tape player grated on my nerves, so I reached for the Stop button, but an image snapped on.

Grandpa John again. However, this time he looked older, years older, and angry. He almost spat at the camera as he spoke, “I have completed three levels, countless times each, and I still can’t find her. Each pass, win or fail, the damn CodeX and Ayesha force me to write out what happened before they allow me back in, before I can restart or carry on.”

He held up the CodeX, revealing the first few pages, now blank, ready for my grandfather to write his experiences.

Grandpa John let out a huff of annoyance and lowered the book. “Wasting my time. I need to find her. Don’t want to use up my days writing in the damn CodeX. I need to—”

The image warped, and the player squeaked and groaned—its final death throes. I hit the Power button and sat back, scratching my chin.

After Grandpa John left the CodeX, the book forced him to write out what he’d just done inside the game before letting him back in for another attempt.

I blew out a puff of air. That explained how time halted when he or I went into the CodeX, and yet forty years had still gone by since Grandpa John had started his search for Alice—he’d spent those years writing in the real world trying to get back inside the game.

Which also meant that if I went into the game myself, I’d have to do the same when I came back. I would need to record what I had seen and done. How long will that take? I wasn’t a fast writer. It would mean delaying my or Grandpa John’s return to the CodeX world.

Now the symbol on the front of the CodeX made sense to me—it was a beacon, a sign, a lighted arrow pointing the way to the matching glyph on my grandmother’s locket. It was an invitation to find her. A challenge.

I sighed. I couldn’t comprehend my grandfather’s desperation, his pain, and I started to understand why he had wanted to show me the CodeX in the first place.

Even though I couldn’t fathom why he didn’t tell my mother and father and let them try too, I could only assume I was the last resort after forty years.

Or a new hope?

Either way, I knew what I had to do. I looked at the shelves of video games, and my chest swelled.

It was up to me.

Twelve

When I got back to the lodge, I fed Milo and made an early lunch, pretending nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Another boring day in the woods.

I was in shock. On autopilot.

As I sat at the kitchen table, eating a ham sandwich and munching my way through a packet of chocolate biscuits with reckless abandon, I imagined standing in front of the lodge with my grandmother in two weeks’ time, watching the taxi swing into the driveway. I pictured the look on Grandpa John’s face when he laid eyes on her.

Then I thought about Mum.

She believed her mother was dead and had tried to move on from the grief by living in London, burying herself in her career, marrying a guy with the same philosophy, and starting a family of her own.

It wasn’t fair I got two loving, though hard-working parents when my mum had grown up with practically none. But since moving to America, Mum and Dad were absent ninety percent of the time, so this was an opportunity to help us all.

My stomach did a backflip.

The CodeX was my chance to change our lives—to bring a wife, a mother, and a grandmother home.

If I found Grandma Alice, my parents would have even more reason to be around. They wouldn’t work so much. The lodge would become a place where we could be a real family.

Alice was the key to unlocking all of that.

I only prayed the game world wasn’t too difficult to control. Will Ayesha give me the option of an ultra-ultra, super-easy, talentless-and-uncoordinated-kid setting?

Shoving two more biscuits into my mouth—I was still a growing boy, after all—I stood and balled my fists as another wave of determination flowed through me.

No one would stop me.

I was going into the game to find her.

I would succeed where Grandpa John had failed.

And I would build our family the way we were meant to be.

Within the CodeX, I’d play the part of Captain Leonardo Cooper, hunting for magical artifacts, and I would do everything in my power to find Grandma Alice.

There remained one minor problem—the crystal key and its whereabouts.

I hoped Grandpa John hadn’t hidden it in one of his forty billion game cases at the observatory warehouse, or I was well and truly screwed.

I smiled to myself as I remembered waiting for him with the taxi driver. If Grandpa John had only been gone five minutes, there was no chance he’d made it up to the observatory and back in that time.

Which meant the crystal was in the house.

With a rush of adrenaline, I leapt to my feet, “Come on, Milo,” and marched into the sitting room. “We have a magical key to find.”

I turned to see the Pekingese lying on the tiled floor, his belly bulging and his head resting on his paws. He let out a small sigh and went to sleep.

“Are you serious? What’s the point of you?”

Milo didn’t respond.

Silly sod never did.

He understood what I said, though. All dogs did. They only pretended not to, because as soon as anyone uttered the word “biscuit,” even in a faint whisper from another part of the house, you got their full and undivided attention.

Facing the sitting room, I scanned every nook and cranny, my eyes crystal-seeking lasers hunting for potential hiding places. Apart from furniture, the sparse area only had a wooden sculpture of a bear next to the fireplace—no handy vases or ornaments to conceal crystal-key-sized items.

“If I were an old guy,” I muttered as I continued to scan the room, “where would I hide something from my grandson? Where would he think I wouldn’t search?”

I hurried to the leather chairs, thrust my hand down the back of each, and lifted cushions. I found three boiled sweets covered in liberal amounts of fluff, a ballpoint pen lid, one dollar and twenty-eight cents in change—woohoo—and last, quite bizarrely, a map of the London Underground.

I shrugged, tossing it all onto the nearest table. Then I examined a small wooden galleon on the mantelpiece, but there were no obvious hiding places there either.

I stepped back and scratched my chin. “Hmm.”

No way I was giving up.

“The bounty must be in here somewhere, right enough,” I said in a spot-on pirate’s accent. “Or me name ain’t Captain Leonardo Cooper.” I closed one eye and shook a fist. “Arrrrgh.” Then I regretted my team decision with Ayesha—perhaps I would’ve made a better cut-throat Kraython than a treasure-hunting Antarian.

Focusing on the task at hand, I guessed the key would be inside the lodge, but I doubted Grandpa John had stashed it in the kitchen—say, in a cereal box, or buried in the bottom of a coffee jar—because I was sure he wouldn’t risk either of my parents finding it by accident. After all, they’d seen Grandpa John give the crystal to me as a birthday present, so if it turned up somewhere odd, that would arouse their suspicions, especially in the case of my ever-distrustful mother.

Therefore, turning my Sherlock Holmes-esque mind to the problem, logic told me Grandpa John would not have hidden the key in a place with a high amount of Cooper family foot-traffic. Continuing to search the sitting room would be a waste of time. Besides, the bear sculpture looked heavy, and I was grateful not to have to move the damn thing.

I doubted the key would be in any of the bathrooms, it wasn’t in my room, and it wouldn’t be in my parents’ bedroom either, so . . .

I snapped my fingers. “Of course.”

Bloody obvious.

I ran down the hallway, stopped at a door on the right, then hesitated while I had second thoughts.

This was my grandfather’s bedroom.

His private space.

I shrugged and murmured, “Shouldn’t have lied to my mum about going on a hunting trip and hidden the blinkin’ key then, should you?”

I threw the door open and stepped inside.

I was sure he’d forgive me once I brought Grandma Alice home to the real world. I’d be the Cooper family hero forevermore.

My grandfather’s bedroom was like mine—around twenty feet square, with a double four-poster bed, walk-in closet, French doors leading to a veranda out back, and an en suite bathroom. However, unlike my room, a sideboard sat laden with photographs, and boxes overflowing with science magazines were stacked by the opposite wall.

A wooden statue stood in the room’s corner, an indigenous American boy with a feather headdress, moccasins, and breechcloth. His head was tipped back, and his hands were cupped around his face as though he was calling or shouting.

But that wasn’t the most impressive item in the room.

What drew my attention most were the forty detailed models strung from the ceiling by fishing wire, each made from card and wood. I recognised them as spaceships from the Antarian fleet.

I gazed up at them, trying to spot which was a Horizon-class ship so I could imagine being in command.

Not finding one, I stepped to the sideboard.

Picture frames took up every available atom of its surface, photographs in chronological order. On the far left sat the image I’d seen in my bedroom when I’d first arrived at the lodge—my mother as a baby, with a young Grandma Alice holding her, grinning at the camera.

I smiled back.

Next was a year later—my mother on Grandpa John’s knee, his arm around his wife. Alice wore the same gold locket on a chain, engraved with the infinity symbol.

The three of them looked so happy together.

The photos continued, one for every twelve months of my mother’s life, until I stopped at a nine-year-old standing alone in front of the lodge, scowling at the camera, her arms folded. My heart sank. This must have been taken after Grandma Alice vanished.

I moved along the sideboard, taking in solemn expressions, graduation, Mum with another woman I assumed was her aunt, and next, an image of my mother and father together, the start of family Cooper in our flat in London. The smile had returned to my mother’s face.

A few photographs and years later, a new baby appeared—an absolute stunner—and every photo from then on showed the three of us—me, Mum, and Dad, and one including Grandpa John when he’d visited us in London. He gave the camera an awkward half-smile, and I noticed a silver ring on his right hand. I leaned in. The ring had an engraving of a bird, but I couldn’t make out the detail.

I straightened up, frowning.

Grandpa John didn’t wear any jewellery. What happened to it? Did Grandma Alice give it to him? A treasured keepsake, maybe? Where is it now?

Looking back at the first image of Grandpa John, Alice, and Mum, I felt more determined than ever to find my grandmother. “Right,” I snarled. “Where’s the damn key?”

I looked under the bed. Nothing there.

Next, I checked the sideboard drawers, but they only held t-shirts, socks and underwear, a travel wash kit, and a bottle of prehistoric aftershave.

I peered behind the curtains and the indigenous American boy, and searched in the bathroom, the closet, and even on the veranda, but there was still no sign of the key. I closed the French doors in disgust, frustration gnawing my insides.

My attention moved to the floorboards. I was checking for loose ones with my foot when I froze.

My gaze drifted to the fleet of model spaceships above my head, and a huge grin spread across my face.

Thirteen

Knowing I was onto something, excitement coursed through me as I reached up to the first model spaceship in Grandpa John’s bedroom and hefted its weight before letting it rest at the end of its fishing line again.

One down, thirty-nine to go.

The key had to be nearby.

My anticipation grew as I pictured myself opening the box and going into the game.

I’d gone through twenty spacecraft when I lifted a ship with a wide body and stubby, wing-like shapes fixed to each side. My smile returned.

It was a lot heavier than the others.

No way card and balsa could weigh so much.

I circled the spaceship, looking for a way to open the model, giving the sides and front an experimental poke here and there until I stopped at the aft section. A cargo door took up most of the rear. I pressed my finger at the top, and hey presto, it swung down.

Standing on tiptoe, I peeked inside.

Something’s in there.

My heart raced as I reached in with my thumb and forefinger and pulled out a metal canister five inches long.

Stepping back, I unscrewed the lid and upended it, emptying the contents into my other hand.

My face dropped.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Not a key.

Not even close.

“Oh, come on.” A wave of despondency washed over me.

The first object was black and rectangular, with grooves at one end and a clear window at the other. Inside was a blue crystal held by a delicate silver clasp. The second was a cube, around the size of a dice, made of a dull grey metal. The third item was a glass rod, two inches long.

These meant something to my grandfather. Maybe they were pieces of alien technology he’d taken from the crashed taxi. Otherwise, why hide them?

But seeing as none of them were a key, I let out an annoyed huff, shoved the objects back into the canister, screwed on the lid, and returned it to the cargo hold of the model spacecraft. Grumbling under my breath, I continued checking the weight of each ship.

When I reached the end, the last model being empty, I sat on the edge of the bed, and my shoulders slumped.

Fine. Grandpa John had won. Brav-blinking-o.

I had no idea where he’d hidden the key.

It could have been in a million places.

I straightened up. That wasn’t true; there were only a finite number of hidey-holes to stash the key.

Shrugging off my irritation, I jumped to my feet, and as I stepped from Grandpa John’s room and closed the door behind me, another hiding place presented itself—the grandfather clock.

Grandfather.

Really?

Can it be that obvious?

I hurried over, opened the front panel, and let out a huge sigh of relief. Then I did a little jig on the spot, flinging my arms about like a lunatic and throwing in several whoops for good measure.

Sure enough, there it lay—resting in the bottom of the cabinet, beneath the swinging pendulum.

B-to-the-I.N.G.O.

I snatched up the key, and as I closed the panel, Milo huffed and puffed along the hallway toward me.

“Too late.” I waved the crystal at him. “Thanks for all your help, though, Watson. Much appreciated. The game is afoot.”

I marched into my bedroom.

Milo came waddling in after me as I slid the box from under the bed, placed it on the mattress, unlocked it, and swung the lid open.

I ran my finger over the infinity symbol, the same glyph engraved on my grandmother’s locket, and vowed to do whatever it took to bring her home.

No sooner had I straightened up and taken a step back than the crystal in the CodeX glowed, gaining in intensity.

“Back in a second.” I winked at Milo and lifted my chin. “Horizon Eighteen, prepare for the amazing, the incredible Captain Leonardo Cooper.”

As the point of light rose into the room, I thought of my grandmother. “Find her, find her,” I muttered under my breath. “Please help me find Alice Bowman.”

Warmth radiated through me, the walls vanished, and the world spun in a streak of colour. The furniture in my room turned to dust smeared across my vision, everything twisted, and my stomach wanted to twist with it.

Oh no.

I lost all feeling, and blackness took over, shoving away the colours and the light, spinning ever faster, twisting, spiralling, and then a sudden sinking sensation dropped through me, as though I were falling into a bottomless pit where nothing existed.

For several seconds I didn’t seem to exist either, then an ear-splitting alarm sounded in my ears. I jumped and slammed my head into something solid.

“Ow.”

I lifted my hand to rub the sore spot, but it also hit a flat surface a few centimetres in front of me.

Double ow.

I forced my eyes open.

Instead of finding myself on the bridge of a ship, in command of a loyal crew who adored me—or even a random corridor somewhere would have done nicely, like when I’d met Ayesha—I was in a freaking coffin.

The casket was not much bigger than me, with a weak yellow light glowing dully inside, and barely a few inches all around to spare. Every time I tried to shift, to bend an arm or leg, I banged into it.

My body shook, my heart raced, and my breath came in rapid bursts as I fought the urge to scream.

This box was my worst nightmare.

In front of my face was a narrow window looking out into blackness.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted to be sick.

To make matters worse, the health meter appeared in the top right of my vision. Very little of the green circle remained, and the number eight flashed in the middle.

My eyes almost popped from their sockets.

Eight percent health left?

The alarm screeched again, making me recoil, and a disembodied voice said, “Oxygen level critical.”

I was going to die.

Mum would be furious.

Fourteen

Darkness encroached on the outer edges of my vision, and I started shaking as my health meter dropped to seven percent. I could feel myself slipping away, getting weaker by the moment, the cold hands of oblivion clawing at my flesh.

“CodeX, on.” I remembered my conversation with Ayesha as though it were a thousand years ago. “CodeX on.”

Nothing. No words appeared in front of me.

“Please,” I murmured. “CodeX, exit. CodeX, send me home.”

No help.

No guide.

No way out of the game.

Six percent health remaining.

My vision continued to tunnel, narrower and narrower. My fingers and toes tingled from the lack of oxygen, and the sensation crept up my arms and legs. It was only a matter of seconds before I lost consciousness.

The game was malfunctioning.

It had to be.

A faraway horrible thought struck me. Is that why Grandma Alice never returned to Colorado?

My mind slowed to a crawl.

No.

Five percent health remaining.

I refused to go out like this.

In one final, sluggish, desperate attempt to escape my tiny prison, I moved my numb, cold feet and hands along the walls of the casket, searching for anything I—

My fingers touched a smooth handle with rounded edges.

I rolled my head to one side and peered down, but my vision blurred and sparkled, and I could not get a clear view. So, with nothing else for it, I prayed the blackness beyond the casket’s window wasn’t a worse fate than my sleepy tomb.

I tugged on the lever, and something released. A loud rush of air shot along the right side of the casket and blasted across my body, making my ears pop.

I took a deep breath, and a wave of instant relief flooded into my lungs.

Air.

Breathable air.

Thank the virtual gods.

I remained still for a few minutes, my chest rising and falling, my vision returning to normal, strength and consciousness coming back with every tug of oxygen. I was happy to be alive, happy my mother wouldn’t have to go through a second tragedy in her life.

Five percent health crept up to six, ten, fourteen, and then stuck at nineteen.

I’d take it.

I tried to get a grip and shook my head, clearing the grogginess.

This could not be a normal start to a CodeX game. Grandpa John had mentioned nothing in his video diary, and I was sure he would have if something so severe had happened to him.

After counting my lucky stars and waiting a sufficient amount of time for any permanent brain damage to present itself, I placed my hands on the underside of the casket and shoved with all my might.

The lid swung open like a heavy vault door, and I drifted out into blackness.

I tried to turn, to look back at the casket, but my arms and legs merely flailed about.

Weightless.

It should have felt amazing—like flying—but the sensation was one of the most disconcerting feelings I’d ever experienced. There was no gravity, so I had no way to tell which direction was up or down. Is my head the right way up? Are my feet pointing at the ceiling? Maybe neither. Maybe there was no ceiling, no floor, no wall—

My elbow bumped into something solid, and I recoiled at the sharp pain in my arm.

Take that back.

There was at least one wall.

The wooden casket I had escaped from swung into view, its faint yellow interior light glowing in the void, and it glided past me.

No, I drifted past it.

Or are we both moving?

I continued through the darkness.

Helpless.

Alone.

Reasoning I couldn’t be in outer space because I’d be very much dead, I wondered whether the game hadn’t loaded properly.

Is this a glitch?

Has it not rendered?

I shouldn’t feel pain, though. That’s not how video games work.

A blinding white light snapped on, sending a fresh wave of agony to stab at my retinas. I raised my hands in defence and squinted.

When my eyes adjusted, I found myself in a square room with wood-panelled walls and two doors facing one another, each around six feet wide and nine tall, constructed of steel and held together by rivets.

I recognised it as the same décor from Ayesha’s demonstration of the Horizon Eighteen spaceship. I made a swimming motion in the air, trying to get to the nearest wall. The casket continued floating, turning . . .

Much to my surprise and relief, my efforts paid off, and I grabbed hold of a ceiling beam.

I breathed heavily, holding on tight.

“This is insane.”

Below and to the right of me was a door. I thought I could make it, so I moved along the wall like a rock climber, making sure I had at least one solid handhold before I continued on. My legs floated beneath me, useless appendages banging into the ceiling and making me swear.

I made it to the doorframe and edged my way down.

Toward the top was a handle attached to a slider around a foot square, like a large viewing window on a jail cell. I pulled it across and peered through.

It took almost a full minute for my tiny excuse of a brain to process what I was looking at. The more I saw, the more I understood, the more my blood ran cold.

Beyond was nothing but the vastness of outer space.

Somewhere behind the ship must have been a sun or a bright light source, because everything before me was lit up in horrifying detail.

Gone was the entire fleet of Antarian spacecraft, or to be more precise, all that remained was their splintered wreckage. Billions of pieces of ships, some as big as buildings, others like grains of sand, drifted, hitting each other and flying off in random directions.

I gaped. “What the hell happened?”

A loud bang made me raise my fists.

I let out a nervous breath as I realised the casket had hit the wall behind me.

Gathering my senses, I focused on the door opposite and pushed off too hard. I shot across the room and slammed into it, almost breaking my wrists, then ricocheted off another wall, bouncing like a ping-pong ball in a dryer.

I flew back to the door and gripped the frame above it, wincing at the pain in my wrists and my now-battered and bruised arms and legs.

I slid the plate aside and peered through.

Beyond was a wide hallway with the same wood-panelled walls, but it was crammed with cabinets chock-full of antiques and curios—everything from candlesticks, coins, and ornaments to fossils, rocks, and a mummified hand.

Opposite, thick curtains drifted apart, revealing a window with another vista across the spaceship graveyard.

I studied the corridor. Its structure seemed undamaged, and I couldn’t very well stay in the airlock room for the rest of my life.

The health meter in the corner of my vision stuck resolutely on nineteen percent. Taking a deep breath, I examined the door but could not find a handle or lock.

“Hey.” I banged my fist on the metal. “Anyone there?” I turned my ear to the glass.

No answer.

I threw my hand up in frustration, and to my utter astonishment, the door hissed open.

Okay. Does it work by gestures, or was that a coincidence?

Either way, I wasn’t staying put, so I glided through, gripping the frame on the other side.

The hallway curved, obscuring my view of the other end, and I guessed the fact I was still breathing meant there couldn’t be any gaping holes in the ship’s hull or open doors leading to outer space.

Iron brackets held the cabinets to the floor, and I examined the floating contents of the next one.

Drifting above the top shelf were spearheads, knives with ivory handles, golden figurines of hooded people, several medallions of various shapes and sizes, and an octagonal watch with a royal-blue face, four silver hands, and foreign symbols around its outer edge.

I pulled back with a frown, and my gaze moved to the other cabinets. There must have been thousands of objects, and the whole place looked like a crazy, over-packed museum.

Focused on the window again, I calculated that if I glided over to the frame, near the ceiling, then pushed off toward the top of the curve, I could grab the beam opposite the next window—watching out for the cabinets—peer around the corner, and gauge my next move from there.

My tongue poked out as I concentrated, and I launched myself, not so forcefully this time, gliding across the hallway with my hands outstretched like Superman, aiming for the top of the window.

I was doing it.

Now I really was flying, and it was incredible.

Someone flew down the corridor, heading to the same window—a girl, perhaps a year younger than me, fifteen. She had white hair tied back, her body stretched in a graceful pose. Her arms and legs were robotic, their interior mechanisms visible behind toughened glass. She wore a long hooded dark grey coat with split sleeves over a navy shirt, black trousers with sections cut away, and ankle boots.

If she was an alien, she wasn’t what I’d expected.

The cyborg girl also wore a blue crystal around her neck, like the one embedded into the CodeX, along with a vambrace—a wide metal cuff—on her right arm, set with more glowing crystals. Bolts of energy crackled over their surfaces.

The girl reached the beam first, turned, and sprang toward me, her expression twisted with rage.

I held up my hands, but it was no use. She roared and slammed into me, sending us both flying, and we crashed into the nearest cabinet.

“What are you doing?” I shouted, cringing with pain and trying to push her off me.

Helpless to do anything about it, my health meter dropped to seventeen percent.

The cyborg girl somersaulted over me in one deft move, and the next second, she had me in a choke-hold, her arm squeezing my neck on both sides.

I tried to cry out, but no air escaped my lips. Once again my world turned grey, and my vision tunnelled.

Sixteen percent health remaining, fifteen . . .

The world started greying around the edges.

“Skylar, stop it.”

Another girl, my age and looking all human—as far as I could tell—sailed toward us, and her long coat fluttered behind her like a cape. She had dark, pixie-cropped hair and wore round sunglasses with a blue crystal embedded into one arm.

The new girl grabbed Skylar the cyborg and tried to loosen her grip on my arm. “Stop.”

“Mason’s dead because of him,” Skylar screamed.

“You’re wrong,” the other girl shouted back.

“Get off, Eve.” Skylar shoved her away, and Eve flew backward, tumbling like a leaf on the breeze.

Skylar opened the door behind us, spun me to face the airlock, planted her feet between my shoulders, and launched me forward.

I flew across the room and slammed into the opposite wall. “Argh.” My health dropped to fourteen percent, the greyed edges of my vision increasing.

I turned back in time to see the other door closing, sealing me inside again.

“No.” I pushed off, sailed back, and grabbed the doorframe, peering through the window. “What are you doing?”

Eve returned with a determined look on her face, wrestling with Skylar to try and stop her, but the younger girl was far too strong. She shoved Eve away, and the crystals in her vambrace glowed, sending blue, green, and purple smoke twisting into the air.

The smoke passed through the door, and I covered my mouth, fearful of breathing it in, but it drifted past, hit the opposite door, and next came the sound of wrenching metal.

Skylar screwed up her face as pulses of energy rippled along the smoke.

“What are you doing?” I trembled as the metal door flexed. “CodeX, on. CodeX, exit. CodeX, bloody stop this game.”

Skylar huffed, the smoke dissipated, and the wrenching sound stopped.

She reached down by the door. I moved to one side and watched her in the reflection from the opposite hallway window. She removed a wall panel, revealing two red levers.

“What are they?” I couldn’t quite see, but, as a general rule, from sixteen years of life experience, big red levers meant nothing good.

“Emergency override for the airlock door,” Skylar said, her voice coming from an overhead speaker.

I glanced over my shoulder. “That one?” I said in a shrill voice. “The one that leads to outer space?”

“Skylar, don’t.” Eve took her companion’s arm. “You can’t do this.”

“I can.” Skylar grabbed one lever. “This is for killing my brother.” She spat at me.

I tensed and threw up my hands. “CodeX, help.”

The blue crystal on the side of Eve’s glasses crackled with energy and she grabbed Skylar’s wrist. “Wait. He’s got a CodeX.” She stared at me for several seconds, scanning slowly up and down, pausing here and there, and I could not read her expression behind the sunglasses.

Skylar broke free of her grasp. “He’s talking crap.” She went to grab the lever again, but Eve stopped her for a second time.

Eve stared at my forehead and waved a hand at me. “He does have a CodeX implant.”

“He does not,” Skylar snapped.

Eve removed her sunglasses, revealing deep emerald-green eyes, and offered the glasses to Skylar. “Look for yourself.”

Skylar snatched the sunglasses from Eve, but instead of putting them on her face, she held them up, peering through one of the lenses.

After a moment, her jaw dropped.

“Well?” Eve said. “Do you see?”

Fifteen

I’d held my breath for so long, waiting for the judge and executioner, AKA Cyborg Skylar, to come to a verdict, that my lungs were about to burst through my ribcage.

Was the robotic-limbed lunatic going to flush me into outer space or not?

My health had crept back up to seventeen percent and my vision had returned to normal, but there it remained.

“Well?” Eve repeated, breaking the silence between the three of us and asking the all-important question. “You’ve seen he has an implant in his head, right?”

She was talking about the CodeX, but an implant? In my head? Is that how these people see it?

I couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of something crammed into my skull, but it still made better sense than carrying a book with me. I was glad I hadn’t chosen that option when Ayesha had suggested it, because the leather-bound tome would be floating around the airlock right about now.

Why doesn’t the dumb thing work, though? The CodeX was a guide, supposed to help me through the game, but it malfunctioned when I needed it most.

I touched a bruise on my arm.

If this is a game, why does it hurt so much?

My keen, finely tuned instincts told me something had gone wrong.

Horribly wrong.

And it meant my life was in danger.

Well, duh.

Skylar hesitated for several more seconds, then handed the sunglasses back to Eve and nodded.

I let out a breath. Eve smiled at me as she slipped the sunglasses back on, clearly also relieved I wasn’t about to be murdered, but I couldn’t return the smile because I had a thousand questions.

Plus, I was still in a freakin’ airlock, with outer space and certain death mere feet away.

However, now was not the time to ask silly questions or say anything rash. I didn’t think it would take much to piss Skylar off again. I liked my head attached to my neck and my organs not frozen like a bag of ice cubes, floating around space with all the junk.

Eve raised her arm as if to open the door, but Skylar stopped her.

My stomach tensed.

Now what’s her problem?

Skylar fixed me with a stern expression. “Who are you?”

I fought not to show any outward emotion, remembering Ayesha’s threat of dire consequences if I revealed to these people that their universe was nothing but a game. Given my current situation, I didn’t think it wise to push my luck.

I lifted my chin. “I am Captain Leonardo Cooper.”

Eve and Skylar both blinked, then burst out laughing, head-tipping, stomach-clutching cackles that cut through me.

My cheeks flushed. “Why did you say I killed your brother?” I retorted, trying to shut them up.

It did. Right away.

Both faces dropped.

Skylar’s expression hardened. “Because of you, he’s dead.”

I felt bad for what I’d said, even though it wasn’t my fault. How could it be? Perhaps my character had been a mass-murdering psychopath before I’d arrived and taken over his body, but I was not that dude.

I looked down, but, as with my Ayesha demonstration earlier, I still wore my real-world jeans and shirt, and the faint outline in the window reflected my features back at me. Not a stranger’s, not an avatar or an alien.

I turned my head.

Yep, that was me, all right. Or a digital representation of me, at least. I touched my face. The game was so realistic—an odd feeling.

Returning my attention to Skylar, I tried to sound sincere and truthful, speaking in what I hoped came across as a calm, level tone, though my stomach squirmed as my emotions edged closer to full-on panic. “I didn’t do anything to anyone.”

“I’ll ask again.” She leaned toward the glass. “Who are you? Where are you from? What division?”

“I only know my name,” I lied, hoping she believed me. “I’ve lost my memory. Last thing I remember is being in that damn box.” I jerked my thumb at the casket floating in the corner of the airlock room.

“Stasis bed,” Eve said.

“Bed?” I repeated. “You call that coffin a bed? Why was I in it?”

Still not opening the door, Skylar raised her arm with the vambrace, and I recoiled.

The crystals glowed blue, and energy rippled across the back of her hand like water. She twisted her fingers and projected a holographic image onto the window between us, displaying a security camera recording of the hallway with both doors to the airlock room open.

Two kids appeared.

One looked younger than me—fifteen, same as Skylar, with white hair, dark eyes, and a slender physique. From his matching robotic arms and legs and general appearance, I gathered he was Skylar’s twin brother.

I gauged the other guy to be around fourteen, but rather than being human like Eve, Skylar, and her brother—apart from the latter two’s cyborg limbs, of course—this new kid reminded me of the aliens from the crashed taxi.

What had Grandpa John called them?

Jyerool?

The alien boy had similar features to a human, but larger than normal eyes, dreadlocked red hair, and dark greyish skin with tinges of pink in his cheeks.

He wore a vambrace too, although his extended over the back of his right hand, complete with another blue crystal.

Both kids also wore all-in-one jumpsuits with hard-shell packs, and they struggled between them to drag a stasis bed into the airlock.

I glanced over my shoulder, then back. While there was only space and destruction outside now, the holographic video showed a long, red-walled corridor.

Skylar’s brother used his vambrace to send wisps of blue and purple magical smoke across the stasis bed’s lid. “I still can’t open it.”

My stomach tightened.

I didn’t need to ask who was inside.

Skylar paused the image and pointed at him. “That’s Mason,” she snapped. Then she nodded at the alien kid. “That’s Kelvin. He also died because of you.”

I ground my teeth. Nice to see she was determined to blame me for something I hadn’t done.

The recording resumed.

The door between the airlock and the hallway was closed, but through the window I could see two other stasis beds, with Eve and Skylar’s pale faces behind glass.

Mason’s vambrace glowed. He went to open the hallway door with a gesture, but a bang jolted the ship and sent him flying across the room, slamming into the opposite wall. My stasis bed did the same, sliding along the floor and missing him by fractions of an inch.

“Suits,” Mason screamed.

Both kids pressed their shoulders, and helmets sprung from their collars, covering their heads. A split second later, a section of wall tore from the red hallway.

Air blasted from the airlock room, pushing Kelvin out of the door and through the hole in the wall into space.

Mason took hold of the door frame, his face screwed up, and reached forward, waving his hand from side to side. As he did so, another explosion ripped the back section of the ship clean off, driving Mason down the red hallway with it. The airlock door slammed, and my stasis bed lifted into the air as the artificial gravity failed.

Skylar lowered her arm, and the image vanished.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it. “If I’d had any control over what happened . . .”

Tears filled Skylar’s eyes, literally. Instead of streaming down her face, they balled in the corners, growing larger with every silent sob, until she brushed them away, sending them drifting through the air to splash against the nearest wall.

Eve rested a hand on her shoulder. “Let him out,” she said in a hushed voice. “Kelvin was right. We need all the help we can get. It wasn’t Leo’s fault. The boys must have known he has a CodeX implant. That’s why they rescued him. They were trying to save us all.”

Skylar sniffed, brushed away more tears, and raised her arm, but the overhead lights flickered and went out, plunging us into darkness.

Great.

Now what?

Sixteen

I gripped the airlock doorframe and floated in complete blackness as more debris thudded into the ship’s hull, sending tremors into my fingertips and along my arms.

Two spots of light appeared in the gloom on the other side of the window as both Skylar and Eve held up their glowing vambraces, lighting the airlock.

“What’s going on?” My chest tightened with every impact and muted explosion.

Eve’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

I checked the speaker grate above the door. No power.

Duh.

Ethereal smoke swirled around Skylar’s vambrace and into the door itself, but after a few seconds, she opened a panel to the side. She messed about with the mechanism for a minute, pumping one of the levers up and down, then gave up on that too, shaking her head at Eve.

I guessed that meant I was trapped.

Again.

Awesome.

After a brief, animated consultation with Skylar, Eve turned back to the window and signalled me to pay attention to her. She paused for a beat and mouthed a single word.

I stared at her, not sure, assuming I’d read her lips incorrectly.

At least I hoped I had.

She repeated the word. “Herpes.”

Hmm.

“Herpes,” she said again, gesturing over my shoulder.

I shook my head.

Nope.

Eve and Skylar had another quick exchange and came up with an alternative plan.

Now they were attempting sign language.

Great.

First Skylar pointed at me, then gestured at the other door, finishing up by making a pulling motion with her fingers.

“You want me to go over there?”

Both of them nodded.

“Fine.” I turned around and pushed off the wall.

I was getting the hang of this weightless nonsense now. The only problem was, with the last movement, I realised how sick I felt.

Like, really unwell.

Sweating too.

A lot.

And my head throbbed.

Was I losing oxygen or suffering from motion sickness?

As if in answer, my stomach churned, and bile rose into my throat, so my guess fell squarely on the latter theory. When I flew to the States with Mum and Dad, I had taken travel-sickness tablets beforehand. Then I’d spent most of the flight in a drowsy stupor.

No such luck here.

I grabbed the opposite doorframe and closed my eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help. The feeling got worse as my body drifted beneath me. Or above me? I still had no sense of which way was up or down, and my brain seemed to slosh about my skull cavity like jelly in a bucket of water.

Every part of my concentration fought the urge to hurl. I gritted my teeth, opened my eyes, and faced the other door.

I frowned as Skylar and Eve pointed to my left.

Nothing there—only a blank wall next to the door.

I shrugged, but Eve and Skylar still pointed, insisting I looked closer.

Eve resumed mouthing, “Herpes.”

Turning my body in the air, I hand-walked down the outer edge of the door, my attention on the wall. Finally, I spotted it—a circular handle an inch in diameter embedded into the surrounding woodwork.

Eve motioned for me to grab it and pull. I did and yanked a section of wall panel away.

Revealed was a cavity—a locker complete with a jumpsuit, and another all-in-one outfit hanging behind—with a thick, solid collar and belt. To the side of those hung a backpack like the ones Mason and Kelvin had worn. Above the locker, a plaque read: EMERGENCY EVA SUIT.

Both Eve and Skylar pointed above the suit itself.

Eve continued to mouth, “Herpes,” while Skylar said, “Hatchet.”

Confused, I looked again, and that’s when I noticed a recess toward the top of the locker. I pulled out a semi-circular grey band around half an inch thick and five inches in diameter.

The girls gestured for me to place it around my head, above my ears.

I slid the band down. It moved, gripping my skull, and I fought the urge to tug the band free and throw it away.

“Can you hear us?”

I spun around.

Eve’s voice came from my mind, like listening to an audiobook or a podcast with stereo headphones on, but somehow this really sounded as though it came from inside my skull.

I tried not to shudder. “I can hear you.”

“Good.” Eve talked into her vambrace. “We normally use these, but you haven’t got one, so the band is the next best thing.”

A shadow moved past the window behind her, followed by a loud boom, and the entire spaceship trembled.

My grip slipped from the doorframe, my body twisted in the air, and I bumped into a side wall. Swearing, I pushed off and returned to the locker.

“Are you two okay?” I asked.

“We’re fine,” Eve said. “Space debris.”

Skylar raised her arm, gestured with her fingers, and brought up a three-dimensional schematic of the ship. “This section is about to break away,” she said. “We need to move forward.” She faced Eve, her expression panicked. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“What happened?” I said. “What’s going on?”

Skylar’s expression darkened. “They destroyed the whole Antarian fleet.”

“Destroyed?” I said. “Who? And why?”

“We don’t know yet,” Eve said. “The fleet was well-protected. It must have been someone very powerful.”

“Kraythons.” Skylar pointed along the corridor and addressed me. “Meet us there if you want to live. The manual door controls between us are jammed.”

“Over half of the ship has gone,” Eve said. “But we think the bridge is intact. We were heading up there to see the captain, and you need to come with us.”

“If the captain’s alive,” Skylar murmured. “If anyone’s left alive.”

Eve rounded on her. “Don’t say that. We’re here, which means others will be too.” She faced me again. “There’s another emergency airlock down that way, and the hatch is still working. You must get to it and—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I said in sudden realisation. “Hold up. You want me to go outside? Into space? In all the floaty, cold, dangerous stuff?”

They were insane.

My health meter had returned to nineteen percent, but it wasn’t budging further. I wanted at least one hundred before I attempted something so foolhardy.

I gave Eve a dubious look. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

Skylar waved a dismissive hand. “Let him die in there.”

She went to leave, but Eve gripped her arm.

“He has a CodeX implant. The captain will need him.”

“An implant which doesn’t work.” Skylar shrugged herself free. “What use is it to any of us unless it’s active?”

I wondered if there was a way to stop it all. Can I get a message to Ayesha, or, failing that, the outside world? I peered around the airlock. But how? Will the bridge have something I can use?

Another bang rumbled through the ship, followed by the sounds of wrenching metal and cracking wood.

Eve indicated the locker. “Put on both parts of the suit.”

“These will keep me alive?” The outfits were nothing like the bulky space suits astronauts wore. Especially the first one, which was skintight, more appropriate for an interpretive dance recital or ballet performance, and right at that moment, I felt like doing neither.

“Put the undersuit on first.” Eve pointed. “And then the looser-fitting EVA suit over the top.”

Yet another rumble tore through the ship.

Skylar peered about her. “This hallway can only take a few more hits, and it will tear free. We need to get to the other end and seal the next bulkhead door. Let’s leave him and go.”

“He has a CodeX,” Eve hissed. “He’s worth the risk. Be patient.”

Skylar glared at her vambrace readout. “A few minutes more. That’s it.”

I huffed and muttered under my breath as I unhooked the first suit from the locker. The back of it hung open, so, floating across the room in a slightly-less-than-graceful manner, I tried to slip my legs inside.

“No,” Eve said, interrupting me. “You can’t put it on over your clothes.”

I bounced off the wall and grimaced at her as I rolled past the window. “Seriously?” I still wore what I’d had on in Colorado—jeans, a shirt, and trainers. Perhaps the CodeX had duplicated them for the game.

I wasn’t sure about anything.

The entire world was a nightmare.

One where I would surely die.

I drifted back to the inner door, grabbed the frame with my free hand, and looked back at the girls. “Can I at least keep my underwear on?”

“Eww.” Skylar turned away.

Eve grinned and faced the other direction too.

I gained an appreciation for astronauts because of how damn-near impossible it is to get changed in a zero-g environment. One second you’re floating, the next you’re bouncing off the nearest blinkin’ wall.

I have never sworn so much in my life.

With no gravity and nothing to steady myself against, every movement sent me twisting around like a drowning maggot.

I managed to take off my shirt, jeans, and trainers, which required more effort and concentration than I had given anything in my entire life, and I threw them away, only to have my jeans return a while later and wrap around my face.

Once I’d slipped my feet down the legs of the spacesuit, I hoped it would get easier, but no. No, life couldn’t be that simple, could it?

After an encouraging and extremely helpful, “Are you done yet? Hurry up,” from Skylar, followed by, “What are you playing at, oolak?” which I guessed was her way of calling me a moron, I wriggled my arms into their respective sleeves and shook, rattled, and rolled myself into the suit.

Then, with a heavy sigh, I unclipped the other suit and slipped it on over the top.

Panting, with sweat beading on my forehead, I clipped the belt together and was about to say I’d finished, except for how the heck did they expect me to zip up the back of the stupid things, when a warm sensation radiated across my lower back as they fastened. Then the whole undersuit moved, tightening around me.

It loosened again.

“Argh.”

Both girls turned to the window.

“What’s wrong?” Eve asked.

The undersuit tightened, loosened, tightened, loosened . . .

Squeezing, relaxing, squeezing, relaxing . . .

I relayed this information to Eve in breathless gasps.

“He can’t control it,” Skylar said as more debris thudded into the ship. “Leave him. We’re done.”

“Give him a chance,” Eve said.

Skylar glared at her. “We’re going to die here.”

“You’ve bonded to the suit,” Eve said to me. “But you need to control it.”

The spacesuit kept tightening and loosening.

“How?”

“Relax,” Eve said. “And focus.”

I took a breath and did as she suggested. The suit’s underlayer tightened, loosened, then the back finally sealed shut.

After a couple of seconds—making sure it wasn’t going to move again—I ran my hands over the fabric, feeling ribs, spars, and tubes woven into the lower layer, while the upper layer remained loose fitting. The spacesuit had adjusted to my frame and was creating even pressure on every limb and muscle fibre. The material covering my chest, shoulders, elbows, forearms, hips, shins, and knees expanded and hardened to form solid armour, like an exoskeleton protecting the vulnerable parts of my body.

To say it felt weird would be an understatement, but at the same time, it offered me a reassuring, comfortable experience, as though I’d been wrapped in a blanket. I flexed my arms and legs, and though the suit made some resistance, they still moved freely.

Nearing a wall, I gave it a light tap and drifted back to the EVA locker. Once there, I held onto the frame and turned around.

“Put on the gloves, boots, and pack,” Eve said as another shudder rumbled through the ship, followed by more wrenching metal and a loud snapping sound.

This time I could hold onto the locker with one hand while the other set to work. Once gloves and boots were in place and secure, I examined the hard-shell pack. It was light grey with several holes along the outside edge. Three jets—at least I thought they were jets—protruded from the back section.

I pulled it on. The straps tightened across my shoulders, and a panel slid in front of my chest.

Okay, now I smiled.

“What is this?”

“Life support and MMU,” Skylar said, glancing over her shoulder. “We need to hurry, Eve. This is ridiculous. We’re wasting time with this oolak.”

“What’s an MMU?” I asked, ignoring Miss Pessimism.

“Like a space jetpack,” Eve said.

My smile turned into a cheesy grin.

That made it official.

Sound the fanfare.

I was a Rocketman.

“You won’t use it,” Skylar huffed, ruining the moment. “You only need the air supply. You’ll use handholds on the ship’s hull to get about.”

My face fell, and I peered into the empty locker. “Where’s the helmet?”

“Hold your right hand to your left shoulder,” Eve said.

“Oh, yeah.” I remembered the video of Mason and Kelvin.

I did as she instructed, and strips rose from my collar, covering the sides, back, and top of my head, and a visor dropped in front of my face.

I immediately let out a small whimper and held my hand to my shoulder again.

The helmet folded away, and I floated there for a second, trying to get my breathing and my racing heart under control.

“What’s wrong with him now?” Skylar snapped.

“Nothing,” I said. “Give me a minute.”

“We haven’t got a minute left, oolak.”

I wished she’d stop calling me that.

With regards to my reaction, I wasn’t claustrophobic as such, but suffered from cleithrophobia—fear of being trapped in small spaces. And a helmet, apparently, counted as a small space.

Who knew?

I was glad my sickness had reduced in intensity because the thought of chucking up in the helmet would have sent me over the edge.

A loud explosion shook the spaceship.

“Time’s up,” Skylar shouted. “We’re out of here.”

She shoved off, and her feet disappeared past the cabinets, down the hallway.

I balled my fists, knowing this was the only way I would survive, so I took a deep breath and pressed my left shoulder again, allowing the helmet to engage.

The visor dropped—complete with a heads-up display showing oxygen levels, internal and external temperatures, and a whole host of other crap I didn’t understand—but my nineteen percent health remained in place.

Sigh.

I tried to concentrate on the job in hand and turned to Eve. “What’s next?”

“Panel on the other side of the door.”

I made my way over to it, found the panel in question, and swung it open. A single red handle sat inside.

“Manual release,” Eve said. “Crank that several times, and the door will open. Go outside and keep to the right side of the ship. There’ll be handrails along the hull every few feet. Don’t move too fast, and you’ll be fine.”

“Sure, I will.” I offered her a weak smile and was about to grab the handle when I froze. “Wait. I’ve forgotten something really, really important.”

“Seriously?” Eve’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Earlier, when you were mouthing stuff through the window, what were you saying?” I tilted my head. “Herpes?”

Eve’s cheeks flushed. “Headpiece. The communication band you’re wearing.”

“Oh,” I said. “Headpiece. Gotcha. Makes sense now.” I frowned. “What about Skylar? She wasn’t saying hatchet?”

“Headset.”

“Right.” I turned to the door, mentally scratching lip-reader off my list of future career choices. “Wish me luck.” I gripped the handle. “Opening in three, two, one . . .” I cranked it, screwing my face up with the effort.

Air blasted from the airlock, shoving me through the door and into outer space.

Seventeen

I shot out of the airlock like a human cannonball at a circus, but somehow grabbed the doorframe at the last second. I screamed as pain tore through the muscles and tendons, every fiber and sinew of my arms threatening to tear them from my shoulders. My health dropped to fifteen percent and the greyed edges of my vision returned, yet I still managed to hold on.

While I was helpless to do anything about it, the smartphone Dad had given me for my sixteenth birthday sailed past, along with my Earthling clothes and stasis bed, and disappeared into the blackness of outer space, mixing with all the floating crap.

A second after that, the pressure eased.

Wincing, the only sound coming from my raspy breaths, I stared into the vastness of space, feeling oddly detached as the debris of hundreds of broken ships floated past my feet—mainly shattered wood and twisted metal. Had those been a good choice for spacecraft material?

Shaking myself, I squinted through the other door’s window, now like a hatch above my head. To my surprise, Eve was still there.

“Go,” I said. “Get to safety.”

“You all right?”

I pictured how stupid I must have looked from her point of view. “Fine.”

“The airlock couldn’t depressurise in the normal controlled way,” Eve said, “because there isn’t enough energy for the pumps. I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

“Eve?” Skylar shouted. “Here. Now. Hurry.”

Eve gave me one last concerned look, then pushed off, disappearing up the hallway. “Keep to the right of the ship.” Her voice grew faint. “We’ll meet you at the other bulkhead airlock.”

Every atom in my body screamed and begged me not to do this. Using nothing but sheer willpower, I swung myself above the door and, finding the nearest handhold on the wooden hull, gripped it for everything I was worth.

Beyond the scene of destruction hung a planet, its icy surface cracked and pitted. I gazed at it for several seconds, mesmerised.

Small debris rained down on my arms, my back, and my legs, thudding into the hull like a billion pieces of wood and metal raindrops and shaking me back to the reality of my situation.

Deciding to ignore the carnage and hoping a large chunk didn’t swing by and either crush me to death or pluck me from the ship, I focused on the next handhold a few feet away.

Stretching out, I pushed off and grabbed it.

What’s the big deal? It's easy. I could do this, especially with a now sixteen percent health and clear vision.

Thirty more handles sat in a line. A large crack zig-zagged over the hull, threatening to split the corridor from the rest of the ship. Now I understood the urgency in the lovely cyborg Skylar’s voice.

I was about to push off to the next handhold when a strange popping assaulted my ears.

Fearing my suit had sprung a leak or some micro piece of space junk had punched a hole in it somewhere, I froze for several seconds, but seeing as I was still alive with no body parts launching themselves through tears in the fabric, I assumed it wasn’t that.

Then I looked up.

Ahead, one hundred feet from the ship, was another chunk of space debris. I recognised the red corridor inside from Skylar’s CCTV recording. The immense rear section of Horizon Eighteen drifted, open to the vacuum, with sparks flying and explosions erupting from within. Like everything else in the space graveyard, it was a mess.

Several chunks of space crap thundered into the hull around me, splintering wood and denting metal. My heart leapt into my throat.

Concentrating on the next handhold, I shoved off the hull and grabbed it, feet and legs hanging behind me, my entire life held by nothing more than my gloved fingers.

Hand over hand, panting, sweating, I moved along the rails, traversing the hull as quickly as I dared, trying to beat the ever-widening crack.

All the while debris rained down, thudding into the hull like metal hailstones, peppering my arms, legs, and back and straining and rending the hull beneath my fingertips.

I gripped the next handrail, but it tore free. “No, no, no.” I flung out my hand, managing to grab another rail, and released the loose one, sending it tumbling into the rest of the debris around me.

Panting, I continued onward to the next handrail and the next, my body tensed, expecting to be plucked from the hull at any moment, until I finally reached the crack.

Trying not to think, I pulled myself into a ball, pressed my feet against the grab-rail, and uncoiled like a spring, launching myself over the gap.

For a few seconds all was silent and peaceful, then I slammed into the ship’s hull, tumbled for a few feet, and finally clutched a rail on the other side.

My head snapped around as the entire section behind me broke free, off to join its brothers and sisters in the space graveyard.

I let out a juddering breath.

Close call.

The target hatch was ten more handholds away, already swung open, waiting.

More popping made me stop a second time, and a glint of light came from the red corridor inside the detached rear section of the ship.

I squinted. Was that—?

Crackling filled my skull, and I recoiled.

“Hello?” a male voice said.

I almost let go of the handrail. “H-hello?”

Crackle.

“Help me. I’m trapped.”

The light moved from side to side.

“Mason?” I said, astonished. “Kelvin? Who is this?”

A loud pop, and everything fell silent again.

I stared into the red corridor, but the light remained, waving from side to side.

“Eve? Skylar?”

No answer.

I tried to gauge the exact distance to the red hallway, using its internal height as a guide. It was at least a hundred and thirty feet away, the gap increasing with every passing moment.

If I climbed over the ship’s hull and launched myself through space, there was a chance I could make it.

Large chunks of debris moved between us.

“Who am I kidding?” I murmured.

That left me with one alternative—the airlock hatch. I’d have to get inside the ship as quickly as I could and tell the girls what I’d seen and heard. They’d know how to take care of the situation.

But deep down I knew that by the time I’d gone through the airlock and met up with them again, the other section of the ship would be too far away for a rescue.

I checked my health. Only fifteen percent and refusing to increase.

Stubborn git.

Sighing, I looked at the red corridor—one hundred and fifty feet distant—and swore.

Then I remembered I was wearing a freaking jetpack.

I looked at my arms, searching for controls and finding none.

How could I fly?

“Eve?” I said. “Skylar?”

Still no response.

“Is it because I’m outside the ship?” I murmured. “Is the hull shielding our signal?” Eve had told me we needed to be close to communicate.

I clenched my jaw, wondering if I could I make it on fifteen percent health.

The red corridor was one hundred and sixty feet away now.

“Oh, bloody fine.” Before I could talk myself out of it, I launched upward, releasing the handle and flying over the top of the spaceship’s hull.

Something banged into each elbow, and controls flew out on either side of me—armrests with joysticks. Smiling, I took hold and nudged forward on the left stick.

I shot up, like directly up, perpendicular to the ship’s hull, at a right angle to my intended target. “No. Wrong way. Wrong way.”

I pushed on the other control and flew in the correct direction this time, albeit in a hesitant, weaving motion.

Right stick was forward, backward, left and right, which meant the other hand control was up and down in height—or at least that’s how I interpreted it.

As I twisted out of control, I kinda wished I’d paid attention when Dad had droned on about his work as a pilot, because I would’ve appreciated some flying smarts at that moment. However, seeing as I never listened to either parent, I had no choice but to figure it out for myself.

With small movements, I aimed the best I could toward the wrecked hull. Sixty feet down, one hundred to go.

It was working.

I was doing it.

Sort of.

I spotted a massive chunk of space debris heading straight at me. I jabbed the left control, and to my surprise, I shot over the top of it. Then I pulled back, lowering my flight path, returning more or less back on target.

I laughed.

I was made for this.

Easy.

Fifty feet to go.

I flew around, up and over more space clutter, zooming in, out, and around, all the while keeping my primary focus on the red tunnel and heading in that general direction.

Forty feet remaining.

Thirty feet.

Oops. I narrowly missed a triangular section of space junk, darting around it and back on the right path again.

Twenty feet.

Dad thinks this is difficult?

Nah, flying’s a piece of cake.

Something slammed into me from behind, sending me spiralling out of control. My vision tunnelled. I wrestled with the jetpack’s sticks, trying to bring the red corridor back on target, and the next second, I flew inside.

I tumbled along the hallway, bumping into the walls and floor. In desperation, I let go of the jetpack’s controls and grabbed a wooden beam protruding from the ceiling, finally coming to a grinding and painful stop as I slammed into the wall.

My health meter read twelve percent, meaning I was now worse off than when I’d first arrived in the game. Panting, I closed my eyes and thanked the stars I was still in one piece.

“We’ve got to fly back through,” a calm voice said.

My eyes snapped open.

At the far end, pinned to the floor by several thick structural support beams, was a fifteen-year-old boy with white hair—Skylar’s brother, Mason.

I grinned.

I’d made it to him.

That wasn’t so bad, I thought as I shook my head, trying to clear the greying edges of my vision and willing the health meter upward. But what I saw next punched a gasp past my lips, and the blood drained from my face.

Mason wore a spacesuit like mine, but air hissed through a crack in his visor.

Eighteen

I’d never watched anyone die, and given the choice, I didn’t want to. But Skylar’s brother looked about to slip into oblivion. His face was pale, his breath shallow, and he had problems focusing on me. I guessed this might have had something to do with the stream of gas escaping through the crack in his visor.

“Hey.” I forced an awkward smile as I clung to the wall of the red corridor a few feet away from him. “You must be Mason?”

He gave a feeble nod.

Trying to remain calm, I pushed off, glided over, and examined the three structural beams pinning him like a dead butterfly in a display case.

“I’ve only ten minutes of oxygen left,” Mason said in a weak voice.

“Plenty of time,” I reassured him, not knowing if that was true or not.

I grabbed the beam restraining his robotic legs and tried to work out which angle was best to prise it from Mason without killing him.

“Here goes.”

I took a deep breath, pressed my feet against the floor and wall, and heaved the girder aside, mindful to stop it from moving too fast or drifting back toward us.

As soon as I was happy the beam would stay clear, I returned to Mason.

One down, two to go.

The next girder cut across his shoulder at both ends, holding him there. Thick cables twisted around Mason’s arm and vambrace.

I went to untangle the wires.

“Wait.” Mason’s chest rose and fell in fast breaths, and he closed his eyes.

I stared at him for a few seconds, then tapped his hand.

Mason looked at me with a glazed expression. “Sorry.” Cuts to his nose and forehead oozed blood that congealed in large globules inside his helmet.

Now I really knew we didn’t have much time.

“We’ll get you out of here. Hang on, okay?” I eyed the cables. “Are they dangerous? High voltage?”

“No. Not that.” Mason touched his free hand to the part where the beam cut across his shoulder blade. “It tore a hole in my suit.”

“Oh.” I flinched. “What do we do?” I was no scientist, but I didn’t need a doctorate to know a tear in a spacesuit was probably bad.

Very bad.

Mason winced as he shifted his weight. “My suit will heal itself, but it’ll take a while.”

Right, I thought. Self-healing technology. I felt a little easier about the prospect of snagging my suit on all the floating scrap.

“How long?” I said.

“I’m not sure,” Mason said. “Depends how bad the tear is. Maybe ten seconds. Maybe a minute. No way to know.”

Exposed to an environment where every nanosecond counted, I hoped for a quick repair. “And what’ll happen to you until it’s sealed?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer. “Will you, like, explode or something?”

Despite his predicament, Mason managed a weak smile. “The suit’s pressed to my body around the breach, so I think the rest of me should be fine. I’m not sure, though. Kelvin would have the answers. He’s the tech geek.”

I glanced about. “Where is he?”

Mason shook his head.

“Wait a second,” I said. “You’ve got robotic arms and legs like your sister, so—”

Mason gasped. “Skylar’s alive?”

“Yes. Eve too.”

“Oh, thank the Monolith.” Mason visibly relaxed. “And yes, I do have cyborg limbs, but—” He looked at his shoulder. “The rip in the suit is above the connection point. That’s all me right there.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered.

Mason screwed up his face. “The vacuum will vaporise any liquids, boiling them to form gas bubbles. Capillaries might burst too. Depends how big the rip is and how long it takes to repair. I’d freeze, eventually.”

Well, that all sounded bloody charming.

“Can any of those things kill you?” His diminishing air supply could’ve been the least of our worries.

“Dunno,” Mason said, “but any exposure longer than a few seconds is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Brilliant.” I eyed the crack in his visor. “Why isn’t that healing?”

“Tried and failed. Not sure why.” Mason shifted his weight and winced. “Eight minutes of oxygen left.”

Where’s a roll of duct tape when you need it?

I pursed my lips while I came up with a radical idea. I wasn’t sure how scientifically sound it was, but we didn’t have much to lose. I untangled the wires, careful not to damage Mason’s vambrace, and took hold of the beam across his shoulder. “Ready?”

He gritted his teeth.

I hooked my feet behind another metal girder, hoping it was a steady anchor point—the zero-g really did throw off my instincts—took another deep breath, and pulled the beam aside, careful its inertia didn’t carry me into the wall.

Once clear, I slammed my palm into Mason’s shoulder.

He cried out, but I kept my hand in place, feeling the fabric of his suit move beneath my glove. The seal wasn’t perfect, but it worked well enough. Around thirty seconds later his suit stopped shifting, and I lifted my hand away, relieved to see it had sealed.

“Thanks,” Mason said. “Good thinking.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” I shifted to the side and checked out the third beam.

This girder had smashed into his backpack, crumpling a corner.

“Can you take off the jetpack thing?” I asked.

Predictably, he shook his head. Because nothing could be that easy.

“The MMU is only a part of it,” Mason said. “The pack also supplies air. Well, all seven minutes of what’s left.”

I sighed.

We needed to hurry. I got it. All of this had taken far too long. I tried lifting the beam off, but it wouldn’t budge.

Grumbling under my breath, I spotted a solid-looking iron bar floating near the ceiling, tangled in wires and hoses. Seeing nothing else suitable, I pushed off, tugged the bar loose, and returned to Mason.

I shoved the iron bar under the beam, using it as an anchor point, then hooked my feet through an exposed part of the wall. As soon as I was steady and secure with the right amount of leverage, I looked at Mason. “When I give the word, pull yourself free, okay?”

I checked the other end of the girder. It was tangled in cables, so less likely to break loose and slam into us. However, I’d be careful with this end.

Mason grasped a nearby metal hose and took up the slack, wrapping it around his wrist and arm.

“On three,” I said. “One, two—”

A powerful bang reverberated through my hands and feet, and everything lurched sideways, slamming me into the wall. My feet slipped free, and the inertia sent me flying into the ceiling. I grabbed a hose just as a huge piece of debris slid past the end of the hallway, taking large chunks of the corridor with it.

Swearing, I pulled myself down to Mason, hooked my feet into the wall again, and shoved the bar under the beam—all the while resigned to the fact we were both going to die—and said, “Three.”

My jaw set, I heaved on the bar with all my strength. The beam only moved a fraction, but it was enough. Mason pulled himself free.

I let go of the bar and took hold of him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Again—” I gestured outside. “No point thanking me yet.”

The remains of Horizon Eighteen’s bow section were now well over two hundred feet away, and more debris glided between us and it, blocking any direct return.

To brighten my day further, my health meter only showed fourteen percent, and I guessed it hadn’t gone up any more because of my physical exertion.

Mason and I glided to the end of the hallway, and as if understanding what I was about to attempt, the jetpack armrests swung up. I gripped the joysticks.

Mason held my shoulder.

I focused on the debris field, looking for a gap, then spotted one. “Hold on tight.” I pressed forward on the right control, but nothing happened.

I pressed again.

Still nothing.

“Wait.” Mason leaned behind me. “Oh.”

“Oh?” I tried to see for myself. “Oh, what?”

“Oh” in any situation was never good, but at a time like this, it could only mean complete and total disaster.

“There’s damage to your MMU,” Mason said with a despondent look. “Must’ve happened on your way over here.”

I remembered with a heavy heart the impact from behind that had driven me into the red corridor. “Will it heal itself?”

“No.”

“Right.”

Again, that would be too easy.

I faced forward and, as if on cue, the armrests retracted into the jetpack.

Thanks for your help, little guys.

I assumed they’d popped up just to annoy me.

The never-ending stream of space junk glided between us and our goal—all shapes and sizes, some spinning, some not, others ricocheting, veering off at unpredictable angles and trajectories. Utter chaos, and an impossible task without a jetpack.

“How much oxygen left?” I watched the debris and tried to figure out any discernible pattern.

“Three minutes,” he said. “It’s no use. We’re going to die here.”

I had to agree with him.

Nineteen

I scanned from the red corridor for another way across the river of destruction, but the gaps between the debris were ever-changing and impossible to predict. The Horizon ship receded further and further with every passing second.

“Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “Think. Find a way.” There had to be a path through the junk without a jetpack.

Mason’s body went limp, and he drifted.

I gripped his arm, pulling him close, and shook him. “Stay with me.” I stared ahead, and an idea formed. The only idea. “Okay.” There was nothing else for it. “Jump when I do, understood?”

“What?” Mason said in a weak voice. “Leave me here. We can’t get through that.”

“We’re not going through,” I said with a lot more determination than I felt. “Come on.” I bent my knees and concentrated on the nearest, largest lump of debris as it glided past like a mega-junk iceberg. “Go.”

We both pushed off at the same time. At first, we headed toward the intended target, but the closer we got, the more we veered to the right.

“No, no, no.” I thrashed my legs about—as if running in a vacuum would help matters—and we glided straight past the target, slamming into another piece of space junk.

As soon as I’d latched onto it, I understood what had happened. No matter how close together Mason and I jumped, it was impossible to keep a straight line. Mason, through no fault of his own, had pulled us off target.

I let go of him. “It won’t work that way. You’ll have to follow me, right? Can you stay conscious long enough?”

He gave me a feeble nod.

“You’ve got enough strength?” I asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t seem convinced.

Neither was I.

Eyeing the next piece of space junk fifty feet away, I pointed. “Let’s get to that one.”

As soon as there was a clear path, I pushed off, flying through the vacuum, smaller debris hitting me from every angle and knocking my health down to eleven percent until the world turned almost completely grey. I reached the main chunk, spun around, and seized Mason with my free hand.

As the section started rotating with us clinging to it, I searched for another target and spotted a rectangular slab of debris floating ahead.

It was like being in a crazy, turbulent river, hopping from one fallen branch to the next.

I pointed again, making sure Mason understood. Straight afterward, we floated over to it, this time both landing together.

Breathing hard, I looked over at the remains of Horizon Eighteen and gauged it to be sixty feet from us. With a well-timed leap, we could make it.

Mason understood my intention. “Ninety seconds of oxygen left.”

“We can do it.” I balled my fists, hunched down, and faced the ship, waiting for an opening . . . and then it came. “Go.”

We jumped, flying through space like a pair of superheroes. If it hadn’t been so dangerous—and we’d had capes—I would have smiled.

Mason cried out as a chunk of debris the size of a refrigerator slammed into him.

I smashed into the side of Horizon Eighteen, rolling up and over the top, clawing at the hull, desperately trying to grab hold, tumbling over, slipping, sliding . . .

My fingers found the edge of a protruding vent.

Ten percent health.

My whole body shook.

Aces.

I searched the debris field but couldn’t spot Mason anywhere.

I glanced to my right.

The intended airlock was only ten more feet away.

We were so close.

Damn it.

Junk thudded into me, threatening to tear me from the ship, knocking my health down to eight percent, but I maintained my grasp and held on as tightly as I could, pain shooting through my fingertips and up my arms like lightning bolts, every molecule of my body wanting me to let go.

Then I realised what had hit me—Mason. His limp body tumbled across the hull.

I threw out a hand at the last second, grasping his ankle and pulling him to me. It took a few seconds of effort to swing him around and peer through his visor.

Mason’s eyes were closed, his skin ashen.

“No.”

I shook him, but he didn’t respond.

I turned back to the airlock. Keeping one hand on Mason, I pushed off the hull, staying as low as possible. I snatched the hull’s handrails on the way, letting them guide us, flying over the metal and woodwork surface and dragging Mason’s dead weight behind me.

Reaching the open airlock door, I gripped the outside frame and hooked my feet under a nearby handrail. With every ounce of energy I had left, I shoved Mason inside and followed, the door closing behind me.

At once, the lights flickered on, and we fell to the floor with a heavy double thump.

Yay for gravity.

I shed my MMU backpack, scrambled over to Mason, and pressed a hand to his right shoulder, using my free hand to do the same to mine, and our helmets retracted into our collars.

Mason remained motionless, blood dripping from the cuts to his face. After several anxious seconds, his eyes flew open and he gasped, then rolled over and let out a wet, hacking cough.

I punched the air, smiling like an idiot, happy he was alive and we’d made it in one piece.

Once some colour had returned to Mason’s cheeks, I helped him to his feet. “Thanks,” he panted, bending over to pull in a big lungful of life-sustaining oxygen.

“No brain damage?” I watched my health creep up to twelve and then sixteen percent, colour returning to the world around me.

Mason considered my question as though he were doing mental arithmetic. He opened his mouth to respond, but the inner airlock door opened, and Eve and Skylar burst into the room.

Skylar froze at the sight of her brother.

“Oh, thank the Monolith,” Eve said. “How did you find him?”

I held up a hand, dropped to my knees, and, for what felt like an hour, chucked up every ounce of crap in my stomach.

Finally getting control of myself, I straightened and wiped my mouth on my high-tech, probably expensive, spacesuit sleeve.

“Hey.” I waved at the girls in a jolly manner. Then I stared at the mess I’d made on the floor. “Good job the gravity is back on, huh?”

Neither of them responded.

They stood like statues, clearly finding it hard to comprehend what they were looking at—two battered and bruised boys they’d likely written off as very much dead.

Mason met my gaze for a beat, then we both burst out laughing. He slapped me on the back. “That was brilliant.”

As though springing back to life, Skylar ran to her brother, tears streaming down her cheeks. She punched him square in the chest. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared me.”

Twenty

After recovering from our near-death experiences, the four of us—Mason rubbing his sore ribs and Skylar threatening a second punch—hurried down another cabinet-packed hallway and into a room with glass walls. Behind the glass sat a bewildering array of wires, cables, and glowing electronic components.

A stone examination table hovered two feet above an oval platform. Literally hovered. I peered underneath.

It must work with magnets.

All magic uses magnets.

Along with fishing twine and duct tape.

Eve waved Mason over to the table. “We need to sort out your injuries.” She consulted a display on a swinging arm mounted to the ceiling.

“Is there enough power for this?” Mason removed his backpack and oversuit, and perched on the edge of the examination table. He touched the cuts on his nose and forehead. “We shouldn’t waste energy.”

“You shouldn’t be so reckless,” Skylar shot back.

“Can’t be that reckless,” Mason said. “I’m alive.”

“Only thanks to him.” Skylar tilted her head in my direction. I took that to be as close to “Thank you for saving my brother” as I would get from her.

“What about our parents?” Skylar asked Mason. “Our families?”

“All safe,” he said. “The stasis bays of every ship ejected and flew away. I saw them.”

Skylar let out a relieved breath.

The crystals in Eve’s vambrace glowed, and with her right hand, she sent ripples of energy through the air, interacting with the display.

“The primary power core is gone.” She sighed. “We’re running on emergency supply only.” She continued in techno-babble.

I wasn’t listening to what she was saying because I couldn’t help but stare at her.

Not at Eve casting magic, but at a pimple on her right cheek, masked by a thin layer of foundation. Her nose had a slight curve, and there was a gap between her front teeth. All these minuscule imperfections not only added to her beauty, but to the world’s realism.

I looked at Mason and Skylar. They had similar flaws. They weren’t like mindless game characters at all; they seemed so lifelike.

My attention locked onto Eve’s magical vambrace, and there it stayed. “Can I get one of those?” I interrupted.

She blinked. “What?”

I pointed at the device on her arm, then the identical vambraces Mason and Skylar wore, and gave Eve a hopeful look.

“It’s called a phase-band,” she said.

I nodded. “Can I get a phase-band?”

“No.” Skylar glared at me. “Not a chance.”

Eve hesitated as though she was about to argue but clearly thought better of it. She continued with her work, twisting her fingers, controlling the magical smoke and bringing up several menus on the screen. “Like I was saying, there’s not enough power for the ship to heal itself entirely, but it’s maintaining life-support and has restored gravity in most sections.”

“How does it work?” I raised an eyebrow. “How can wood and metal heal?” I was sure once you chopped a tree down, it was pretty much dead and stood zero chance of growing again. I pictured a chest of drawers sprouting legs and going for a Sunday stroll in the local park. The thought was terrifying.

“Suits and small items use nanotech. Repair drones and ants take care of the ship,” Mason said as if this clarified the matter for me.

It did not.

Skylar’s eyes narrowed. “How do you not know that?”

I tapped my forehead and shrugged, reminding her of what I’d said earlier about losing my memory.

Eve turned from the display as Mason lay down on the examination table.

Skylar stayed by the door, wearing her ever-present scowl, while a metal ring—around a foot thick and five in diameter—dropped from the ceiling and moved to the head of the examination table.

The ring passed along Mason’s body like a magician running a hoop over a levitating assistant—Earth illusionists use magnets too, huge ones—and the display beside Eve showed a detailed, three-dimensional scan of Mason, inside and out.

I cringed. There was so much biological crap in there, and it was all moving. I covered my mouth as my stomach churned, threatening an encore of my previous airlock performance of Ode to Lunch.

The only things I could bear to look at were Mason’s legs and arms, which were made from plastic and metal, each with complicated actuators and their own powerpacks. I wanted to ask if he had to plug himself in at night to charge.

As the scanner did its job, debris continued to slam into the ship, making me flinch.

Every.

Single.

Time.

I hated jump scares, especially when any of them could bring a painful death.

“CodeX, exit,” I muttered when the others weren’t paying attention. The bloody thing remained silent, my health now at eighteen percent. “CodeX, on?”

Nope.

No guide or map.

Pointless piece of sh—

“Hold still,” Eve said to Mason, twisting her fingers and making a swiping motion as though she were some kind of mystical conductor.

Robotic arms sprung from the metal ring and swooped over Mason’s face, each holding what looked like a thick white pencil. The tips glowed green, and they set to work, flying around Mason’s nose and forehead in a blur of movement.

The blood vanished, along with the cuts, redness, and swelling.

Once done, the magical pencils lifted out of the way, and Eve peered at Mason from behind her dark glasses. She pointed at his shoulder. “You’re hurt there too.”

Mason unfastened his spacesuit and pulled it down, revealing a deep purple mark near his shoulder blade.

I stepped forward, fascinated not by his space-induced wound, but how Mason’s glass-covered cyborg arms fused into his real skin.

Skylar tutted.

“Could’ve been a lot worse if it weren’t for—” Mason looked at me. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, er . . .” I tore my gaze from his robotic limbs. “Leo. Leonardo Cooper.”

Mason smiled. “Thanks again, Leo. I owe you one.”

Skylar turned to me, and I didn’t like the smug look on her face. “Tell him what you told us earlier, Leo.”

“What did he tell you?” Mason said.

Skylar lifted her chin. “That he’s a captain.”

“Of what?” Mason smirked. “An oolak wrestling team?”

“Hey.” I frowned at him. “I just saved your life, pal.”

The smile slipped from Mason’s face. “Good point. Sorry.” His brow furrowed. “Where are you from? Not seen you before.”

“The captain doesn’t remember,” Skylar said as the pencils set to work on her brother again, moving across Mason’s skin. “Says he’s lost all of his memories.”

“I have lost my memories,” I muttered.

Skylar cocked her head. “Still know your name, though, huh?”

“Most of my memories,” I corrected. “I’ve lost most of them. Okay?”

Skylar huffed and looked away. What was her freakin’ issue?

With everyone’s attention back on Mason, I removed my EVA pack, oversuit and gloves. Then I rolled up my undersuit sleeves and examined a few scrapes and bruises.

They hurt.

“Want me to fix those?” Eve asked, making me jump. She unclipped from the wall a device around the size of an electric toothbrush with a curved nozzle and stepped toward me.

I shook my head like the big brave boy I was and covered the wounds with my sleeves again.

Regardless, Eve fired the device at the back of my hand, and a scratch healed itself.

“Thanks,” I muttered. All I wanted to do was find my grandmother. The sooner I found Alice and got the heck out of this crazy game, the quicker I could have a family at home, together, back in the real world.

As Eve clipped the healing device to her belt, I thought about the game itself, along with all the destruction outside the ship, and knew nothing would be so cut and dried.

“What the hell were you playing at?” Skylar stepped over to her brother as he sat up. “You could have died.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Wait.” Skylar gripped Mason’s arm before he had time to seal the suit at the collar. She pulled it down, leaned in, and gasped. “Where’s your Bluestone?”

At the top of his right cyborg bicep, near the shoulder, was an empty slot one inch long by half an inch wide.

Mason winced. “That’s why I couldn’t break myself free.” He looked at me, then back to his sister. “I’ll go find it once we get the chance.”

To my surprise, Skylar hugged her brother. “I thought I’d lost you.” She pulled back. “Where are Mum and Dad?”

Mason lowered his gaze.

Skylar stepped away. “Where are they?”

“I don’t know where they went,” Mason said. “Kelvin told me they’d be fine.”

“How could he know that?” Skylar said in a shrill voice. “I mean”—she waved a hand in the direction of the corridor—“have you seen the fleet?”

“Leo and I just flew through the remains of it, didn’t we?” Mason shot back.

“Why was everyone in stasis?” I said.

“For the journey to Antares.” Eve opened a cupboard near the floor, removed four bottles of blue liquid, and handed them out.

“Is there any food in there?” Mason asked her.

She checked the cupboard’s shelves. “No. Sorry.”

Mason looked at me. “Artificial intelligence runs most Antarian fleet operations.” He took a sip of his drink. “But Admiral Floyd still insists on a skeleton crew to monitor things. We’re flying to Antares.” He frowned. “At least, we were.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Is Antares a planet?”

Does it have anything to do with Grandma? Is Alice there? Is that why the CodeX shoved me into the middle of this nightmare?

“Antares is an underground city on a planet,” Eve said. “The birthplace of Bluestone. We’re racing the Kraythons to try and stop them destroying it.”

“Bluestones are the magical crystals you’re all using, right?” I pointed at the devices they wore and attempted to wrap my mind around how these people combined magic and technology.

“Why are we telling him all this?” Skylar jerked a thumb at me. “We shouldn’t say anything until we figure out who he really is.”

“Each Bluestone crystal has a different ability,” Eve said, still addressing me. “You find out what when you bond to them.”

“Bond?” I said.

“Bonding to an artifact means you can control its powers,” Mason said. “It’s kinda hard to explain, but you can feel their ability. Most people can bond with at least a Class Three artifact.”

“Can more than one person bond to a single artifact?” I asked.

“Not at the same time,” Skylar said. “That’s impossible, but you can bond to other people’s artifacts when they’re not using them. Some of us can, anyway.”

I nodded, remembering how she’d borrowed Eve’s glasses to look inside my skull.

“There are three classes of Bluestone artifact,” Eve said. “Class ones are the most powerful, and class threes are the least.”

“We all have class two artifacts.” Mason gestured between himself, Skylar, and Eve. “We got the opportunity to bond to them when we were twelve.”

“And then you lost yours,” Skylar muttered.

“Whatever.” Mason jumped from the examination table and faced me. “The fleet searches for Class One artifacts. That’s why we’re all here.”

“The Azurean monks scattered them across the galaxy,” Eve said in response to my puzzled expression. “Each is heavily protected by tasks and trials, but that doesn’t stop the Kraythons going after them too.”

As the others drank, I opened my bottle and sniffed the contents, getting a faint sweet aroma. “What is this?”

“Drink,” Eve said. “It’s good for you.”

I hesitated, then took an experimental sip.

Warmth slid down my throat and into my belly, and my health meter rose from eighteen percent to twenty.

“Hmm. Good stuff.” I took several deep chugs, and the meter climbed. Twenty-five percent, thirty-four, forty-two . . . By the time I reached the bottom of the bottle, my health had stopped on a respectable sixty-four percent, but my cuts and bruises remained.

I let out a breath. Much better. I handed the empty bottle back to Eve with a muttered, “Thanks.”

She returned the bottles to a rack inside the cabinet, clamping them into place. Brushes descended, cleaning both the insides and outsides, and rinsing them several times with water. Once cleaned, a purple light moved up and down the bottles, then nozzles descended, refilling each with more of the blue liquid and finishing up by securing new caps.

My gaze moved to Skylar’s crystal pendant. “What can that do?”

“From my point of view, time slows down,” she said. “But my artifact only makes it seem that way. It actually speeds up my reactions.”

“Like when you have an accident?” I said. “Time appears to slow down.”

She nodded, and I remembered the moment Skylar had attacked me in the hallway, and how bloody fast she’d moved.

Now it made sense.

It was a neat magical gadget to own.

I wanted one of those too.

Turning to Eve, I said, “Your glasses can see through walls?”

“Everything apart from metal.”

I thought back to the way she’d gazed into my noggin and imagined Eve seeing the CodeX implant nestled inside. That was awesome on the one hand, but at the same time, not so much.

“Can I have a Bluestone artifact?”

What could I use to help me find my grandmother?

Skylar folded her arms. “There’s one in your thick head. You, of all people, should know that.”

My eyes widened. There was an actual crystal in my head?

Mason looked at his sister. “Say that again.”

“Leo has a CodeX implant,” she said, clearly annoyed about it.

It wasn’t my fault. That was Ayesha’s doing.

Mason gestured toward me. “Leo? Him? he has a CodeX?”

“Yep.”

Mason’s eyes sparkled. “That’s fantastic news. We’ll be okay, then, won’t we?” He looked between Skylar and Eve. “This will all work out.”

“Leo’s implant isn’t activated,” Eve said.

“Oh.” Mason’s shoulders slumped. Then he clicked his fingers. “We’ll find Kelvin, and he can activate it.”

As Mason beamed at me, I had a bad feeling, unsure why having an implant meant we’d all be okay. The impression I’d got from Ayesha was the CodeX implant was a mega-encyclopedia or an assistant guiding me through the game. That, of course, had sounded pretty great at the time. Something propping up my poor memory and equally limited thinking ability would come in handy. The rest of the game would be a breeze, if only the stupid thing worked.

“Only a few other people are known to have CodeX implants,” Eve said. “One of them is in the Antarian fleet.”

“Who’s that?”

“Admiral Floyd.”

“But the admiral is on the Leviathan, not here.” Mason scratched his chin. “So if we can get your implant working, you can use it to help us.”

“Right.” I tapped the top of my head. “CodeX, on.” I waited, but nothing happened.

Skylar rolled her eyes.

An explosion tore through the ship, throwing us across the room. I slammed into the wall, slid to the floor, and covered my head with my arms as debris rained down around us.

Twenty-One

The world collapsed around me, and I waited for everything to stop moving.

Mason pulled me to my feet. “Are you okay?”

I blinked away the dust and coughed. “Never better.”

Large chunks of the medical bay’s ceiling lay strewn about the room.

“We need to get moving,” Eve said, rubbing her neck.

“Wait.” Skylar faced her brother. “What were you doing before all this started?”

“Helping Kelvin,” he said with a shrug.

“To do what?”

Mason gave me an uneasy look. “I don’t know.”

Skylar glowered as if she was about to hit him again. “How can you not know, Mason?” She glared at him. “None of this makes any sense.”

Eve stared at me, and I figured she was trying to remember if she’d met me before the disaster.

My stomach tensed. Oh no.

She knew I was an imposter.

My gaze moved to Mason and Skylar as I wondered what they’d do if they found out who I really was. Probably blame me for the fleet tragedy.

I clenched my fists, remembering Ayesha’s warning about not telling anyone. I couldn’t let that happen under any circumstances. If the three of them suspected for even a nanosecond that I was anything other than what I said, I didn’t stand a chance of finding my grandmother. My breath quavered as I tried to keep my panic contained.

“Look,” Mason said in response to his sister’s glare, “all I know is Kelvin brought me out of stasis and said we had to get you three.” He pointed at Skylar, Eve, and me. “He said nothing beyond that. He only had time to tell me we were under attack and we had to hurry.” His expression darkened. “Next thing I know, pandemonium—the fleet’s getting torn apart. So we dragged your stasis beds into the corridor.” He looked at his sister. “You’re asking me why Kelvin kept us here? I don’t know.”

Another rumble reverberated through the ship. I threw out a hand and steadied myself against the wall, not sure how much more I could take.

“We saw what happened on the security feed,” Skylar said. “Still doesn’t explain why you snatched him.” She pointed at me but kept her attention on her brother.

“I don’t know the answer to that either,” Mason said, and he seemed to be on the level. “Kelvin insisted we take Leo from the stasis bay. I wouldn’t be standing here now if we hadn’t.” He glanced between Skylar to Eve. “I trust Kelvin. There will be a logical reason for all this. We find him, we get answers.”

“Then we need to go to the bridge.” Eve strode to the door.

“We’re still going to the bridge?” Skylar said. “Why?”

“To talk to the captain.” Eve marched into the corridor. “We must tell him about Kelvin.”

Skylar followed her out. “Kelvin’s dead, Eve.”

“Don’t say that.” Mason hurried after them, and I kept close behind. “He has to be alive, I know it. If I survived, so did he.”

Even though I’d never met this Kelvin guy, if I wanted to complete this level of the game and locate my grandmother, I was convinced he would be the key to that victory.

I hoped he wasn’t dead too.

“Look,” Eve said, striding down the hallway, “if we get to the bridge, we can see what’s going on. We’ll speak to the captain and find Kelvin.”

I had trouble keeping up with them; I wanted to look in every artifact-crammed cabinet and yearned to know about each item’s history.

“How can something destroy our entire fleet?” Skylar grumbled, peering out of the windows. “There’s no weapon in the galaxy powerful enough to cause this level of destruction.”

“Seriously?” I jogged to keep up. “Your spaceships are wooden.” Like sixteenth-century Spanish galleons, a few well-placed cannonballs could punch holes in them.

“Our fleet is stronger than it appears,” Eve said. “Grav shields protect each ship.” She grimaced. “At least they’re supposed to.”

“What the hell are grav shields?” I asked.

“I don’t understand what happened to the fleet either,” Mason said to his sister as we stepped through a bulkhead door and strode along the next hallway, packed with more cabinets overflowing with clutter. “We’re no threat to anybody.”

“It was the Kraythons,” Skylar said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Kraythons did this.”

I remembered the Kraythons being the bad guys, and the way I’d almost chosen to play on their side. How different the game would have been. Space Pirate Leo.

“The Kraythons have powerful weapons, it’s true,” Mason said. “But our shields—how did they break through the shields of every ship?” He gave his sister a dubious look. “Kraythons don’t have that level of technology. It’s impossible.”

“Clearly it isn’t, though,” Skylar said as we stepped through another door and marched down a third curved hallway lined with suits of armour. “Now the Kraythons have what they wanted all along—Antarians at their mercy.”

“If that’s the case,” Mason said to her, still sounding unconvinced, “where are the Kraythons now? They attacked and vanished?” He shook his head. “Something doesn’t add up. We weren’t even scheduled to visit this solar system.”

Now he came to mention it, I thought that was odd too. If the Antarian fleet had only meant to pass through on their way to Antares, then I couldn’t understand why they had stopped. And the fleet had definitely stopped because of the debris outside. Instead of racing past the ice planet with the speed needed to travel between stars, everything was almost at a standstill. I figured it would take a lot of energy and effort to slow down.

We continued to follow the curve of the hallway, and I scanned the various suits of armour. Some were tall and thin, others short, some helmets bulbous and top-heavy, some low and sloping. The one thing they had in common was that all of them looked alien, and my brain struggled to keep up.

We stopped at a set of double doors, and Skylar faced me.

“Who are you, exactly?”

Her tone wasn’t threatening anymore, but still firm, with an obvious no-nonsense attitude. My chest tightened, and I hoped she wouldn’t see through the lie.

Eve stared at me too, watching my reaction.

“I’m just a guy looking for my grandmother,” I said.

Three blank expressions.

“Who is she?” Skylar’s eyes narrowed. “What’s her name?”

“Alice Bowman,” I muttered, hoping the name wouldn’t trigger any alarm bells or cause me to fail my quest.

But to my relief, saying Grandma Alice’s name didn’t seem to break any rules; none of them recognised it. I wasn’t surprised, given there must have been millions of people in the Antarian fleet.

“We can search the crew database once we get to the bridge,” Eve said. “We’ll find out what ship she was on.”

I swallowed, hoping Grandma Alice hadn’t died in the attack and grateful they weren’t going to ask any more awkward questions.

We walked through the double doors into a wooden elevator, and I wondered whether the CodeX would ever work.

Perhaps it was a big con.

Someone was clearly laughing at my expense.

My guess—Ayesha.

I’d bet it was her. She seemed like the type to enjoy other people’s misery. I pictured her sitting at a computer screen somewhere, laughing her butt off at me.

The elevator doors closed, and I faced the others, wanting to learn more about the game world. These people had mixed magic with technology—the old and new combined—and I found it fascinating.

“Do you guys go to school?” I asked.

“We’re doing apprenticeships at the moment.” Eve studied a display above the door as it counted upward.

“My specialty is security,” Mason said. “And Skylar is flight dynamics and control.”

“I’m going to be a pilot,” she said in response to my inquisitive look. “Hopefully with Dragon Force one day.”

“My dad’s a pilot,” I said. Much to my surprise, this elicited a grin from her.

“Wait.” A frown replaced Skylar’s smile. “You told us you couldn’t remember anything.” Her lip curled. “How do you know your grandma’s name too?”

I tensed. Crap.

“Well . . .” I swallowed and cleared my throat. “I remember a bit. Nothing else, though. More things might come back to me.”

“Get off his case,” Mason muttered in Skylar’s ear. “Leo saved my life.”

“If you hadn’t lost your Bluestone, you wouldn’t have needed saving,” she hissed.

I looked at Eve, eager to change the subject. “What about you? What are you studying?”

“My apprenticeship covers more general subjects at the moment,” she said, her attention on the display as it counted floor numbers.

“She hasn’t decided on a job,” Skylar said.

Eve nodded. “Perhaps something in communications or botany, I’m not sure.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Meaning you want to talk to plants?”

She chuckled.

I let out a puff of air, trying to take it all in. “What about Kelvin? What’s his specialty?”

“You mean apart from being a pain in the neck?” Mason said. “He’s a year younger than us”—he indicated himself and his sister—“and has almost finished his apprenticeship. Total genius. Intelligent way beyond most people.”

“His forte is Bluestone technology,” Eve said.

“Which is why we need to find him. Kelvin will know what’s going on and what to do about it.” Mason’s expression turned serious. “We ask the captain to locate Kelvin first, right? He’ll have the answers.”

I could wholeheartedly agree with that. The number one priority was finishing this game and finding my grandmother.

The elevator came to a grinding halt.

Great.

Now what?

Twenty-Two

Stuck in the teeny tiny wooden elevator with Eve, Mason, and Skylar, I wondered whether the game knew about my phobia of getting trapped in confined spaces and was deliberately being a dick.

My guess was that it did, and it was.

Knees shaking, I backed up to the wall, grabbed a handrail, and prayed the stupid thing started working again.

Of course, it didn’t.

Eve sent puffs of magical smoke from her phase-band to the doors, then seemed to come to the same conclusion as me—we were screwed.

“I’m not waiting for it to fix itself,” Skylar said. “We need to get to the bridge and the captain now.” She leapt onto the opposite handrail in one acrobatic move, threw open a hatch in the ceiling, and deftly climbed through. “It’s only another ten floors,” she said, offering a hand to her brother.

Mason took it, and she lifted him up.

Next, Skylar and Mason pulled Eve through.

I hesitated, weighing my limited options. I could have stayed in the box, shaking like a coward, and waited to see if the damn thing miraculously fixed itself, or I could’ve gone with them.

Those were the choices.

“Watch out,” Eve screamed.

Mason jumped aside as something the size of an oven fell past him and slammed into the corner of the elevator, making it drop a few feet.

Okay, I’ve made up my mind.

The second Skylar and Mason returned, I reached for them, and they lifted me onto the roof.

Feeling slightly more than a smidge of apprehension, I murmured under my breath “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” and peered around me.

The shaft was a few elevators in width, stretching high above our heads. Instead of thick steel cables, the elevators ran on parallel rails, like three vertical ladders or train tracks fixed side by side.

I groaned as Skylar leapt onto the nearest track and scaled the rungs like a monkey on a climbing frame. In less than a minute, she’d climbed ten levels. She stopped at a set of doors, prised them open with her cyborg strength, and slid through.

“I’m glad it was so easy for her,” I said, incredulous.

Another chunk of wreckage, this one the size of a bread bin, dropped from the top of the elevator shaft and shot past me, making me scream like a two-year-old. I leapt to one side, into Mason’s arms.

He grinned at me.

“Get lost,” I muttered, pulling myself free.

With trepidation, I peered up to where Skylar had vanished. That’s when I spotted something that made me want to curl up in a ball and wish the world away.

The entire roof of the elevator shaft was a mess of junk, with whole sections of spaceship dangling over the precipice. Some were only held up by a spider’s web of fragile-looking cables and pipes. Other pieces balanced against each other, ready to come tumbling down like a giant game of KerPlunk.

I let out a small manly yelp and gestured frantically.

Mason’s eyes drifted upward, and his face dropped. “We need to move,” he whispered, as if speaking louder might bring the ceiling crashing down.

The ship shuddered, and several smaller pieces shook loose, one of them barely missing me.

“Hurry,” Eve urged, gesturing to the middle makeshift ladder. I grabbed hold and started climbing, Eve close behind and Mason bringing up the rear.

Skylar stuck her head through the door, and I pointed past her. She looked up at the chaos, then beat a hasty retreat.

Wise move.

Stomach tensed, I continued climbing, only a third of the way up and already huffing and puffing like Milo after a jog.

The rungs were spaced two feet apart, around double those of a standard ladder, and the extra effort took its toll; my legs burned and my heart hammered against my ribcage.

An almighty bang followed by a deep grinding sound reverberated through the ship, and my head snapped up as several chunks of the ceiling fell away.

“Watch out,” I shouted, leaping to the left-hand ladder.

The debris plummeted past me, knocking my arm. With my heart now in my throat, I looked down at Eve and Mason. They were still with me, but it had been a close call.

Too close.

Against my will, my gaze moved up again. More items were in the process of working free, and there was no chance I could shout quickly enough as each piece fell.

I jumped back to the middle ladder, gesturing for Mason to stay left and Eve to go right. “Split up,” I said. “It’ll triple our chances of seeing the falling debris and acting in time. Keep looking up.”

The three of us continued the climb. Another piece broke free, and I leapt across to Mason’s ladder and back again, only to have him join me as chunks rained down on his side. Then it was Eve’s turn to jump across. The three of us scrambled up the ladders, leaping from one to the next, climbing as fast as possible.

We were two-thirds of the way up, the open door only a few floors above us, but anticipating the debris and reacting in time was getting harder with every rung we climbed.

Eve screamed as a piece the size of a bowling ball slammed into her arm, almost tearing her from the ladder. I reached out for her, but another chunk punched my hand, sending pain shooting up my arm. I recoiled, avoided several more lumps of debris, dropped a few feet, and leapt across to Eve’s ladder, directly below her.

She continued climbing, with Mason jumping to the middle and then back to his ladder. He made it to the open door first, slid through, and stuck his head out with Skylar, motioning for Eve and me to hurry.

“Go,” I shouted at Eve, urging her on.

Mason and Skylar hoisted Eve through, returning for me just as another loud bang shook the ship.

My head snapped up as the entire ceiling wobbled.

Eve, Mason, and Skylar screamed words I couldn’t make out above the din, but I got the gist and scrambled up. They pulled me through the door just in time. Tons of debris thundered past my feet, slamming into something below that could only have been the elevator.

I dragged myself across the smooth floor, sweat pouring from my face, and rolled onto my back, wincing at the pain in my hand and the burning muscles in my arms and legs.

“Well,” I said, happy we’d all made it through alive, “that’s officially the last time I get into a bloody elevator.”

“You’d love an orbus, then,” Mason said.

I raised my head and cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s an orbus?”

“They have them on the Leviathan. Quickest way to get about.” Mason’s eyes wandered to the ceiling, and he pursed his lips. “They’re a cross between an elevator and a Trilaran rollercoaster. Mega-fast and super awesome.”

I shook my head and told myself never to ride in one. “Wonderful.”

Twenty-Three

After we’d all recovered from the death climb of doom, Eve, Skylar, Mason, and I headed across a circular gallery lined with red doors, up a short flight of polished wooden stairs—yes, regular, normal, non-life-threatening stairs—and stopped at a set of double doors.

Mason waved his phase-band back and forth, sending pulses of energy into the door, but it remained closed. “We’re not authorised to enter the bridge.”

He knocked.

No one answered.

“Out of my way.” Skylar grasped the edges of the doors and attempted to pull them apart.

They didn’t budge.

She braced her feet against the frame and heaved with all her might, but no matter how hard she tried, they still wouldn’t open.

Skylar shook a fist in her brother’s face. “If you hadn’t lost your Bluestone, you could have smashed your way through.”

“Give it a rest,” Mason fired back. “A shield surrounds the whole bridge. Even if I still had it, no deal.”

While they argued, I stepped to the doors, looking for a buzzer or bell of some kind. The next second, they slid open.

I raised my hands and stepped back.

Eve, Mason, and Skylar faced me.

“How did you do that?” Skylar demanded.

“Leo’s CodeX implant,” Eve said with a look of awe. “Even though it’s not activated, it must give him access to parts of the ship.”

Mason thumped me on the back. “Good job.”

The three of them marched past me. I followed, and my breath caught.

The room—if you could call it that, since my definition of a room included walls and a ceiling—was a glass bubble thirty feet in diameter, perched on top of the remains of the ship’s bow.

Outside was destruction in all its panoramic glory—a debris field stretching for hundreds, if not thousands of miles—and to the left was the ice planet.

“What did this to us?” Tears formed in Eve’s eyes as she surveyed the carnage.

Mason shook his head. “According to the scans they did before we got here, there’s no life above microbial in this entire solar system. Or in any of the solar systems we were set to pass through. That’s why they chose this path—far away from other civilisations.”

Having a bunch of aliens fly close to your planet would undoubtedly make you a little edgy. If it had happened anywhere near Earth, with all the trigger-happy morons there, it wouldn’t have surprised me if a few of them had taken some nuclear potshots. But I doubted human weapons would have any impact on an advanced race capable of interstellar travel, despite their ships being made of wood, metal, twine, and canvas.

“This is the bridge?” I looked around the minimalist interior with a bemused expression. A bank of screens mimicked the curve of the dome, with another display ahead of them, and that was all.

“Where’s the captain?” Eve said. “The crew?”

Skylar hurried back down the stairs, vanishing around the corner.

Mason clicked his fingers. “Captain’s galley.” He raced off too.

“Are you serious?” Eve called after him. “Don’t you think we’ve got bigger priorities?” She noticed my uneasy expression as I stared at the dome. “When we meet other civilisations, we sometimes trade technology. This is an example. It’s a one-way meta-composite. Super strong and only transparent from the inside.”

I nodded.

“Dragon Force handle any battles with the Kraythons, well away from the main fleet.” She inclined her head. “Are you feeling overwhelmed by all this?”

I nodded again. Overwhelmed was an understatement.

A weird look came over her, one that made me think that Eve knew I wasn’t part of this world.

I clenched my fists. My stomach clenched too.

Whatever Eve asked me, there was no way I would admit the truth. I had zero intention of finding out what Ayesha classed as dire consequences by telling someone in the game who I really was.

Besides, if everything that had happened so far wasn’t dire, then what the hell was?

Eve opened her mouth to say something, but Skylar came hurrying back.

“Th-they’ve all gone,” she said in a shaky voice. “C-captain and the others. They used their escape capsules.”

Eve gasped. “They abandoned us?” Her face fell. “Why would they do that?”

“They didn’t know they left us behind,” Mason said as he returned to the bridge carrying four tubes, each around six inches long and one in diameter.

Skylar’s expression darkened. “Which leaves us with a more important question. If the crew escaped to safety, why did Kelvin force us to stay behind in the wreckage?”

Mason offered a tube to Eve, who shook her head, so he held it out to his sister.

Skylar pushed his hand away. “How can you think of your stomach at a time like this?”

Mason shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

He handed a tube to me, and I frowned. “What is it?”

Mason popped the lid off one tube and pressed his thumb into the bottom, forcing up a spongy substance embedded with chunks of what looked like walnuts. He took a bite and grinned.

I removed the lid of mine and gave it a tentative sniff, recoiling at the scent of onion and cherry.

“It’s called chirorja,” Mason said, munching away and still beaming at me. “Only thing the crew didn’t take when they abandoned ship.”

I screwed my face up at the awful smell. “Can’t imagine why.” I held the alien food at arm’s length. I was pretty sure other worlds would have different biology and DNA, meaning alien stuff could be poisonous to me.

Noticing my unease and still obviously not caring, Mason said, “Stop whining and eat your chirorja.”

I took a tiny bite, chewed, swallowed, and my health meter jumped from sixty-four percent to seventy.

Hmm.

Even though it tasted like crap with a texture of cat litter mixed in jelly, the chirorja was a welcome boost, and by the time I’d finished the tube, my health sat at a respectable eighty-six percent, with my vision and the world around me bright and sharp.

Much better.

Mason offered another tube, but I declined, not wanting to push my luck. Anyway, I was having enough trouble keeping the first one down.

As Mason strode over to the left side of the displays, a chair rose in front of them as though growing from the wooden floor, and he sat down. The crystals in his phase-band glowed, and he twisted his fingers, controlling the screen with magic. “We’ve got next to nothing. Life support is barely hanging on, water is at a minimum, and there’s no way to move.”

“Can the ship heal itself?” I asked.

“It can, but not on emergency power,” Eve said, consulting a display on the right side and sitting in front of it. “The primary core was in the aft section of the ship, where it can maintain the stasis bay during a disaster.”

“Like now,” I said.

Eve let out a slow breath. “Like now.” She swiped her finger across the display. “The grav module’s gone too. We’re dead in the water. No way to move. Best guess is that the whole rear section of the ship separated and headed there.” She pointed at the ice planet.

“I’m not so sure.” Mason flicked his wrist and scrolled through screen menus. “I’m not picking up any sign of the crew. We need to find Kelvin. He’ll have the answers. I’ll scan for his Bluestone artifact.” Mason glanced over his shoulder. “If Kelvin’s drifting out there somewhere, he can’t have gotten far.”

Skylar folded her arms. “If he’s still alive.”

“He’s alive.” Mason scowled at her. “Stop doubting it. Why are you being such an idiot about all this?”

“I’ll search for your grandmother,” Eve said, waving me over to her while the other two bickered. “What’s her name again?”

“Alice Bowman.” I peered over Eve’s shoulder as the crystals in her phase-band glowed, sending wispy, smoke-like energy across the back of her hand. With a flick of her fingers, pulses shot into the screen, bringing up a virtual keyboard.

Eve entered the name into a search box and sat back. “I’m sorry, Leo, there’s no record of a member of the fleet called Alice Bowman.”

“What?” I said, aghast. “How can—?”

Eve held up a finger. “Hold on.” She leaned forward, brought up another menu, and repeated the process, then let out a breath. “It’s okay. She’s here. Crew member on board the Leviathan.”

“The Leviathan is the command ship?” I said.

“Exactly.” Eve worked the display, controlling the magic and the screen by quick motions with her fingers. “It follows the main Antarian fleet. The Leviathan is where Admiral Floyd and the other officers live and work.”

I relaxed slightly at this news. The thought of my grandmother not being in the fleet when the Kraythons had attacked filled me with renewed hope of finding her alive and well.

I pictured the five of us when this was over—Mum, Dad, Grandma Alice, Grandpa John, and I—sitting around the fire at the lodge, chatting, laughing . . .

“Wait. This can’t be right.”

I snapped out of my daydream. “What’s wrong?”

Eve pointed at the display.

She had Grandma Alice’s file open, but the whole thing had been blacked out apart from her name and the infinity symbol from the front of the CodeX and her locket.

“What does that mean?” I pointed at the symbol.

Eve shook her head. “I’ve got no idea. I’ve never seen anything like this file before either. It’s flagged as top secret. Only a high-ranking officer will have access to it.”

My blood ran cold.

“There must be a logical reason, Leo,” Eve said. “Don’t worry, Admiral Floyd’s a good person and will tell us your grandmother’s location. We’ll get answers.” She smiled. “At least we know your grandmother’s on board the Leviathan. That’s the main thing.” Eve selected more menus on her screen. “I’ll get ahold of them and ask to speak to the admiral directly. I bet they’ll make an exception, considering the circumstances.”

“Thanks.” As I stepped toward the displays, trying to make out what they showed, another seat rose from the floor.

Grateful, I went to sit down, but Skylar gripped my arm. “Hey, what are you playing at?” she said. “That’s the captain’s chair.”

“So what?” Mason said. “The crew abandoned us.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Leo can sit where he likes. Anyway, it’s not as if the ship will bond with him, will it?”

Skylar hesitated, glared at me, then let go.

I sat down, relieved to rest my aching muscles, and studied the display.

It showed a general overview of Horizon Eighteen’s operations, complete with an outline of the ship itself. Large sections of it were missing, highlighted in red, along with a bewildering array of stats scrolling down their respective boxes. A few details I recognised, including power consumption, oxygen levels, and repair priorities . . . the rest I couldn’t comprehend.

I stared at it all, then my attention moved to a message box in the bottom corner of the screen. I leaned in, wondering if there was a way I could contact Ayesha and tell her what was happening to me. If she didn’t already know.

I scratched my chin.

If I was in a game inside the CodeX—which was sat on my bed in Colorado—perhaps I could send a text to the outside world. Maybe it would appear on the nearest phone or a computer somewhere.

I reached toward the screen, but Eve cleared her throat, making me start. On her display was a set of frequency ranges, with several highlighted in purple.

“Command ship Leviathan,” she said in a loud, clear voice, “this is Horizon Eighteen. We require emergency assistance. Do you copy? Over.” Eve studied her readout, but a horizontal line remained static. “Leviathan, this is Horizon Eighteen. Please respond. Over.”

“How far away is the Leviathan?” I said.

“I’m not picking it up on the long-range scanners,” Mason said. “That’s weird. It should be nine hours behind the main fleet.”

“Then why aren’t they talking?” Skylar dropped into a chair next to him. “Their own scans would have picked up the attack. They should be calling for survivors.”

“You think the Kraythons destroyed them too?” I asked, hoping I was wrong.

Eve shrugged. “It’s not impossible.”

“No,” Skylar said with a vehement shake of her head. “The Leviathan is indestructible.”

“The entire fleet was supposed to be indestructible,” Mason muttered, his eyes downcast. “Look how that turned out.”

“Command ship Leviathan, this is—” Eve gazed at the debris field outside. “This is the last Horizon. Do you copy? Over.”

Still nothing.

She sat back. “It’s not working. It’s like we’re being blocked or something.”

My mouth dropped open.

Hold on.

The CodeX game was starting to make sense. A rush of excitement coursed through me. It was saying that in order to find my grandmother, I needed to speak to Admiral Floyd, and the admiral was on the Leviathan, which was currently blocked from scans and communications.

That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Whatever jammed those signals was likely also linked to whatever had devastated the indestructible Antarian fleet, and the person Mason believed knew the answer to that question was kid tech-genius Kelvin.

Therefore Kelvin would know what blocked the radio signals and how to overcome it.

I pursed my lips. The path was clear.

Find Kelvin, solve the problem, contact Leviathan, and—bish, bash, bosh—I’d get to take my grandmother home to the real world and build a loving Cooper family.

Easy peasy.

It sounded so simple when I thought about it.

Ha.

“Command ship Leviathan,” Desperation crept into Eve’s voice. “This is the last Horizon. Please respond. Over.”

“Wait, I’ve got something.” Mason leaned in, squinting at his screen.

“The Leviathan?” Skylar said.

“No.” Mason turned to us and grinned. “Kelvin.”

I smiled too. Bingo.

Skylar’s eyes went wide “Kelvin’s alive?”

Eve let out a puff of air. “Thank the Monolith.”

Mason’s cheesy grin remained in place. “You will not believe where he is.”

Twenty-Four

Ten minutes later, thrilled we’d located Kelvin, I felt more confident about completing the game and finding my grandmother. We left Mason on the bridge, and I followed Skylar and Eve through another door at the back of the gallery area—unlocked, thanks to yours truly and his magical all-access implant—and stood in a room I could only describe as an alien space garage.

In it was a ship similar to the taxi in Grandpa John’s basement, but made from wood and iron like the rest of the fleet, with grooves down each side of the bodywork and a clear front screen. The spacecraft was around the size of a Mini Cooper. Painted on the hull in six-inch white letters was the name STAR CHASER.

I blinked.

Star Chaser?

Seriously?

I couldn’t imagine the lunchbox chasing anything.

Skylar touched the side, the door swung open, and she climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Are you sure you want to come with us?” Eve asked me quietly as we hung back, watching Skylar use her phase-band magic to work the controls.

To myself I would admit I was having second thoughts, but I wasn’t about to let the others know. Besides, I was positive that the game wanted me to complete the tasks—with help from my new friends, of course.

“You heard what Mason said,” I replied. “I’m the only person who can get Kelvin out of there.” I was a human door key, after all, though the thought of an implant with a magical crystal lodged deep in my brain still made me cringe.

What happens if it malfunctions?

Will it burst out of my head in a shower of crimson? Brain matter and bits of skull splattering the walls?

I shuddered.

“But the Kraythons,” Eve persisted. “If they catch you, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill all of us.”

Okay, I took the hint about how dangerous these Kraython pirate guys were, but Skylar had already explained that, even if they were around, they’d be unlikely to detect such a small spacecraft flying through trillions of tonnes of debris. Besides, Mason had volunteered to stay at the ship to try and signal to the Leviathan. He’d also watch out for baddies and warn us if he spotted any.

Eve’s anxious expression mirrored what I felt on the inside. I countered with what I hoped was a confident smile, not an awkward grimace. By her reaction, though, I guessed my look fell closer to the latter.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, not believing my own words for a nanosecond. “We’ll all be fine. Besides,” I gestured at her X-ray sunglasses, “you’ll see trouble coming.”

Eve adjusted the comms band on my head. I’d forgotten I was still wearing the damn thing. My cheeks heated up.

“That reminds me,” I said when she’d finished. “Thank you.”

A flicker of confusion crossed Eve’s face. “For what?”

I thrust a thumb over my shoulder at Skylar and lowered my voice to a whisper. “For when we first met and you stopped her breaking my neck and flushing me out of the airlock.”

Eve tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “You’re welcome.”

I strode over to Star Chaser and peered inside.

In front of Skylar, a single, narrow display console swept from one side of the cockpit to the other, and she controlled various buttons and sliders with motions from her phase-band.

“How’s it going?” I said.

She didn’t look at me. “Get in.”

Glancing at Eve, I waggled my eyebrows. She chuckled, and we clambered into the rear seats. I leapt back out of mine as the upholstery shifted.

“Reactomer,” Eve said. “They mould to your body for a comfortable fit.”

“Great.” I plonked myself down and screwed up my face as padding clamped my buttocks. Couldn’t anything in this world be bloody normal?

“You’ll want to strap in too,” Skylar said.

Even better.

With Eve’s guidance, I found the parts of a five-point harness, and after a minute or two of mucking about and swearing, I secured myself in the seat and looked up. “Where are the flight controls?”

Skylar tapped her temple, sat back in her chair, and rested her hands on her knees. The door swung into position, sealing us inside.

“You fly using mind power?” I took several deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart, but it was no use. I gripped the edges of my seat and hoped Skylar knew what the hell she was doing.

Why have I volunteered for this ridiculous mission?

Then I pictured my grandfather’s face when he saw his wife again, and my mum’s reaction too. Grandma Alice had better be on the Leviathan, and I’d also better complete this level without dying.

Jumping into a spacecraft with at least one person who hated my guts was not the best idea in the universe, but I had little choice.

Besides, it’s not as if the CodeX had popped up and given any objectives or pointers, so I could only hope I was heading in the right direction. Otherwise, all this would be a waste of time.

Star Chaser lurched into the air, leaving my stomach several feet below, and the wall opposite slid aside.

“Be warned,” Skylar said over her shoulder, “I’m moving us fast through the debris. This ship only has a weak refracting gravity field, so we’ll feel the effects.”

I looked at Eve. “A weak what?”

“Also,” Skylar added, focused on the door ahead, “we don’t know if Kraythons are out there or not.”

My hands started sweating, so I wiped them on my suit.

“We’ll be fine,” Eve whispered.

Before I had time to ask whether the girls thought we should reconsider this crazy plan, Star Chaser lurched forward, pressing us into our seats, and we punched into open space.

I redoubled my grip on the edges of the chair, already in fear for my life, while Eve seemed relaxed.

Skylar kept her hands on her knees as she concentrated, piloting the ship.

We shot up, over and around chunks of floating wreckage, darting, rotating, spiralling, then diving.

I loosened my grip temporarily to hunt for a sick bag.

There wasn’t one.

I had to admit Skylar was a master at flying—the way she pulled off impossible moves, swooping through the debris field, avoiding one object after another . . . my Dad would’ve loved her.

Eve gasped and pointed through the cockpit window. A massive section of a ship swung into view, as big as a tower block. For one horrifying moment, I thought we would slam into it.

Instead, Skylar flew through a gap in the hull and across a giant cargo hangar, weaving in and out of racks and crates, only to then plunge through another ragged hole and back into space.

Now I understood why she’d picked such a small spacecraft—anything even an inch or two larger would have been smashed to atoms by now.

Another gigantic spaceship loomed before the three of us, many magnitudes bigger than a Horizon vessel. This one was in the shape of a diamond fixed to a cube, but with the whole front section torn off and large gouges spanning several decks, exposing rooms and corridors to the vacuum of space.

The ship’s name was one of the few things left intact.

SCIENCE VESSEL DISCOVERY

Skylar directed Star Chaser to the rear of the ship, then through a hangar door. We glided to a halt, touching down on the inner deck.

Sweat poured from my forehead, and I had trouble releasing the edges of my seat. I fumbled with the harness until Eve took pity on me and unfastened the clasp.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as the door outside sealed shut and the cargo bay pressurised.

Skylar opened the side of Star Chaser and stepped out.

Next went Eve, and I scrambled after them, my knees shaking.

The ship groaned around us, rending and creaking steel. The floor trembled, and I threw out my arms to steady myself like the world’s worst high-wire performer.

Eve’s brow furrowed, and she turned, looking about her.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered, eyes darting round the hangar bay.

“It’s metal,” she said, gesturing. “All of it. The whole ship. No wood.”

“Meaning you can’t see through the walls?” I said.

Eve sighed. “No.”

“Well, that’s just brilliant,” Skylar huffed. She held her phase-band in front of her, squinting at a holographic display projected into the air, which showed an outline of the ship. “Something doesn’t feel right.” Her eyes narrowed, and she adjusted the scanner’s sensitivity.

Unnerved by this proclamation, I considered climbing back into Star Chaser. However, apart from the vast hangar bay feeling a few degrees colder than normal and a metallic smell in the air, I couldn’t see a problem—only a large, plain, mostly grey room.

“How do we know Kelvin is definitely here?” I asked.

Skylar nodded at her phase-band. “This can locate any Bluestone artifact apart from a Class One. According to the scans, Kelvin’s this way.” She strode to a door in the back wall, tried the lock, then moved aside and motioned for me to have a go.

No sooner had I stepped toward it than the door slid open with a low grinding sound. Beaming, proud I was useful, I bowed and waved Skylar and Eve through.

Skylar scowled at me, lifted her nose into the air, and stormed past.

“Thanks,” Eve muttered, giving me an uneasy look.

I tensed as I followed, somehow knowing I’d regret going with them.

Twenty-Five

Eve, Skylar, and I made our way along a narrow corridor. The only light came from feeble orange emergency lighting that barely illuminated a few feet ahead of us.

A shiver ran down my spine as we peered through open doors into rooms full of benches, odd machines with black displays, and racks of tools.

It was like being on a ghost submarine crossed with Doctor Frankenstein’s laboratory, and it gave me the creeps. As far as I was concerned, the sooner we found Kelvin and got the hell out of there, the better.

“What is this place?” I said as we moved down the corridor, searching one room after another.

“Science Vessel,” came Skylar’s curt reply.

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, got that by the giant letters on the side of the hull, but why do treasure hunters have a science vessel?”

This place was the polar opposite of the spacious Horizon ship, with stark grey decor and cramped interiors full of pipes and shadows.

Skylar glared at me. “We’re not treasure hunters.”

I blinked. “You’re not?”

That’s how Ayesha had explained Antarians to me.

At least, I think that’s what she said.

“Technically, we’re privateers,” Eve said.

My eyebrows lifted. “What’s the difference?”

“The Antarian fleet’s backed by our home-world Senate,” Eve said in a soft tone, counteracting Skylar’s glare. “We track down and retrieve Bluestone artifacts, and we stop anyone who tries to use them for bad purposes.”

I grinned. “Who died and made you guys the space police?”

Skylar tensed as if to throw a punch.

I swallowed and we continued deeper into the ship. “So, why a science vessel? What do they do here?”

“They research everything from advanced medicine, through botany, to creature study,” Eve said.

Skylar twisted her fingers, and blue energy pulsated from the tips, enlarging the holographic screen on her arm.

“Creature study?” I said. “What creatures?”

Skylar peered into another room. “Our scientists pick up animals to study whenever hunting Bluestone artifacts brings us to a new world.”

“Okay.” I imagined a weird zoo packed full of abducted aliens. “So what do you think Kelvin’s doing here?”

Skylar consulted her phase-band’s screen again. “No idea.”

Eve peered through another open door. “Must be something important.”

We turned the corner, squeezed past a thick bulkhead, and continued through an open area filled with . . . trees.

“What the—?”

At first I found it hard to believe what I was looking at—an entire forest crammed inside a spaceship. Towering redwoods, oaks, pines, and the dense foliage beneath them were all bathed in the same muted orange glow.

How big is this place?

“Why visit Colorado when Colorado can come to you?” I said in a poor attempt at an American accent.

Eve and Skylar circled the outer edge of the woodland, muttering to each other, and I followed like an obedient dog.

Envy swelled within me. It was clear they cared for each other a great deal. I was an outsider—that was the way I had felt even with my own family recently—and I wanted to find my grandmother as soon as possible. Perhaps, through Grandma Alice, I could have that love and familial respect too.

“You don’t like me, do you?” I said to Skylar.

“No.”

I offered her a radiant smile. “Say what you really mean.” I blew out a puff of air and peered into the forest before turning back to her. “So . . . why don’t you like me?”

Skylar’s jaw clenched. “I don’t trust you.”

“Skylar.” Eve frowned at her. “Be nice.”

Skylar gestured toward a door, and we stepped into another hallway packed full of pipework running along the walls and ceiling, barely wide enough to walk along.

“Why not?” I persisted, deciding that if Skylar already hated my guts, a little bit of nagging couldn’t make things much worse. “What is it you don’t like about me?”

I wanted to know. I was the new boy n’ all, pushing my luck, but I didn’t like all the unnecessary tension.

As we reached a T-junction, Skylar peered down each corridor, checked the scanner display, then took a left.

“There’s something not right about you,” she said. “Something suspicious. You’re not who you say you are.”

My chest tightened.

“What do you mean?” Eve said.

“He remembers more than he’s letting on,” Skylar continued, still not meeting my gaze. “Which is why I don’t—and won’t—trust him.”

“You’re right.” I gazed into another darkened room. “I do remember some things, and I can’t make you believe me, but you should. I’m not a bad guy.”

Eve gave Skylar a hard stare. “We know you’re not, Leo.”

“Speak for yourself.” Skylar’s eyes narrowed at me. “You appear from nowhere. I’ve never seen you before, and yet Mason and Kelvin risked their lives for you. Why?”

I shrugged. “The CodeX implant?”

We stopped at a door, and Skylar looked at me askance. “If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d say you caused all this.”

“Skylar,” Eve hissed.

I wasn’t sure how to react to the accusation.

Hurt?

Offended?

Annoyed?

All of the above?

Skylar stepped up to me. “Let’s get one thing clear, oolak; the only reason you’re here right now is because you can open doors with the implant in your fat head, nothing more.”

Eve stepped between us. “Calm down. Fighting won’t do us any good.”

“Get away from me.” Skylar shoved Eve aside, but Eve shoved back.

“Don’t push me.” Eve waved her clenched fists.

“Woah.” Now it was me stepping between them. I raised my hands while the girls glared at each other.

Skylar waggled a finger in my face. “See what you’re doing to us? I don’t want to get to know you. I don’t want you as a friend. I think it’s a mistake keeping you here. You’ll get us all killed.” She swung around and thrust a finger at the lock. “Open it.”

I pondered Skylar’s words and was inventing a witty comeback when the hatred in her eyes made me change tack.

“I’ll tell you about someone I do remember,” I said as I opened the door and followed Eve and Skylar along another darkened corridor. “When I was eight, there was this kid in my class called Mike Fish.”

“Fish?” Skylar said. “As in a creature that swims?” She consulted her scanner display. “He sounds like fun.”

“Mike was a dick,” I said.

Skylar gestured to a bulkhead door, and we stepped through, making our way along yet another dark corridor. I could’ve sworn they were getting narrower, and I hoped she knew where we were going. My hands shook. Startled, I glanced at my health meter, but it remained on eighty-six percent.

“So,” I continued, trying to not let the confined spaces get to me, “Mike Fish. We hated him. Every time someone snuck sweets into class, Mike would tell the teacher.” I peered into a room filled with crates and moved on. “If we doodled in our notebooks instead of listening, Mike would rat on us. Passing notes? Forget it.”

Eve, Skylar, and I squeezed past several cabinets and pressed on ever deeper into the ship, my sense of foreboding increasing with every step.

“Mike Fish was a super-grass.” I clenched my fists and took a few deep breaths. “He would snitch on anyone. No hesitation. In the playground he’d sit by himself, because no one likes a snitch, right?”

“What did you do?” Eve asked.

Skylar didn’t take her eyes off the scanner display. “Beat him up? Teach him a lesson?”

“One day I got home from school,” I said, following them around a water tank. “Mum told me she’d made friends with a lady at work, a nurse with a son my age, and she’d invited them over for a playdate.” I sighed. “Guess who the kid turned out to be?”

Eve followed Skylar over a bulkhead. “Mike?”

“Yep. Mike.”

Skylar adjusted her phase-band, muttered under her breath, and took a right this time.

“So,” I continued, staying close to them, “Mum forced me to share my toys and games, and I only wanted this a-hole gone as quickly as possible. You know why?” I waited for a reply, but neither Eve nor Skylar answered. “Because I was scared the other kids at school would find out Mike Fish had been to my house, and then they’d treat me the same. I’d be a social outcast too.”

“That’s kind of understandable,” Eve said.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure.”

We walked into an area packed full of machines covered in pipes, cables, and dials.

“There was Mike,” I said, “playing with my toys. Acting like nothing was wrong. I couldn’t help myself. I asked him why he was such a dick, why he grassed us up to teachers all the time. I was really mad that I had to talk to such a prolific snitch, someone so universally hated, but I wanted to know.”

We slipped between machinery—all dead and silent, like the rest of the ship.

“Turns out,” I continued, “Mike Fish’s dad was a policeman.”

“Don’t tell me,” Skylar said. “That’s where he got his sense of justice.”

“No. Not from there.”

Skylar frowned and kept going. Eve gave me an encouraging smile.

“Mike was a clever kid.” I caught up with Skylar. “Mega smart. Figured his dad was having an affair. Found presents and cards made out to some other lady.”

Skylar stopped and turned to face me. “What?”

“That’s terrible,” Eve said.

I nodded. “Mike pieced other clues together, but he kept the findings to himself, not wanting his parents to break up.” I took a breath. “One night, his dad was going out. Drinks with the lads, he said, but Mike knew where he was really going. So as his dad was leaving, Mike went to confront him.”

Eve raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“He bottled it at the last second.”

Skylar rolled her eyes, and we walked into another packed hallway.

“His dad died that night,” I said. “Car accident.”

Eve covered her mouth with her hand.

Skylar lowered her phase-band and faced me.

“Mike blamed himself,” I said. “If he’d gone through with it—told his mum and dad what he knew—his father wouldn’t have left that night. He wouldn’t have died.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Skylar said.

“I know.” I wiped sweat from my brow. “That’s why Mike snitched on people—he hated lies. He thought he was doing his classmates a favour by snitching on them. Helping them become better people, to see how damaging lies can be.”

“What happened to him?” Eve said.

“Nothing,” I said. “He’s still at school.”

Skylar stared at me for a moment, then consulted her phase-band display and marched along the hallway.

I jogged to keep up. “You know something? Out of all my friends back home, Mike Fish was the hardest to say goodbye to. He was my best mate. Always had my back, never lied. You knew exactly where you stood with the guy.”

“Is there a point to this?” Skylar said in a sarcastic tone.

“My point is that someone might act and sound like a complete dick, but if you take time to get to know them, like really know them, they could be a Mike Fish.”

“Let me guess.” Skylar smirked. “You’re a Mike Fish.”

“Me?” I shrugged. “No, I’m a dick. I just wondered if you were a Mike Fish.”

Skylar stared at me, then stabbed a finger at a locked door.

Taking the hint that our deep and meaningful heart-to-heart was over, I stepped to it, being a good key. The door slid aside, revealing nothing but blackness beyond.

The three of us were about to walk through when Skylar gasped. She stared at her scanner screen, and her gaze drifted upward.

A pair of glowing eyes appeared in the gloom, accompanied by a low snarling sound.

Twenty-Six

The way I look at it, when there’s an alien monster staring you down, wanting some tasty human-sized snacks, you’ve got pretty much two choices.

Option one is to remain still.

Some people think this makes you magically invisible, but I don’t reckon that’s true. All it does is allow the alien to kill you in a more leisurely manner.

The second option is to run.

No prizes for guessing which I favoured.

I wanted to run away, I really did, but instead I remained frozen like a coward, my body paralysed as I stared at the glowing eyes ahead of us, their menace emphasised by deep, raspy breaths. I’d guessed it wasn’t an oversized kitty that craved petting.

Skylar and Eve clapped hands over their mouths, which made me feel a lot worse about the situation.

“What the hell is it?” I murmured, looking for a nearer escape route but not finding one.

Judging by the faint outline of a hulking mass, the distance between its pupils, and its height from the ground, I judged the creature to be around the size of a black bear.

Maybe bigger.

Eve nudged my arm, signalling us to move away from the whatever-the-hell-it-was, and I wholeheartedly agreed with her decision.

But as we did so, despite inching back with no sudden moves or overt signs of bravery, the giant shadow edged toward us, growing larger by the second. The raspy breaths increased in volume, and a new sound made my skin sprout a million goosebumps—the scraping and clacking of thick claws across hard floor.

We were doomed.

As we continued to back away, I murmured out of the side of my mouth, “Anyone gonna tell me what the heck that is?”

“Grondar,” Skylar whispered back.

“What’s a grondar?” I hissed.

She shook her head as we reached the T-junction, but instead of going back the way we’d come, we headed down the left corridor, our eyes still fixed on the moving shadow. Its hulking mass struggled to fit down the narrow hallway, and I prayed it would trap itself.

I risked another glance over my shoulder. The corridor continued for twenty feet, then ended in a heavy-looking door. If the three of us could reach it, perhaps—

Low snarling made me whip round.

The grondar stood taller now, its muscular form showing against the muted orange backdrop of the emergency lighting. It walked with an almost human gait, its shoulders hunched, and thick black hair covered its body.

What complete moron would bring such a wonderfully dangerous being on board a confined spaceship? I pondered as my life flashed before my eyes.

The grondar moved under an emergency lamp, revealing a flat black wrinkled face. As if to emphasize how bloody lethal it was, the animal snarled, baring large pointed teeth.

I edged in front of Skylar and Eve, knowing their reactions were a lot quicker than mine. “When I say run,” I muttered, “run. Find us an escape route. Okay?”

The girls both shook their heads.

As if sensing what we were about to attempt, the grondar snarled again and dropped onto its front feet, ready to pounce.

“No choice.” I wheeled around and shoved Skylar and Eve down the corridor. “Run.”

The creature roared, and its paws pounded the metal floor.

Skylar reached the door first, then I followed Eve through. I grabbed the handle and went to slam the door, but the grondar crashed into the other side, sending us flying. We hit the opposite wall hard and slid to the ground.

The alien-monster-thing clambered through the door frame, drool dripping from its rancid mouth.

“Here.” Skylar grabbed my arm.

Half-scrambling, half helped by Skylar, I climbed over another doorframe. She pulled Eve and me into another room, shut the door, and sealed us inside. The grondar bellowed and banged its fists on the metalwork.

Eve, Skylar, and I backed away from the door, staring at the lock, all three probably wondering the same thing—did the animal know how to open it?

Judging by the grondar’s persistent banging and roars, the answer was likely a “no,” but I didn’t want to hang about long enough to find out.

“What exactly is a grondar?” I asked.

“It’s from Talessi.” Eve glanced at Skylar. “Some kind of monkey?”

Skylar gave a curt nod.

“That’s a big monkey,” I said.

We were in a room six feet wide and ten deep. Displays and controls lined each wall, all dark and lifeless. I was about to approach them for a closer look when Skylar cried out and leapt at the door.

The handle was turning.

I dove for the door too and grabbed ahold of it with Skylar. Even with our efforts combined, I could feel the strength of the creature on the other side.

Eve looked at us, panic in her eyes.

I scanned the room, frantically searching for something to wedge against the door, anything to prevent the handle from turning further, but there wasn’t a single thing we could use.

The creature roared, and the handle moved a fraction.

We couldn’t hold it forever.

I looked for an alternative way out.

In the corner, next to a control panel, was another closed door. I gestured toward it and redoubled my grip on the handle.

Eve hurried over. “Locked.” She studied the display next to the door. “No power.”

The grondar bellowed again, and it took all our strength to hold the handle in place.

“Now what?” Eve said.

“Can you two hold it for a minute?”

“A minute?” Skylar said. “Why not make it twenty?”

I forced a quivering smile, swapped places with Eve, and raced across the room. She was right—the other door was locked, but it had an air vent toward the bottom of the panel. I sat down, grabbed the frame, braced my feet, and pulled.

A sharp clank echoed around the room as the vent’s frame popped from its mount. I swung it out of the way.

“Leo,” Eve murmured, her face screwing up as she fought to hold the door closed. “Hurry.”

I lay down and peered through the opening. On the other side was a room with a door leading back to the main hallway, and it stood ajar.

Will the grondar hear us?

Only one way to find out . . .

I ran back to the door and grabbed the handle, nudging Eve out of the way. “Go.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Skylar hesitated too.

The grondar growled, and I gripped the handle harder. “Go,” I insisted.

Skylar paused for a moment more, then ran across the room and squeezed through the air vent. She helped Eve through.

The grondar roared again, twice as loud as before, and the handle turned.

I counted to three, then let go.

As if in slow motion, I dove for the vent, the door behind me crashed open, and the grondar lumbered across the room.

I had almost made it through when sharp claws slashed open my spacesuit and my right calf. Pain tore up my leg, and I screamed as I scrambled away.

My health meter plummeted from eighty-six percent to forty.

I clambered across the room and through the other door into the hallway. Skylar slammed it shut behind us, then did the same to the first room we’d entered.

We raced up the corridor—with me limping—and slid to a halt at a dead end. I bent double, panting, grabbing my leg.

“Are you okay?” Eve asked.

“Yeah,” I wheezed. “Just give me a minute.” I grimaced at the pain in my leg, wondering whether to roll up the suit and take a look at the damage.

Eve indicated the healing device on her belt. “This isn't powerful enough. We’ll take a look as soon as we’re back on Horizon Eighteen.”

I nodded.

Skylar consulted the map on her scanner display and tilted her head. “This says there’s an emergency exit nearby.”

“Here.” I stepped into a small dark recess. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I spotted a computer terminal with its display dimmed, and mounted to the wall opposite, there was a metal ladder.

We all gazed upward. High above was a circular hatch in the ceiling.

I couldn’t see any other way out. “What do you think?” I whispered.

“Stay here and touch nothing,” Skylar said, grabbing the ladder.

I focused on the narrow hallway as she went up, my senses straining into the darkness, expecting the monster to appear at any moment and tear us to shreds. Clearly thinking the same thing, Eve edged down the corridor, also peering into the gloom.

Skylar pushed the hatch open and clambered through.

My heart hammered, my blood sang in my ears, and every muscle froze. I sought a distraction, and my attention moved to the computer terminal and the keyboard under it. As I stared, the alien symbols turned to letters, English letters. On the screen was an input box.

Can I contact Ayesha? Or maybe someone in the real world will see my message and work out another way to get me out? Grandma Alice too? Could Ayesha reset the game? Let me start again? Perhaps there was an alternative version I could play instead. I wondered whether there were other similar games running in parallel I could jump into. Something easier?

It was all a stretch, but worth the risk.

I made sure Eve wasn’t watching me, then quickly typed: Trapped inside alien video game. SEND HELP.

“What the hell are you doing?”

My head snapped up.

Skylar peered down at me, her brow furrowed. “I told you not to touch anything.” She beckoned to the both of us. “Get up here.”

A loud crash came from further down the hallway, followed by an ominous snarl.

“Go.” I climbed the ladder after Eve, wincing with every painful step, and was about two-thirds of the way up when something struck the rungs below us. Knowing what it was, I didn’t bother to look but kept climbing as fast as I could, fighting the pain in my leg.

Skylar hauled Eve through the hatch, and I slid through too, turning in time to see a large clawed hand grab at me again.

Eve slammed the hatch down on the grondar’s hairy wrist, and it pulled its hand back, bellowing. She closed the hatch and locked it, then stepped away, panting, but no further sounds came from below.

As I continued to listen, the tears in my suit healed over my bleeding leg, and I decided it would probably be better than a regular bandage.

Skylar spun around. “Erm, guys?”

Twenty-Seven

The ominous tone of Skylar’s voice, punctuated by Eve’s gasp, told me more clearly than words that I wouldn’t enjoy whatever the heck they were looking at. I took my time getting to my feet, cringing at the pain in my leg, and finally turned around.

“What the—?” My face dropped, and it was a fair few seconds before my addled brain comprehended what I was seeing.

In front of the hatch we’d just emerged from like panic-stricken meerkats fleeing an underground house fire, was a balcony overlooking a lush jungle—palm trees, rubber trees, and a host of others, peppered with stunning purple and pink orchids. To make the view even more sublime, a waterfall cascaded over rocks, feeding a wide stream snaking through the undergrowth. A domed ceiling capped the entire space, and a fine mist hung in the air.

All of this would have been idyllic under normal circumstances, but I’d realised this game couldn’t be remotely normal.

The jungle was a twisted scene of pandemonium and bloody carnage. Velociraptor-like creatures prowled through the jungle, tearing apart anything that moved, while other alien animals battled to the death, ripping, clawing, slashing, and biting.

Green, fanged chimps chased spider monkeys with camouflaged fur through the treetops, and spotted hogs with long tusks and claws gorged on the remains of pigmy mammoths. Even the birds were predators—eagle-sized lizard creatures swooped to the forest floor, snatching up purple voles that screamed and struggled in their talons.

I gaped at it all.

It was like building a galactic Noah’s ark in real life and then expecting all the animals to get on. Not gonna happen.

What idiot thought this was a good idea?

It was Alien Armageddon, and I flinched at every roar, squawk, and scream.

At the far end of the jungle were several open gates below another walkway.

I pointed. “Guess they escaped their individual enclosures when the main power went down.”

Skylar nodded as she gazed out at it all. “Not the first time something like this has happened.”

“Is Kelvin in here somewhere?” I said.

If so, he’d likely be dead.

Skylar shook herself and consulted the holographic scanner readout on her arm again. “Oh no.”

My stomach churned. If Skylar was saying “Oh no” to something, it could only mean trouble.

“What?” I braced myself.

“The good news is I’ve found Kelvin.” She angled the scanner’s display so Eve and I could see.

Sure enough, a red dot flashed in the top corner, and I recognised the line drawing representing our current location, along with our three green dots. He seemed to be in a small sealed room.

“Bad news.” Skylar raised her voice above the din. “The only way to get to Kelvin is back the way we came.” She thrust a thumb over her shoulder, indicating the hatch.

Both Eve and I shook our heads.

“Or . . .” Skylar pointed to the balcony above the gates at the other end of the murder dome. Rather than a hatch, this one had an upright door with a slender window next to it.

My eyes followed a path of pipework and structural beams high above the jungle with the rampaging alien animals, which led from the balcony over to us.

I laughed. “Yeah. Not happening.”

I had a damaged leg, after all.

“There’s no other way.” Skylar twisted her fingers, and the scanner display vanished.

I was going to give her a smart answer about how there is always another way but, looking about, there wasn’t.

Damn it.

Eve’s expression told me she was all out of alternatives too.

There was zero chance I’d go back into the death tunnels and be torn apart by Bear Kong. Plus, it was only a matter of time before something with fangs spotted the soft humans up on the balcony and decided to head up for an easy lunch.

I’d be the first human-shaped meal of the day because Skylar was fifty percent robot—more of a dessert than a main course—and Eve’s luck was better than mine. This was their universe, after all.

I sighed, looked at the climbing frame of pipework and structural beams, and muttered, “Fine.”

Skylar jumped up to the railing, gripped a conduit above her head, side-stepped to a narrow girder, and shimmied her way along.

Eve did the same while I grumbled under my breath about how they made it look so bloody easy.

I clambered onto the railing, lost my footing, and grabbed a pipe at the last second, stopping my fall.

Then I looked down.

The jungle floor was at least thirty feet below. If the fall didn’t kill me, the hundreds of sabre-toothed beasties would.

In response to these lovely thoughts, my legs shook like the pair of cowards they were, making my task a hundred times more difficult.

Gits.

“Hurry,” Skylar hissed.

Skylar and Eve had already made it to a circular platform in the middle of the dome.

Get lost.

I ground my teeth as I edged forward, sliding my hands along the pipes, my feet across the metal girder. After several agonising minutes with a few close calls from flying creatures swooping past my face, I finally reached the platform. I dropped to my knees, breathing hard, sweat pouring from my brow. My leg was in agony.

“Are you okay, Leo?” Eve asked.

Skylar studied me as though I was some weak and pathetic kid-man-child.

An accurate assessment.

Something slammed into the underside of our platform, making me leap to my feet and stagger backward. “What the hell was that?”

As if in answer, an ear-splitting shriek forced me to wheel around.

Perched on the edge of the platform was one of the alien eagles, its dark eyes glaring at me and blood-soaked talons clacking on the metalwork.

“Nice birdy,” I murmured, backing away.

“Don’t hurt it,” Skylar murmured. “It’s a rare breed.”

Hurt it?

The eagle clicked its beak and jerked its head from side to side.

A quick glance at my health meter, which remained on forty percent, told me it was time to go. Taking my cue, I exited stage left, following Skylar and Eve onto the next beam. As before, I gripped the pipe above my head with all my strength to take the weight off my damaged leg, knowing a misstep would mean certain and painful death.

After a few feet, I stopped.

The eagle hadn’t moved. It sat watching us, its peanut-sized brain probably trying to work out what type of animals we were, what the heck we were doing, and which parts of us were the softest.

Silly bald monkeys.

I continued to edge along the beam, shaking and sweating, moving as fast as I could, when sudden and unexpected pain shot through my foot and up my leg. The healthy one.

I cried out and almost let go.

One of the purple voles from the jungle floor had latched onto the toes of my right foot, its tiny fangs puncturing the boot material and munching nonchalantly on the flesh within.

How did the little bozo get all the way up here?

My health meter dropped to thirty-nine, thirty-eight . . .

I shook my foot over the jungle, but the stubborn sod hung on. With no other choice, I pressed on, wincing at every bite from the furry git, and edged my way, finally, mercifully, to the platform.

Eve and Skylar grabbed my arms and helped me over the railing, where I crashed to the floor. Then they did what any considerate people would at the sight of an acquaintance in distress.

They laughed like hyenas.

I balled my fists. “It hurts.”

My health meter read thirty-two percent. Much more of this, and the tiny idiot would end me. Now it was trying to gnaw my pinkie toe off, each stab like an oversized needle puncturing my skin.

I went to kick him off with my other foot.

“Don’t you dare,” Skylar warned.

Eve straightened her face. “Hold still.” She knelt and attempted to prise the purple git off my foot, but the vole was well and truly clamped on.

Thirty percent health.

Eve frowned. “Hmm.”

Skylar stroked her chin, clearly pondering my funny—to her—situation, then one crystal in her phase-band lit up. She crouched, stretched out a finger toward the vole, and a small spark of electricity flew from the tip, catching the creature in the side.

It let out a squeak, released my foot, and leapt head-first into the jungle of mayhem like a high-diver.

Skylar straightened up, grimacing. “Poor guy. I hope he’s okay. I feel terrible.”

“Poor guy?” My boot sealed the holes, and I made a mental note of the new injuries to heal later. “He’s probably given me space rabies.”

“Hope so.” Skylar activated the scanner on her phase-band and consulted the display.

“Take off your boot,” Eve said to me. I did as she asked, and Eve used the healing device, passing it back and forth over the punctures in my foot. They scabbed over within a few seconds.

“Not perfect, but it will do.” She clipped the device back to her belt and smiled.

“Thanks.” I pulled my boot back on.

Skylar pointed. “Kelvin is fifty feet that way, at the end of the next corridor.”

“Finally.” I clambered to my feet and cursed my health meter for being at twenty-nine percent. I’d have to eat more of Mason’s chirorja crap.

Eve and I peered through the window but couldn’t make anything out in the semi-darkness beyond. Skylar tried to open the door, but it was locked.

I cracked my knuckles. “Out of the way, girls. I’m all over this.”

The door slid aside. I bowed, and we walked through. I was glad to hear it hiss closed behind us, finishing with a reassuring clunk. Let’s see the blood-thirsty alien lunatics get through that.

The three of us marched along a hallway, stepped through a door, and found ourselves in a thirty-foot square room with banks of displays around the outer walls.

In the middle was a raised platform with a plain metal table, and lying on top was Kelvin the alien boy, his dreadlocked red hair tumbling over the sides. He still wore his spacesuit, complete with phase-band and Bluestone artifact on the back of his hand. His large eyes were closed, his body still and lifeless.

“Oh, crap.”

Twenty-Eight

Picturing the horrified look on Mason’s face when he heard Kelvin was dead, I also selfishly wondered how the hell I would complete the game and find my grandmother without all the answers this Jyerool kid supposedly had.

Eve, Skylar, and I raced over to Kelvin’s body. None of us spoke. None of us could. With shaking hands, Eve placed two fingers against Kelvin’s neck. I guessed that meant he had a carotid artery in the same place as a human.

After a few seconds, she sighed with relief and smiled. “He’s alive. Strong pulse.” Eve tapped his arm. “Kelvin?”

No response.

I stared at the Bluestone artifact fixed to the back of Kelvin’s hand, trying to picture what magic it was capable of. The crystal glowed, and microscopic bolts of lightning danced over its surface.

Is it doing something right now?

Kelvin also wore a phase-band on the same arm, connected, but the crystals in that remained dark.

Eve took hold of his shoulders and gave him a light shake. “Wake up. Wake up, Kelvin.”

Still nothing.

I scanned him from top to toe, but there didn’t seem to be any signs Kelvin was seriously hurt. However, the kid wore a spacesuit like mine, so that could have meant it had healed itself. I shuddered at the grisly thought of the futuristic fabric covering gaping slash wounds in Kelvin’s stomach and chest, courtesy of our monster friends outside.

Eve checked him over, peering through her glasses. “I’m not seeing any physical injuries.” She frowned. “No indication he’s lost blood either.”

Even though Kelvin had grey skin, his cheeks still showed a rosy flush, and his breathing was normal and relaxed. That had to be good.

Eve edged around the table, seeming as confused and worried as I felt.

“What’s wrong with him?” I said.

She shrugged. “Maybe a coma.”

Skylar’s attention moved to the screens on the walls. Several showed a bewildering array of symbols and numbers, all foreign to me, and a few displayed CCTV images of both the inside and the outside of the science vessel.

Star Chaser was on the screen nearest the door, still parked in the hangar bay, and I hoped none of the alien creatures figured out how to break in there and mess with it.

Skylar’s eyes narrowed at Kelvin. “What is he doing in here? What is he playing at?”

If Kelvin was as intelligent as the others made out, he must have had a good reason.

“What is this room for?” I asked.

“Central control and primary computer access.” Eve pointed at the largest screen, which showed a single line of symbols and a blinking cursor. “The main processor is offline. Probably destroyed in the attack.”

Or the crew took it with them when they abandoned ship, I thought. That was the most likely scenario. I couldn’t blame them; it made sense to take anything which might aid survival on some remote planet. It’s what any sensible person would have done.

The only problem was the poor saps they’d left behind. Like us, for instance.

Eve huffed out a breath. “We need to get Kelvin to a med bay.”

“There’s no power here.” Skylar glanced at the open door and the hallway with the murder dome beyond. “We’ll take him back to Horizon Eighteen.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Eve said.

I had to agree. I knew enough not to move someone unless you knew what was wrong with them and were confident it was safe to do so. With the added complication of Kelvin being an alien, moving him had to be an absolute last resort.

Skylar faced Eve. “Horizon Eighteen is the nearest ship we know of with working medical facilities. We’ve got no other choice.” She raised her arm, brought up a holographic display, then scrolled through the line drawing representing Discovery’s layout.

“Wait, you’re suggesting we carry Kelvin all the way back to Star Chaser?” I cringed at the thought of various alien beasties gnawing on his motionless body as we tried, in vain, to get him out of this nightmare. “Are you serious?”

“I have another idea,” Skylar said. “You could go back to Star Chaser and bring it to a closer hangar.”

I stared at her. “Can I fly Star Chaser without a phase-band?”

She shrugged. “Probably not very well, but yeah.”

“Let me get this right,” I said. “You want me to risk my life to not only get through the murder dome and past the grondar, but also fly Star Chaser? In outer space? All without dying?”

Eve scowled at Skylar. “He isn’t doing that.”

Skylar hesitated, then her lips twitched. “I know. I can bring Star Chaser closer to us myself.” She pointed at the ship’s plan. “Here.” She indicated another hangar bay outlined in green. It was much nearer, but the main door led straight into the ground floor of the demon biodome from hell. We’d have to climb down from our current location and carry Kelvin through the jungle, all without getting mauled to death.

“It’s not even possible,” Eve murmured.

Amen.

Alien boy Kelvin was slight and shorter than me, but carrying him through all that?

No freaking way.

“I’ll move Star Chaser,” Skylar repeated, “and we’ll come up with a plan.” She sat on the floor cross-legged and closed her eyes.

“You can fly Star Chaser remotely?” I said, incredulous. “From here?”

Impressive.

Skylar opened one eye. “Shut up.” She closed it again.

The crystals in Skylar's phase-band glowed, and ripples of energy swirled around her, twisting like a tornado, then pulsating outward in undulating waves.

Eve and I remained frozen, hardly breathing as the hangar bay door opened.

Star Chaser lifted off the deck and glided outside.

Several other screens followed the tiny spacecraft as it flew close to Discovery’s hull, avoiding debris, then swooping through another set of doors nearer the front of the ship. I scanned the remaining displays but none showed the view inside the new hangar, so I waited for Skylar to finish.

Twenty seconds later, the swirling energy evaporated.

Skylar got to her feet and dusted herself off. “Have you come up with a plan?”

My eyebrows lifted. “What?”

“How are we going to get Kelvin down there?” Skylar said. “Did you two think of a plan when I was moving Star Chaser?”

I shook my head. “Not so much. No.”

Eve shook her head too.

Skylar rolled her eyes and marched back into the corridor.

Eve and I exchanged awkward looks and followed.

We peered through the window into the death dome. The alien animals were still single-mindedly tearing each other apart, tossing feathers and clumps of fluff into the air. “I don’t see how we can get Kelvin through,” Eve said.

“If we wait long enough, the animals will kill each other,” I suggested with all seriousness. “There won’t be any left.” At the rate they were going, it wouldn’t take long.

“Not all of them will be dead by the end, though,” Skylar murmured. “The strongest will survive.”

Yikes. Good point.

Skylar sighed and pressed her palms against the glass. “I wish we could stop them. They don’t deserve this.”

I peered at the metal platform outside. There was no ladder or stairs, and no obvious way to get Kelvin down safely.

“This is impossible,” Skylar huffed.

“I agree,” Eve said with a despondent expression.

I gritted my teeth, determined to find a solution. No way was I giving up. Not when we’d come this far.

For a few seconds I imagined fashioning some kind of rope and harness from cables, but the computer room was bare. Not to mention that as soon as we set foot in the jungle, the animals would attack, and—

“Hold on a minute.” A broad smile spread across my smug face. “I’ve got an idea.”

It was an awesome idea.

Eve tilted her head. “What?”

Skylar looked at me, and her face fell. “Why are you grinning like an idiot?”

“Because you two are gonna love my plan.”

Five minutes later, after double-checking he still didn’t have any obvious wounds, we carried Kelvin’s limp alien body between us—me at the head, Skylar and Eve holding his legs—and waddled along the corridor. I had suggested slinging the kid over my shoulder in a fireman’s lift, but Eve thought this was the safer option, given we still didn’t know what was wrong with him.

The moment we’d lifted Kelvin from the table, the Bluestone contraption on the back of his hand had gone out. I hoped we hadn’t cut off some vital life-support system.

“This is the most stupid, ridiculous, crazy, nonsense plan anyone has come up with in the history of plan-making. Ever,” Skylar grumbled as we set Kelvin down by the door. “You do know that?”

I gave her a wry smile. “So you’re saying you like the idea?”

Her jaw clenched.

“Hey,” I said, never being one to take criticism well, “quit with the negativity, will you? This way we get Kelvin out.” I waved at the jungle. “Plus all your murderous friends can fight another day. Everyone’s a winner.” I grinned. “Besides, if you really thought it was such a bad idea, you’d say you couldn’t do it.”

Skylar folded her arms. “I can’t.”

I waggled a finger at her. “Too late now. You just told us you haven’t got an alternative plan, so it’s this or nothing.” I gestured at the computer room. “Go do it before you change your mind. We’ll stay here with Kelvin.” I winked at Skylar for good measure, but this didn’t go down too well either.

“You know your charm doesn’t work on me, right?” she snapped. “I’m not Eve.”

“Hey.” Eve scowled at her.

I raised my eyebrows. “Wait, you’re saying I’ve got charm?”

Skylar stared at me for a few seconds, as though she couldn’t decide whether to argue, punch me, or both. She shook her head, clucked her tongue, and marched off, swearing under her breath.

“Stop moaning,” I called after her. “You will absolutely thank me in a few minutes. You’ll see. This will be the best thing you’ve ever done in your entire life.”

“The worst,” Skylar shouted back.

“Best.” I turned to the window and whispered to Eve, “Definitely the best.”

She chuckled.

Like an excited puppy at chow time, I bounced on the balls of my feet, watching all the alien animals racing through the jungle, chasing, pouncing, fighting, tearing . . . I couldn’t wait for it to happen.

“Ready?” Skylar called.

“Oh, I am one hundred percent ready,” I shouted back.

“You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.” I knelt and grabbed hold of Kelvin, gripping the window frame with my other hand, excitement coursing through my veins like jet fuel.

Eve did the same, although she seemed less enthusiastic.

“Don’t blame me when we all die,” Skylar said.

That made zero sense.

“Get on with it.”

“Three,” she shouted.

Butterflies ravaged my stomach.

“Two.”

I prayed the CCTV would capture this incredible moment to play back later.

“One . . .”

Then it happened.

Twenty-Nine

By the time Skylar made it back to Eve and me in the corridor overlooking the monster dome, I was having trouble breathing, let alone holding onto Kelvin, from laughing so damn hard.

Seriously, I thought I was about to pass out.

My plan was far better than I could ever have hoped or imagined. So amazing, in fact, that it brought a tear of joy to my eye.

Eve smirked too.

“Told you,” I wheezed, pointing through the window. “Told you it would work.”

If the dome had been utter mayhem before, that was nothing compared to the total pandemonium it had become.

Skylar—after gentle persuasion, arguing, and outright blackmail—had switched off the artificial gravity throughout the Discovery spaceship.

The animals floated through the jungle, thrashing their limbs as if trying to swim in air. Some gripped branches, holding on for their lives, while others flailed helplessly.

Sure, the odd creature latched onto another, but for the most part, the violence had all but ceased, and not one of the murderous little bastards was having a good time.

They looked so pissed off.

It was glorious.

As my feet drifted behind me, the pressure now mercifully off my damaged leg, I pressed my face against the glass, wanting the moment to last forever.

The purple vole git spun past the window, and I grinned. “That’ll teach ya.”

Skylar huffed, glided over, and grabbed hold of Kelvin.

I flashed back to our first encounter. “Great idea,” I said. “You’re way better at the acrobatic stuff.” I hovered my hand over the lock mechanism. “Shall we, ladies?” I opened the door and helped them out with Kelvin.

On the other side we held back, gripping the frame to stop ourselves floating away.

“We’re heading there.” Skylar pointed through the jungle chaos to a door in the opposite corner of the lower deck.

I swatted a fanged beetle from my face. It spiralled through the air, ricocheted off a girder, and flew across the dome with an expression I could swear was irritation.

I snickered.

“Don’t hurt any of the animals.” Skylar coiled her legs.

The girls focused on the target door, then sprang off the wall, holding Kelvin as they flew down through the jungle.

I followed a second later, flying between the treetops, narrowly missing floating alien creatures on the way, and down to the hangar door.

Once there, Eve and Skylar grabbed hold of the door frame, while I released the lock and helped them through with Kelvin. To my surprise, Star Chaser drifted near the hangar ceiling.

“Damn,” Skylar muttered. “I forgot to engage the maglocks.” She shifted her weight and swapped places with me, leaving us to hold Kelvin. Skylar shot up, spinning in the air, planting her feet on a beam and springing off again, landing deftly on Star Chaser’s roof. She scrambled to the door and pulled herself inside. I had to admit her skills in a zero-g environment were very impr—

Something screeched, making me start.

Working as a team, two of the chimp-like aliens had latched onto Kelvin’s legs and were attempting to drag him through the door.

Little sods.

“Hey.” Eve screwed up her face as she tried to hold on.

I gripped the doorframe and struggled alongside her, doing whatever I could to pull Kelvin free, but the orange vampire monkey gits had a good hold of him. No matter how hard we fought, they were far too strong, bracing their grubby little feet on the other side of the door and pulling for all they were worth. Despite our efforts, Kelvin began to slip from our grasp.

With nothing else for it, mindful of what any animal-loving zoologist would do in my current predicament, I lifted a leg to kick the first alien monkey in its stupid face.

“Don’t you dare,” said a voice from between my ears that wasn’t mine.

Star Chaser swung into view with a determined-looking Skylar behind the controls.

Before we had a chance to discuss Skylar’s plan—weighing up the dangers and pitfalls, debating the outcomes, risks, and implications, and deciding on the best course of action following a peer-reviewed health and safety assessment report—a blast of air shot from one of Star Chaser’s thrusters and blew straight past us. It missed Kelvin by a fraction of an inch and hit the two alien monkeys, sending them flying back into the jungle dome.

However, the power of the blast rebounded off the nearest wall, throwing the three of us in the opposite direction. We tumbled end over end and hit the far side of the hangar, dropping my health bar to twenty-five percent.

I checked Kelvin, but he seemed unscathed. At least, I hoped so.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Skylar swung Star Chaser around and glided over. She gestured with her phase-band, and the door to the biodome closed, keeping out any more creatures with murderous intent. Which was what we should’ve done in the first place.

Skylar helped us get Kelvin into one of Star Chaser’s back seats and we fastened him in. As Eve and I strapped ourselves into chairs, the side door closed and Skylar flew us back across the hangar.

“You two okay?” She glanced over her shoulder.

I gave her an awkward thumbs up, glad I still had thumbs, while Eve kept her attention on Kelvin.

We soared through the debris field, Kelvin’s head lolling as we weaved in and out of space junk, and I imagined Grandpa John going through all this nonsense, over and over, for forty years. Suddenly I had a whole new level of respect for the guy.

He was my hero.

Thirty

We glided into Horizon Eighteen’s hangar bay and touched down. No sooner had the main door closed and the room pressurised, than Mason hurried over to us.

“What happened?” he asked as Star Chaser’s side swung open. “You were gone ages.”

I indicated Kelvin’s slumped, lifeless form in the next seat, and the colour drained from Mason’s face. “Is he—?”

“No.” Eve unfastened Kelvin’s harness. “He’s in a coma or something. Let’s get him checked.”

Together, the four of us lifted Kelvin out and carried him into the gallery area.

“There’s a medical bay on this level.” Eve pointed at a door. “I think it’s through here.”

Sure enough, we stepped into a glass-walled room of the same design as the previous medical bay.

As soon as we had Kelvin on the floating examination table, Eve used her phase-band to interact with the nearest screen. The ring swooped down and over Kelvin’s body.

Eve frowned as she consulted the readout. “Still not seeing any signs of physical trauma.” She made a few gestures, sending pulses of energy to the display, changing settings and menus. “I’ll scan again to be sure.”

The ring glided up and down Kelvin’s body, and the tension in the room increased. Without him, we had no chance of figuring out what to do next.

I pointed at the Bluestone device on the back of his hand. “Could it have something to do with this?”

Mason opened his mouth to answer, but Kelvin groaned, and we gathered around him.

He squinted up at us. “Where am I?”

“Horizon Eighteen,” Eve said.

“We have to contact the Leviathan and warn them.” Kelvin went to sit up, but Mason grabbed hold of him.

“Slow down, bud. Not so fast. Relax for a bit.”

“There’s no time.” Kelvin pushed him away. “We have to talk to Admiral Floyd.”

“They’re not responding,” Eve said. “We’ve tried.”

Kelvin stared at her, blinking as though trying to clear his thoughts. “What about the emergency channels?”

Eve shook her head.

Kelvin’s gaze moved to me. “Who are you?”

“Leonardo Cooper.” I offered my hand. “Leo.”

Kelvin’s eyes widened as he shook.

“He’s the guy you insisted we risk our necks for,” Mason said. “Remember?”

Skylar glared at Kelvin. “That stupid idea risked a lot more than your neck. It almost got us all killed.”

“Hey.” I frowned at her. “Stupid idea? Really? After everything we just went through?”

“Yeah.” Skylar looked away. “Really.”

Charming.

Kelvin gazed at me, a weird expression on his face. I couldn’t tell if it was confusion, admiration, or something else. Probably disappointment. I had that effect on most people.

“Kelvin?” Eve rested a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Kelvin’s attention settled on each of us in turn, but he barely seemed to see us at all.

“Best you explain from the beginning,” Mason said.

Kelvin swung his legs over the side of the examination table, got to his feet, and wobbled.

Mason grabbed him under the arms.

“I’m okay.” Kelvin pushed him away again. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Can I ask you an important question?” Mason leaned in. “Was there any food over there?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?” Mason shrugged. “I’m still hungry.”

“There was a whole jungle of meat,” I muttered. “But you’ve got to catch it first.”

“Not funny, Leo,” Skylar said.

Mason grinned. “She’s vegan.”

Kelvin surveyed the room. “Which med bay is this? What level?”

“Top deck,” Skylar said. “Bridge.”

“Right.” Kelvin went to leave, but Eve stepped in front of him.

“Hold on a minute.” She took my arm and walked me to the examination table. “Let’s check your wounds.”

Eve ignored my protests as I lay down. Mason removed my boot and rolled up the leg of my spacesuit as she consulted the scanner display.

“It’s deep,” Eve said. “I’ll start the healing.” She gestured, the ring swooped down, and the medical pencils set to work, gliding over my leg and sealing up the lacerations. Once they’d scabbed over, I felt an instant wave of relief.

The ring returned to the ceiling.

“We’ll leave it a few weeks,” Eve said. “Let your body do the work, then we can remove any scars.”

“Thank you.” I sat up and pulled my boot back on.

We followed Kelvin across the gallery and into a room containing a long oval dark-wood table with a foot-wide glass loop embedded in its surface. Placed around the table were six high-backed chairs.

A glowing sign on the far wall declared it to be the officers’ ready room. Below the sign was a display case filled with model spacecraft like my grandfather’s, except these were metal, solid, and a third of the size.

The five of us sat down.

Kelvin took a breath. “First, I want to apologise. When I brought you all out of stasis, this wasn’t what I intended. I had to think fast.”

“What did you intend?” Skylar asked in a low voice.

Kelvin removed one of the Bluestone crystals from his phase-band and set it on the table’s glass ring. He placed his hands either side of it, palms down.

Skylar huffed and put her hands on it too, and so did Eve and Mason.

I hesitated.

“It’s safe,” Eve assured me.

“What is it?”

“Stop being a wuss,” Skylar said. “We haven’t got time to mess about.”

I scowled at her and rested my hands on the glass.

Kelvin closed his eyes, and the room melted away.

Eve, Mason, Skylar, and I stood on a platform overlooking a vast area filled with stacks of rectangular wooden caskets—stasis beds—hanging from thick columns like ships’ masts. I shivered as I remembered my fun airlock experience.

“Each Bluestone crystal has memories stretching back to the beginning of time,” Mason said. “This is Kelvin’s artifact’s memory from earlier today.”

A control panel flashed green. A gigantic robot arm swooped down, plucked a casket from its mount, and lowered it to the gantry in front of us. The casket opened, and a previous version of Kelvin climbed out.

Skylar glared at him. “You were supposed to be in stasis for the next six months like the rest of us.”

“I set a timer to wake early,” Kelvin’s disembodied voice said. He could narrate his Bluestone’s memory, which felt like someone forcing you to watch their holiday videos while they sat behind you and did a running commentary.

“Why did you want to wake early?” Eve asked.

“I’ll show you,” Kelvin said.

The world sped up, following Kelvin from the stasis bay to a lower deck. There, he stepped into a room filled with benches, displays, and racks of futuristic-looking tools.

He opened a locker and pulled out a device that looked like a cross between a radio-controlled boat and a rocket, with a tube strapped to the top.

“You modified a drone?” Mason said, his voice rising. “What for? And why didn’t you tell me? We weren’t scheduled to stop in this solar system.”

A holographic display at the end of the room flickered to life, showing a split-screen view. One was from the drone, the other outside Horizon Eighteen, with the fleet of intact ships and the ice planet as a backdrop.

“Where are we?” I murmured to Eve.

“The Ancampi system.”

I blinked. “The what?”

“No way.” Mason stared. “Seriously? We’re in the Ancampi system?”

Eve nodded. “The ice planet outside used to be the Ancampi’s home world. Hundreds of years ago, the Kraythons’ war with the Azurean monks spilled over here. Destroyed the planet.”

“The Battle of Puissance,” Skylar said.

“The Azurean monks were hiding several powerful artifacts nearby,” Eve said. “They’d chosen the Ancampi’s world for one of them, but the Kraythons discovered their plan and attacked.”

The ice planet used to be a world with a living civilization? I thought. And it got caught in the crossfire?

In the Bluestone memory Kelvin took the drone to the nearest cargo bay and set it down.

“Why did we stop here, though? Why a dead world?” Skylar said. “It wasn’t on the fleet’s flight plan.”

“No idea,” Kelvin’s voice said. “It’s classified. Admiral Floyd’s orders.”

Eve, Skylar, and Mason exchanged puzzled looks.

“I wanted to send a drone to search for any remaining Ancampi structures on the planet and, if there were any, catalogue them for the archives,” Kelvin said. “I’d spent weeks working on the probe’s design, making it fast enough to do a few orbits and return to Horizon Eighteen before anyone noticed.”

Mason whistled. “The captain would’ve been mad as hell if you’d been caught.”

In the crystal’s memory, using his phase-band in the same way Skylar had controlled Star Chaser, Kelvin flew the drone from the ship. We watched on the big screen as it weaved in and out of the fleet, avoiding detection and swooping toward the ice planet.

The tube on the top of the drone glowed a vibrant blue, then a beam of light shot from the end, scanning up and down in rapid movements.

My eyebrows lifted. “A laser?”

Eve nodded.

It was impressive. I wanted one of those too.

After the laser had mapped the whole surface, a structure appeared on the results on the big screen—a smooth-sided pyramid with an entrance at the side.

“No way.” Mason leaned in. “It doesn’t look like anything the Ancampi would’ve built. They used tents.”

“This is where I first detected them,” Kelvin said.

“Them?” Skylar’s eyes narrowed. “Them who?”

The drone flew around the ice planet, and a series of red boxes flashed up on the display, along with a wailing alarm.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Thirty-One

The four of us—Eve, Mason, Skylar, and me—stood in Kelvin’s Bluestone memory, staring at hundreds of long sleek bodies hanging in the void of outer space, lying in wait like sharks anticipating a hapless swimmer.

They could only be one thing—missiles. That’s what had decimated the fleet. They’d remained hidden behind the ice planet, shielded from the Antarian ships by its mass, and now all the destruction outside made perfect sense.

Kelvin’s drone edged over to a missile and scanned along it. The laser beam swept up and down, returning a bewildering mass of numbers and symbols.

Mason leaned forward. “I’ve never seen a weapon so complicated. This scan data is crazy.”

Several missiles flew to meet the drone. A pulse of energy shot from the nearest one, and the drone’s display darkened.

In the Bluestone artifact’s memory, Kelvin stood in front of the screen, breathing hard.

“I downloaded the data to my phase-band’s storage,” his voice said. “But I had no way to process the information. It was too much. Too complicated.”

Kelvin snapped out of his daze, held up his phase-band, and gestured with his fingers. Pulses of blue energy rippled across the room and through the walls.

“Bridge?” a deep voice answered.

“Tell the captain to perform emergency evasion,” Kelvin gabbled. “Do it now.”

A pause. “Who is this?”

“They’re hiding behind the ice planet. Hundreds of them.” Kelvin brought up an external image of the Antarian fleet on the display and gasped as a wave of missiles hit the first ships, tearing them to pieces.

I recoiled.

“Hello?” Kelvin screamed into his phase-band. “Are you there?”

No one answered.

The Bluestone memory faded, the officers’ ready room reappeared around us. I let go of the table, blinking.

“Okay.” Skylar rubbed her eyes. “So the missiles blew the fleet apart, and the stasis bays ejected to safety. But why keep us back?”

“I had to get a team together,” Kelvin said.

Eve’s brow furrowed. “A team for what?”

“To help me.” Kelvin looked round at us. “Without knowing how the missiles penetrated our defences, there’s no way to save the Leviathan. Don’t you understand? I had to do something. Had to take risks.”

“With our lives,” Skylar snapped. “You didn’t ask us.”

“How could I?” Kelvin said. “There wasn’t enough time.”

My eyebrows knitted. “Why did you save me? Why my stasis bed?” It made little sense.

Kelvin sat back. “When I looked for the others in the list, I caught sight of the fact you had a CodeX implant.” He half-smiled. “It’s fate.” He turned to Skylar. “And before you criticise me, I did it because if I couldn’t process the scan data myself, he could.” Kelvin shrugged. “But I didn’t need Leo’s help after all.”

“Hold on a minute.” Mason leaned across the table. “Let me get this right. You woke up from stasis to perform a pet project, found an armada of missiles, scanned one but couldn’t analyse the data on your own, so as they attacked, you pulled us from stasis?” He waved an arm at us, grouped around the table. “And that was to increase your chances of contacting the Leviathan and telling them what had happened? Is that all correct?”

Kelvin let out a breath and nodded.

Mason shook his head. “Great thinking, bud. Shouldn’t you have woken up some adults? Scientists? Officers?” He raised his eyebrows. “People with actual experience?”

He had a point.

“And who’s got experience with being attacked by super-weapons?” Eve said. “Kelvin tried to warn the bridge. They didn’t listen.”

She had a point too.

Mason threw his hands up and sat back.

“What were you doing on the science vessel?” I asked Kelvin. “Why did you go there? Why didn’t you return to Horizon Eighteen?” I glanced at Eve and Skylar, remembering how we’d risked our lives to reach him. “And why were you in a coma when we found you?” I also recalled what a pain it had been getting his unconscious body out of there.

Kelvin paced the room, wringing his hands. “I hoped their primary computer was still intact,” he said in a low voice. “It’s one of the most powerful in the fleet. I wanted to use it to analyse the scan data from the drone and work out how the missiles penetrated our shields.”

Skylar scowled at him. “But?”

Kelvin stopped and huffed out a sigh. “The computer ejected with the crew. It left me with only one alternative.”

“To force your own brain to process the data,” Eve said.

“How idiotic can you be?” Skylar said. “You could have died pulling a stunt like that.”

Kelvin bowed his head. “I know.” He resumed pacing. “I used Discovery’s remaining computers to offset the processing load, but it still took a lot out of me.”

“That’s why some doors were open.” Skylar snarled at him. “You interfered with the security systems.” Her lip curled. “All those animals. How dare you?”

I flinched, remembering the monster in the hallway and the demon dome. Kelvin had let all the alien creatures mingle and murder just to repurpose the computers?

A risky thing to do.

“You have to understand.” Kelvin stopped pacing and his eyes blazed. “I needed every byte of processing power I could get hold of.” He clenched his fists. “It worked. Now I know how the missiles function. I know exactly how they penetrated our shields.” Kelvin grabbed the back of his chair. “Please, guys, we need to tell the Leviathan. They might not listen to me, but they can’t ignore all of us.”

“No can do,” Mason said.

Kelvin’s face fell.

“Something’s interfering with our signals,” Eve said. “Blocking long-range scans and communications. The Leviathan has no clue what’s happened to the fleet.”

“If they’re still alive,” Skylar said.

“They’re alive,” Eve said. “I would have picked up their wreckage in the scans.”

Kelvin dropped back into his chair, crestfallen. “I can’t even use a Bluestone laser to get a signal to them. They’re too far away.”

“There must be a Kraython ship hiding somewhere.” Skylar clenched her fists. “I bet they’re the ones jamming our comms.”

“Whoever it is, we need to find them.” Kelvin’s gaze rose from the table. “We have to deactivate the signal blocker.”

Mason laughed. “Is that all? In case you haven’t noticed, the fleet’s gone.” He flicked his wrist. “In what parallel universe do you see us standing up to Kraythons? Because in this one, they’ll tear us to shreds.”

“If we can find a grav module,” Kelvin muttered, rubbing his chin, “we stand a good chance.”

“How so?” Eve asked.

Kelvin leapt to his feet, faced the wall, and waved his hand across the surface. A window appeared, showing a panorama of the destruction outside. He pointed to a large ship on the left. Broken letters on the remains of the hull spelled out Horizon Seven.

“With a grav module fitted to this ship, we could fly over to that other Horizon vessel and—”

“Use the combined resources to build a brand new working ship,” Eve said, her eyes bright. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

Kelvin nodded. “We’ll create a spaceship capable of remaining unnoticed and use it to find the signal blocker.”

“Then shut it down and warn Admiral Floyd about what’s happening.” Eve checked her phase-band. “We’ve got a little over seven hours,” she added. “Seven hours before the Leviathan arrives. If we don’t get a signal to them in time, they’ll fly straight into the missile trap and wind up like the rest of us.”

I held up my hands. “Wait. How can we build an entire ship in under seven hours?”

“Bluestone boosted technology,” Eve said. “Scans show there are thousands of repair ants and drones on board Horizon Seven. Those, combined with the ones we have left on this ship and the joined materials resources, mean we’ll get it done in no time.”

“I’m assuming all of the grav modules left with the crew?” Mason said.

Kelvin nodded.

“Can we build another one?” Skylar asked.

Kelvin shook his head. “Not in a few hours.”

I frowned. “Wait. What’s a grav module? Isn’t that what’s giving us gravity right now?”

“They’re used in shuttles and Star Chaser too,” Skylar said. “But we’re after a much more powerful version. The grav module we need is strong enough for the entire ship.”

“So our only chance is to find a grav module among the debris?” Mason whistled. “That’s a tall order.”

“We have to,” Kelvin said, sitting up in his chair and looking determined again.

“Well, let’s say we find one,” Eve said. “We fly over to Horizon Seven and combine resources. Then what?”

“Exactly.” Skylar folded her arms. “None of us know how to design an advanced custom ship able to sneak around undetected.”

“You’re right. None of us do.” Kelvin’s eyes drifted to me. “But he does.”

Thirty-Two

At first I couldn’t work out what gave Kelvin the impression I had the slightest ability to design a super-sophisticated spacecraft, but then I realised he was talking about the CodeX implant, not me per se. The very thing that had stayed silent throughout this entire nightmare of a game. I hoped he had a way to overcome that.

My health meter remained on twenty-five percent, and I was about to ask Mason for another tube of the disgusting chirorja when Kelvin marched from the ready room.

I hurried after him with the others.

“It’s no good,” Eve said as the five of us strode across the gallery. “Leo’s CodeX implant isn’t activated.”

So they seriously thought my implant would help. That was a big stretch. What with not being a captain, no CodeX, and no Ayesha in sight, this game was glitching like an operating system from before I was born. I expected a screen of death to pop up any moment and send me into digital oblivion.

“We’ll activate Leo’s implant ourselves,” Kelvin said.

I gasped. “We’ll what?” He made it sound so simple.

“Not a chance,” Mason said. “It takes specialised equipment to switch on an implant.”

“That fills me with confidence,” I muttered.

Kelvin stopped at the door to the medical bay. “Leo is our only hope. The CodeX implant’s ability is off the charts. We activate it fully, he joins with the onboard AI, and we’re saved.” Kelvin looked at me. “Can you please let me try to switch it on? You’re our only chance.”

I hesitated, thinking of my grandmother trapped inside the game, the consequences of refusing to help, and the look on my grandfather’s face when he found out I’d failed.

I pretty much have no other bloody choice.

“Sure,” I said in a resigned tone. “You can try.”

Kelvin beamed at me, revealing several rows of alien teeth.

“We’ll still need a grav module,” Eve said. “Even with the CodeX implant activated, that’s only half the battle.”

“Leo will get us everything we want,” Kelvin said, still grinning.

I swallowed. “How?” He was putting a lot of faith in me.

“I don’t know,” Kelvin said, “but the CodeX will.”

I thought back to when I’d first met Ayesha, way before I got into this mess. The CodeX had only been a floating word. Ayesha had told me it would become a companion during the game and a guide to help me through the level, so I supposed anything was possible.

The game had backed us down an alley, around a corner, and into a dead end. I couldn’t see any other way out. And besides, I wanted to know what was so special about having an implant.

Kelvin indicated the medical bay. I walked in and sat on the edge of the examination table.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Eve asked in a hushed voice as Kelvin worked the control panel with his phase-band.

I shrugged. “Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?” I tried to focus on the amazing new ability I was about to receive.

“Hmm.” Eve bit her nails, which did not fill me with much confidence.

“Please lie down,” Kelvin said.

I obeyed, hoping he knew what the hell he was doing. I took several deep breaths, and as a Bluestone crystal glowed in the back of Kelvin’s hand contraption, I sat up again. “On second thought, I don’t want something rammed into my head.”

My heart thumped against my ribcage, and blood pulsed at my temples. Does a heart have only so many beats in a lifetime? If it does, I’ve used ten years’ worth in the last few hours alone.

“I can assure you there’s no ramming,” Kelvin said. “It’s non-invasive. No holes. No anaesthetic. No pain.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No pain?”

“None,” Kelvin assured me. “Lie back, please.”

“Have you done this before?” I said.

Kelvin shook his head. “It isn’t difficult.”

Eve winced as I lay down again.

I tried to slow my breathing and not look like a total coward in front of the others. Skylar folded her arms and scowled in her usual radiant manner, while Mason looked calm, as if there were no risks at all.

Which of course there weren’t, for him.

“Relax.” Kelvin rested a hand on my shoulder. “When it’s over, you’ll wonder why you worried so much.” He hovered the hand with the glowing crystal over my forehead. “My artifact allows me to control technology. Try to keep as still as possible.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Wait.” I eyed his contraption. “What does it do, exactly? Explain.”

“It allows me to connect and modify objects at an atomic scale. I’ll be able to activate your implant easily. No problem.”

Pulses of blue, green, and purple energy swirled in front of my eyes. I let go of Kelvin as warmth fell onto my skin, radiating across my forehead and temples.

I clenched my fists, reminding myself why I was doing this; to help Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin contact the Leviathan, and above all to find Alice Bowman—the woman who’d make my family whole.

Closing my eyes, I pictured Grandpa John’s face when he saw his wife for the first time in forty years.

“In three, two, one—”

The word CodeX appeared a few feet in front of me, hovering in the darkness.

I smiled. “Hey, it’s worked.”

That was easy.

Then a rush of images filled my mind—the Antarian fleet, Horizon Eighteen, its structure, its parts. Every component down to individual nuts and bolts, including the grav module, a rectangular device with a Bluestone crystal glowing inside.

In my mind, I frowned. I’d seen that somewhere . . . But before I had time to recall where, more images rushed into my head: men and women wearing dark armoured clothes, their cold hooded eyes staring from behind silver masks, and I knew they were Kraythons.

They vanished, replaced by a giant Bluestone monolith standing in a field, surrounded by forest as far as the eye could see, under a cloudless blue firmament.

“Leo?”

I turned my face skyward, feeling the sun on my skin.

“Leo,” Kelvin shouted.

The medical bay reappeared.

My health meter dropped to twenty percent, and a massive pressure filled my skull, accompanied by unimaginable pain, as if something was trying to smash its way out.

Why the hell had I agreed to this insanity?

I let out an anguished scream, shoved Kelvin away, and clawed at my scalp, wanting to rip the skin and release whatever demon was inside.

My health meter plummeted—nineteen, eighteen, seventeen . . .

Eve and Mason rushed forward and attempted to restrain me as I writhed, every nerve on fire, feeling as if someone had pressed a thousand red-hot needles into my flesh.

“What’s happening?” Mason shouted.

“I don’t know.” The colour drained from Kelvin’s face.

I lurched, shoving Eve and Mason away, feeling agony beyond what anyone should have to endure.

Skylar stared at me, open-mouthed.

Fourteen percent health, thirteen, twelve . . .

The world turned grey as I rolled from the bed to try to escape the pain. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, which came away drenched in dark blood.

Skylar snapped out of her daze and rushed forward, but I collapsed to the ground before she could reach me, pulling my knees to my chest as fresh waves of agony seared through every micron of my body.

Ten percent health, nine, eight . . .

Shaking uncontrollably, I had never wanted death as much as I did in that moment. I would have prayed for it if the pain hadn’t been the only thing I could think of.

Seven percent, six . . .

Red mist descended over the room and blurred my vision. I retched and sprayed blood across the floor.

Five percent health, four . . .

“CodeX, exit,” I screamed.

Three percent . . .

“Exit. Code—”

Something cold yanked me into darkness.

Thirty-Three

I fell, and something slammed into the right side of my body. I opened my eyes, blinked away the pain, and found myself in my bedroom in Colorado, lying on the floorboards in a sweaty, crumpled, quivering heap.

“No,” I groaned. I rolled onto my back and patted myself down. I was wearing my jeans and shirt again.

Milo waddled over, tail wagging, and sniffed my face.

With a supreme effort, I clambered to my feet, gave silly pooch a scratch behind the ears, and stumbled into the hallway.

I checked the time on the grandfather clock. A little after one in the afternoon.

It was like I’d never left.

I returned to my bedroom and snatched up the CodeX just as the Bluestone’s light faded and died.

My shoulders slumped.

I’ve failed.

What did I do wrong?

What else could I have done?

Disgusted with myself, I returned the CodeX to its box and dropped to my knees, picturing the look on Grandpa John’s face when he found out I’d botched the level.

He would be furious, and I couldn’t blame him. It meant that, in order for either of us to get back into the game, I’d have to write in the CodeX, explaining what I’d done in detail. That would take weeks.

Argh.

An hour later I slumped at the kitchen table, my head resting on my arms, feeling deflated and useless.

I had been well on my way to completing the game, despite it not working as it should. I was so close to helping the others warn the Leviathan, then asking Admiral Floyd to lead me to Grandma Alice.

Now I wouldn’t get the chance.

Sitting up, I rolled up my shirt sleeves, revealing scratches and bruises.

My jaw dropped.

I pushed the chair back, pulled off my socks and shoes, and rolled up my jeans too. Sure enough, there were the scabbed-over wounds where the grondar had slashed at my leg, and the puncture marks on my foot and toes from the purple vole git’s teeth.

“How’s that possible?” I whispered. “It was a game. I’m not supposed to get hurt.”

Am I?

Sure, I’d experienced pain while playing . . . but why have I brought these wounds back to the real world?

I dreaded to think what my grandfather would say once he heard CodeX had trapped me inside with all the safety settings switched off. If Grandpa John had spent countless hours in the alien game himself, trying to complete its levels, then the safeties couldn’t have been off for him, or he’d be dead.

As I pulled my socks and shoes back on, I knew I should be grateful that I wasn’t, but all I could focus on was my failure.

My original assumption was right—the CodeX was malfunctioning in a big way. Bloody typical. Then another thought struck me. Can I write in the CodeX fast enough and get it done before Grandpa John returns in two weeks’ time?

Only one way to find out . . .

I hurried into my room, grabbed the CodeX, and flipped to the first page, but glyphs filled the parchment. I thumbed through, finding symbols cramming every other page too.

How was I supposed to write anything?

Obviously, I couldn’t.

Not only had I failed the game, but the CodeX was not allowing me the chance to return and try again.

With a heavy heart, I set the book into its box and slid it under my bed.

A buzzing sound made me start. Recognising it straight away, I hurried back to the kitchen.

Brrrrttttttt. Brrrrttttttt. Sure enough, the antique phone on the wall demanded my attention.

I lifted the receiver. “Hello?”

“Leonardo?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Hi, Mum.”

“How did you get on, darling? Did you find anything?”

I wished myself anywhere else rather than on the end of that call. I tried to calm myself, knowing she was referring to my Penny Hill Observatory search.

Which seemed like a year ago.

“Nothing up there,” I lied. “Sorry. Didn’t find a thing.”

I hardly dared to breathe as I waited for her response.

Finally, Mum sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for trying. I’ll look myself.”

My stomach clenched. “No, you can’t,” I said, then cringed at my own words.

“Why not?”

I didn’t have an answer. My mouth worked, but no words came out.

“We’ll go up there together when I get back,” Mum said. “Maybe you missed something.” She put her hand over the receiver, and I heard quick muffled talking. “Leonardo? I have to go, but I’ll be home at six. Love you.” She hung up.

Phone pressed to my ear, I remained frozen, imagining my mother finding a crashed UFO in Grandpa John’s basement.

“Love you too,” I murmured.

Two hours later, I lay on the floor in Grandpa John’s bedroom and stared up at the fleet of model ships suspended from the ceiling, thinking over the CodeX experiences I’d been through. I gazed at the various ship designs, wishing I could go back into the game and already missing my new friends.

Although they weren’t real.

I sighed.

Mum would be home in two hours, and she’d insist on searching the observatory.

Is there any way to keep her out of the basement?

I knew there wasn’t.

Will she find the hole in the wall and the spacecraft on the other side?

I knew she would.

Groaning, I rolled onto my side, and something solid dug into my leg. I pulled the smartphone from my pocket, the one my father had given me for my birthday.

But I’d lost it in the game. I’d watched it float across the airlock and into outer space.

Well, at least one thing had gone in my favour. The CodeX must have created digital copies of what I’d worn in the real world, including the contents of my pockets.

That doesn’t explain my cuts and bruises, though.

I closed my eyes. “Nothing makes sense.”

Another hour went by. Now there were only fifty-eight minutes left before Mum came home. Feeling even more despondent and desperate, I paced the sitting room, trying to clear my head.

The CodeX still refused to let me back in.

Why? What the hell does it want?

I balled my fists and grumbled under my breath, seriously considering taking the spacecraft in Grandpa John’s basement for a flight, because if it could—

I stopped dead.

Of course.

I raced into Grandpa John’s bedroom and found the heavy spaceship model. I opened the rear hatch, pulled out the metal canister, unscrewed the lid, and dropped the black rectangular object with the glowing blue crystal into my palm. I left the cube and glass rod inside the canister and returned it to the ship.

I held up the rectangular device, smiling. “I know what you are.”

The CodeX knew too.

It must.

And if the CodeX scanned my clothes and phone, meaning duplicates were inside the game, then the same thing would happen to this.

Wouldn’t it?

It was worth a try.

I left Grandpa John’s room and was heading toward mine when the front door opened.

I froze.

“Leo?” a muffled voice called.

I shoved the grav module deep into my pocket.

My mother rounded the corner, and her eyes narrowed when she spotted me. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re early.”

She scanned me from top to toe. “What happened to you?”

“Hiking.” I leaned against the wall for dramatic effect. “May have fallen over a little.”

This was met by a pair of raised eyebrows. “Where did you go, Alaska?”

I waved her question away.

“Shall we go up to the observatory?” She made to leave.

“Grandpa John,” I blurted.

Mum turned back. “What about him?” Her expression changed to concern. “Wait. Did you find something after all? Is that what’s wrong with you?”

I considered making up some elaborate story but decided on the truth. Besides, I was doing the right thing, and it was the only way to stop her from finding the spacecraft.

I swallowed and composed myself. “He’s been lying to us,” I said. “Grandpa John hasn’t gone to Cleveland on a hunting trip.”

Mum’s face dropped. “Where is he?”

“Heart operation.”

She stared at me. “How do you know?”

I didn’t answer.

Mum’s eyes narrowed. “Stay here.” She marched to the front door.

I staggered after her. “Where are you going?”

As if I needed to ask.

“Down the hill a way.” She pulled a phone from her pocket as she strode across the sitting room. “I noticed a weak signal as I was coming up.”

She left. I only had a few minutes.

I ran to my bedroom, set the box on the bed, and opened it. No sooner had I done so than the CodeX’s crystal sprang to life, filling the room with blue light.

As I redoubled my grip on the grav module, a horrible thought hit me—would I feel the same pain as when I’d left?

Too late to stop now.

I tensed as warmth radiated through me from my toes to the tip of my head. My bedroom walls vanished, the world rotated around me in streaks of colour, and I spun with them faster and faster until . . .

I sat up and gasped.

Thirty-Four

I was back in the medical bay. Breathing heavily, nauseous, my stomach aching—but otherwise, pain-free. At least the damn CodeX implant wasn’t trying to burst from my skull anymore.

Speaking of which . . . The word CodeX appeared in my vision, then faded and went out. I guessed that meant it was now fully activated.

Bonus.

But my health meter showed I was only at two percent.

Two percent?

One moderately strong sneeze and the game would be over, but I was glad to be back.

This time around, I also had a map in the bottom left of my view, as I had during Ayesha’s demonstration.

Progress.

What else did I have access to?

With trepidation, I opened my right hand, then sighed with relief. The rectangular grav module was still grasped in my grubby mitt.

Or a digital copy of it, at least.

Happy days.

However, instead of being on the floor, surrounded by my concerned new friends and crewmates, I was alone on the examination table with the lights turned low.

Where the hell are they?

And that’s when I realised I was wearing the spacesuit again, not my shirt and jeans. I slipped the rectangular object into a pouch at my hip with effort, every limb feeling as though it were made of rubber. I slid my legs over the edge and stood. I wobbled for a second, then dropped to my knees.

Opposite me was a cupboard. I dragged myself toward it, moving across the floor like a broken marionette. Fingers trembling, I opened the cupboard and managed a smile at the two bottles of life-giving blue liquid within.

I fumbled with the lid of the first, clamping the bottle between my knees, and finally got it open. It took all my concentration to raise the bottle to my lips, spilling some of its contents down my chin and onto the floor.

My health meter climbed, bringing strength, colour, and focus with it. Sixteen percent, thirty-one, forty, fifty-five. I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve and polished off the second bottle, winding up on a much healthier seventy-six percent.

I returned the bottles to their rack and sprang to my feet. As if in response to the good news, my health meter hopped up another five percent, leaving me on a respectable eighty-one.

So positive thinking influences it?

A happy outlook gives me extra lifeforce?

No problem. I could do that. From now on, I’d be Captain Optimistic.

The health meter jumped another one percent.

Woohoo.

Now I felt great. My super excellent plan had paid off, and I had something that would prove my intrinsic value to the team—not just the useless CodeX wedged between my ears.

Brimming with newfound confidence, I bounded from the medical bay and marched across the gallery, up the steps, and onto the bridge. “Hey, look what—”

It was deserted. All the screens dark.

My blood ran cold.

Am I too late?

Have the Kraythons showed up and abducted the others? Or worse?

My health meter dropped a few percent.

Damn it.

Trying to maintain a positive, zen-like state, I glanced around the bridge but couldn’t see any signs of a struggle. With a sense of impending doom, my gaze moved to the devastation outside the ship. Have Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin gone on some foolish mission, or—

Another horrifying thought struck me.

What if the game hasn’t loaded them this time around? What if they’re digital ones and zeros scattered on a hard drive somewhere? Perhaps the CodeX opted not to render them, you know, to be a proper dick and make my life a billion times harder.

I was alone. I couldn’t imagine trying to complete the level without—

A scream made my heart leap into my throat. With one eye on my health meter, I clutched my chest and turned.

Eve stood by the door, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

I let out a huge breath.

Thank goodness she was alive and whole.

Not abducted. Not off on a foolish mission. Not scattered game code. She was here.

I smiled and gave her a jaunty wave. “Hey.”

“What’s happening?” Mason ran onto the bridge. When he spotted me, he gasped too.

Skylar appeared next, her expression a mixture of surprise and anger.

Do. Not. Care.

I was glad to be reunited with all of them.

Eve pointed a trembling finger at me. “Y—you’re d—dead.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Am I?” I patted myself. I felt alive, but I’d been wrong about plenty of things over the years, so anything was possible.

“You scanned him, Eve,” Mason said, still looking at me. “Multiple times. He was definitely dead.”

I suppressed a smile. “Definitely, definitely?”

Mason and Eve nodded.

“Did any of you cry?” I asked, keeping a straight face.

Eve cocked her head to one side.

I winked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It’s true,” Mason said. “You were smoked, bud. The implant fried your brain.”

“Well, I’m back now,” I said with a shrug. “Anything exciting happen while I was away? How long has it been?”

“Over four hours,” Skylar said in a flat tone.

My eyebrows lifted at the news.

How the heck is that even possible?

No time elapses in the real world when I’m in the game, so why doesn't it work the other way round? Or is the game still playing tricks on me?

Probably tricks.

Stupid bloody CodeX. It’s almost as if it doesn’t want me to win.

I balled my fists.

Well, I would give it a damn good try anyway.

“The Leviathan is only three hours out,” Eve said. “We’ve been trying to come up with other ways to contact the admiral.”

“Any luck?” I said.

She huffed. “Something’s still jamming signals.”

“Where’s Kelvin?”

“Working on something he hopes will help us locate the signal blocker,” Mason said. “But without a grav module, it doesn’t stand much chance, because we won’t have the resources to—”

“You mean one of these?” I held up the rectangular device from Grandpa John’s bedroom with a flourish.

As you can imagine, this was greeted by three astonished faces. I wished I had a camera because for once it wasn’t me with the gormless expression.

“Where did you get that?” Eve rushed forward.

“I’ll explain another time.” I tossed it to her.

As the grav module flew through the air, something clicked in my brain. The CodeX game had planned this all along, knowing that my grandfather possessed the exact item we needed in the outerverse.

Why did the CodeX force me to return to the real world in order to find a grav module? Is it some kind of weird test? Is the CodeX trying to trick me into revealing my real identity by telling my friends how I found a grav module?

Or perhaps Ayesha was in complete control. Does she influence how the CodeX behaves?

Whatever the case, I needed to keep my wits about me, ready for any more surprises. At least the CodeX had shown me an image of what we needed before it booted me from the game.

Skylar’s suspicious scowl didn’t escape my notice, but I was done trying to be friends with her. As far as I was concerned, she could stew in her own distrust.

Eve handed the grav module to Mason. He held it up to his face, examining it in minute detail as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes.

Skylar snatched it from him.

“Hey.” Mason glared at her. “What’s your issue today?”

Skylar stormed toward me, and I back-pedalled.

She waved the grav module in front of my face. “Where did you get this?”

I shrugged.

Skylar’s lip curled. “Enough of your lies. Who are you really? And what’s going on?” She folded her arms. “None of us are moving until you explain.”

I held up my hands to try to placate her. Right now, Skylar looked scarier than a grondar. “I really am looking for my grandmother,” I said. “And I really don’t know anything else about this place.” Ayesha’s warning about dire consequences rang in my ears. “To me, everything is new.” And that was the truth.

“His stasis was interrupted,” Eve said. “That can cause permanent brain damage. You remember the training and the warnings they gave us.”

“We all woke up abruptly,” Skylar said, not budging from my personal space. “We’re okay. None of us have forgotten who we are.”

“That’s not true actually, sis,” Mason said. “We weren’t woken abruptly. Kelvin activated the stasis bed procedures for us.” He flapped an arm at me. “Leo’s bed slammed into the wall. Probably messed it up.”

I let out a relieved sigh, as that was a far better excuse than I could ever come up with.

“Look,” I said to Skylar in a soothing tone, “I totally don’t blame you for not trusting me. I’d be the same. But all I know is that I must find Grandma Alice.” I let out a breath. “Please. I’m begging you. I can’t do it alone. Will you help me?”

"Of course.” Mason laid a hand on Skylar’s shoulder. “We’ll help each other.” He leaned in toward his sister. “We can’t save the Leviathan without him. He’s done nothing to hurt us. Only help.”

“What about this?” Skylar held up the grav module. “You still haven’t explained where you got it.”

“The CodeX," I said, and left it at that.

After a few seconds scrutinising me, Skylar visibly relaxed and stepped back.

Mason grinned and took the grav module from her.

“Will it work?” I asked.

Mason walked to the displays and placed the grav module in front of them. The floorboards parted, swallowing it whole, and snapped shut again.

Mason studied a screen. “Full shields are being restored.” He turned to me. “Should be around twenty minutes to integrate into the ship.”

Eve sat at another display and waved Skylar to the chair next to her. “It will take all of us to make sure it comes online safely and in a controlled manner. The AI is distracted with life support and internal repairs. We need to manage this ourselves.”

Skylar nodded and sat down.

“I’ll help,” Mason said, doing the same.

“Shall I get Kelvin?” I felt like a spare wheel. “Where is he?”

“In his room,” Mason said. “Three decks down.”

I shivered.

“It’s okay,” Eve said. “The elevator’s fixed now.”

I frowned. “You’d better be right.”

“His apartment is eight-eight-one-nine,” she said.

I gaped. “You guys have your own apartments?”

“I’ll follow you down once the worst of this is over.” Eve faced her screen and worked the controls with her phase-band, sending pulses of energy into the display.

My stomach tensed as I walked from the bridge, across the gallery, and waited by the elevator.

Sure enough, its doors opened, and it looked to be intact and working. I still hesitated, but I wanted to get through the remainder of the game as quickly as possible. Trying to push my anxiety aside, I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct level.

I held my breath as the doors closed, but I needn’t have worried—under a minute later, I walked into a hallway.

Doors lined the walls, along with oil paintings depicting various scenes. A group of monks gathered around a table, gazing at a chunk of Bluestone; a man with a dark beard and olive skin, wearing a long grey coat; and lastly, a stone village in a valley under a red sky.

A golden dot pulsated ahead of me on the game map, and I headed in that direction, reading the glowing numbers etched into the woodwork above the doors.

I found apartment eight-eight-one-nine and double-checked that the golden dot on my map was behind it. To the side of the door was a button I could only assume was a buzzer. I pressed it, and a voice called, “Come in.”

I stepped through, and at first my brain couldn’t work out what my eyes were showing me.

Apparently, this was Kelvin’s apartment. Although it was less like an apartment and more like a bomb had exploded at a jumble sale.

Mounds of clothes littered the floor, and machinery and electronics covered every surface. Under all the junk, I could make out the outline of a bed in the corner.

Kelvin hunched over a table cluttered with more junk, half-built contraptions, and gadgets, working on something wrapped in wires and tubes. When he spotted me, his eyes bulged from their sockets. “I can’t believe it. You’re alive.”

I smiled. “And kicking.”

“Oh, thank the Monolith. I thought I’d killed you.” Kelvin checked me out. “Are you all right? What happened? Eve scanned you and—”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Brought you a present.”

Kelvin’s eyebrows lifted. “What?”

“A grav module. The others are getting it up and running.”

Kelvin punched the air. “Yes. Brilliant, Leo, utterly brilliant. I knew the CodeX would work.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Kelvin turned his attention back to the contraption he was working on. “I’ve got to get this finished for us to stand a chance.”

I glanced around the devastated room. “This place looks as though it took a direct hit in the attack.”

Kelvin looked puzzled. “What do you mean? This is normal.”

A chair sat by the far wall. I made my way toward it, feeling like a rock climber—all I needed was a harness and ropes, some flares, and a radio to call mountain rescue in case I got lost. By some miracle I reached the chair and picked up a box of tools.

“Careful,” Kelvin said. “They’re expensive.”

I cleared a space on the floor with my foot and set the tools down. Once sure I was out of immediate danger, I took a seat.

The far wall of Kelvin’s apartment was made entirely of glass, with a spectacular view—a perfect panorama of the cosmos stretching the entire width of the room. To the right was the ice planet, and to the left was the bulk of the debris field.

Kelvin frowned. “Where did I put it?”

“Put what?”

“Transmitter coil assembly.” Kelvin gestured at the contraption. “With this scanner I’m hoping we can track down the source of the signal blocker.” He scratched his head and surveyed the apartment. “Pretty sure the coil was here a couple of days ago.” He lifted a heavy textbook from the table and peered underneath, revealing a half-eaten, crushed chocolate brownie covered in mold. “Hmm, maybe not.”

Kelvin set the book down, covering the brownie—no doubt before it sprouted legs and walked off somewhere—then perused the room again.

“What does it look like?” Even with an exact description, finding it among the clutter would be near-impossible.

Movement flickered in the corner of my eye as something scurried over the piles of clothes. My first thought was a rat, but it was too big.

Way too big.

A sudden, horrifying snapshot of the animal dome on Discovery flashed into my head.

Had we accidentally brought one of the murderous lunatics back with us?

Thirty-Five

I leapt from the chair as the creature snaked through a gap in the floor and made for me. It skidded to a halt, allowing me to get a closer look.

The animal had white fur with black patches, four stubby legs, a fluffy tail, and large eyes now staring at my toes, a mere fraction of an inch away.

“He likes feet.” Kelvin smirked. “Be grateful you’ve got boots on.”

I dared not take my eyes off the creature as it sat down, its hind legs in front of its body. The animal’s front legs were more like arms, and it had tiny silvery hands. It also had bat-like ears covered in fine white fur, and a small nose and mouth similar to a cat’s.

I’d seen nothing like it before.

The fluffy creature stood and stretched its arms up to me. It was only a foot or so tall.

“Chooke,” it said in a high-pitched squeak.

The furball can talk?

“That’s his name.” Kelvin rummaged through a pile of jeans and t-shirts, hunting for the coil assembly.

Chooke stretched his arms higher and rocked from side to side, impatient. “Up. Up. Chooke. Up.”

“He won’t bite you,” Kelvin said, checking pockets.

Chooke had a small mouth, so if he did bite, it probably wouldn’t hurt.

Much.

I’d still keep a close eye on my health meter.

I lifted Chooke to head height, holding the animal at arm’s length. His legs swung back and forth, and his ears jerked with excitement.

“Anden?” he squeaked.

“Huh?”

“He wants to know your name,” Kelvin said.

“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Leo.”

Chooke cocked his head to one side. “Lee-ooh?”

“No. Lee-oh.”

“Leeoo.” Chooke’s ears twitched and he whistled. “Leeoo.”

“Ah, close enough,” I said.

Kelvin huffed and threw the last pair of jeans into the corner of the room. “You’re wondering what he is, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

No other creatures could talk. Well, apart from parrots.

“So, what is he?”

Kelvin grinned. “Chooke’s a robot. I made him.”

“A robot?”

But the animal was so real.

“Chooke,” Kelvin said. “Open.”

Chooke clutched the fur at his chest with both hands and peeled back two flaps, revealing his inner workings. Shocked, I almost dropped him.

“Told you he was a robot,” Kelvin said.

Inside, Chooke was a cavity filled with whirring, spinning cogs and gears, along with all manner of electronics. In the middle of Chooke’s body, a shard of Bluestone glowed, held in place by a metal clasp, radiating warmth that flowed into my hands and up my arms.

“He’s incredible.” I shook my head. “This is amazing work.”

Chooke seemed so lifelike.

“Thanks. Now,” Kelvin searched through the nearest shelf, “where’s the coil?” A chirping sound came from the door, and Kelvin’s head snapped toward it. “No way.”

Chooke closed his chest and wriggled. I lowered him to the floor, and he scampered off.

I straightened. “Who is it?”

Kelvin rushed around his apartment, grabbing handfuls of clothes and slinging them onto his bed. “I told them I’d be back on the bridge when I was done.” He slid a mound of objects under the table with his foot and scooped up an armful of clutter, turning on the spot, looking for somewhere to offload it.

The door chirped again. Kelvin groaned, dropped the items on the table, and took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Kelvin?”

“Hey, Eve.”

“You’ve been gone ages,” she said. “Are you going to let me in?”

“No.”

“What?”

Kelvin glanced around the room and shuddered. “I mean, sure, come in.”

The door opened. Eve stepped through and surveyed the mess. “Is this where clothes come to die?” She turned her gaze on Kelvin. “Now I know why you never invite anyone in here.”

Kelvin’s already pink face turned cherry red.

Eve continued to scan the apartment. “Oh, there you are,” she said to me. “I didn’t see you.”

“I’m not surprised,” I muttered.

Eve faced Kelvin. “I’m guessing you haven’t finished the scanner yet.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Kelvin picked up a box of electronic parts and rifled through them.

“He’s lost some kind of coil,” I said in reply to Eve’s puzzled expression.

“I know I’ve put it somewhere safe.” Kelvin dropped the box and rummaged through another. “No idea where that is, though.”

“You and me both,” I murmured.

Eve bounded across the room, jumping over the clothes and detritus with the sure-footedness of a mountain goat. There was a squeak, and she leapt back.

Chooke stood on his hind legs. “Eve.”

Eve’s eyes lit up. “Chookey.” She scooped him into her arms. “I haven’t seen you for ages.” She scowled at Kelvin. “The nasty boy doesn’t bring you to the academy anymore.”

Kelvin dropped the second box with a disgruntled huff. “We’re supposed to be working.”

Eve stroked the fur between Chooke’s ears. “I’ve missed you.” She set him down and searched through a mound of clutter crammed onto the nearest shelf. “Where did you last have it? What does it look like?” Eve extracted a metal box and made to open it.

Kelvin snatched it from her. “Do you mind?”

Eve pouted. “You know there’s a much quicker way to find it, don’t you?”

Kelvin replaced the box on the shelf. “Like how?”

Eve pointed at Chooke, who sat on the floor, inspecting a discarded sweet wrapper.

Kelvin stared a moment, then realisation swept across his face. “Of course. Hey, Chooke?”

Chooke tossed the wrapper over his shoulder and peered up at Kelvin with innocent, saucer-like eyes.

Kelvin grabbed a notepad and pen, sketched what he was looking for, and held the drawing out for Chooke to see. “Spotted one of these recently?”

Chooke blinked a few times, scurried off to Kelvin’s bed, and disappeared underneath. There was a rustling sound, followed by something snapping, and a moment later Chooke reappeared with the coil.

Kelvin took it from him. “Thanks.”

“Can we go now, please?” Eve said as Chooke dove head-first into a mound of socks. I had to agree; I was eager to find this damn Kraython signal blocker.

Kelvin fitted the coil assembly to his contraption and lifted it from the table. “Done.”

As we hurried to the bridge, I only hoped we had enough time before the Leviathan arrived.

Kelvin installed his scanner in a display console and turned to face me. “We’re halfway there. Now we need to see how well your CodeX implant is working.” Kelvin nodded at me and stepped back. “Do it.”

I glanced at the others, unsure what he meant. They stared back, waiting.

“Is it on?” Mason asked.

“It’s on,” Eve said.

“Are you looking inside my head again?” I said.

She nodded.

I winced. “Can you not do that, please?” What a disgusting habit.

Skylar gave a dubious look. “You’re positive it’s working?”

“Definitely,” Eve said.

“Ask the CodeX to explain what gravity is.” Kelvin watched me as if I were a specimen to study. “That’ll be a good starting point,” he continued.

I muttered, “CodeX? What’s gravity?”

Nothing happened.

I shrugged.

Skylar rolled her eyes. “Oolak.”

In this instance, I agreed with her—I was an oolak, and I had to try harder. If I could make myself useful, perhaps she’d accept me into their group more willingly.

“You need to relax,” Eve said in a soft voice. “Bonding to an artifact takes seconds, controlling it can take years.”

Well, that would partly explain why the CodeX had been such an awkward dick up to that point.

“Close your eyes,” Eve said. “Deep breaths.”

I did as she asked, pulling in a big gulp of air, and another.

“Relax your muscles,” Mason said, and then muttered, “What little ones you have, that is.”

Skylar sniggered.

“Shut up,” Eve hissed.

I continued taking breaths, chest rising and falling, and once I felt as relaxed as I was going to get, I opened my eyes. “CodeX, what’s gravity?”

A burst of stars flooded my mind, almost knocking me off balance. “Woah.” I blinked.

“Again,” Kelvin urged. “Try again.”

I steadied myself and let out another slow breath. “CodeX,” I repeated. “What’s gravity?”

Then the weirdest thing happened—the CodeX explained.

Information rushed into my brain in the form of three-dimensional images only I could see.

“The Azurean Theory of Gravity,” a disembodied voice declared, and I recognised Ayesha’s dulcet tone, “postulates gravity is the strongest force in the known universe.”

With Kelvin, Mason, Eve and Skylar motionless, like four waxworks, an uneven bubble appeared between us, filled with billions of points of light.

“The universe.”

The bubble expanded, filling the bridge, and the view rotated, showing the underside of the outer skin.

“Azurean scientists discovered gravitational waves are generated due to an energy difference from outside the universe, an inward pressure on every atom within.”

Marked in green, waves rippled from the surface of the bubble, heading inward, and I rode along with them, like an intergalactic surfer, flying through strings of galaxies, rushing past countless stars, bending around black holes, and zooming ever inward, until a blue planet appeared, majestic, rotating in the void.

At first, it looked like Earth, but the islands were far too small, the oceans vast—another blue jewel among the stars.

Gravity waves hit the planet from every angle and they weakened as they passed on through the mass, some of their energy absorbed by the matter within, so they were less powerful once they popped out the other side, while the waves from above remained strong.

“Gravity waves hold objects to the planet,” Ayesha said. “The larger the planet, the more the waves are filtered from below, absorbed, and the apparent force from above increases.”

The view zoomed out, showing an astronaut with gravity waves hitting them from every angle and passing through their body, mostly unaffected, causing them to be weightless, balanced by an equal force.

The image swung around, the astronaut disappeared, and clusters of galaxies moved back into view.

“The entire universe derives its energy from gravitational waves,” Ayesha said. “Light’s momentum, strong and weak nuclear forces, magnetism, heat, even the ticking hand of time, all—”

‘Stop,’ I said in my mind.

It was cool and everything—the game world explaining its internal mechanics, how it ticked, but I found it overwhelming, and impossible to control. I bent over as the images stuttered and then vanished.

At least I now understood how spaceships made of mostly wood and metal could hold together in the vacuum of space.

“That’s got to be the worst I’ve seen someone try to control an artifact,” Skylar said.

Straightening up, I beamed like a moron.

“It worked?” Kelvin said.

“Oh, yes.” I cleared my throat. “Definitely worked.”

I was officially a genius.

Well, in the game, at least.

Thirty-Six

I’ll be the first to admit that having a semi-working CodeX implant was amazing—bypassing decades of study to have information downloaded into my brain whenever I asked.

Concerning gravity, I guessed the game could have any internal rules of physics it liked, along with a history I was keen to explore. All that would have to wait for now though, and I bit back the urge to ask more questions.

“Right,” Kelvin swiped his hand over one of the bridge displays. An image of Horizon Eighteen appeared in mid-air, its whole aft section missing. “For this ship to move through space, we need to activate the refracting gravity engine.”

A bubble formed around the ship.

“This will give us the ability to move,” Skylar said, leaning over and tapping several buttons on the screen.

The bubble made a point at the nose of the ship and flattened at the back. Waves of gravity pushed the ship through space from behind, while the ones in front deflected around the hull as though it were a boat cutting through water.

Next Kelvin brought up an image of a missile. “When I looked at these in more detail, I discovered they’re using their own form of refracting gravity, but with a major difference.”

A bubble formed around the missile too, but its surface rippled and vibrated.

“Is that how they could penetrate the fleet’s shields?” Mason asked.

“How did the Kraythons figure this out?” Eve said. “You can’t even do that to a gravity bubble. It’s impossible.”

“Not impossible.” I walked over. “If we adapt this.” My fingers touched the display, and my brain and newly acquired CodeX information worked together as I tapped at the screen.

The refracting gravity field shifted, and several bubbles overlapped one another, bending gravity in such a way that it made the shield impenetrable to the missiles.

“Of course,” Skylar breathed.

For a split second she seemed impressed, but I tried not to let that go to my head.

Kelvin nodded. “Amazing.”

“What about the internal gravity?” Eve said. “The micro grav modules? What will the shifting fields do to them?”

“They won't be affected,” Kelvin said. “They’ll adapt and counteract any external forces. It’s safe.”

I nodded in agreement, impressed that I was keeping up with what they were saying and wondering if the game would let me take the CodeX implant back to the real world. It sure would come in handy when I started school.

If I could learn to control it properly, that is.

“All we need to do,” Kelvin said, “is use my scanner to find the signal blocker, and once it’s down, send the modified shield designs to the Leviathan.”

Mason snorted. “Yeah. Simple.”

“Now we have a grav module,” Kelvin said, “we can fly over to Horizon Seven, and Leo can use the combined resources to design a better ship. One that’s impervious to the missiles, fast, and all but invisible to Kraythons.”

My eyebrows lifted. “How?”

“Same way,” Kelvin said. “I think you’re already bonded to the ship.”

“But he can’t control the CodeX properly yet,” Mason said.

Skylar folded her arms. “Exactly.”

Kelvin kept his focus on me. “This time we’ll link your CodeX to the onboard AI. Between you, you’ll build what we need.”

“Wait,” Skylar said. “How do you know he’s bonded to the ship?”

Kelvin nodded at me. “Try it.”

“Try what?”

“Walk to the middle chair,” Eve said.

I stepped forward, hands stretched out wide, and Skylar shook her head in annoyance. All the screens changed, displaying hundreds of pages of scrolling ship’s data and various readings.

Kelvin smiled. “Told you.” He sent swirls of magical smoke over the nearest console and turned to me. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

Kelvin twisted his fingers. Hundreds of designs and specifications filled my mind—stuttering images and data about everything from life support to weapons, detailed from aft to bow.

I drew a sharp intake of breath. “I see.”

Kelvin nodded at Skylar. “Take us over.”

Skylar rushed to the front screen. “Hold on.” She swiped her finger over the display.

The ship swung around and glided to the remains of Horizon Seven, and we pressed into the ship’s side.

“Contact.” Skylar stepped away from the screen.

Kelvin turned to me. “Now it’s up to you. Design a new ship.”

I did. I sat in the captain’s chair, feeling my mind, enhanced by the onboard AI and CodeX implant, control everything around me. I could see it all.

I started with the bridge, and no sooner had the thoughts flowed from me, melding with the AI, than thousands of repair ants and drones swarmed over both ships. They were covered in tools, carrying everything from welders and glue to high-tech sculpting equipment and nanotechnology.

The room changed shape around us, the back half of the dome acquiring solid bodywork, with extra shutter protection covering the rest, resulting in a secure, heavily armoured bridge.

I knew it was a game, of course, but the repair ants moved so fast, bringing materials and a whole host of resources from Horizon Seven in a blur of precision movement, combining them with our ship.

I designed and shaped the remainder of the spacecraft around us, working outward. I pulled up Eve, Mason, and Skylar’s apartments, just as they’d left them, then Kelvin’s too—clutter and all—putting him near the workshops and engineering facilities.

Next I changed the interior décor, smiling as nanorobots turned wooden walls white with dark-grey accents and polished floors. Okay, the materials stayed the same, but it was now less Downton Abbey and more Starship Enterprise.

Much better.

One of the last things I did with the interior was move all the cabinets, armour, and artifacts from the hallways, placing them in one large space—a Museum of Cosmic Curiosities and Ancient Artifacts—and sealing it with a heavy steel door.

As far as the exterior and general ship design was concerned, I made it around half its current size but built with security, strength, and speed in mind. A formidable array of armour slid into place, along with scanners and central overlapping gravity engines, ten times more powerful than anything else in the fleet.

“Let’s see the Kraythons take us on now,” I muttered, feeling exhilarated by my new ability.

Space didn’t require any aerodynamics—hence why most Antarian ships resembled flying lunchboxes—but I made this ship sleek, angling all its panels like a stealth fighter because, you know, I could, and it looked awesome. Dad would’ve loved it too, and my chest swelled with pride.

This spaceship was beautiful.

The most glorious design in all of existence.

Skylar glared at me. “Are you crying?”

“No.” I wiped my eyes and sniffed.

“What do you want to call it?” Eve breathed.

I pursed my lips, then smiled. “The Last Horizon.”

Thirty-Seven

Mason slapped me on the back, looked around the bridge of the Last Horizon, and beamed. “This is a great ship, bud.”

“Thanks,” I said, more than a little proud of my effort. How often does life present you with the opportunity to design an entire spacecraft? I thought. Pretty much never.

I lifted my chin.

Yep, the Last Horizon was awesome. If this didn’t officially make me a valued member of the team, nothing would.

My health meter remained on seventy-nine percent, which was good, but one hundred would’ve been better. “Have you got any more chirorja?”

Mason snorted. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I don’t.”

Mason fetched a tube of the disgusting gloop and I ate.

The numbers climbed. After I’d forced in the last mouthful and swallowed, the meter sat at ninety-two percent. Not perfect, but it gave me plenty of wiggle room.

Bring on more purple vole gits. I could handle them.

“Can we get on with it?” Skylar said. “The Leviathan is two hours and fifteen minutes out.” She turned her scowl on her brother. “So when you’ve stopped congratulating Leo for something the CodeX implant and onboard AI did, we can find this signal blocker.”

My shoulders dropped.

Spoilsport.

But as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. We needed to get a move on.

“You’re bonded to the new ship,” Kelvin said to me. “It’s yours. You are the captain, and only you can assign bridge roles.”

“Oh-kay.” I pursed my lips. “What do you guys want to do?”

Kelvin gestured to the display on the far end, the one with his contraption fitted to it. “I can work that station. It covers tech and engineering.”

“Sure.”

Kelvin sat down.

I turned to Eve. “What would you like to do?”

“I’m happy with communications and standard scanners for now,” she said. “Might change my mind later.”

“You can be bridge watch officer too,” Mason said to her.

“What does a bridge watch officer do?” I asked.

“On Antarian fleet ships, they look after the crew,” Mason said. “They keep a watchful eye on bridge operations, stand in when the captain is away, and act as an advisor too.”

I nodded. “Sounds perfect. Eve, you’re good with the medical bay. Do you mind being our doctor on top of all that?”

She sat in the chair to my immediate right. “No problem.”

Next I faced Mason. “Let me guess . . . security and weapons?”

Mason beamed. “Absolutely.” He dropped into the chair on my left.

Finally, I beckoned Skylar to the seat and display at the front of the bridge. “Would you mind?”

Her eyes widened. “Pilot? Me? Don’t you want to fly the ship?”

“Pretty sure there’s no one better qualified than you.” I pointed through the window at all the debris. “We need to navigate all that crap without scratching the new paintwork.”

Skylar hurried to the pilot’s seat.

“I’ll send live scanning data to you as we move through the field,” Eve said to her. “It will aid visual navigation.”

I sat in the captain’s chair and took a deep breath. “Let’s go find whatever the hell’s blocking transmissions.”

Skylar pulled the screen in front of her, and the Bluestones in her phase-band glowed, sending wisps of energy swirling around her. Once all the sliders were set, she rested her hands on her knees.

A few seconds later, the ship glided through the debris field, resulting in five broad smiles.

We were moving.

Actually moving.

My design worked.

Who would’ve thought?

To be honest, I was expecting it not to.

Once, in Design and Tech class, I’d tried making a pen holder but wound up gluing an index finger to my forehead. It wasn’t even my finger. That’s how crap I am. From then on, I was deeply suspicious of any creative tasks.

I couldn’t complete a jigsaw puzzle without drama, let alone a complicated, high-tech piece of machinery with a trillion parts . . . but even so, here it was.

Freaking miracle.

Go, me.

I gazed out of the window as we moved through the remains of the fleet. “Where do you guys think all the crew and passengers went?”

Where the hell was everyone?

And why couldn’t we see any traces of them?

“Automatic emergency evacuation procedures would take them to the nearest safe planet with the right atmosphere,” Kelvin said. “Along with tolerable gravity.”

I pointed at the ice world. “There?”

“No,” Eve said. “I’ve already scanned the entire solar system and can’t see any habitable worlds nearby. I’m unable to scan beyond that because of the signal blocker.”

“When we shut down whatever is jamming comms and long-range scanners, we’ll find them,” Kelvin studied his display. “And I’m betting that’s when we’ll get answers to all of our questions.”

“Is your locating device working?” I asked.

“Yes. Give it time.”

“How does it work, exactly?”

“It sends out a modulated frequency pulse,” Kelvin said, not taking his eyes off the readout. “The signal blocker produces high-intensity mirror waves. Those transmit a very specific sweeping pattern, meaning I’ll detect it and get an approximate location.”

“How long before the Leviathan arrives?” I said as we continued through the remnants of the fleet.

“Two hours until they reach this solar system,” Eve said.

My stomach clenched. Was that all?

“No signs of missiles.” Mason consulted his own display.

“That’s because they’re behind the ice planet,” Kelvin said.

“Shall I take us around for a look?” Skylar said. “Our upgraded shields will protect the ship.”

“Not yet,” I said. “We don’t want to piss them off unless we have to. Keep us this side for now.”

Skylar swung the ship around, and we continued our trek through the wreckage.

Leaning forward in my chair, I hoped we found the source of the signal blocker before it was too late.

Twenty minutes later, however, tempers ran high.

“This is ridiculous,” Mason grumbled. “There’s nothing out here.” He glanced at Kelvin, but Kelvin kept his focus on his readout.

“I’ll fly us back through this end of the debris field,” Skylar said, swinging the Last Horizon around for another pass.

Eve sighed. “We’ve already gone that way. Twice.”

“Then we’ll do it again,” Skylar snapped.

“Don’t have a go at me,” Eve said. “Leo, have you got any ideas?”

I pointed at the ice planet as it swung back into view. “My bet is that the blocker is there.” I looked at Kelvin for support, knowing my theory was a valid one.

“Running a focused transmission,” he said, twisting his fingers as though turning up the dial on a radio. Puffs of magic drifted over to Kelvin’s device and disappeared inside. He squinted at his display.

“I’m not picking up any electromagnetic radiation from the planet,” Eve said. “Only the pyramid down there. The one Kelvin found with his drone.”

“Right,” I said. Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence. “Can we have another look?”

Eve swiped her fingers to the side, sending a holographic image across the bridge and expanding it in front of us.

The picture showed a field of solid ice, but in the middle, its outline barely visible, loomed the pyramid. Like the ones in Egypt in their original form, this pyramid had smooth sides created with white casing stones.

Eve rotated the display and zoomed over to the entrance. “It’s the only structure.”

“Exactly,” I said. “A good place to stash a signal blocker.” I muttered under my breath, “CodeX, what can you show me?”

A sudden rush of images filled my mind, making me gasp.

The first hundred showed a tribe of nomadic aliens—the Ancampi. They had dark skin, large eyes, protruding jaws, and wide noses, and their ears were high on their heads.

They wore simple animal skins sewn together, and sat beside campfires, roasting meat, preparing vegetables, and fashioning weapons and garments while their children played around dome-shaped tents.

The sky darkened.

Fire and destruction replaced the scenes of Utopia.

In space, fleets of ships attacked one another. Black, bat-like spacecraft—Kraython fighters—firing on grey triangular craft with flat backs—the Azurean monks.

The war filled the solar system, and the Ancampi planet got caught in the fallout, weapons and debris scorching the earth.

The images halted at one last picture: an Azurean ship flying from the now-desolate ice planet and the pyramid structure below.

Was it a shrine to the Ancampi? A weak apology for wiping out their species?

Were the missiles remnants of an old war?

Whatever the case, we needed to investigate.

I gestured toward the pyramid. “We’re going down there. The signal blocker must be inside. Agreed?”

They all nodded.

“Hold on.” Eve turned to Mason with a smile. “We’re detecting Mason’s Bluestone crystal nearby.”

His eyebrows rose, and he turned to me. “Could I . . .?”

I nodded. “Go get it.” Mason’s artifact was important, and besides, it might come in handy. We had no idea what was inside that pyramid. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

Mason leapt to his feet and hurried over to Eve. They both peered at her display.

“It’s there.” She pointed. “Among the debris.”

“You’re lucky not to have lost it forever,” Skylar said.

Mason waved her comment away. “How do we get to it? Take Star Chaser?”

“No need. We can use a drone.” Kelvin’s fingers moved through the air with dexterity and an image appeared in front of us, pushing the picture of the ice planet to one side and showing a drone’s point of view—a long tunnel. A hatch at the end opened, revealing outer space beyond. The view zoomed along the tunnel and swung away from the ship.

It banked and turned toward the Last Horizon. Of course I’d seen the ship in my mind when I created it with the AI, but seeing the Last Horizon like this? Real? A solid, sleek object built for space travel and general badassery? It was incredible, and my chest swelled with pride once again.

The drone flew up and over our ship, then dived, heading straight for a piece of debris with two rows of windows that reminded me of a London bus.

The drone swooped inside, and a spotlight illuminated a hallway with collapsed walls, doors torn off, and the ceiling crushed down. A blue glow appeared in the darkness—a crystal hanging in the void. Using a pincer arm, the drone grabbed the Bluestone and headed back to the ship.

“Thanks, Kelvin.” Mason leapt from his chair and hurried off to retrieve his magical possession.

A beeping sound made Eve turn to her display. “Oh no.”

Thirty-Eight

I leaned over for a clear look at Eve’s screen, wondering what the hell the alarm was screaming about, but all I could make out was a jumbled mess of squiggly lines with a few flashing boxes.

“What’s the matter?” My stomach tightened.

“Kraythons,” she muttered.

“How many?” Mason hurried back onto the bridge, fixing a Bluestone crystal into his arm near the shoulder.

“One ship.” Eve zoomed in on the display to reveal a sleek black spacecraft. She swallowed. “Attack class.”

“Unmanned,” Kelvin added. “Long range.”

The ship had a glowing engine at the back and a cannon on its nose. From the look of the spacecraft, I got the distinct impression we didn’t want to mess with it.

Mason refastened his suit, sat at his console, and consulted the display.

“Have they spotted us?” I asked.

Mason shook his head. “Not with our new shield. They’ll still be able to see us if they get close enough.”

“They’ve come to finish us off,” Skylar said.

I held up a hand. “That makes no sense.”

The four of them looked at me with quizzical expressions.

“They could be searching the wreckage for Bluestone artifacts,” I said, trying to remain calm and not jump to conclusions.

Silence and deflated expressions.

“What do you think we should do?” Kelvin asked me.

My gaze moved to the ice planet. “Continue as planned. Go down there, find out what’s blocking our signals and deactivate it.” I couldn’t see any other course of action. “Agreed?”

Eve, Skylar, and Kelvin nodded. Mason shrugged.

“I’ll plan a path through the debris.” Eve set to work, passing the data over to Skylar.

As we headed toward the ice planet, I sat back and wondered how much more of this game there was left to play. If it was sticking to a planned level, that is. I wasn’t sure what I believed. On the one hand the CodeX game seemed to be malfunctioning, but on the other we were still alive, which was something.

Either way, I would be glad when it was over and I found my grandmother. Alice had a lot of explaining to do.

For one horrifying moment, I remembered my choices at the beginning of the game—not only with genres, but the whole picking sides thing.

Did Alice choose to play on the Kraythons’ team?

Will Admiral Floyd still be able to find my grandmother if she turns out to be a Kraython? And if she is, how can I contact her?

I pushed those thoughts from my mind; they were no help now. A few minutes later we stopped at the ice planet, Skylar keeping us on the opposite side of the missiles in case they took a liking to us.

Eve brought up a clearer image of the pyramid, and all of us leaned forward in our chairs.

“Can we land near it?” Mason said.

“Not sure it would be safe,” Eve said. “Scans won’t penetrate the ice. The signal blocker is interfering with them.”

“I doubt it’ll have a liquid ocean beneath.” Kelvin scratched his chin. “There’s no other planet nearby to cause tidal heating of its core, and the solar system is too old for the middle of the planet to remain active enough by itself.” He waved a hand in front of his screen. “I’m certain the signal jammer is down there, though.”

I got to my feet. “We’ll take Star Chaser to the surface.”

All four of the others stood up.

“Hold on.” I raised my hands. “Shouldn’t someone stay behind?”

“No need,” Skylar said. “I’ll put the Last Horizon in sentry mode, and it’ll go into lockdown. We can’t keep the shields up while we’re away, but if it spots trouble, the ship will use its manoeuvering thrusters to avoid it.”

“Do you have a key fob for that?” I imagined her pressing a button and getting a blip, blip in confirmation as we left the ship.

Skylar frowned. “A what?”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.” The sooner we got to the planet and switched off the damn signal blocker, the better.

Kelvin unfastened his scanner device from the display console and clipped it to his arm. “I’ll be able to get a fix on the signal blocker using this. Its strength will increase the closer we get.”

The five of us marched down the steps and into a hallway. I’d done away with the weird gallery, opting to keep the interior spacious but not too grand and pointless. Now free of cabinets, the corridors were much less claustrophobic.

At the end of the corridor we stepped into the hangar bay, and I turned to watch Skylar's reaction.

Her jaw dropped, and she practically salivated. “Is that Star Chaser?”

I grinned. “Thought the new design would be more in keeping with its name.”

Ahead, among three other standard shuttles with minimal changes, was a sleek, powerful-looking spacecraft—flat dark grey steel layered with composite materials. It had a strong refracting gravity engine, courtesy of yours truly, and enough space inside to seat all of us with room to spare.

I motioned to five doors on the right of the hangar bay. “Changing rooms.”

Inside were sets of lockers and benches.

While Eve and Skylar left to change into EVA suits, Mason, Kelvin, and I also put on our own spacesuits. Stepping from my changing room, I squirmed as the back of it zipped up, and turned to Mason. “Can I get a phase-band?”

“No.” Skylar marched past me and over to Star Chaser. The side door lifted, and she stepped on board.

Mason grinned, and we followed.

The interior of the new spacecraft had five chairs: two at the back, two further forward, and a final pilot’s seat at the front. Each had its own built-in display, like a miniature version of the Last Horizon’s bridge, and we consulted them as we strapped ourselves in.

Skylar’s phase-band glowed, and ten seconds later we were airborne, flying from the Last Horizon down toward the ice planet.

Gazing out of the side window, I searched for any sign of our Kraython visitors but didn’t spot them.

“Not picking up any other structures on the planet,” Eve said, concentrating on her display. “Still can’t scan beneath the ice.”

Kelvin consulted his own screen. “Must be the signal blocker.”

I squirmed in my seat. I didn’t relish going in blind. If the Kraythons had placed the jammer inside the pyramid, I wondered what forms of protection they had in place to stop people tampering with it. Is that why the attack drone arrived?

I looked over at Kelvin. “Should we abort? If you have any doubts—”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “There doesn’t seem to be anything down there that can hurt us.”

“He’s right,” Eve said. “I’m not detecting any weapons.”

I faced the front, knowing full well this would not be a simple mission, and gripped the edge of my seat.

The pyramid loomed ahead, and the knot in my stomach tightened. As we glided in to touch down on the ice field, the building stood fifty feet tall, its bright white casing stones blinding in the light from the nearby sun.

Eve did one final scan and shook her head.

I’m not sure about this.

The confidence I’d felt playing captain on board the Last Horizon evaporated.

The others pressed their collars, and their helmets sprung up. With a deepening sense of impending doom, I did the same, glancing at my health meter.

Skylar opened Star Chaser, and we climbed out. Ice crunched beneath the soles of my boots, and I stood there for a moment, taking in the vista.

The landscape was remarkably flat, as though the planet were a giant white ball, and the uninterrupted curve of the horizon stretched across our field of view.

Gravity seemed heavier than I was used to—maybe twenty percent more than Earth’s—and each step took longer than usual as we made our way to the pyramid.

“How long before the Leviathan gets here?” I asked.

“An hour and fifteen minutes,” Eve replied.

We stopped at a stone door eight feet tall and three wide. It had no markings, handle, or lock of any kind. Eve swept her phase-band back and forth and pointed to the right side.

“This is on me.” Mason stepped forward and gripped the edge of the door. The Bluestone in his shoulder glowed under his suit and coat, sending swirls of energy along his arms. He braced himself and heaved the door open.

We stared at a flight of stone steps leading down into darkness. I swallowed, not liking the look of it one bit.

Mason went first, with me close behind and the others following, and we descended in silence for what felt like a hundred feet before stepping onto a walkway overlooking a vast brightly lit area. The entire ceiling glowed, and a fog hung ten feet below the catwalk, stretching into the distance on all sides. It was impossible to make out what was beneath the mist, which did nothing to calm my nerves.

“It’s down here somewhere,” Kelvin said, gesturing at the holographic readout above the scanner on his arm. “The signal blocker’s here. We’re getting closer.”

“Look.” Skylar pointed at an object mounted next to the catwalk, perhaps thirty feet away.

It was silver and oval with a domed glass roof and a door on the side, held aloft by heavy brackets.

“Is that a boat?” Eve asked.

Mason slapped Kelvin on the back. “So much for your idea that there was no liquid ocean beneath the surface.”

We walked over to the boat. Skylar opened the door and clambered in.

“Be careful.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. A quick check on the game map showed our golden dots on the walkway, with a pale blue, empty expanse on either side.

Skylar indicated a control stick with buttons and looked out of the window. “There must be a lake under the fog.”

Mason climbed in, then Kelvin followed, and the two of them sat behind Skylar.

I hesitated, squinting into the thick layer of mist to try to make out the water beneath.

Eve tapped my arm and motioned with her phase-band. “Still not picking up anything.” She sighed. “We don’t seem to have a choice.”

“Story of my life,” I muttered as we climbed into the boat too.

Skylar reached up to a mechanism in the ceiling, one I guessed was about to release us from the holding brackets. “Ready?”

“No.” My stomach tightened so much it hurt.

Skylar pulled the catch. The boat dropped into the fog . . . and kept dropping.

Thirty-Nine

Instead of hitting water, the boat carried on falling, and as we plummeted, details formed on the game map.

The layer of fog wasn’t fog at all, but a blanket of cloud. A second later it cleared, revealing the ground thousands of feet below. We were heading toward it in a spinning nosedive.

I gripped the edges of my seat harder than ever.

“Get control of it,” Mason shouted.

“I’m trying.” Skylar screwed up her face and yanked back on the stick. “It’s not working.” She pressed buttons but nothing happened, and the screen next to her remained dark.

“CodeX?” I said. “Any help right now?”

Nothing.

We were going to die.

As we spiralled, I caught glimpses of fields, an ocean, and even buildings in the distance, but everything was jumbled, with large chunks of land above an ocean, as if the game hadn’t rendered the world correctly.

Are we in one giant glitch?

Skylar attempted to wrestle with the control stick, but the ship didn’t respond.

I searched for seatbelts or harnesses, but there weren’t any. Of course not. I also looked for some means of emergency escape—parachutes—anything.

How had we been so stupid?

Seriously, we had blindly climbed into something we’d assumed was a boat without checking?

So dumb.

With detached hopelessness, I stared at my health meter. It was at ninety-two percent, which was fantastic, but there was no way I’d survive the impending crash.

Game over.

Sorry, Grandpa. I tried.

“Why isn’t it working?” Skylar screamed.

Kelvin scrambled over to her, rested his hand on the screen, and closed his eyes. The crystals in his artifact glowed, sending pulses of energy across his fingers and into the ship.

The display flickered to life.

“Well?” I looked out of the front window as the earth grew larger.

We only had around ten seconds left.

A building shot past us, going upward. What the hell?

“I’m connected,” Kelvin said, “but the programming language is gibberish.”

I rushed over too, and to my surprise, the CodeX translated the symbols on the screen. “Flight controls are still off.” I searched for a way to switch them on as Kelvin scrolled down the display.

“Hurry up,” Skylar shouted.

Five seconds.

“Do something,” Eve gripped her seat. “Do anything.”

“There.” I pointed at the code to activate the engine.

Three seconds.

I gritted my teeth.

Kelvin highlighted the command.

Two.

The earth came rushing up to meet us, and Kelvin screamed, “Now.”

Skylar roared as she pulled back on the control stick.

The front of the ship swung upward, but not fast enough. We hit the ground hard, banking earth as we slid along, the impact throwing us around the cabin.

I slammed into the side window, almost breaking my nose, and fell to the floor in a heap.

My health meter dropped to forty percent.

Ouch.

Groaning, pain shooting up my wrists, I looked about. “Everyone alive?”

I received four battered and bruised nods in reply.

“Stupid thing.” Skylar kicked open the door and scrambled out, swearing.

I gestured for Eve to go next, then Mason and Kelvin. I climbed from the ship last, glad we’d made it in one piece and cursing the game along with Skylar.

We sat on the ground outside for a minute, trying to gather our senses.

I gazed up at the sky and the layer of cloud, wondering how the hell we would get back up there. A swirling green, blue, and purple energy reminded me of the Northern Lights on Earth.

Then my gaze returned to our immediate surroundings. We were in a field of corn-like crops, with tall stems and orange seeds. A farmhouse with round windows and a thatched roof stood on a rise in the distance, only . . .

I gaped at it.

The house wasn’t on a hill at all, but a giant, floating boulder, and we were hovering on our own flat-topped platform of rock, high above an ocean.

I peered into the distance, gaping at the hundreds of floating houses, barns, fields, and ranches, all on their own clumps of rock. Underneath each, a complicated array of clear tubes funnelled magical smoke from giant animal-skin bags to a series of enormous propellers.

Skyscrapers glided past one another, their own propellers and magic holding them aloft.

A rumbling, clattering sound made me turn in the opposite direction. A vehicle turned the corner and cut across the field toward us.

It was dark red, reminding me of an American pickup truck from the nineteen-fifties, with wide, rounded wheel arches. The wheels themselves were solid balls, made from white stone. A glass cylinder filled with the same blue, purple, and green smoke, perhaps two feet in diameter and three feet tall, sat in the bed of the truck. Is it Bluestone? I couldn’t see any glowing crystals. Tubes ran from the side of the cylinder, disappearing into the truck’s bodywork, feeding the tyres.

The five of us got shakily to our feet as the truck slid to a halt. The doors on both sides opened upward, and the occupants leapt out.

“Ancampi,” I murmured.

“What?” Mason said. “I thought they were wiped out in the Battle of Puissance?”

“Apparently not,” Eve said, looking shocked.

The Ancampi were shorter than I’d imagined, the taller of the two only a smidge over five feet, and their hair was filled with beads and dreadlocks. The second Ancampi was clearly a child, but they both wore baggy trousers made out of animal hide, shirts with high collars, and brown leather jackets, a far cry from their traditional tribal dress, but still primitive in look.

I frowned.

These guys were definitely Ancampi, with their dark skin, oversized eyes, high-placed ears, and protruding jaws. There was no mistaking them, and I was happy their race had survived the Battle of Puissance after all, but what the hell had happened to them?

I looked up at the sky again.

The smoke had to be Bluestone magic, which the Ancampi had somehow bottled and used to their advantage. But what about the missiles? Did they create those too? Nothing here seems so high tech.

I refocused as Father Ancampi pointed a gun at us. The weapon had another small jar mounted to the top of it, filled with the same Bluestone smoke.

The five of us held up our hands.

“Jangia haroom,” he said.

The others’ expressions were as blank as mine.

“Jangia haroom,” the farmer repeated, waving the gun back and forth.

“Wentao neach tu kerin.” The youngster pointed at our dented craft.

“Well?” Skylar hissed through the corner of her mouth to me. “What are they saying?”

I shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

“Your CodeX,” Eve murmured. “Ask your CodeX.”

“Oh, right.” I cleared my throat. “CodeX, translate.”

“Biendo,” the father said. “Beindo gra rachat. Who are you?”

The CodeX told me using flashes of images—Ancampi texts, scrolls, and carved writing. Although their language had evolved from hundreds of years before, CodeX could still understand well enough.

“Friends,” I said, surprised that my word came out in their language, even though I’d uttered it in English. It projected out of a speaker in my helmet.

The father and son exchanged looks.

Skylar took a step toward them, fists balled.

Our two alien friends jumped back.

“Wait,” Eve said. “You’re frightening them.”

I was about to agree and suggest Skylar step away and let me take over the questioning when she took another step toward the Ancampi. “Where’s the signal blocker?”

Eve grabbed Skylar, pulling her back. A split second later came a loud pop. A ball of purple smoke shot from the barrel of the gun. As if in slow motion, Skylar cartwheeled out of the way, avoiding it with ease, but the blast caught Eve in the chest and she flew ten feet through the air, hitting the dirt like a rag doll.

“No,” I shouted at the farmer. “We’re no threat to you.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

Kelvin rushed to Eve and knelt beside her. Her eyes were closed and her body still.

Kelvin checked the readout on Eve’s phase-band, and after a few seconds, he looked up, his cheeks draining of colour. “She’s dead.”

Forty

The world turned grey as I stood, helpless, staring at Eve’s motionless body.

How could she be dead?

“You piece of—” Skylar rushed at the Ancampi again, but Mason grabbed her arms this time.

“You’ll get us all killed,” he said.

I staggered over to Eve and knelt beside her.

Can I reset the game somehow?

Is there a way for me to undo this?

Grandpa John mentioned he’d tried some levels several times over. Could I do the same?

A slow, juddering breath escaped my lips. I knew in my heart that there was no going back, no do-over. I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat as I gazed at Eve’s still form.

If only there was a way to save her.

A flood of images and information made me recoil. They flowed from the CodeX implant, programming my brain in rapid fits and starts.

I leaned over Eve, checking her phase-band’s display for vitals and not finding any. I interlocked my hands, elbows straight, and compressed her breastbone in fast rhythm.

Thirty chest compressions later, I went to retract Eve’s helmet, but Kelvin gripped my arm.

“Wait.” He gestured with his phase-band and studied the display.

“What are you doing?”

“Their atmosphere is breathable,” Kelvin said, “but I don’t recommend doing it for too long. Oxygen content is way higher than we’re used to, and the nitrogen lower. No pathogens detected, but—” He looked up at Mason. “Keep the Ancampi away from us. We don’t want to pass on anything to them.”

Mason turned, raising his hands. “Stay away, guys.”

I pressed my collar, lowered my helmet, and did the same to Eve’s. I tilted her head back, made sure her airway was clear, pinched her nose, and gave her two rescue breaths.

I turned my ear to her mouth.

No movement of air, so I repeated the process.

Skylar stood next to me, asking whether I knew what I was doing, but I carried on working with Eve—thirty compressions, two breaths, repeat.

After the third try, Kelvin stared at Eve’s phase-band and shook his head.

Mason rested a hand on my shoulder. “She’s gone, bud.”

I shrugged him off. I’ll spend the rest of my life doing this if I have to, even if there’s only the slightest chance . . .

More compressions.

More breaths.

On and on.

The Ancampi farmer approached, his gun aimed at us, smoke drifting from the barrel.

I didn’t care.

He’ll have to kill me too.

Two more breaths, and I was about to restart chest compressions when she gasped and coughed.

Raising my hands, I sat up, stunned, hardly daring to believe.

Eve shuddered and opened her eyes.

A wave of relief flooded through every fibre of my being, and I slumped. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Eve screwed up her face and clutched at her chest as she regarded us. “What happened? You guys look like someone died.”

I pressed Eve’s collar, raising her helmet again, did the same to mine, then glared at Skylar. Because of her recklessness, Eve had almost died. If Skylar had let me continue talking to the Ancampi and not been so impatient, this wouldn’t have happened.

Skylar hurried to Eve’s side and took her hand. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at us. “I’m so, so sorry.” Tears tumbled down her cheeks.

She was reckless, but I blamed myself too. I should have gone down to the Ancampi world alone, not suggested we all climb into that damn powerless alien craft. I cursed my stupidity.

Eve gave an awkward smile to Skylar, then turned to me again. She opened her mouth to say something, but her head rolled to the side and she fell unconscious.

“We need to get her to the Last Horizon,” Kelvin said. “The medical bay will take care of her.”

Mason scooped Eve up into his arms, and we turned to the Ancampi. “How do we get back?” he asked them.

The farmer kept his weapon raised, threatening another blast of energy as I translated. His son shuffled from one foot to another, half hiding behind his dad.

Kelvin pointed at the ship. “We want to go home.” He pointed at Eve in Mason’s arms. “You hurt our friend.”

Something moved on the game map, and I tensed as a line of red dots streamed toward us.

The sky rumbled as flying trucks and cars swooped in our direction. Each was painted a dark green and left trails of magical smoke behind their spinning, ball-like wheels.

As they landed in the floating field, I didn’t require the CodeX’s help to figure out these new arrivals were military. I backed away and motioned the others to do the same, sensing a lot more trouble was about to befall us. My health meter hadn’t budged from forty percent, but it wouldn’t take much for it to drop to zero.

“CodeX?” I breathed. “A little help? What do we do? Please get us out of here.”

Silence.

Twenty uniformed Ancampi jumped out of the trucks, each holding weapons similar to the farmer’s. They surrounded Mason, Eve, Skylar, Kelvin, and me, giving us no doubt as to their intentions.

“CodeX?” I hissed. “Seriously? Nothing?”

The lead officer—an Ancampi I assumed was a general, he wore a uniform with golden badges across each lapel—barked orders, telling his men to load us into the trucks.

His soldiers removed the others’ phase-bands along with Kelvin’s scanner, then jabbed us in the backs with their weapons, corralling us to the vehicles. Mason scooped Eve into his arms, and reluctantly we climbed in one truck, Kelvin and Skylar in another.

Several soldiers kept their guns trained on us. For the briefest of moments, I considered trying to overpower them, but staring at the magical smoke swirling inside the glass jars, I decided it was not a good idea.

Looking away, I muttered under my breath to the CodeX, asking for any tips on escaping and not being murdered—anything that could help us—but it remained silent.

Useless bloody thing.

As the trucks lumbered across the field and lifted off the ground in a smooth motion, the remaining soldiers finished loading the crashed silver craft onto a flatbed, quickly covering it in a tarp, then followed us into the sky.

I gazed at the buildings in the distance, wondering how the Ancampi kept all the hundreds of moving skyscrapers from banging into one another. I thought we were heading over there, but the procession banked to the left.

Three colossal towers touched the clouds above, while giant cranes fixed with tubes vacuumed the magical smoke, sucking it into jars and lowering them to the ground.

A minute later we touched down on a floating slab of land, then drove through a set of iron gates with a guard station, and on between warehouse buildings.

I looked over at Kelvin. “How long before the Leviathan enters the solar system?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe an hour.”

I winced.

“Jaroon,” the nearest guard snarled, waving his gun at my face. I didn’t need a translator to know he wanted us to shut the hell up.

Our alien motorcade swung into an empty warehouse building, its walls and ceiling lined with smoke-filled glass pipes. As the main door closed, the soldiers ordered us to climb out with a few barked words and gun gestures.

Mason carried Eve. She seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness.

“Is she okay?” I asked him as the Ancampi herded us to the far end of the building.

“She’s still alive,” Mason replied in a low tone. “We must get her back to the ship so we can check out the damage.”

I nodded, but I had the distinct impression our new friends would not let us leave anytime soon.

Sure enough, they led us into a connecting warehouse and forced us inside a concrete room with one glass wall and a heavy iron door.

Mason laid Eve on the ground and turned to me. “Shall I smash my way out of here?” He indicated the shirt area where the crystal was mounted into the top of his arm. “We can overpower them.”

“Not yet,” I muttered, watching through the glass as the general addressed his underlings. They set the phase-bands and scanner on a desk in the corner, while other soldiers kept an eye on us, their guns ready. I guessed we must have looked imposing with our space suits and helmets.

Another soldier, this one with fewer gold insignia across his lapels, stormed over and saluted the general with a clenched fist, jabbering in an animated tone.

The general gave a single nod, straightened his jacket, and walked over to the glass.

His gaze moved from Eve, unconscious on the floor, to Mason crouching beside her, then to Skylar. He glared at their robotic limbs, scrutinised Kelvin’s unusual appearance, and finally stopped at me.

“Chakron fianto malood?” he said, his voice transmitting through an air vent. The CodeX translated. “What is your faction?”

I shook my head.

A brief frown crossed the general’s features. “What is your faction?” he repeated.

“They’re Hatarn,” his second-in-command snarled.

“We’re not,” I said in their language, even though I had no clue what the hell a Hatarn was.

The second-in-command ground his teeth, but the general waved him away. He bowed and stepped back, still sneering.

“If only we could phase,” Mason breathed to his sister. “Then we’d shift through the walls without them even knowing.”

“We’re not doing anything impulsive.” I glared at Skylar. “I don’t want anyone else getting shot.” I beckoned to the general, hoping I could talk our way out of this nightmare, and fast.

Forty-One

The alien general advanced to the glass wall, staring at me. “Who are you?” he said. “Where are you from?”

I wondered how relevant the Ancampi’s ancient religious beliefs still were. They had come a long way from their distant nomadic ancestors, and they were more sophisticated than the small amount of information the CodeX had on them.

I tried to think it through.

Judging by their hidden world, the Ancampi either had no idea they were under a giant roof, a protective ice-covered bubble orbiting a star in a solar system in a galaxy among billions of others, or they didn’t care. My instincts told me it was the former, so I needed to tread carefully.

“They must be Flireons.” The second-in-command flung out an accusatory finger at us.

The CodeX flooded my mind with snippets of information. Flireons were a mythological race of beings said to have invaded Ancampi lands, killing half their people and stealing their food, then retreating across the ocean. Not a good people to be associated with.

“We’re not Flireons,” I said. “We are human. A small tribe from an island in the Alkar Sea.”

For the record, the Alkar Sea was the biggest body of water on their planet and mostly unexplored. At least, it used to be.

I held my breath as I waited for the response.

The officer’s eyes narrowed.

“Why are you here?” the general demanded.

I clenched my fists behind my back. “We are explorers.” That was true. More than they’d ever know.

“He’s lying,” the first officer snarled. “They’re a scouting party, planning an invasion.”

I spread my hands out. “General, please let us go. We came here by accident. We mean you no harm and only want to return to our home.” I pointed at Eve. “Our friend is hurt. You can see she requires medical attention.”

The officer leaned toward the general. “We must inform Premiere Goratorin. Decisions of this magnitude need approval.”

Much to my astonishment, the general barked at his men, “Stand guard. Shoot if any of them try to escape.” He marched from the room, his second-in-command hard on his heels.

I sighed and turned from the glass wall. “Damn it.”

“So,” Mason said with raised eyebrows, “how did it go?”

“Not great.” I shrugged. “I don’t think they believed my story.”

The two red dots on my game map headed for a cluster of buildings on the other side of the floating compound.

“This is all my fault,” Skylar said. “I want to be a pilot. I should have known it wasn’t a boat.” She shook her head. “How could I be so stupid?”

I spun around to agree with her, but Mason stepped between us, hands raised. “Hey, we’re a team. No one’s blaming anyone else, right?”

Skylar turned away, and I bit my tongue. Mason was right. Blaming each other wouldn’t get us out of this mess. Besides, it was more my fault than hers. The only reason they wanted me with them was because I had the CodeX, which I couldn’t use properly, and my lack of control had placed us in mortal jeopardy. If I’d acted faster and used the CodeX to its full potential, Eve wouldn’t have been hurt.

I hesitated.

But what if my lack of control isn’t a weakness, but a strength? Perhaps the game was set up that way—deliberately wanting me to lead from the front and take charge.

In that case, there was nothing else for it. Now was the time for me to get us out of this mess, with or without the CodeX’s help. Maybe I didn’t even need it.

“We’re going with your plan,” I said to Mason. “We bust our way out.”

Nothing like a bit of brute force to solve a tricky problem.

Mason peered through the glass at the guards. “I can take them. Easy.”

“Good.” I nodded at the desk in the corner. “We get our stuff back, then fly the hell out of here.”

Mason frowned. “Fly in what?”

“The craft we came down in.” I looked over at Kelvin. “Will it still work?”

“I think so. Skylar should be able to work the controls now we know how to fire up the engine.”

Mason raised his eyebrows. “You mean that piece of junk we crashed in?”

I understood his skepticism, but now wasn’t the time. We needed to act. I knew I couldn’t control the CodeX and the game world on my own, but together, united, we stood a chance.

“You up for the challenge?” I asked Skylar.

She grimaced. “Leo . . .”

“What did Mason say about us being in this together?” I said before she could retreat into self-pity. “Well, we’re gonna get out of it together too.” Like a united family, I thought. “You’re our best hope at flying out of this crazy place before they execute us or something. I know we can escape, but it’ll take all of us.” I eyed Eve’s motionless body. “I’ll carry Eve, and you guys do your thing.” A twinge of self-doubt stabbed me as I eyed the guards outside, but I did my best to push it aside. “We have to plan this carefully.”

“We don’t have time for carefully,” Mason said.

“Getting out of here won’t be a problem,” Kelvin said. “Avoiding hurting them will be.”

I pursed my lips. “I’m not so sure . . .” I turned to the others and kept my voice low. “I think their guns are designed to stun.”

“Stun?” Mason repeated, his voice rising. “They almost murdered Eve.”

“I know,” I said. “But do you remember how shocked the farmer was? He said that wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m certain their guns aren’t meant to have that much impact. That means we can use their weapons against them, but we need to avoid getting hit.”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Sounds fair.”

“You break open the door,” I said to him. “Skylar, can you move fast enough to avoid their blasts?”

“Sure, she can.” Mason slapped his sister on the back. “She did it before, didn’t she?”

Skylar grimaced.

I raced over to Eve, feeling more determined and positive than ever, and lifted her into my arms. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.” Kelvin held up a hand. “I’ll take her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said. “You get our phase-bands and scanner.”

I shifted my weight and carefully passed Eve over to him. I turned back to the door.

Mason flexed his arms and looked at his sister. “Ready?”

She hunched down. “Ready.”

Mason roared and ran full pelt at the cell door, slamming into the metal surface.

The hinges popped free, and the door flew outward, knocking the first guard back against the far wall. A split-second later, a blur that could only have been Skylar raced past.

Bolts of energy shot into our prison cell, and I pulled Eve and Kelvin aside, shielding them behind the wall.

All went quiet.

I peered around the door frame. The two guards were sprawled on the floor, out cold courtesy of the cyborg twins.

Mason beamed and snatched up their guns. “You’re getting slower,” he said to his sister.

Skylar folded her arms. “No, I’m not.”

Mason chuckled and handed me a gun.

I looked at it, then made to give it back. “I’m not the best person to use this.”

“You’re the only person,” Mason said. “Skylar can’t have anything to slow her down, Eve’s unconscious, and Kelvin is, well, he’s Kelvin.”

“I heard that,” Kelvin replied as he joined us with Eve in his arms. “I’m a little busy to use a gun.”

I hurried to the desk and passed Mason and Skylar their phase-bands, tucking Kelvin’s phase-band and scanner under my free arm. I checked the game map. There were more red dots in the next room.

“Let’s go.” I ran to the door, opened it, and peered out.

Three more guards stood inside the main warehouse. I held up three fingers to the others and indicated their approximate positions. “Three, two, one . . .”

We burst through the door, and I knocked out the nearest guard with a well-placed shot to his chest. Mason took care of the second. Skylar ran to the third guard, kicked the gun from his hands, and ducked in time for me and Mason to bring him down with more blasts.

Not pausing for breath, we sprinted to the silver ship and climbed aboard.

I helped Kelvin get Eve inside, then handed over his phase-band and scanner. “Thanks.” He strapped them onto his arm and brought up the holographic display. “Still got a location on the blocker.”

Good news.

Mason ran across the warehouse and punched the controls for the doors. They slid open as he jogged back to us.

Eve was still unconscious.

The moment Mason climbed on board, Skylar hit the ignition. A low, grinding sound reverberated beneath our feet. I flinched, not relishing the idea of crashing again.

Skylar pulled back on the control stick. The ship lifted a few feet into the air, wobbled, and glided forward.

Eve groaned.

I grabbed her hand. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Worst. Headache. Ever.” Eve clutched her chest and stomach. “Everything hurts. Why does everything hurt?” She then seemed to remember something. “Oh. Thank you, Leo.”

I Shrugged. “All part of the game. It was nothing.” I assumed saving her life was just another obstacle placed in my way by the CodeX. One of many. I half smiled at her. “Hang in there,” I said. “We’re leaving.”

We were halfway across the warehouse when two giant bird-like silhouettes moved in front of the door. Ancampi soldiers with giant mechanical wings. Smoke swirled around them as they flapped back and forth, magic-filled jars on their backs, oversized cannons pointed at us.

Everyone’s shoulders hitched.

Forty-Two

The two flying Ancampi soldiers hovered outside the warehouse door, their guns aimed at our tinfoil ship.

I exhaled. “What is it with everyone trying to kill us?”

Our craft had nothing to fight them off with. I was about to ask if anyone fancied jumping out of the ship in a feat of selfless heroism and shooting the Ancampi butterflies with one of their own weapons, when the ship lurched, throwing us back in our seats.

Skylar flew across the hanger, shifting right and left to avoid blasts. She dived until she was mere inches from the floor, then pulled up at the last moment and shot at the mechanical soldiers, catching them off guard.

They moved out of the way, trying to avoid us, and crashed into one another, buckling their wings.

A second later Skylar dipped, built up speed, and flew into the air and away.

I peered out of the rear window, relieved to see both mechanical butterflies reduced to smoking wreckage, the soldiers crawling out. Sometimes reckless and impulsive reactions turned out to be the best solutions.

I rested a hand on Skylar’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she murmured, her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth.

“Let’s find the signal blocker and get out of here,” Mason said.

I shook my head. “Eve needs to get—”

“I’m fine,” she interrupted.

I gave her a dubious look.

“Only bruises.” Eve removed her glasses, revealing her vibrant green eyes. “If these will bond with you, you can see for yourself.”

I slipped on the glasses, and warmth radiated from the crystal into my forehead.

I went to yank them off, but Eve stopped me. “It’s okay,” she said. “You’re bonding with them.”

Sure enough, the warmth faded, and I clapped a hand over my mouth as Eve’s skin turned transparent. It took all my willpower not to chuck up.

“Disgusting,” I murmured as I looked at her askance. “Proper gross.”

Is this how she sees the world all the time? Ugh.

“No broken bones or internal bleeding, though,” Eve said.

I handed the glasses back, telling myself never to do that again. “What about concussion? Or things the glasses can’t see?”

She smiled. “I promise to get checked out once we return to the Last Horizon.”

Kelvin held up his arm, and the Bluestone crystals in his phase-band glowed, sending energy wrapping around the scanner device and out from the ship. He studied the display. “Skylar, fly in a circle.”

She did, and he studied the meter readout.

“I’m picking up a slight increase in strength. The closer we get, the more obvious it’ll be.” He pointed. “That way.”

Skylar flew across floating orchards, then dipped down to an ocean.

“How long do we have left to get this done?” I asked.

“Thirty-five minutes,” Mason said with a pained expression.

My chest tightened. I was anxious to see if we would we make it in time. Not only did we have to find and deactivate the signal blocker, but we also had to transmit to the Leviathan—not to mention get Eve medical help. I glanced at her, relieved to see colour returning to her cheeks.

Kelvin watched the signal strength. “Stop. It’s here.”

Skylar hovered. “Where?”

We peered out of the windows, and I spotted a star-shaped island to our left. It was on the ocean rather than hovering, and no bigger than a football pitch. Flaming torches lined a path leading from one of the points to a square granite building with a giant golden spire.

Eve pressed her face against the glass. “What is that?”

“A temple,” I said.

Mason’s eyes widened. “And the signal blocker is down there?”

“It would be a good place to stash it.” I surveyed the landscape. “It’s so remote that I bet the Ancampi hardly ever come out here.”

“Or it’s off limits,” Eve said.

I agreed. The Ancampi wouldn’t appreciate five teenagers scrambling over their precious temple, but we didn’t have much choice.

We landed on a small patch of concrete in front of the building and climbed out.

The sea around Star Island was calm, with no wind or waves. Considering there was no moon, that made sense.

“Try not to disturb anything.” I turned back to Eve, all too aware of the dark shadows under her eyes. “Want to wait on the craft?”

She gave me a feeble nod.

“Any trouble, call.” I hurried along the path with the others.

A line of statues stood on either side of the avenue—ten monks with their heads bowed, wearing amulets around their necks displaying different symbols.

The majority of the building reminded me of a Roman temple, with pillars holding up a pitched roof. At the very top, the golden spire pointed at the sky like a lightning rod.

Kelvin consulted his phase-band and scanner. “The signal blocker is here somewhere.”

Mason pointed at the building’s entrance. “No prizes for guessing where.”

The four of us jogged up the steps and stopped at a stone door, ten feet high by six wide. There was no handle and no visible hinge of any kind.

Mason cracked his knuckles.

I grabbed his arm. “Let’s not smash unless we have to, okay? This is a holy site.”

Mason looked disappointed, and I couldn’t help but smirk at him. If I had strength like his, I’d be chomping at the bit to go demolition mode whenever I got the chance too.

I ran my fingers over the door. “Cold.” There were no markings in the stonework either, no way to know how to open it.

I stepped back. “CodeX, any help here would be great.”

The CodeX remained silent.

“Brilliant. Thanks for nothing.”

My gaze moved around the outer frame and over to a column of glyphs nearby—a star with a hole, a spiral, an eye, and a cross inside a square.

The lowermost symbol, raised and in the shape of an inverted triangle, snagged my attention. I pressed it, and as if by magic, the door swung open.

That was easy.

Mason grinned. “Nice one.”

We stepped into a vast chamber, its walls filled floor to ceiling with more hieroglyphs. They were divided into tall panels and separated by strips of gold. They ran down the walls and across the floor, ending in a statue of a slender alien with a bulbous head, triangular face, and large eyes, wearing a long robe with a hood. On the robe was a symbol I recognised—a circle surrounded by an octagon.

“Azurean monk,” Skylar said, revolving slowly to take it all in. “Did they build this place?”

Above the statue the golden strips met, and I pointed at an octagon and circle symbol.

“Bluestone?” Mason said, frowning. “Why’s the symbol for Bluestone here?” His eyes moved to the monk. “And why the hell would Azurean monks want to protect these Ancampi?”

“CodeX,” I murmured, “what do these symbols mean?” I staggered back as all the hieroglyphs shifted—not on the walls themselves, but in my mind. Suddenly I could read them as if they were in English. It had to be the weirdest sensation I’d experienced in the crazy game up until that moment, like watching a translator on a smartphone working in real time, only in my actual brain. Finally, the CodeX was doing something useful.

“What do you see?” Kelvin asked me.

“The hieroglyphs are a combination of words and short sentences, and these pictures are entire scenes.” I pointed to one that showed a battle between two advanced civilisations. “A war spanning several solar systems and hundreds of years wiped out almost all life.”

“The Azurean monks and the Kraythons,” Skylar said.

I continued along the wall. “The monks returned not long after the destruction of most of this planet, helped the Ancampi survivors create a new world, and encased them in a protective outer shell, where they would remain hidden and unaware.” I shook my head. “Look at this.”

One of the final images showed thousands of self-replicating missiles—the ones that had attacked the fleet. They were precautions taken to wipe out any visitors who dared to get too close.

My gaze rested on a familiar symbol below an image of an Azurean monk—the sideways infinity glyph from the front cover of the CodeX and my grandmother’s locket.

I stepped toward it. “What does it mean?” I breathed. And why is it here?

“Wait,” Skylar said, “all this means the Kraythons didn’t attack the fleet?”

I shook my head. “It’s the monks’ planetary protection. The Antarian fleet got too close and activated its defences.”

“But the Azurean monks are on our side,” Skylar said. “How could they do this to us?”

Mason whistled. “That’s one hell of a defence system.”

Kelvin shook his head. “I can’t believe all those missiles are there to protect the Ancampi.” He staggered back and leaned against the wall. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t sent the drone too close, the missiles—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s not your fault. The fleet would have triggered those missiles anyway.”

Kelvin let out a breath and nodded.

“What about the Kraython ship?” Skylar said.

“It was a long-range scout,” Kelvin said. “The Kraythons must have seen the Antarian fleet fly into the solar system and vanish. They came to investigate.”

“In that case, won’t the Leviathan hold back?” Mason said. “If they’ve noticed the fleet has gone, they’ll realise something’s up.”

“They’ll be overconfident,” Kelvin said. “They’ll know something is blocking signals, but they’ll have no idea that missiles capable of destroying them are waiting here.”

“We still need to find the signal blocker.” I looked about. “It must be here somewhere.”

“Wait.” Skylar held up a hand. “If we destroy the blocker, these people won’t remain hidden from the rest of the galaxy.” She looked at us. “We can’t do it to them. We have no right.”

I had to agree with her. It wasn’t up to us to introduce the Ancampi to other worlds or vice versa.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll shut it down for long enough to contact the Leviathan. Agreed?”

Mason and Skylar nodded, but Kelvin didn’t look so convinced.

“What?” I said, bracing myself.

“Star Chaser hasn’t got a powerful transmitter. The only way to get ahold of the Leviathan is via the Last Horizon.”

I sighed. That meant we had even less time.

“Is there anything here written about the signal blocker?” Kelvin asked.

I shook my head. All the hieroglyphs showed was the Azurean monks’ story along with the infinity symbol, but on that subject, the CodeX remained silent.

“We’re running out of time,” Mason said. “It’s got to be here somewhere. An island, off limits? A temple? Perfect hiding place.”

My attention moved to the floor. Can the signal blocker be beneath the flagstones? Not seeing any obvious trapdoors, my gaze moved to the walls.

Kelvin examined the gold strips, following them from the statue, across the floor, and into the ceiling.

He faced me, grinning. “This is the signal blocker,” he said, pointing at the gold strips. “The spire on the roof, remember? The whole temple is the device.”

I stared at him for a moment. “You’re right.”

Together, we hurried to the statue. “Not seeing anything,” Kelvin said.

I stepped back. “Call Eve.”

Kelvin raised his phase-band. “Eve?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you look over here?” he said to her. “Use your artifact to find anything that could be the signal blocker.”

“Hold on.”

A few seconds went by, then wisps of blue energy pulsated through the temple in undulating waves, scanning up and down. They passed through the statue, and I spotted a disturbance.

Eve said, “There’s something in the base.”

My fingers found a join in the stone.

First, I pushed inward. Nothing happened, so I pressed down. Sure enough, a drawer slid open, full of weird-looking glass shapes glowing bright white.

Kelvin peered inside. “That’s it.” He pointed at a cube in the corner of the drawer. “Power source.”

“Guys.” Mason held up his phase-band. “We’ve only got twenty-six minutes.”

Kelvin rested his hand on the cube. The crystal in his artifact glowed, and he powered down the signal blocker.

He stepped back, wiping his brow. “I only hope it works.”

I nodded. “It’ll work.”

We were heading for the door when I froze, remembering what Skylar had said about leaving the Ancampi unprotected. “I’ll stay behind.” I stepped back. “You four go to the Last Horizon and get the word out. Then come back for me.” I took a breath. “These people have been here hundreds of years.”

“Are you crazy?” Mason said. “We can’t leave you here.”

“It’s the right thing.” Skylar’s face softened, and for the first time, she actually looked grateful. “Thank you.”

“I’ll reactivate the signal blocker when you’re done,” I said.

“There are no guarantees the silver ship will handle another trip down here,” Kelvin said. “And we’ll be exposing this civilisation to our culture again.”

I jerked my thumb at the door. “Seriously, go. It’s the only way.”

Kelvin pursed his lips. “Not necessarily.” He clicked his fingers and rushed back to the statue.

“What are you doing?” Skylar cried. “We’re almost out of time.”

Kelvin fiddled with the controls on his artifact, unclipped it, and rested it next to the cube. He stepped back. “I’ll be able to activate a pulse from my artifact to switch the power back on the moment we’ve contacted the Leviathan.”

“You can do that?” I said. “I thought you could only work artifacts when you’re wearing them?”

Kelvin shook his head. “Class Ones can be set and left; they fuse with the artifacts. With Class Threes, you have to be very close.” He gestured at his device in the drawer. “Class Twos can be operated remotely. They only have a finite range, though, so I’ll need to concentrate to stay connected.”

“But you’ll lose your artifact,” Mason said. “Forever.”

“This is a temple,” Kelvin said. “The Ancampi won’t find it.” He closed the drawer and stepped back.

I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you doing this out of guilt?” I said. “About the missiles and the fleet?”

Kelvin swallowed and shook his head. “Leaving an artifact here is better than losing a crewmate.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “So, can we get out of here now?”

The four of us ran from the temple. I closed the door, making sure it sealed shut, then we sprinted down the steps and back to the silver ship.

“Is it done?” Eve asked as we climbed on board.

I nodded and vowed to get Kelvin’s Bluestone artifact back as soon as we could.

“How long?” I asked as Skylar got us airborne.

“We’ve got twenty-one minutes to get back to the Last Horizon.” She leaned forward. “I’ll go as fast as I can.”

This would be tight.

Skylar nosed the ship skyward, but as she did, red dots filled my game map. The air darkened above us, filling with mechanical butterfly soldiers and hovering army vehicles.

I froze in my seat.

“Hold on,” Skylar screamed.

Blasts of energy rained down, but she darted left and right, up and down, avoiding them and the flying Ancampi soldiers.

We shot past a truck, narrowly missed a staff car with an angry general glaring at us, and soared upward.

“Great flying.” I turned to watch the Ancampi soldiers give chase.

Skylar's grip tightened on the controls.

Two flying soldiers swooped past, trailing magical smoke. They veered, turned, and let loose a barrage of fire.

Skylar swerved, avoiding them by millimetres.

We'll make it. She’s far too good for them.

The general’s staff car shot in front of us, and my stomach clenched.

Uh-oh.

Skylar darted left and right, but the staff car mimicked her movements with ease.

Crap.

“Gonna play it like that, huh?” she snarled. “Fine. Follow this.” She yanked the controls hard, sending us into a tight, ascending spiral.

The staff car did the same. As it reached the cloud layer, it hesitated and tried to take a sharp left, but it was too slow. The car slammed into the underside of the magical cloud as if it were concrete and spun out of control. Two other Ancampi vehicles dived to save their leader.

Despite that, Skylar kept us pointing straight up.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mason shouted. He reached forward to grab his sister’s arm, but it was too late.

We punched through the cloud layer.

“What the—?” I looked around. “Did you see that?”

“Must be this craft,” Kelvin said. “The Ancampi can’t fly through the cloud, but we can.”

I sat back, breathing hard, my heart threatening to break through my ribcage.

Skylar smiled at us as though it were nothing. “You guys need to chill.”

Mason’s eyes narrowed. “You knew we’d fly through it?”

She shrugged. “I guessed we might.”

I clutched my chest. “Thanks for telling us beforehand.”

Instead of reattaching the silver craft to its moorings, Skylar landed us on the walkway itself.

The five of us couldn’t climb out fast enough. We raced across the catwalk and up the stairs, and once we reached the surface of the ice planet, we made a beeline for Star Chaser.

An explosion almost knocked us off our feet, throwing shards of ice all around us. A black spacecraft swooped down, firing.

“Kraython,” Mason screamed. “Run.”

Forty-Three

“What the hell are they doing here?” I shouted as I sprinted with the others toward Star Chaser, one arm supporting Eve. Blasts missed us by inches, chunks of ice rained down, and above us, the black spacecraft repositioned itself for a better aim.

“They must have picked up our signals when we dropped the blocker,” Kelvin said, hurrying to keep up.

Blasts punched craters as they hit home, showering us with ice.

We dived into Star Chaser and lowered our helmets. Skylar got the craft airborne within seconds, zigzagging left and right and up and down to avoid the Kraythons’ shots.

I wanted to throw up. “Haven’t we just been through this?”

“This is much worse,” Skylar said over her shoulder. A blast slammed into the hull, almost knocking us from our seats.

Kelvin pulled a display in front of him and used his phase-band to interact with the screen. “They’re trying to contact their other ships.”

“Who?” Eve said, her voice rising an octave. “The Kraythons?”

Another blast grazed the hull, the searing heat filling the cabin.

Kelvin clenched his jaw as we spun to the side. “The planet’s shielding their signal, but not for much longer.”

“If they get a transmission to Valorion while the fleet’s like this,” Mason said, “we’re done for.”

I gripped my seat as we spiralled. “Who the hell is Valorion?”

Eve stopped chewing her nails. “Leader of the Kraython Empire.”

“Oh, cool. Big bad guy. Got it.” I rolled my eyes. “Reactivate the signal blocker, Kelvin.”

The others gawped at me.

“Have you lost your mind?” Mason said. “After everything we’ve just been through?”

Eve frowned. “If the Leviathan arrives without defences...”

“Hold on,” Skylar shouted. Star Chaser lurched to the side, narrowly missing a large hunk of space debris, then darted through the field while blasts scorched the hull.

I squinted through the rear window and tried not to throw up as Skylar pulled crazy manoeuvres. The Kraython spacecraft was in hot pursuit, matching her moves and blasting away at us. I turned my attention back to Kelvin. “The drone came here to investigate an anomaly, right? The blocked signals. The way the fleet vanished.”

He nodded. “Right.”

“Leviathan would have seen the same thing,” I said. “Hours ago. Wouldn’t they have been looking this way ever since? Trying to find us? Trying to work out what happened?”

“I get where he’s going with this.” Eve shifted her weight and cringed.

“Thirteen minutes before Leviathan arrives,” Mason muttered.

A blast glanced off Star Chaser’s hull, knocking us sideways, and Skylar swore. “Don’t know how much longer I can keep them off us.” She dived through a hole in a piece of spaceship and emerged spiralling in a move that made me want to hurl.

I gripped the edges of my seat and focused on Kelvin, forcing myself to think things through and ignore my intense nausea. “The signal blocker’s been down for six minutes now. Admiral Floyd and the crew will know what’s happened here. They’ll be ready.” I fixed Kelvin with a stern expression. “We need to activate the signal blocker so the Kraythons don’t get the word out.”

Kelvin pursed his lips.

“Do it,” Mason said.

“You’d better do something.” Skylar pulled up Star Chaser’s nose and we glanced off another piece of space crap. “I can’t keep them in the planet’s shadow for much longer.”

A blast hit the underside of our ship, throwing us from our seats. My head slammed into the ceiling, and I fell back to the floor in a crumpled, painful heap. Moaning, I hauled myself back to my chair, wishing I’d built in harnesses when I’d designed this damn ship and vowing to add them if we made it out alive.

Kelvin stared at me. “If we reactivate the signal blocker, I won’t be able to send Leviathan my scan data about the missiles. Without that, they’ll be defenceless.”

“No.” I leaned forward. “If they’ve seen the destruction, they’ll know something’s happened. They might have spotted the missiles by now. They’re not far away. They’ll hold back.”

“Agreed,” Eve said. “They’ll keep their distance until they understand what’s happened. We’ll fly on board the Leviathan when it gets here.”

Kelvin bit his lip. “I don’t know about this.”

“No choice.” Skylar piloted Star Chaser hard over and pressed us into our seats. “We’ll be out of the planet’s shadow in ten seconds.”

Kelvin sighed. “Signal blocker reactivated.” He sat back, deflated.

Another bone-shaking blast hit Star Chaser.

“We can’t keep taking this punishment,” Skylar said.

“Go back to the Last Horizon,” I said.

“Roger.” She swerved, almost sideswiping the remnants of a cannon, and swooped upward.

Eve watched the Kraython ship recede behind us. “We’ve got no weapons powerful enough to defeat them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mason said. “We’ve got upgraded shields.”

“No, we haven’t.” Skylar pointed through the window, and my heart sank.

Ahead, among the debris, drifted the Last Horizon. Large sections of the hull had been torn free, and the rest was peppered with blast holes exposing its inner workings.

“What the hell happened?” I murmured.

“We had to leave the shields down when we left,” Skylar said.

“I know,” I replied, shocked. “But you said Last Horizon was in sentry mode and it would fly away if it detected trouble.”

“Looks like it tried,” Skylar said.

“It will repair itself,” Kelvin said, even though he didn’t look convinced.

“Never mind that.” Mason faced me. “Can you build defences as soon as we’re back on board? Stop the Kraython ship?”

“CodeX,” I said. “Can we add weapons to the Last Horizon?” A flash of schematic images in response showed I could, making it more than capable of taking out the small unmanned Kraython craft, but there wasn’t enough time.

We would need at least half an hour to gather the materials from the wrecked fleet.

Until then, we were defenceless.

Two minutes later, Skylar plunged into Last Horizon’s shuttle bay. As soon as the pressure equalised, she opened Star Chaser’s door and we scrambled out.

“Get Eve to the med bay,” I said to Mason.

“I’m fine.” Eve wobbled.

He caught her under the arm. “Come on, Doc. Let’s get you checked.”

She pushed him away. “Not yet. It’s not over.”

The Kraythons’ weapons pounded the hull as the five of us jogged from the hangar.

We ran along the hallway and onto the bridge. Sure enough, the Kraython ship manoeuvred outside, fired, moved again, and fired, systematically tearing us apart.

Skylar hurried to the pilot seat. “As I thought, the gravity field is offline.”

“Repair time?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

“Brilliant.”

The ship trembled under the Kraython blasts, and I grabbed the back of my chair.

“The Last Horizon won’t hold together forever.” Kelvin fell into his seat and looked forlornly at his display.

“How long before Leviathan arrives?” I said.

“Six minutes,” Eve replied.

“And how long before the Kraythons take out our life support?” I asked Kelvin.

“Maybe three or four minutes,” he said with a despondent look.

“Shall I use the thrusters to get us out of here?” Skylar’s face dropped. “Wait, they’ve already killed those too. How did they do that?”

“Pushing all healing resources to the engines,” Kelvin said, his fingers twisting over his display.

I turned to the Kraython ship, fists balled, jaw clenched.

We were so close.

So damn close.

Mason glared at me. “Why haven’t we got weapons?”

I winced. “Sorry. Didn’t think to include any.” Which was totally dumb. I felt terrible for not adding a few guns for Mason to play with.

I took a deep breath, looked at the remaining forty percent of my health, and knew what I needed to do. It was impulsive—reckless, even—but necessary.

I’d do my best to be in control for once, even if it was controlled chaos.

Trying not to think too much, I ran from the bridge.

“Where are you going?” Eve called.

“Back in a minute,” I lied as I raced along the hallway to the hangar bay. I climbed on board Star Chaser, and as the door swung closed, I asked the CodeX for everything it had on flying the bloody thing.

It returned the data in flashes of exuberant optimism, which made a nice bloody change. I gathered Star Chaser would be a lot harder to pilot without a phase-band, but I’d have to manage. I wasn't going to continue risking my crew’s lives.

“What are you doing?” Eve’s voice said in my head.

“Buying time.” I used the screen to fire up Star Chaser’s refracting gravity field, then rested my hands on my knees and took a deep breath.

I can do this.

All I need is control of myself and Star Chaser.

Focus.

The spacecraft slammed into the ceiling, almost knocking my teeth out. It jolted left, then right, crashed into a wall, levelled off, and juddered.

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “Point taken.” I concentrated on making small, gentle movements, treating the craft with finesse. Something else I’d never possessed.

Sure, the CodeX had given me all the technical details about flying, but absolutely none of the skills needed to pull it off.

Skylar made it look way too easy.

Time to make my father proud.

“Please come back,” Eve pleaded. “We’ll figure a way out of this together. You’ll get yourself killed for nothing.”

“There’s no other way,” I said, determined. I knew I was right.

Sure, if I had a chance to do this again, I'd make different choices. Who wouldn’t?

But hindsight’s a bitch.

The hangar bay door slid open, and I pushed forward, dipping Star Chaser’s nose down and flying through.

The moment I was outside, a blast of energy grazed the cockpit window.

I shouted and swerved, steering straight into the path of a second blast and slamming Star Chaser into a giant chunk of space debris. My health meter dropped to thirty percent.

Damn it, concentrate.

Well, at least I had drawn the Kraythons’ attention from the Last Horizon.

I flew over the top of the ship and imagined Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin’s dumbfounded expressions.

“What a lunatic.”

“What’s the oolak playing at?”

However, much to my horror, the unmanned Kraython craft didn’t follow. It turned back to the Last Horizon and continued its onslaught, clearly seeing the ship as a bigger prize.

“No, you don’t.” I dived straight at it.

The Kraython spacecraft lurched to the side, and I missed, smashing into more space junk. My health dropped to twenty-five percent.

Swearing, I spun back around.

Why wouldn’t they take the bait? Did they know what I was trying to do? Was the onboard AI computer smart enough to understand?

A radical idea hit me.

Well, I say radical, but in reality, it was closer to idiotic and really dumb. Hey, I was desperate.

I opened a channel to the Kraythons, remembering Kelvin’s comment about transmissions working if you were close enough.

“Er, hello?”

Radio silence.

I checked the display. Star Chaser was transmitting, which meant the Kraython robot was ignoring me.

Git.

More blasts hit the Last Horizon, tearing chunks of the ship’s hull away to join the rest of the space junk.

I cleared my throat. “Kraythons? I have a CodeX implant.”

The firing stopped, and the Kraython ship swung around to face me.

My stomach tensed.

“Okay,” I muttered.

Maybe not such a fantastic idea.

Forty-Four

I held my breath as the Kraython drone ship stared me down, my pulse pounding at my temples as I glared back, trying to feel determined but really not.

The ship was scanning me. I knew it.

The onboard Kraython AI computer was checking whether my claim was true and I did have a priceless CodeX implant wedged between my ears.

After a full minute, the Kraython ship dived at me, releasing a volley of blasts. I got out of the way just in time, spiralling, crashing, and bumping through the debris field, watching my health drop with every knock and every jarring bump. I hoped I’d done the right thing in drawing their attention from the Last Horizon, but I probably hadn’t.

My vision greyed, and my health meter showed only twelve percent remaining.

Where was a tube of chirorja when I needed it most?

I tried to think happy thoughts, hoping they’d give it a boost, but I couldn’t think of any.

I’d got one thing right though: Star Chaser was a lot more agile with my upgrades. It would be easier to avoid the Kraython blasts now than in the ship’s previous lunchbox incarnation.

Well, in any capable pilot’s hands.

Even so, I was doing okay. Sure, the odd bolt of energy grazed the hull and I could feel the searing heat clawing at the thin bodywork, but I was staying alive longer than I’d expected.

Maybe I could control things in this world after all.

I concentrated, flying through the debris at breakneck speed, and though my heart was in my throat the whole time, the Kraython drone wasn’t firing as many shots as before. The reason was obvious; it didn’t want to damage the bounty.

In this case, though, the bounty was the CodeX implant. The drone didn’t give a crap about what happened to the lump of meat carrying said treasure.

I peered over my shoulder at the Last Horizon. It was a mess, with parts hanging off and gas venting into space, but at least the Kraython ship had stopped trying to murder my new friends.

They were safe. For now.

My next problem was keeping the Kraython away from the Leviathan as it entered the solar system. I couldn’t be sure what defences the Leviathan had or how much damage the Kraython drone was capable of inflicting on them, but with my grandmother on board, I wasn’t about to take chances.

I needed to get rid of the Kraython once and for all.

But how?

Facing forward, hands gripping my knees so hard that my knuckles stretched white, I continued to zoom Star Chaser through the debris like a suicidal stuntman on a racetrack peppered with landmines.

Even though I was definitely getting the hang of this flying lark, diving up and over, under and around—I imagined Skylar’s impressed expression as she watched—I was still only too aware my time was running out. The Kraython ship was gaining on me.

“Now is the time for some radical action.”

I swung the spacecraft around and flew away from the debris field toward the dark side of the ice planet. Much to my annoyance, the Kraython ship held back.

“Come on,” I shouted. “You want the CodeX? Come get it.”

But it was no use. It refused to follow.

A horrible sinking sensation dropped through me.

The Kraython AI knew about the missiles lying in wait. It knew if it went around the back of the planet, it would be in trouble.

I wondered how long it would be before the Leviathan arrived.

How long did I have left?

Minutes?

Seconds?

I swung Star Chaser around, dove at the Kraython, then headed to the dark side of the planet once again, but it still refused to follow me.

“Fine,” I growled.

If I couldn’t take the Kraython ship to a missile, I’d bring a missile to it.

I only wanted one.

I swallowed, hoping a small ship like Star Chaser wouldn’t attract any more.

Gritting my teeth and determined not to lose, I rounded the planet and leaned forward in my seat, scouring outer space for the missiles. “Come on, come on.”

I flew deeper into the darkness. Where the hell were they?

I sped on, flying in wide, sweeping arcs, trying to cover as wide an area as possible. I was about to give up when a thousand pinpricks of light came into view—a cluster of objects in high orbit, waiting like a pack of wolves for their prey.

Bingo.

I slowed, coming to what I hoped was a stop, and waited, but none of them moved.

I peered at them, edging forward until detail presented itself. Yep, definitely missiles. Their sleek bodies and pointed noses gave no doubt.

Haven’t they seen me?

Is Star Chaser too small a ship for them to bother?

Another radical idea hit me, and I crept toward the planet instead. If they thought it was under threat, they might—

Lights flashed at the corner of my eye as three missiles broke free and flew straight toward me.

My heart leapt into my throat. Ah, crap.

I spun Star Chaser around and flew as fast as I could, racing back around the planet.

“Three of them? Seriously?”

I glanced over my shoulder. The missiles were gaining on me.

I had no other plan.

No other ideas.

“This, or nothing.”

I punched into the light, heading straight for the debris field. I hoped Skylar and the others had spotted what I was doing and moved to a safe distance, but there was no way to radio and ask. Not with the limited transmission range.

Star Chaser moved among the debris. A split second later, the first missile exploded behind me as it hit a chunk of spaceship. The wave of energy sent me tumbling, slamming into more junk, and my health fell to seven percent.

Shaking uncontrollably, I somehow regained control, clawing my way through the debris and smashing into more on the way. Junk slid over Star Chaser’s hull, threatening to tear it apart.

A second missile exploded to my right, shoving me sideways into a chunk of a spaceship the size of a double-decker bus, and the canopy cracked.

I pressed my spacesuit’s collar and the helmet sprang up, covering my head just as Star Chaser’s front window popped out.

Six percent health.

Cursing, I wrapped my feet around the legs of the chair to avoid getting sucked out into space. I spiralled down and through the debris, the remaining missile mere feet behind me.

Then I glimpsed the Kraython ship. It was in retreat, clearly realising my plan, but it was clumsy and slow among the debris.

Seconds later, I zoomed past the missile, Star Chaser’s bodywork scraping the Kraython ship’s hull.

A giant ship swung into view—hundreds of stories tall, with thousands of windows and a rounded top reminiscent of a humpback whale—and loomed over the debris field.

Cannons rose from the top of the Leviathan, and it fired on the Kraython drone, obliterating it with one well-aimed blast. Then, much to my horror, two missiles shot past me, heading straight for the giant ship.

I stared. All I could think about was my grandmother.

The Leviathan shot down one missile, but the second darted around the gunfire and struck the hull.

I raised my arm, shielding my eyes from the blinding light of the blast, and my heart sank.

The Leviathan had taken a direct hit.

They hadn’t adjusted their shields.

Trembling, I lowered my arm.

Grandma Alice.

A hole in the side of Leviathan spewed matter into space, reminding me of a harpooned whale.

Another missile flew past, heading straight for the ship—

the death blow.

Instinct took over, and I raced after it, roaring. In seconds, I overtook the missile, placing Star Chaser between the missile and Leviathan.

The missile swerved, but not fast enough. I backed Star Chaser into it, at the same time launching myself through the cockpit window as hard as I could. A split-second later, an explosion disintegrated what was left of Star Chaser and slammed me into the debris.

Pain shot through my whole body as I banged and crashed through the space junk until I finally came to a patch of open space.

I drifted, curled into the foetal position, with a health meter on only two percent. My suit was torn in several places, and pain pressed through my skin, gnawing at my sinews like butcher’s knives. The world was growing darker.

Another three missiles raced past, heading straight for the Leviathan.

I squeezed my eyes closed.

I’ve lost.

It wouldn’t be long before that two percent of health ran out.

I only hoped Grandma Alice was unharmed. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her.

I forced my eyes open as the missiles hit the side of the Leviathan, and then—

The Leviathan’s shields lit up in greens and purples, flexing in and out, waves of energy running over its hull like ripples on a pond as it absorbed the missile impacts. When they vanished, the Leviathan was unharmed.

My vision narrowed as a familiar shape glided over to me, blocking my view of the Leviathan—a shuttle from the Last Horizon with Skylar and Eve on board.

Forty-Five

I slipped in and out of consciousness as the girls pulled me into the shuttle and flew back to the Last Horizon. Every muscle hurt, every bone ached, and my head thumped.

As soon as we touched down in the hangar bay, someone pressed my spacesuit’s collar, and the helmet retracted. Eve’s face appeared over me with an anxious expression. “Are you okay?”

I tried to shrug but couldn’t. It hurt too damn much.

Eve knelt and kissed me on the cheek.

I went to kiss her back, but hurried footfalls made me stop, and someone wolf whistled.

“Slow down, lovebirds,” Mason said.

Kelvin and Skylar laughed, and my cheeks flushed, but my health meter rose to sixteen percent and colour returned to the world around me.

Hmm. Interesting.

Perhaps I really didn’t need to eat any more of the disgusting chirorja crap after all.

Mason and Skylar lifted me to my feet and helped me from the shuttle, beaming like idiots.

I glanced around the hangar bay, more than a little surprised and relieved to see the Last Horizon holding together.

Then I remembered the Leviathan.

I looked at my friends. “How come those missiles didn’t destroy the Leviathan?” I croaked. “What happened?”

Skylar threw an arm around Kelvin. “You’ve got the boy genius to thank.”

“Boy?” Kelvin frowned at her, then turned to me. “You know we were hoping the Leviathan would see the destroyed fleet in the few minutes the signal blocker was down?”

I nodded.

“Well,” Kelvin continued, “I realised they’d be trying everything they could to look for survivors and find out what happened.”

“It was way too late for them to change course,” Skylar said. “They were only minutes out when you decided to go play with the Kraython.”

“Right,” I said. “So?”

“I got a signal out using light,” Kelvin said. “When the Leviathan arrived, they were close enough to spot a Bluestone laser transmission.”

I blinked at him. “Your modified drone?”

Kelvin nodded.

“We sent a data signal through that,” Eve said. “There was just time for information on the shield modulation.”

“Thankfully, the crew acted fast,” Kelvin added.

“They applied the change after the first missile hit,” Eve said with a grimace. “But it could have been a lot worse. It was quick thinking all around. They reported no injuries.”

I let out a breath, relieved.

We walked—well, the others walked and I limped—back onto the bridge as the Leviathan approached.

A giant hangar door yawned open, swallowing the entire Last Horizon in a single gulp. It was a strange feeling—inside one ship, inside another—like being in the stomach of a shark that had just been eaten by a whale.

We glided through an immense hangar big enough for twenty Last Horizons. Giant arms swung down, locking us into place, and a walkway extended to our ship.

Butterflies ravaged my stomach.

I would get to meet the admiral, and soon I would be able to speak to my grandmother.

Then I’d take Alice home.

A grin swept across my face. I had won the game.

Easy.

Yeah, erm, kind of.

A few minutes later, Eve, Mason, Skylar, Kelvin, and I stood at an access hatch opposite my awesome museum entrance and watched the enclosed walkway engage with our outer hull.

Mason unlocked the door and swung it open.

On the other side were several men and women in military uniforms, their guns pointed at us.

We threw our hands up. “Not again,” I muttered.

“Don’t shoot,” Kelvin said. “It’s only us.”

The lead man, a guy with a brass badge declaring him to be Captain Logan, scowled. “What in all of Azurean heaven has happened here? What is this ship? Where are you from?”

Mason sighed, and after an abridged explanation of the events leading up to that moment—with an animated Eve and Kelvin filling in details—Captain Logan finally decided we weren’t a security threat. His guards lowered their weapons and led us across the walkway into the belly of the Leviathan. As I stepped across the threshold, my health meter and map vanished.

I peered around the vast interior—high ceilings held aloft by metal beams and wooden walls—and I couldn’t believe we were finally here. After everything we’d gone through to get to this moment, it felt like a dream.

I suppose in a way it was—a digital dream with real-life consequences.

A game. The game.

We marched along a wide corridor lined with doors, and Skylar jogged to keep up. “Captain Logan, may I say it’s an honour to meet you, sir.”

“I’m sure it is,” he muttered, not looking at her.

Mason smirked at his sister.

After several more hallways, two moving walkways, and a short elevator ride, we stepped onto the bridge of the Leviathan—an area so vast it would barely fit in the Last Horizon’s hangar bay.

Thirty people staffed stations around the outer edge, wearing headsets, busying themselves at screens, using their magical phase-bands, and hardly noticing five teenagers.

Looking out of the main window, hands clasped, wearing a deep blue uniform, was the admiral.

Captain Logan cleared his throat.

Admiral Floyd turned around, and my jaw dropped.

The admiral looked to be in her early thirties, tall, with long dark hair, a sculpted jawline, a pinched nose, and those famous ears sticking out ever so slightly. I recognised her at once.

Alice Bowman.

My grandmother.

Forty-Six

Grandma Alice looked the same as when she’d left Colorado forty years before. Bluestone technology, I thought. She hadn’t aged a single day, and now I came to think of it, no one else on board the Leviathan appeared older than fifty.

She still wore the gold locket around her neck, engraved with the infinity symbol.

She’s here. Really here. My grandmother is admiral of the entire damn Antarian fleet? Are you kidding me?

My hands trembled.

Skylar snapped her heels and saluted.

The admiral smiled as she approached us and held her arms wide. “We owe you a huge debt of gratitude.”

“But everyone else,” Eve said in a small voice. “The fleet. Our parents.”

The admiral’s face turned solemn. “We’ve despatched Dragon Force. They’ve switched to direct, short-range Bluestone laser transmissions, and recovery efforts are now underway. Horizon Eighteen’s crew and passengers, including your parents, all escaped unharmed, and they are anxious to see you.”

Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin let out relieved breaths.

The admiral lifted her chin. “If it wasn’t for your heroic and selfless actions, we would have lost many more.”

“It was Leo.” Mason pointed a finger at me.

The admiral’s gaze moved to me, and as our eyes met, butterflies raged in my stomach. She opened her mouth to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“I’m your grandson,” I blurted.

The admiral stared at me, unblinking.

“Well, adopted grandson,” I added, in case she’d spotted the lack of family resemblance. “But, yeah. Macy, your daughter, is my mother, and Grandpa John was . . . is your husband.”

Skylar nudged me. “Is that why you lied to us all this time?” she hissed. “Is this what it’s been about? Some delusion?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” I said. “She’s my grandmother, Alice Bowman.”

“No, this is Admiral Floyd,” Skylar insisted. “I’m so sorry, Admiral. Leo doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Bowman is my married name,” the admiral said.

This was met with astonished looks, including one from Captain Logan.

“Wait,” Skylar looked between us, her eyebrows raised. “You’re saying he’s right? Leo is your grandson?”

The admiral remained focused on me. “Your name is Leo?”

“Captain Leonardo Cooper,” Skylar added, and for once, she didn’t sound sarcastic. “Captain of the Last Horizon.”

The others brought the admiral up to speed, explaining everything from the missile attack, saving Mason and Kelvin, designing the ship, and finding the Ancampi to the battle with the Kraython attack drone.

When they finished, Admiral Floyd took my arm. “I need to speak to you alone.” She led me into a small office, closing the door behind us.

Within was a desk, two chairs, a sofa, a bookcase filled with leather-bound tomes, and several metal sculptures of birds, along with a window which showed the panorama of destruction and the ice planet.

Grandma Alice gestured me to the sofa, but I remained standing despite my exhaustion. I wanted to get her home as quickly as possible, then sleep for a week.

Or a month.

“How did you get here?” she said.

I shrugged. “Same way as you, I guess. Through the CodeX. Grandpa John had the game and I, you know, borrowed it for a while.”

Alice’s eyes filled with tears, but she lifted her chin, fighting them. “How is he?”

“Old,” I said. “And upset about you vanishing.” My expression hardened. “He’s spent the last forty years looking for you.”

Alice turned away.

“He’s in the hospital.”

She spun around and put a hand to her mouth.

“Heart operation,” I said. “He’ll be okay. Well, at least I think he will.”

“Macy?” Grandma Alice asked in a whisper.

“Mum? Yeah, she’s a surgeon.”

My grandmother looked ready to cry again.

“Married to my dad,” I said. “He’s an RAF pilot. Or was. We lived in London until a few weeks ago, when we moved to Colorado. That’s how I got caught up in this mess.” I rolled my eyes. “Now I’ve found you, you can come home and see them for yourself. Let’s get out of here.”

I marched to the door, but she didn’t follow.

Confused, I turned back.

“I can’t go,” she whispered.

My face fell, and my world drained of colour. “What do you mean?”

“I have to stay.”

“Why?” I gave her an incredulous look. “Why would you do that?”

Is she serious? Nah. How can she be?

But she looked serious.

I frowned.

After everything I’d been through to find her, risking my life and others’?

After all the years Grandpa John has searched for her, she isn’t coming out of this damn game?

No, no, I couldn’t be hearing right.

I stretched out my hand. “Come home. Please?”

She shook her head and stepped back.

Anger tugged at my insides. “Why can’t you come home?”

Grandma Alice fixed me with a cold expression. “This world is more important.”

That almost knocked me off my feet.

“More important than family?” My voice raised an octave. “What the hell is more important than your own family?” I flung my hands out. “What could possibly justify forcing an eight-year-old girl to live without her mother?” I took a step toward her, rage building. “What earth-shattering reason can you give to your husband, who has dedicated his entire life to searching for you?” I wagged a finger at her. “This. Is. A. Game.”

“Leo, please,” she said in a soft voice, glancing at the door. “I will leave one day, I promise, but not now. I can’t. There are things I must do.” She took a breath and straightened her jacket. “In time, you’ll understand.”

I was pretty sure I would never understand. I clenched my fists. What a selfish piece of—

“Let me show you something,” Grandma Alice said.

I considered storming off and finding a way to deactivate the game so she didn’t have a bloody choice.

Grandma Alice waved a hand at the bookshelf, and the entire wall slid aside, revealing a corridor with a vaulted ceiling. She walked down it, and I followed in a daze, through an archway and across a wide balcony overlooking what I could only describe as a giant skyscraper but inside out.

Other balconies stretched from far below to the ceiling high above, hundreds of floors and thousands of apartments.

I leaned over the railing, peering down at a giant rectangular courtyard taken up by a park with trees, lush gardens, and a play area. Children ran among the swings and slides, their laughter and cries carrying on the air while parents watched, chatting.

Opposite our balcony was a school several stories high, with wide windows showing classes of kids of various races and creeds—some alien, some human—learning from enthusiastic teachers standing in front of interactive whiteboards and holographic displays.

One class resembled an archaeological dig site with stone steps leading down to a tomb door. The kids carried precious artifacts to a table and examined them with lenses and magical scanners, chatting excitedly about their discoveries as they made notes.

Near the ground level of the apartment complex were shops, restaurants, and cafes with people coming and going.

It was like an alien Utopia.

I shook my head at it all.

“Now you can see what I’m fighting for,” Grandma Alice said. “What we’re all fighting for. This is a small fraction, and there’s a whole lot more besides.”

“Antares too, right?” I said. “The birthplace of Bluestone? On the home world?”

For a second Grandma Alice looked taken aback that I knew where the fleet was heading.

“Yes, Antares. We need to get the fleet repaired as soon as we can.”

I nodded, remembering Eve saying that the Kraythons were going there to destroy it, and my blood ran cold.

Even with all the aliens going about their daily lives, the details, I couldn’t help but still feel confused.

I studied my grandmother. “This is a game. It’s not real.”

“What’s real?” she said. “Hasn’t everything you’ve felt and done here been real to you?”

I blinked. Philosophy was never my strong point.

I looked out at the micro city within the vast belly of the Leviathan, at all the people and alien families living together, and sighed.

The truth was that I wasn’t sure what to think, but home was real. Colorado was real. My parents. Grandpa John. The snuffling, snorting lunatic of a Pekingese. All real.

Is this place real?

I looked back at my grandmother.

“I’d like you to stay for a while longer,” she said.

My eyes narrowed. “To do what?”

Forty-Seven

Grandma Alice strode to the far end of the balcony, and I followed her through another arch, down a flight of twisting stairs, and into a narrow room with a high vaulted ceiling. It had plain wooden walls and a circular table in the middle.

My grandmother gestured, twisting her fingers, and Bluestone smoke drifted from under her right sleeve, encircling the table.

A white orb appeared, hovering, and its definition sharpened to reveal the ice planet.

“We had information about the Ancampi’s world,” Grandma Alice said. “So I asked Kelvin to check it out.”

I stared at her. “Wait, Kelvin sent that drone under your orders?” He hadn’t exactly lied to us, but he’d left out a big part of the story.

“He was under strict instructions not to reveal his orders to anyone,” Grandma Alice said, noticing my expression. “If I’d known about the planet’s heavy protection, the fleet would not have gone anywhere near it. It’s my fault entirely, not Kelvin’s. He’s a trustworthy and valued member of the fleet.”

On that, I could agree.

She eyed me. “I have a mission for you, Leo.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “A mission? Me?”

“The Azurean monks took Class One artifacts from our home world and scattered them across the galaxy in the hope they’d remain hidden from Valorion and his Kraython army.”

“Of course.” I smacked my forehead. “Those missiles. They’re not there to protect the Ancampi.”

Grandma Alice shook her head, indicating the ice world. “There’s a Class One artifact hidden on the planet. From your account of events, it’s confirmed to be one of the most powerful I’ve ever heard of.”

“You already knew it was there?” I said. “How?”

Grandma Alice lowered her voice. “A Bluestone memory. I couldn’t know it was still there after all this time, but I suspected it was. The way you describe the Ancampi leaves me in no doubt they’re harnessing the artifact’s power and using it to their own ends.”

I nodded, remembering the way the Ancampi mined Bluestone magic, trapped it in jars and used it to float their buildings—not to mention shoot one of my friends. So they’re siphoning that immense power from a Class One artifact?

“I would like you and your crew to help retrieve the information needed to find the exact location and entrance to the artifact,’ Grandma Alice said. “We must have it, Leo. The missiles use only a fraction of the Bluestone’s energy and they decimated the fleet. Even with our modified shields, the Class One is so powerful that if the Kraythons get hold of it they can potentially destroy the Leviathan, along with everyone on board. It could take us years to develop a countermeasure. Also, the Kraythons may well already know the Class One artifact exists, so I need to get to it before they do.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Why do you need us to gather the intel?” I said. “Send people who are trained for that kind of thing. We’re kids.”

She fixed me with a stern expression. “There’s a traitor on board the Leviathan. Information and plans have leaked to Valorion and the Kraythons.” She balled her fists. “For the past year they’ve been one step ahead of us, and our spy within the Kraython army has gone silent.”

“You have a spy?”

Grandma Alice nodded. “One of the bravest women I’ve ever known.” She glanced at the door. “Forty years ago we learned of Valorion’s plan to return to the home world and destroy it. He’s building a super-weapon, and we must stop him.”

“Using Class One artifacts?”

“He picked his route through the galaxy carefully, deviating occasionally from a straight course so his army can collect powerful artifacts on the way.”

“There must be other people you trust,” I said.

“No one with their own ship.” Grandma Alice’s gaze was steady. “Please, Leo. Help us get to that Ancampi artifact before Valorion does.”

“We can’t take the artifact from them,” I said. “The Ancampi’s whole world is built around that Bluestone’s magic. If we remove it, their society will collapse.” I visualised the floating buildings. “Literally.”

Grandma Alice gestured toward the planet. “You’ve already seen a glimpse of the artifact’s power. If it fell into Valorion’s hands . . .” She lifted her chin. “No, there’s only one person who’ll have an idea how to find the entrance. Artherius.”

“Who?”

Grandma Alice took hold of my shoulders and locked eyes with me. “Artherius is the Wisdom Carrier. He knows Bluestone’s history. He’s one of the few people left I still trust. I can ask for his help, information on how to find the entrance to the artifact, but I can’t risk Artherius transmitting those details back to us. You need to go see him in person.” She released me and paced back and forth, her hands clasped behind her back. “Meanwhile, I’ll speak to Professor Kingman. He’ll design technology to replace the Class One artifact with something able to maintain the Ancampi world. Artherius will build it away from prying eyes and have the device ready and waiting for you.”

“Where is Artherius?” I said. “How do you expect me to find him?” I’d barely reached this moment in the game without dying painfully several times over.

Grandma Alice continued to pace. “He’s on Halo Station, helping the Mahki.’

“Helping the who?”

“Artherius is on the trail of another Class One artifact; one Valorion’s army couldn’t find.” Grandma Alice stopped and turned to me. “Get to him, Leo. By any means necessary. I’ll sneak a message out, telling Artherius to expect your arrival, and I’ll also ask him to build the device once Professor Kingman has the designs ready.”

“Don’t you think this is all a huge coincidence?” I looked at the ice planet. “How do you know it isn’t another trap?”

“With Bluestone, there’s no such thing as a coincidence,” Grandma Alice said. “We’re here because we are supposed to be.”

That explained the other happy fluke with the grav module, when it had been waiting for me in the real world. All part of the game.

I queried the Mahki with the CodeX implant, but it either didn’t know anything about them or didn’t want to share.

“Who are the Mahki, then?” I asked my grandmother.

“Traders and mercenaries.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Oh, they sound precious.”

She smiled. “The Mahki have no interest in Bluestone artifacts. They think they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

“They’re not wrong,” I muttered.

“The Mahki work in exchange for standard technology, food, and supplies. But if you’re with Artherius, you shouldn’t have much trouble.”

I sighed. Much trouble?

Yeah, right.

This was getting more complicated by the minute.

Grandma Alice gestured, and the image of the ice planet vanished. She studied me. “I can’t pretend it will be easy, Leo. I know I’m asking a lot. Once you return with what we need, I’ll assemble my own team to retrieve the artifact. The Azurean tasks protecting the Class One will be formidable. Before you leave here, though, you’ll need extra help.”

“Extra help?” I repeated. “Who?”

“The CodeX will lead you to them.”

Yeah, well. The CodeX had been a bit of a dick, and I wasn’t sure how much I could trust it.

Grandma Alice stepped toward me, imploring. “Please, Leo. I would go to Artherius myself if I could, but my every move is monitored.” She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “The CodeX has led you and your friends to me for a reason. Your ship is perfect for the mission.”

“The Last Horizon is the only ship left in the fleet,” I said, incredulous.

“You can move about with little to no resistance,” Grandma Alice persisted. “Until the traitor is flushed out, I don’t know who to trust, but you are family.”

A twinge of annoyance tugged at my insides. So family isn’t enough of a reason for her to return to the real world, but she wants me to head up a team of treasure hunters? There had to be a lot more Grandma Alice wasn’t telling me, and I was struggling to understand.

My shoulders dropped.

I was too exhausted.

Too bruised, both physically and emotionally.

“Come back for a few days,” I said. “See Grandpa John and Mum and let them know you’re okay. Do what you have to, but please come home for a while.” I glanced around us. “Then you can return here, if you must.”

Grandma Alice crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

Perhaps Grandpa John would have better luck with her, but I was done.

I’d achieved what I’d set out to do—find her.

He’d have to figure out the real reason she refused to come home. Maybe she’d tell him the truth.

But I sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to passing the message on to my grandfather. Forty years of searching and Alice couldn’t pop back for a quick hello? Not even for a minute?

It was ridiculous.

I straightened up. I’ll return to Colorado, explain everything to Grandpa John, and he’ll have to come back himself.

I squirmed as I thought of all the trials I’d gone through to reach my grandmother. With my help, though, Grandpa John could do the same. Minus the near-death experiences.

I would write a cheat sheet.

“I’m going home,” I said. “Sorry.”

Grandma Alice stared at me, and I could see her disappointment.

“I understand,” she said. “Your mother, father, and Milo are your family, and they’re important. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”

I could tell she didn’t understand. How could she? And family clearly meant a lot more to me than it did to her.

“Your crew will have to find a way to manage without you.” Grandma Alice raised her arm and spoke into her phase-band, ordering Captain Logan to bring the others to us.

I leaned against the table, glad I’d get the chance to say goodbye. “Do you have a CodeX implant?” I said. “Mine’s malfunctioning.”

Grandma Alice inclined her head. “How so?”

“Ayesha told me the CodeX would be a guide. An encyclopedia,” I said. “But it only works some of the time.” In fact, the CodeX was glitchy as hell.

“The CodeX implant guides you when you need it most.”

My eyes widened. “I needed it plenty of times,” I said. “I asked for its help a lot. But how come I ask a question at a crucial point and it stays so bloody silent?”

“The CodeX is . . .” Grandma Alice pursed her lips, thinking. “Temperamental.”

“You’re telling me,” I grumbled. “It’s a stubborn piece of crap.”

The corners of Grandma Alice’s mouth twitched. “If you have people nearby who know the answers to your questions to the level of detail you require, the CodeX won’t help. You must ask them instead.” She shrugged. “I rarely use my CodeX implant anymore. I’m surrounded by clever people.”

I remembered the moment I’d designed the Last Horizon.

Grandma Alice unclasped her locket and handed it to me. “Take this. Tell John I love him, and your mother.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and she swallowed. “Please explain how much I miss them every single day, and tell them I’m doing something bigger than all of us.”

I gazed at the infinity symbol on the locket. “This was on the cover of the CodeX.”

“Yes,” Grandma Alice said. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

I gave her a curious look.

“The changing CodeX symbols point the way through each trial,” she said. “You wanted to find me, therefore it displayed that Azurean glyph.”

“There’s another thing that’s been bothering me.” I gripped the locket. “When I first met Ayesha, I chose to be on the Antarians’ side, rather than Valorion’s Kraython army. I chose. She gave me that choice, didn’t she?”

Grandma Alice opened her mouth to respond, but a side door opened, and in walked Captain Logan and my friends. They looked confused, no doubt wondering what had happened in my private meeting with their admiral.

Snapping back into her commanding persona, chin held high, Admiral Floyd straightened her jacket. “I like your new ship.”

Skylar grinned. “The Last Horizon, Admiral.”

Admiral Floyd nodded. “I look forward to my first inspection.”

Everyone’s jaw dropped.

“Wait a minute,” Mason said. “We can keep it? The whole thing? Us?”

“You’ve earned it. It’s the least I can do.”

“Admiral, please.” Captain Logan stepped forward. “I must protest.” He leaned toward the admiral’s ear. “Such actions would need senate approval.”

The admiral rounded on him. “They’re bonded to the ship—the only ship left in the Antarian fleet—and they’re her new crew. They designed the Last Horizon to save us in a selfless act.” She turned her back on him. “The matter is settled.”

“Yes.” Mason punched the air and grinned.

Eve smiled too. I could see a million thoughts passing through Kelvin’s mind—he was no doubt thinking of all the missions he could do on our very own spaceship—and Skylar looked as if she might burst with pride.

Logan scowled at us, saluted the admiral, and marched off.

“Now,” Admiral Floyd said to Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin, tugging her sleeves down. “Return to that ship of yours. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Can we get some food?” Mason asked. “I’m starving.”

Admiral Floyd smiled. “Feel free to check in to supplies.”

Mason grabbed Skylar’s arm and made to hurry off, but Skylar turned back.

“Leo, I’m sorry I got on your case about lying to us,” she said all in a rush, eyeing the admiral. “If I’d known—”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Totally understandable. We’re good.”

Skylar saluted and raced off with her brother, Kelvin jogging after them.

Eve stopped at the door. “Leo?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I murmured.

Eve hesitated, as if about to say something, then hurried after the others.

I faced the admiral.

“Yes, Leo?” she said in an inquisitive tone.

She bloody knew what I was going to say. All the show? Getting my new friends down here before I left? Deliberate. I wasn’t stupid. Psychological manipulation, for sure.

I cleared my throat. “If I help you get that Class One artifact, will you tell me everything that’s happened here? Why you’re still keeping secrets?”

Grandma Alice nodded. “I promise.” She held up a finger. “In fact, I’ll go one better. If you and your crew are successful in retrieving the artifact from the Ancampi world, I’ll go back to Colorado with you.”

“To Grandpa John and Mum?” I said, shocked.

Maybe staying wasn’t such a bad idea.

Besides, the outside world stood still for me. I could spend as much time in the game as I liked. My parents would never know.

I straightened up, thinking of Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin. I’d risked my life for them, and they’d done the same for me.

We were friends.

They were as real as anyone, and I wanted to get to know them better too.

I lifted my chin. “I’ll stay and help.”

Grandma Alice smiled.

I turned to leave, then clicked my fingers and faced her. “Can I have a phase-band?”

“Of course,” Grandma Alice said. “You can—”

My vision blurred, and I staggered backward. “Oh, come on,” I shouted. “Not now.”

But it was no good. The world spun around me in a streak of colour, and everything vanished.

Forty-Eight

I crumpled to my bedroom floor in Colorado, panting and staring at the ceiling.

The CodeX had booted me from the damn game. How is that fair?

When I wanted to get out, it trapped me. When I needed to stay and help, “Nope. Out you go, Sunshine.”

Stupid bloody thing.

A wave of despondency washed over me. I’d lost. I’d failed to bring Grandma Alice home. Speaking of which—

I opened my hand, but her locket was gone.

Brilliant.

As if sensing my self-pity, Milo waddled over, snuffled in my ear, and licked my face.

I lay there, too exhausted to resist. My whole body ached—every muscle torn and sore, cuts and bruises covering my arms and legs—and I wanted to sleep forever.

With effort, I sat up and glared at the CodeX.

The leather-bound tome turned from red to green, the new colour soaking through its cover, and the infinity symbol metamorphosed into a star shape with rounded points and a hole in the middle.

I scratched Milo behind the ears. “Good boy.” I then dragged myself to my feet.

Opening the CodeX’s front cover, I found the pages inside blank, ready to receive the thrilling tale of Leo Cooper’s space adventure.

Well, it could bloody wait.

“Dumb f—”

The front door opened, then closed.

I staggered into the sitting room to find Mum there.

“I spoke to your grandfather’s surgeon,” she said. “I’m off to Cleveland. I won’t interfere unless I’m asked. Moral support only.”

Of course. She’d gone down the hill to get a phone signal. That seemed a million years ago.

“I need to pack some things.” Mum went to step around me, but I held up a hand.

“I wanted to help.” A lump formed in my throat. “Grandma Alice, I mean. I hoped I’d be able to bring her home somehow.” I bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

She took my hands. “Leo, it’s okay. She died a long time before you were born. I thought your grandfather was—”

“No.” I pulled back. “It’s not okay. I told myself she wasn’t dead, just missing like Grandpa John thinks, and that I needed to find her for selfless reasons.” I sighed. “But I wasn’t being noble at all. I wanted Grandma Alice here so you’d have a good reason to come home more often. And Dad, too. So we can be a family. All of us together.”

Tears formed in Mum’s eyes, and her shoulders sagged. “I’m the one who’s been selfish, Leo. Your father and I have been working so hard that I’ve disregarded how difficult this has been for you. A new country? New school? Leaving your friends behind?” She shook her head.

“I tried to tell you,” I said. “Loads of times.”

Mum wiped her tears away. “I know. I haven’t heard you-well, not properly. I didn’t listen.” She glanced at her phone, then looked back at me. “I don’t want you to keep secrets from us like your grandfather has. I don’t want us to become as distant.”

“Gotta keep some secrets,” I muttered.

Mum half-smiled and drew me into a tight hug. “Leonardo,” she whispered, “I promise that once I’ve taken care of your wayward grandfather, I’ll make time for you. Your dad will too.” She pulled back. “Yes?”

I gave her a feeble nod.

Mum released me, and her expression turned serious. “Now, let me go pack.” She marched to her bedroom.

I stood in a daze, knowing Grandpa John would be angry with me, but also believing I’d done the right thing by telling Mum.

I dropped into the nearest armchair with a heavy sigh, closed my eyes, and vowed to sleep for days. Starting, I yawned, now . . .

Two weeks later, after spending the interim time snoozing—or biting my nails and worrying about explaining my reckless CodeX adventure to Grandpa John—the day came when I opened the front door to find Mum pushing my grandfather toward the lodge in a wheelchair. Dad followed, carrying the old guy’s bags.

“I told you I can walk,” Grandpa John grumbled as my mother wheeled him into the sitting room.

I forced an awkward smile, prepared for Grandpa John to be furious with me. “How are you feeling?”

He eyed me. “They changed the oil, checked the spark plugs, inflated the tyres, and signed me off for another twenty years.”

I nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

Mum hugged Grandpa John and left for work, vowing to be home earlier than usual—which, to be fair, she had been recently.

I tensed under my grandfather’s glare as Dad dropped the bags into his bedroom and left for work too.

No sooner had the door closed than Grandpa John wheeled himself into the kitchen. “Get in here, boy.”

I eyed the front door, considering making a break for it—Leonardo Cooper, the Colorado fugitive—but sighed and, head bowed like a condemned man, traipsed in after him.

Grandpa John sat on the far side of the table and thrust a finger at the seat opposite.

Interrogation time.

I dawdled, made us hot drinks, then lowered myself into the chair, unable to put it off any longer.

“Explain.”

I’d run through this conversation a million times over, so I took a deep breath and did as he asked. I confessed to finding the crystal key in the clock, going into his room, and returning to the CodeX game world.

When I got to the part about the safeties being switched off and showed Grandpa John the remnants of my scratches and bruises, his eyes bulged from their sockets. I worried his recently-fixed heart might not bear the strain, but he pressed his lips together and let me continue.

And so, I did. It took over an hour to explain everything, including the part where the CodeX booted me out, then allowed me to return with the grav module.

When I got to boarding the Leviathan, meeting the admiral, and who she turned out to be, the words threatened to stick in my throat, but I got there.

Tears flowed down my grandfather’s cheeks. “Do you know what this means?” He looked up at me. “I was right. I knew Alice was in there.” He paused. “Where is she?” He noticed my expression, and his face fell again.

I did the only thing I could. I told him, with a heavy heart, everything Grandma Alice had said to me, and how she’d refused to return to our real world.

Grandpa John shook his head. “No. No, she can’t do that.”

“I tried everything.” The cold feeling in the pit of my stomach grew. “She wouldn’t come back. Wouldn’t explain why. Rejected every argument. She made out she had something important to do. Something more important than us.”

Grandpa John set his jaw. “And what’s that?”

“I don’t know, but she wanted me to go on a mission to recover a Class One artifact from the Ancampi world.”

“Get the CodeX.”

“Grandpa John, I—”

“Get it,” he said. “Now.”

I hesitated, then headed off to my bedroom. When I returned, I slid the CodeX over to him.

Grandpa John rested his hands on top, staring at the new diamond symbol, his brow furrowed. “You did well, Leo.” He looked up at me. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Why do you have all those games?” I said. “How have you had time to play them?”

“The first few times I went into the CodeX, I failed,” Grandpa John said. “Sometimes within just a few minutes.”

I nodded, remembering the stasis coffin.

“I’m no good at games,” Grandpa John continued. “So I bought a few to practise between writing in the CodeX. They helped a little, and as the downtime increased, I—”

“Downtime increased?” I repeated. “Why?”

Grandpa John shrugged. “The CodeX refuses to let me back in sometimes, despite writing down what happened. The gaps keep getting bigger. I assumed it thought I needed to practise, so that’s why I bought more and more games.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Leo; I used you. The CodeX hasn’t let me in for months. I was curious to see if you could help, and you did.”

“Why not Mum and Dad?” I said. “Why didn’t you give them the CodeX and the crystal key? Why keep it a secret?”

“I don’t like keeping it from your parents,” Grandpa John murmured. “The CodeX is more complex than you know, but now is not the time for the truth. Not yet.”

“Why me, though?” I persisted.

“You’re a kid. Naturally good at games.”

I snorted. “I’m rubbish at them. I don’t even have a console.”

Grandpa cocked a bushy caterpillar brow at me. “The CodeX sees something in you, or it wouldn’t let you in at all.”

“You left the video diary out deliberately, didn’t you?” I folded my arms. “You wanted me to find out what happened. You could’ve just told me about Grandma Alice, you know?”

Grandpa John didn’t respond, and I had a feeling there might be more behind his actions.

“I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” he said finally. “I would never have forgiven myself if—”

“But I failed,” I interrupted, not understanding why he wasn’t angrier.

“You found her, Leo.” Grandpa John shook his head. “I couldn’t do that in forty years of trying. The CodeX kept us apart.” His expression softened. “You were incredible. What you went through, what you risked, what you achieved. There’s something special about you. . .” He straightened up. “Now.” Grandpa John slid the CodeX back to me, pulled a pen from his inside jacket pocket, and handed it over. “Write what happened.” He balled his fists. “Once you’re finished, I’m going in myself. It should let me back in now.”

“You’re not well,” I said.

He fixed me with a hard stare. “I’m bringing her home, Leo. Whether she likes it or not.” He bared his teeth. “I’ll drag her out if I have to.”

I tried to imagine everything he’d been through. Forty years . . .

Grandpa John had a right to go back into the CodeX game, to see his wife and get answers, and I needed to do all I could to make that happen for him.

I thought of my new friends—Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin. Even though I’d only known them a short while, I missed them. A lot. Grandma Alice too. I wanted to understand her real reasons for staying, and there was so much to see and learn about the Bluestone universe.

“I’ll go back in with you,” I said.

Grandpa John shook his head.

“We’re family.” Thinking of how my friends would help my grandfather and me to reach Alice again, I stood, determined. “This will take a while.”

Grandpa John raised a bushy eyebrow at me. “Where are you going?”

“To get comfortable.”

In the sitting room, I dropped into a chair by the fire, Milo snoring at my feet like a defective, fluffy trombone, and closed my eyes.

I pictured my friends—Eve, Mason, Skylar, and Kelvin—and the Last Horizon. As soon as I was finished helping Grandpa John, we’d go on adventures.

I opened my eyes, and my face fell.

Wait . . .

Milo.

She knew.

I sat bolt upright.

Grandma Alice had said, “Your mother, father, and Milo are your family.”

How did she know about Milo?

Then realisation sank in.

She comes here. Grandma Alice visits. And if she knows Milo, she’s been to the lodge within the last few weeks.

Wow.

But why hasn’t she shown herself?

Wanting answers, a flood of renewed determination flowed through me. I turned to the CodeX’s first page and began to write.

I thought I’d be at least twenty years old before I met an alien. So you can imagine my surprise when two days after my sixteenth birthday, not only had I seen several, but my first physical encounter started with a cyborg attempting to tear my head off and throw me out of an airlock . . .

* * *

BOOK TWO AND BEYOND

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