Chapter 1: The Unexpected Enemy 1 THE UNEXPECTED ENEMY Lunar Jones Lunar. You're doing it again . I blink rapidly. I shift in my seat, trying to sit up straighter. Dread is mentally poking me because we're currently the guests of honor at this big fancy dinner. Our table is right up front, and I can't stop falling asleep. I've nodded off three times now. Up onstage, a guy in a suit has been droning on about advancements in his tech company--and he's been talking for the last thirty minutes. In an effort to wake myself back up, I reach for the cup on the table in front of me. Dark liquid bubbles inside. It's some kind of soda from Earth. The server told me a doctor made it, but there's enough sugar in every sip to put down a full-sized Martian wolf. Still, the carbonation tastes nice. A little burn at the back of the throat. As the speaker continues his speech, I sneak a glance around the rest of the banquet hall. Dread and I are at our own table. On our right, there's a table reserved for my Dread Knights. Normally, that would have me in a good mood. We'd be making jokes and having a great time together, but when I look that way, the table looks like a smile with a bunch of missing teeth. Less than half the people who got invited are here. Proctor is the one person I already knew wouldn't be here. She's up on Deimos. One of ten finalists being considered for the position of dragoon. She deserves it. More than anyone I know. But that doesn't mean it would be easy to watch her leave the crew we started together. I notice two other big absences: Little Will and Foreman. Right. So the rumors are true. Both of them were offered interviews for new positions on the Phobos crew. I thought that would be an easy no at first. Why leave a planet dragon to fly on a moon dragon? The only problem was both of them were offered promotions. More money. Better benefits. I found out there's a Martian law that keeps job payment fair. Which means a wingman scout flying on Dread makes the same as a wingman scout flying on Phobos. Even if I feel like we're the more important crew, I can't just randomly pay them more so they don't leave for another job. I would have to promote them on our crew. And I won't have room for any promotions available unless Proctor leaves. It's a lose-lose situation. Foreman wanting to take a better job makes sense. The two of us aren't that close. But Little Will? I have to admit that thought stings. Our story started together. I guess a small part of me believed we'd stick together until we were both too old to fly a dragon. The fact that he's even taking the interview feels like a betrayal .... Lunar. Now, you're doing the other thing . Right. I take a deep breath. When I haven't been falling asleep tonight, I've been brooding. Lost in angry thoughts that seem to get louder with each day that passes. You know it's bad when Dread--who pretty much invented having a bad temper--has to keep calming you down. Back when Proteus predicted a threat was coming, I imagined some final boss knocking on the doors of our solar system. Instead, our real enemy has been a surprise. The big bad I'm facing now? Its name is Success. A year has passed since our showdown with Triton. One whole year without any looming threats or ominous villains. I've had to watch as my crew slowly figured out there were other possibilities out there for them. Deep down, I know I'm just being selfish. The crew isn't mine . They don't belong to me. They can do what they want with their lives. But hey, we are talking about the flight crew that saved the world. Twice. Why fix something if it isn't broken? "... and that's what Foundation hopes to bring to Mars." Everyone around the room starts clapping. I decide the safest thing for me to do is to also clap. I catch Dread rolling his eyes at me. Hopefully, he's the only one who noticed how distracted I was tonight. I'm about to push to my feet and head for the bathroom when the guy onstage starts talking again . Really? Is he trying to set the record for the longest speech on Mars? "And that brings me to the highlight of the evening: I want to introduce you all to our newest chief technology officer. One of Mars's very own. I personally think that the CTO we hired is one of the most brilliant human beings I've ever met." The speaker's eyes swing over to... me? I stare back at him awkwardly. Is this a dream? Like one of those nightmare scenarios where you end up giving a speech in front of everyone, but you're only wearing your underwear? When I look down, though, I'm in a very nice tuxedo. I glance back up, and he's still looking my way. This is weird. I've never had anyone call me brilliant before. I'm also pretty sure that I didn't sign up to be the chief technology officer at this random tech company. "Please give a warm welcome to the one and only: Star Dawkins." My confusion swings her way. I watch Doc rise from her seat. She's traded her normal utility belt full of gadgets for a glittering dress. Her hair is down, styled in a way I've never seen. Like little waves that run as far as her shoulders. I can only watch as she walks up to... Lunar. You need to calm down . You need to calm down . I shoot that thought back at him, because honestly? I'm not calm. That boring guy onstage just called Doc-- our Doc--his chief technology officer. That doesn't sound like a volunteer role. It doesn't sound like a side gig that she'll do on weekends or whatever. I'm pretty sure what's happening right now is I'm watching the smartest person on my entire crew walk up and shake hands with her new boss. Great. Just great. Love that for me. Doc turns and beams a smile at the rest of the room. "I'm not one for big speeches," she says. "But I could not be more excited to begin my work with Foundation. The team they have in place is already so talented. Their resources are vast. The work we're doing will benefit every planet in this solar system, but none more so than Mars. I have never been more excited to get to work." Gut punch after gut punch. Everyone keeps clapping. Like this is good news. But I want to march up there, grab the mic, and tell them this is a huge mistake. I'm about to when a voice sounds in my ear. "Clap, Lunar. You need to clap and you need to smile because one of the people who helped you save Mars just got her dream job. You are proud of her. Even if you don't feel it right now, you are proud of her, and you need to make sure she knows that. Doc deserves that much." Proctor. I have no idea where she came from or how she got here, but I know she's right. Her voice cuts through my annoyance like a knife. After a moment, I take her suggestion. I start clapping, even lifting my fingers to my lips to let out a sharp whistle. Doc has a huge grin as she returns from her podium to see us celebrating. Proctor just saved me from ruining the night for everyone. "When did you even--" I turn, and my question literally stumbles to a halt. Proctor dressed up for the event too. She's wearing a silver dress that literally looks like moonlight. Her hair is pinned up with just a few delicate strands reaching down to frame her face. For some reason, she looks so fancy that even the freckles on her cheeks seem like they were designed for the evening. Constellations that someone artfully dotted into place. It takes me a split second to realize that the normal words that come to mind when I think of Proctor--tough, resilient, determined--aren't the ones rising to the surface. Instead, a very different word comes stumbling out of my mouth. "Beautiful. I mean. You look... tonight... Sorry..." I'm pretty sure there's nothing in the known universe that could make both of us feel more awkward than what I just said. Her olive cheeks blush with color. I can feel heat creeping up my neck. Dread doesn't say anything, but I can feel the intensity of his eyes on me. Like he's stumbled upon a science exhibit he finds particularly fascinating. Proctor eventually responds with her usual sarcasm. "Well, geesh, don't act like you've never seen a dress before, baseline." She reaches for the fizzing drink on the table. I start to point out that it's my drink and I've already sipped it and someone once told me that sharing a drink is basically the same as kissing because you leave germs on the glass and then the other person leaves germs on the--and it's too late. She chugs the entire thing before I can say a word. Her face scrunches together. "Carbonation," I say. "Really burns going down." She nods. "I know. Poppy used to sneak Dr Pepper into the bunker. It was his favorite." "Really?" I frown at the empty glass. "So, a doctor really made this?" "Of course not. This stuff will rot your teeth right out of your skull." "But then why--" "Come on," she says. "Let's congratulate the real Doc." I follow her across the room, walking from one awkward moment right into another. Doc's wearing that same big smile. The rest of the crew are congratulating her while also mourning that she'll be leaving our crew. A few people are shaking a kid named Devin Book by the shoulders. He's likely to be tapped as Doc's replacement. Nowhere near the same skill level, but he works fast, and his coded ship is the one that got us safely to and from Phobos last year for the negotiation with Triton. I sit back and enjoy the swirl of conversations. I notice Proctor is really good at pretending to be happy for Doc. So good at it, in fact, that I finally realize she is happy. She's proud of her best friend. And I am too. For the next hour, we all kick it together. We eat really good cake. Roddy convinces everyone to go out on the dance floor, where Easton and Weston surprise the group with some of the better dance routines we've ever seen. It has me thinking this is what they work on whenever they're patrolling the back corridors of the ship. Before long, the night feels like a proper celebration. One of our own just landed a huge job with one of the biggest tech companies in the solar system. It takes effort, but I realize mid-dance that I've traded out my growing annoyance for something far easier to carry around: joy. I also find myself sneaking glances at Proctor. We spent a few months awkwardly avoiding eye contact. I found out she had a crush on me when we looked at the memories Triton had stolen. It was something I was never meant to see. Super embarrassing. At first. It took some time, but eventually my embarrassment melted into something more like curiosity. I'd find myself thinking about her before I went to sleep most nights. Wondering if maybe--just maybe--I felt that way about her too. Tonight is only bringing out that feeling more. She's magnetic. Definitely not the best dancer--finally, something she's not the best at--but that silver dress she's wearing reflects the light so that dozens of smaller moons seem to be dancing across the floor by her feet. It's like she has her own aura. I'm feeling just reckless enough to tell her that when someone bumps into me hard from the right. My eyes swing around, and I'm face-to-face with Percy Lee. It's shocking to see her. Mainly because I was just on a mission to tell Proctor how pretty she looks tonight, but also because I checked the invitation list for this event the other day, and Percy hadn't reserved a seat. She looks gorgeous tonight too. If Proctor has the quiet beauty of the moon, Percy's more like the sun. So bright that she's almost hard to look at directly. Her hair is pulled into a tight braid that runs down one shoulder. The style draws out her sharp cheekbones and big eyes. When she smiles, it's like I'm getting blasted by a solar flare at point-blank range. I blurt out the only question I can think of: "What are you doing here?" She's rocking back and forth to the beat of the song. "Wow. Be careful, dragoon. I wouldn't want you to sound excited to see me or anything." I snort. "Sorry. What I meant was... didn't the Luna dragonship already head back to Earth? I thought they departed this morning." Percy nods. "Training program, remember? I'm on Mars for cross-planetary training." It sounds vaguely familiar. After defeating Triton, the two of us sat together for several meals on Neptune. Since then, I've seen her about once a month. It's felt like a series of fortunate events. We keep bumping into each other in random hangars, or we end up at the same parties, like this one. Her dad is Adrian Lee--the official dragoon for Luna. Last year, he told me he wanted her to learn the ropes for when it was her turn to take over. I'm sure her training program is focused on that, but I can't remember exactly what she's doing because, honestly, every time she looks at me, I'm mostly focused on trying not to sweat. "Training," I repeat. "Right. Yeah. So, you're here. On Mars." She offers another smile. "Again, don't sound too excited, Lunar." The two of us keep dancing as the silence stretches. Why can't I make the thoughts in my brain come out as normal-sounding words? It takes me a second to realize that I've slowly allowed myself to be pulled across the dance floor. Away from my crew. Away from the safety of a bigger group dance. If anyone looked at Percy and me right now, I'm pretty sure it would seem like we were dancing together. Just the two of us. Almost on cue, the music changes. From a fast song to a slow song. One of those songs where most people immediately step off the dance floor, and all that's left out there are old married couples or people who somehow find the bravery to declare themselves boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm about to pull that same slip-off-the-dance-floor maneuver when Percy shocks me again and offers her hand. She wants to dance. With me. My brain actually overloads. Pure malfunction. Thoughts start ping-ponging back and forth faster than the speed of light. Before I can say yes or no, I remember that I was dancing with the crew. I also remember that I was literally about to go talk to Proctor. When I look back, though, she's gone. Or almost gone. I catch the final swish of her silver dress near one of the back doors. Doc is hustling to catch up with her. It's almost like she was... "Oh. That's not good." I offer Percy an apologetic look. "I'm--I'm sorry. I have to..." And I actually leave her there. I make it halfway across the ballroom before realizing that I just publicly abandoned the prettiest girl I've ever seen on a dance floor. Literally left her hanging with her hand in the air. I stop in my tracks to explain, but Percy has stormed off in the opposite direction of Proctor. "Great," I say through gritted teeth. "Just great." Dread's thoughts whisper across the room to me. This is like watching a movie. A very bad movie where no one is happy at the end. What are those called again...? It's on the tip of my tongue.... I don't respond. Instead, I shove through the back doors, searching for any sign of Proctor or Doc. Both of them have vanished, though. There's a group of fancy older folks. I accidentally make eye contact with them, and the entire group comes buzzing over with drinks in their hands. All of them are eager to introduce themselves because that's what events like this are for. Wealthy citizens getting to meet the new stars of the planet. What it means for me is that I just lost any chance of catching Proctor. After a brief chat, I head back inside the main banquet hall. The party is starting to wind down. No sign of Proctor. No sign of Percy, either. I end up slumped back in my chair. My crew seems to pick up on the vibe. No one comes over to talk to me. Dread doesn't poke me at first, but eventually his eyes narrow in that dragonish smile. Tragedy! That's the word. That was like watching a tragedy . I sip my drink and don't say anything, because what is there to say? He's right. It was a tragedy. Excerpted from The Void Dragons by Scott Reintgen All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
