Page 47 of Obsession

Even though he was not real, even though he was only a simulation, even though it was not truly my ancestor, the revelation gave me a jolt.

"There are more hunting parties out there," Zokren continued, oblivious to my shock. "And more traps. They've rigged most of the direct paths to the academy." He described a series of pit traps, similar to the one Britta had nearly fallen into, along with some nastier surprises—trip wires that triggered stun fields, pressure plates that released sleeping gas. All details I knew because I had included them in the design.

I cursed myself under my breath for my diligence and insistence that the simulation be accurate. Then I thought about the program I'd written; about all the traps I'd included based on historical records. There were three more major hazards between us and the academy that Zokren didn't know about—a net covered in vines over a ravine, snares that would snatch us into the air and dangle us upside-down from a tree, and a particularly nasty pool of suction slime.

The ground trembled beneath our feet again, and for a moment, Zokren's image flickered like a bad transmission. When he solidified, he didn't seem to have noticed anything wrong. Of course not—he was just a program, no matter how convincingly real he seemed.

"We need to get back to the academy," I said, cutting off his explanation of the trap patterns. "What's the safest route?"

Zokren pointed through the trees. "There's a hidden tunnel entrance about half a click that way. The hunters don't know about it yet." He grinned. "Found it by accident when I was running from a patrol yesterday. It comes up right inside the west wing of the academy."

I exchanged a glance with Britta. The west wing—exactly where we needed to go. But I also knew what was between us and that tunnel system, and none of it was good.

"The last hunting party swept through here about an hour ago. They’re moving in rotations, so we should have time."

I was impressed that a simulation had deduced the pattern I’d designed for the hunting parties. Was it possible that the characters had developed beyond their parameters? I shook my head. No, that would mean that the simulation had evolved beyond being a simple program of light made into matter. That wasn’t possible.

Zokren looked at Britta then flicked his gaze to me. “If you are time travelers, why did you come here? Why come to the middle of the hunt?”

“A great question,” I muttered under my breath.

Before I could respond, another tremor shook the forest. This time, the trees themselves seemed to flicker in and out of existence. Zokren's form wavered, became transparent for a moment, then snapped back into solidity.

He frowned. “That's not right." He looked at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. "This isn’t—” His eyes met mine, filled with a depth that shouldn't have been possible for a simulated character. "What is happening?”

Another excellent question, but one I could not dwell on.

“We need to return to the academy,” I told Zokren. “Are you with us or—”

“I cannot leave the hunt, or I will lose.” He shook his head, meeting my gaze and holding it for a long beat. “But I will not betray you—either of you. Go.”

A strange pang of familiarity twisted my heart, and I thumped my fist across my chest in salute, even though I outranked the cadet. “Thank you.”

He returned the salute and gave me a small bow of his head. “I hope you get back to your own time.”

So did I.

I grabbed Britta's hand as the ground rumbled. “Time to run.”

Chapter

Thirty-One

Volten

The wind whipped across the shipyard, carrying the sharp tang of salt from the Restless Sea. I barely noticed the cold—a Drexian advantage I rarely thought about until I saw the humans pulling their jackets tighter. We were used to the cold and more resistant to its effects.

I eyed the sleek, black hull of the vessel that would fly the rescue team into Kronock space, running my hand across the cool surface like I did so often. But for the first time, the touch of the spaceship did not calm me. I watched the Drexians loading the last of the supplies into the hull, and my gut tightened into a hard ball.

I would not be boarding the ship and taking a seat in the cockpit. I would not feel the weightless liftoff. I would not effortlessly guide the vessel through the atmosphere and into space. I was staying behind. I was watching my friends leave without me. I was letting Ariana, the woman I loved, go into danger without me.

The hard knot in my stomach roiled, regret churning. It was not too late to change my mind. It was not too late to go with them. It was not too late to join the mission.

But if I did, it might be too late for Kann. I swallowed hard and reminded myself that it had to be this way. I had to let them go.

Commander Vyk stood at the base of the loading ramp, checking off items on his tablet while Ariana ran through the supply list with Fiona. The sight of the two of them bent over the specs made my chest tighten. Ariana was the best pilot for this mission but watching her prepare to leave without me made it hard for me to breathe.

"You're brooding again." Morgan appeared at my side, her stealth impressive.

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