We're collected by a busy, twitchy creature galloping toward us on ten short, wobbly legs. It chitters at Moon for a minute before scurrying out of our room. Following at a distance, we're joined by other teams dressed in a multitude of colors and textiles from the galaxy. I don't pay attention to them—I'm on a mission.

Moon takes the lead and we fall in line—Nuna at the rear with her starboard at her side. The myriad of species parading through the streets carry their rifles in different positions—some over their heads, some at their sides, some hold it out in front of them and aim for the sky. It's odd to see how differently we learned to do the same exact thing.

The procession moves to an enormous circular room. More twitchy creatures crowd the entrance, pointing us toward the direction of our station against the wall. As they fuss over our posture, helmets, and atmosphere suits, I scan the room so to know my enemies. There are fifty-five us here. Fifty-four other teams to leave in my dust collapsing in my wake. A Reaper completes her mission. A Reaper fears nothing.

Calm settles over my skin. The three of us must appear as stone carvings as we wait, unmoving, silent, and poised. The teams around us fidget, showboat, and gurgle out war cries I can't understand but recognize anyway.

The platform under our feet jostles and descends. We're lowered, all fifty-five teams. Despite being confined in my suit, the atmosphere crackles—I feel it snapping against my skin, filling my pores with energy.

We are submerged in darkness. I can hear Nuna's soft breath in my comms, reminding me that I'm not alone. I feel comfortable here in the black nothingness with a team at my side. I forget that I am Janika Lorn, prisoner, shamed Commander of an abducted people and broken ship. In this moment, it doesn't matter who or what I am.

The Reaper emerges.

And she's so glad to finally have a chance to stretch.

The lights flicker on and I stumble forward as my brain registers the incorrect position of my body to the floor and ceiling. I can't figure out if I'm standing on a floor or a wall.

Nuna's hand slips into mine again. She nods at me, her lips in a grim line. I nod in response. She squeezes my hand and releases me, but the tingle from her touch lingers, infiltrating my gloves and soaking into my bones. I grow warm.

The small, gray room holds nothing but a boxy ship idling in the corner. Nuna places her board on the ground and steps on, igniting the engines underneath. Removing her paddle, she locks her feet into place and offers me a hand up. Before accepting it, I watch Moon walk behind us to the same single-passenger ship I saw smashing into stone walls in the replay.

Moon pauses, rubs the gold plate embedded in his temple, and speaks through our comms. "Don't die."

Shock rips through me. It's so similar to my customary farewell with Simon, I do a double-take just to make sure my father's not back there whispering secret code to Moon.

My response passes my lips before I have a chance to stop it. "I'll try." Old habits.

Behind me, Nuna wiggles into position. She's poised to speed us out of here.

"Hey," I say into the comms against my cheek. "Not to bring this up now or anything, but how many times have you two done this before?"

"Once," Nuna says.

"And it was a tragedy," Moon says.

I lift the rifle higher on my chest, tucking it closer to me. "Good. That's good to know. Great."

A light appears ahead of us. I dig deeper, clenching my core, holding my center of gravity. Unfamiliar symbols made of thin strands like string blinks, changes shape, blinks again, and suddenly, a horn blast out a high-pitched whine. The doors before us fall open.

We shoot forward.

Nuna speeds off and suddenly, fifty other D-Clogs and their payload tails surround us. We speed through a tunnel made of raging water, circling us as if we were trapped in the eye of a cyclone. Each team is stuck to their lane that surrounds the perimeter of the tunnel. I gaze up at the teams above us, upside-down.

The gravity manipulation.

I grind my teeth together as I scrape a plan together. This track will make it more difficult to close in on our enemies—harder to take them out one by one.

The first boulder hovers ahead, directly blocking our path. I aim and shoot, nicking it and barely blasting off a fraction of the massive stone. Nuna swerves the starboard around it. When I look back, Moon follows our trail.

"The point is to clear the path, Lorn. I assumed you were aware of that objective when we started."

"I wasn't planning on aiming for the rocks."

"That's the point of the game. Blast the rocks and I will drive through the debris. There is nothing else you should be attempting to accomplish."

"I'm aiming for the other D-Clog drivers."

Moon loudly exhales. "Nuna..."

"Janika," Nuna says quietly. "No direct hits to any driver is allowed."

I scoff, aiming and destroying a small boulder in our path. "I thought there were no rules."

"You must obey that rule. We will be disqualified if you directly aim and shoot another, intending to end—"

Moon's gruff voice interjects. "You want to head home with Bor-Yann?"

"He's better looking than you."

"Janika, another boulder approaches," Nuna says, driving my focus back to the track.

I aim. Just as I'm about to shoot, the D-Clog in the lane to my left breaks their boulder. Its debris careens toward us. Nuna steers us clear, but I didn't break the block in our lane. Moon is mere feet from crashing into it.

"You must have really found him attractive if you're trying this hard to fail."

I blast away the next block perfectly. Its shards spread to the surrounding lanes. "I bet he's got a better personality too."

Four lanes to my left, I notice Bor-Yann's ship ahead of us. His D-Clog charges forward.

"Fuck that. Nuna, I can't directly shoot anyone, but how about this?" I aim and blast the side of the next block. A large piece splits off and smashes the opponent to my left, crushing the D-Clog between the water walls of our tunnel.

Nuna whoops. "There are no rules against that!"

"Keep right. I want to try something."

Nuna swings us closer to the right edge of our lane. I shoot the remaining block and it breaks, a large portion crashing into our neighbors.

We speed forward as I clear the path. I take a second to notice that others are similarly eliminating the competition by strategically breaking the boulders. Bor-Yann is still ahead.

"Can't this thing go any faster, Nuna?"

We jolt forward. I hear Moon kick his jets on behind us.

Nuna and I catch up to Bor-Yann's D-Clog. They eye us from between four lanes. The terrain changes from roaring water to rocks—tectonic plates shifting grinding against each other, huge, jagged formations jutting from the stony tunnel to break our course. Dust and dirt, small rocks fall from all directions, limiting my visibility. The lanes disappear. It's a cylindrical free-for-all.

Speeding forward, down toward the finish line, Nuna straightens our path as I aim and fire again. The blocks are bigger. It takes a few more shots to break the whole thing up enough for Moon's cargo ship to fit through. The other D-Clog's debris from their broken obstacle clutter the space Moon would have had. I aim to clear it up.

An opponent sidles closer. They ride a ship that's no more than a frame with two seats, one behind the other. The back seat is elevated enough to give the gunman a better view of the track. I admire their set up until they knock into us, grazing the starboard.

"Hey!" I scream, scrambling to get my balance again.

They do it again. I stumble, nearly falling off.

"Keep tight, Janika," Nuna says. "Don't let them—"

Before she finishes, I fire at their ship, blowing their engine to smithereens. The vehicle bursts and bounces off the crashing stone walls of our obstacle and disappears in a fiery explosion.

No one approaches after that.

Bor-Yann's ship swerves toward us. He approaches enough to leer through his window, his hands on his control wheel, staring at me rather than at the course. I can't take my eyes from what's ahead because the blocks are bigger and more frequent. I ignore his rush ahead.

No. He won't win.

Not if I shoot his ship down.

The course changes again. The sides of the tunnel burn red with lava. Heat seeps through my suit, baking my skin like the greenhouse lamps on Level 4 would if I got too close to their bulbs. Sweat pours down my shoulder blades, slips down my skin, collects in my armpits as we speed deeper into what I'm guessing is the planet's core. Bor-Yann's lead won't last for long.

I aim. Shoot. Repeat. My helmet fogs from the coolers in my suit and the heat from outside.

"If I take off this fucking helmet will I die?"

"No," Moon says with eerie calm. "But it will not be pleasant."

I rip it off and throw it to the wind. Instantly, I choke on the dense air burning from the molten walls. They swirl around us, leading our ships straight to hell. I hear a garbled shriek of pain as my helmet hits another D-Clog behind us. I didn't kill him. There's no rule against that.

The board has become an extension of my boots, the air and heat like an ocean to balance my weight as I sink lower to aim upward.

"Nuna, you have to go faster," I whisper. "Get below him."

"You are brilliant." There's mirth in her voice. For once, my insane plans aren't met with hesitation or horror. Nuna maneuvers us until we're below and behind Bor-Yann's ship.

"Hang back, Moon. Gun it when you have an opening."

He doesn't respond, but, somehow, I know he's listening. I know he'll do it.

We are skimming the lava walls, mere feet between us and a curtain of sure death. I trust Nuna to keep me alive, to expertly fly us through this potential disaster.

We slip under the enemy D-Clog. I need to find his engine. Find a way to blow apart his vehicle's system, to do the most damage with the least fire-power. We're too small to nudge his log-shaped ship into the lava. It's too risky for me to leap onto his ship and try to take control. We're bound by the rules.

No rules.

But there are some rules I can't break if I don't want to suffer the consequences.

No direct killing. Or we'll be disqualified. Automatic failure and I'll be shipped off to Bor-Yann's kitchen.

I make a split-second decision.

Raising my hand, I caress the bottom of Bor-Yann's D-Clog. It's slick—totally smooth. I tuck my rifle under my armpit, pressing it to my side, check my hands, toggling the sticky substance of Moon's atmosphere suit, and jump up.

"Janika. You must focus on our blocks too. What will Moon doo? Another set approaches."

"On it." I clench my entire core, tighten all my muscles and hold my body weight in my hands and arms as I cling to the underside of the vessel. With a herculean effort, I unstuck myself and move up, sticking back to the speeder. I crawl until I'm directly behind the Bor-Yann's gunman. I pull my body up its side and crouch behind him. Easy prey. The wind roars so loud and their helmets are completely insulated. They can't hear me creep toward them. I can fix that.

I pull the helmet off his head—it pops off with a slurp and he spins around to stare at me, startled. Swinging around, I kick him in the face. His teeth shatter on impact, his long, rat-nose crunching under my boot. Instantly, the creature slumps forward, dropping his weapon. It falls into the lava and disappears. Bor-Yann is next. I pull his helmet off and spin it around to bring it crashing back down on his skull, but it's not the pink-creep I thought it was. It's another creature. It's rat-like, humanoid, and hideous, but not the vile thing I met earlier.

Its elbow crashes against the side of my head. I slide off the D-Clog, barely hanging on with one sticky hand, my rifle in my other hand. The creature veers left, inching the vessel toward the lava wall. Heat pierces my suit, bubbles the skin on my neck. My legs dangle downward.

Downward.

The gravity manipulation in this tunnel only applies to the lava walls, not us anymore. I have one exit. Inches before scraping the flowing wall, I let go.

I land on the starboard.

The fake Bor-Yann must not know his gunman is gone. With his attention on me, crashes right into the enormous boulder ahead. We maneuver under it and drive through his D-Clog's debris. The lava consumes fake-Bor-Yann, silencing his screams in one slurpy gulp.

"It's not him. It's a decoy," I shout, pulling my rifle back to my front.

"FUCK." Moon screams in our comms.

A D-Clog speeds past us.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK. LORN IF YOU HOLD ANY VALUE IN NOT BEING MARMOLIAN WEDDING FEAST, SHOOT HIS ASS DOWN."

Moon's words ring through my comms. Marmolian wedding feast. What kind of bargain was this?

The real Bor-Yann's D-Clog is as slick as the last. Any shot would ricochet off and probably kill me and Nuna who are as exposed as flowers in a field.

Ahead, maybe five klicks out, I see the finish-platform floating in the middle of the tunnel.

It's now or never.

"Nuna!" I shout as I break another boulder in our way, "Get me next to him."

We jolt forward. I've fused with the board. Its movements are my own. We speed, the wet heat of the tunnel drowning me, but I can't let him win.

I run and leap, swinging my arms frantically, and land on his D-Clog. Stepping over his gunner's head and his own, I jump off his vehicle and spin around, grabbing its pointed nose, pulling down as hard as I can. He loses control for a second, and with one arm, I pull my rifle to my front and aim it at the nearest boulder. It splits in two. I swing hard causing the little ship to swerve again, for Bor-Yann to struggle controlling it. He has to drive it through the middle.

He gurgles through his helmet, his red eyes beaming with hate as he tries to shake me from his ship's nose. When the D-Clog flies through the boulder, it fits perfectly.

But it's cargo is too large.

"Punch it, now!"

Nuna and Moon speed forward under the boulder. I drop, landing on our cargo ship before the burning remains of Bor-Yann's payload crush me.

Nuna celebrates in our comms. With Bor-Yann's cargo gone, we rush ahead and finish first.

The other remaining ships land behind us. When Moon docks, I bound from the top of the ship, Nuna running toward me, leaping throwing her helmet off, welcoming me with open arms. I run to her. We scream, jump, embrace hard, the adrenaline pumping through our bodies as thick as the lava circling the walls.

She holds my face in her hands. "You did it. You were brilliant!" She wraps me closer, pulling my body into hers until I feel like we've been completely fused.

"We did it," I correct her. "Your driving! That speed! Holy Heap, Nuna, that was...I can't believe we—"

An old, familiar sensation shoots through my blood, boiling it, making the room hotter, if possible. She pulls away far enough to hold me in her gaze. She captures me in her enormous, dark eyes. She parts her lips.

I part mine.

My body doesn't resist the fierce pull. I close my eyes.

"Nuna—keep it in your pants until we get back to the Val." Moon's bitterness tears us apart.

I move away, my face still hot, my body still itching to touch something, someone, to run fast enough to launch myself into the sky. When I let go of her arms, cold loneliness returns. Dean's shuddering, heavy shadow fills its place.

Moon leads us to a heard of twitchy, ten-legged creatures. They titter at us with rapid clicks. Our captain responds in like.

There's no crowd, but I can hear vibrations from a roaring population. Somewhere above us, people react with stomping, screams, and mayhem. I shrink back into Nuna. "Do you think that's good or bad?"

"Bad," Moon says. He storms toward us, a firm scowl partially covered by long strands of hair blocking the right side of his face. "We're disqualified."

"What! How? I followed all their stupid rules. I didn't kill anyone."

Moon's growl was so soft, I could barely hear it. "Unethical practices."

Nuna mumbles fiercely in another language before switching to English. "Earthen bigotry. They cannot keep doing this to us."

"It has been made clear to the judges that we had a specific vendetta against Bor-Yann and his team. As that is unethical and unfair, we are disqualified. Since coming in second, they take the win."

Nuna growls. "What about their treatment of us? How is that not unethical or unfair?"

I run my hand through the bristles on my head. "But their cargo didn't even make it to the line."

"They take ours."

"What the fuck. That's ridiculous. That is absolutely ridiculous." I rush to the judges, ready to explain how the only reason I targeted them was that I wasn't about to lose and become a four-course meal, but Moon grabs my arm as I brush past.

"A deal is a deal."

"But that's wrong. We won. I played by their rules and I won fair and square. You need to explain I'm not going to be someone's lunch because of a technicality."

"We don't have that kind of pull here."

"Let me go, Moon. I'm not letting them—"

"Listen to me," he hisses through clenched teeth. "You have no idea what the hell you're doing. You throw your weight around because it meant something before, but guess what, Lorn..."

I rip my arm from his grasp.

He invades my space again and grumbles in a voice so low, I barely hear his words. "We aren't on fucking Earth anymore."

"No kidding, moron. But they can't get away with this."

"They can. They will." Moon glances at the judges. "Remember, we're little more than a slab of meat to them. Would you listen to the chicken before taking it to the kitchen?"His frown softens.

Instead of watching my own reflection in his gold eye, I look to the other.

Hidden behind his hair, I catch his request before he says the words. "You can't win this. Not this way."

"What am I supposed to do? I can't go back to the marketplace." The ground spins and I can't stand upright. The air thins. I can't breathe. I can't go back. My hands are clammy, moistening the gloves and making them sticky inside and out. I rip them off and rub my hands together to find heat to battle the sudden chill that has raked my body.

Warmth appears.

Nuna presses herself against my back and wraps her hands around mine from behind. She makes soothing noises next to my ear. "It will be okay. It will be okay my brave warrior. You escaped once."

Despite her soothing words, I feel her tense behind me.

"You can escape again. Your friends are not far behind you. We will not leave you," she says, squeezing my hands tight.

Spinning around to look at her, I wonder what makes us friends when in my head, I've murdered her at least a dozen times. Behind her, in my blurry peripherals, I catch Bor-Yann stomping over, a malicious grin spread across his thin, slimy lips. His smile deepens, exposing rows and rows of black, sharp teeth.