IA

SHE WAS SEVENTEEN, and her life was about to end.

The girl pushed back strands of her tangled black hair and pressed her forehead flush against the glass window. Outside were twenty starjets from the Royal Star Force, the military fleet of the Olympus Commonwealth. A shimmer of panicked whispers flittered around her, and she realized the other passengers had seen the squadron coming their way, too.

The girl glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the Elder moving through the crowd of Tawny refugees, trying to quell the growing panic.

"Why the mif is the RSF here?" she called out to him. The

Elder shook his head, his lips drawn into a tight line. "If Deus is on our side today, Girl, they'll wave us by."

The passengers on the ship called her "Girl," which was fine by her. After traveling with them for a month, she didn't know their real names either. Her dark hair and golden skin stood out in this crowd like a crooked screw on a brand-new sheet of metal. The twenty-seven Tawny refugees on the ship all had milky complexions and hair as blue as the deepest ocean. That was what happened in the All Black. You got mixed up with all sorts of different people just trying to survive.

The RSF starjets knocked into the transport ship's hull, and the ship pitched forward. The girl heard the screech of metal scraping against metal, of screws twisting and connecting. The RSF had sealed its docking bridge to the transport ship's air lock.

The Elder held a hand up, attempting to ease the wave of anxiety passing through the crowd. "The air-lock door will hold. They won't be able to board without permission."

The girl held her breath, praying he was right, wishing that door was made from the strongest vinnidium steel instead of salvaged antique metal.

A tinny voice came through the speakers. "The Royal Star Force requests entry to your vessel."

Fear ripped through her. What were they searching for? Weapons? Contraband? She swallowed, her throat tight. The Royal Star Force had a reputation of being rougher out in the Fringe territories. Olympus had no problem taking everything from the many people of the Fringe — their homes, their water, their fuel, and their planets.

The Elder rushed to an intercom speaker and pressed a thumb to a red sensor. "We are outside Commonwealth territory. This ship is not subject to your jurisdiction. Be kind and pass."

But there was no response. Only a gentle hiss permeating through the small holes of the intercom speakers.

Silence settled, and then came some light taps on the metal, one for each hinge on the entry door. From all her years traveling in the All Black, surviving scuffles against pirates and black-market traders, the girl knew what that sound meant.

"Take cover!" she screamed.

A dull tone reverberated from outside, followed by a loud boom. The doorway flew inward, carving a hole in their ship. Passengers scattered as twisted pieces of metal flew their way. Even with a veil of smoke hanging over them, the girl heard the shuffle of footsteps and armor, and she knew. The Royal Star Force was boarding.

The Elder grabbed her shoulder. At such a close distance, she saw the gray hairs speckled throughout his navy-blue mane and the age spots dappling his cheeks. But despite his years, his eyes were bright as starlight.

"Best to stay out of sight." The Elder pulled her away from the windows, and she was swallowed up by the crowd. Around her, everyone's shouts merged into one, and she felt her lungs compress as bodies drew tightly together. The smoke settled, and small orbs fixed with camera lenses flew out from the docking tunnel. It was the Commonwealth's media; they had sent their little Eyes to film and broadcast this entire thing. One camera drone buzzed by so close that it tousled her hair. She glanced at each Eye, watching them change position to find the perfect angle to capture the passengers' distress.

It was then she realized: this wasn't a routine search.

"Where is he?" A thick voice bellowed from the other side of the threshold. A formation of officers emerged from the docking bridge, followed by a large figure. The girl recognized him from the broadcast streams: General Adams, a war hero celebrated throughout the Commonwealth. The medals on his chest — shaped like golden stars and silver olive branches — jingled as he walked.

"Where is I. A. Cocha?" he growled.

As if on cue, Commonwealth holoscreens appeared around them. On the screens was a Wanted banner, one she had seen over and over again, plastered on interstellar gates, projected on travel hubs — anywhere people could see. The banner had an image of a helmet, a red feather painted across its helm like a stain of blood.

General Adams was after I. A. Cocha, a monster with many names: the Sovereign of Dead Space, the Rogue of the Fringe Planets, the Blood Wolf of the Skies. Cocha was the most dangerous criminal in Commonwealth history.

General Adams surveyed the faces of the Tawny refugees. "I don't care much for guessing games. I know he's here. Send him forward."

The girl stayed hidden, waiting for someone to speak. The tension among her fellow travelers thickened, but even with the surmounting pressure, they nodded knowingly to one another, a secret agreement to stay silent.

"So be it." Adams motioned for his soldiers to come forward. All fifty of them were armed with laser pistols lethal enough to burn everyone on the ship to ash. The General's blue eyes glinted like a newly polished dagger. "I'll just have to shoot all of you."

General Adams raised his weapon at the nearest Tawny, a teenage boy. Adams would kill him, just because he could. The girl's heart raced, rage boiling inside her. Surging forward, she grabbed an orb from her side pack and threw it down. A translucent-green energy force field spidered upward to the ceiling, creating a protective wall between the passengers and the RSF.

Across the barrier, General Adams grimaced. "Who are you?"

The girl slammed her palm against a button on the collar of her suit. Her helmet slid on, smooth and automatic. Upon its brow was a blood feather, shining in the darkness. To many, it instilled fear, but to her, it inspired hope. "I think you already know."

The General's eyes widened in recognition. "I. A. Cocha."

Ia stared him down. "It's pronounced Eye-yah. You don't spell my name; you say it."

Gunfire erupted, and the air was filled with a flurry of bright-blue energy blasts. They showered around her, absorbing right into the protective wall of the force field.

This type of force field was called a Carpion shield, designed to block any bullets coming from the other side of the protective wall, but any gunfire originating from within would pierce through. Ia grabbed the energy pistol holstered in her boot and aimed. Shot by shot, her bullets soared through the shield and toward the soldiers. Her aim was precise and clean. But there were too many of them, and she didn't have enough of a charge to pick them all off.

She checked the orb at the base of the shield. The meter showed 50 percent strength. The shield was strong, but it wouldn't last. If she wanted to survive this, she had to act quickly. Ia ran to the overheard bin above her seat and grabbed her pack.

She turned back to the Tawnies. "You have a choice," she told them. "You can get to the escape pods, or —"

She threw her pack onto the f...