13
Miranda
What the hell was going on? I’d never heard that sound before, but I instinctually knew it wasn’t good. Not the way Brax and Trist were behaving. The way the children stopped what they were doing and lined up quietly. Orderly. It reminded me of a fire drill in elementary school on Earth. But we weren’t walking outside. There was no outside.
The fire department wasn’t coming. The Hive was.
Here? On this ship? On this silly little ship where I was baking cookies? Even now the scent of vanilla and cinnamon Snickerdoodles filled the air. Damn Hive. They were going to try to hurt us, and they were going to make me burn my cookies. Okay, I shouldn’t be so flippant about the Hive, especially with children here.
“Trist?” I asked. “What do you want me to do?”
“Do not fear, Miranda.
