Light Years

Book 1: LIGHT YEARS

by Kass Morgan

Genres: YA Action & Adventure; YA Romance

Synopsis

Ender's Game meets The 100 as hidden secrets and forbidden love collide at an interstellar military boarding school in a new sci-fi series from New York Times bestselling author Kass Morgan.

Reeling from the latest attack by a mysterious enemy, the Quatra Fleet Academy is finally admitting students from every planet in the solar system after centuries of exclusivity. Hotshot pilot Vesper, an ambitious Tridian citizen, dreams of becoming a captain—but when she loses her spot to a brilliant, wisecracking boy from the wrong side of the asteroid belt, it makes her question everything she thought she knew.

Growing up on the toxic planet Deva, Cormak will take any chance he can get to escape his dead-end life and join the Academy—even if he has to steal someone's identity to do it. Arran was always considered an outsider on icy Chetire, always dreaming of something more than a life working in the mines. Now an incoming cadet, Arran is looking for a place to belong—he just never thought that place would be in the arms of a Tridian boy. And Orelia is hiding a dark secret—she's infiltrated the Academy to complete a mission, one that threatens the security of everyone there. But if anyone finds out who she really is, it'll be her life on the line. These cadets will have to put their differences aside and become a team if they want to defend their world from a cunning enemy—and they might even fall in love in the process.

Light Years is the first audiobook in a thrilling and romantic sci-fi series from the bestselling author of The 100.

Release date: October 9, 2018

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Print pages: 384

Sample

Orelia lay on her back on the narrow, rigid bench—the only piece of furniture in the tiny cell. The gravity controls here were separate from the rest of the Academy, and the force was so intense, she could hardly lift her arm to scratch her nose, let alone try to escape. Standing was out of the question, and even sitting proved too arduous for more than a few minutes at a time. She could almost feel her heart struggling to pump blood through her heavy, immobile body.

No one had spoken a word to her since yesterday, when she’d been seized by the guards and dragged from Zafir’s office. She wasn’t even entirely sure what she’d been accused of. Had the Quatra Fleet realized she was a Specter? Or were they merely suspicious of her knowledge of the Specters’ spread spectrum, a fact Orelia had exploited to help her squadron mates destroy the ship headed for the Academy? If it was the former, then there was no doubt that Orelia’s labored breaths would be her last. She’d be tortured and interrogated by the fleet’s top intelligence officers, perhaps even by Zafir himself. Orelia shuddered as she imagined the face that’d once made her heart flutter gazing at her impassively as she writhed in pain.

She closed her eyes and forced her overtaxed lungs to take a few deep breaths as she fought against the panic expanding inside her like toxic gas. She’d spent her entire life training for this mission, and despite the immense danger, she’d succeeded. She’d managed to infiltrate the Quatra Fleet Academy, triangulate its top- secret location, and transmit the coordinates to her commanding officer on Sylvan. Because of Orelia, the Sylvans could finally launch the campaign they’d been planning for years—a crippling strike at the heart of the Quatra Federation’s military operations, the Quatra Fleet Academy. But at the last minute, Orelia had found herself unable to watch the Sylvans kill the first real friends she’d ever had, and she’d made the wrenching decision to sabotage the attack by telling her squadron mates to fry the Sylvan ship’s communication system by sending a directed pulse across multiple frequencies. The plan worked, but success had come at a devastating cost. Every Sylvan on the battlecraft had been killed, and the Quatrans had grown immediately suspicious about Orelia’s knowledge of Specter technology.

The door hissed open and Orelia flinched. Her head felt too heavy to move, forcing her to lie tense and still as the sound of footsteps moved toward her.

“Hello, Orelia,” a deep, familiar voice said. She managed to turn her head just enough to see Zafir and Admiral Haze standing in the doorway.

“Can you sit up, please?” Zafir pressed his link and the weight pinning Orelia to the bench vanished. She moved her fingers tentatively and flexed her feet a few times before she rolled onto her side and tried to push herself into a seated position. She’d been in the best physical condition of her life when she’d arrived at the Academy—a state she’d maintained through grueling daily training sessions—but the long hours she’d spent in the cell had weakened her muscles enough to make even this small act difficult.

She glanced at Zafir, who’d stepped into the cell and was now watching her with an inscrutable expression. Just a few days ago, it would’ve seemed like the most natural thing in the world for him to reach for her hand and help Orelia sit up. She could still feel the lingering traces of the warmth that had spread through her body the last time he’d touched her. But this time, Zafir’s arms remained at his sides as he watched Orelia struggle into a seated position with her back against the wall.

She knew she shouldn’t be surprised by his detachment; although they were about the same age, he was one of the most accomplished intelligence officers in the Quatra Fleet. Like Orelia, he’d been trained to maintain his professionalism in any situation, even if that meant interrogating the girl who’d kissed him in the ocean simulator. Unless—a new wave of fear crashed over her—unless he’d known her secret all along and feigned attraction to get close to her. Could he really have faked the look in his eyes that night? The tenderness and intensity with which he’d kissed her back?

“What’s going on? What am I doing here? There has to be some mistake…” It didn’t take much effort to make herself sound confused and terrified instead of guilty and terrified.

“You can skip the theatrics,” Admiral Haze said. “Tell us your name.”

“Orelia.”

“Your real name.”

“That is my real name.” It was true. There’d been no need to devise a fake name. To the best of their knowledge, the Quatrans had never even laid eyes on a so-called Specter, let alone compiled a database of known secret agents.

Admiral Haze glowered at Orelia, then gave a small nod toward Zafir. The nearly imperceptible gesture was enough to send an ominous shiver down Orelia’s spine as she wondered how many times they’d performed this routine: Haze stepping aside to let her counterintelligence expert and master interrogator do what he did best—extract information from unwilling participants.

“How did you know about the spread spectrum?” Zafir asked, his tone surprisingly light, as if they were back in his classroom instead of a high- security prison cell.

“I told you. It was a lucky guess.”

Next to him, Admiral Haze crossed her arms and glowered, but Zafir merely raised an eyebrow. “You have an impressively analytic mind, Orelia. I highly doubt you ever resort to lucky guesses.” He sounded more amused than accusatory, but that only made the situation feel even more chilling. It didn’t matter that her life was on the line; this was just a game for him. It’s all just a game.

“Right,” Orelia said. “We tried a number of options, but none of them worked. The spread spectrum was unlikely, but it was still worth trying.”

“We know you sent that encrypted transmission with the coordinates,” Admiral Haze said, ignoring Zafir’s subtle look of warning as she abandoned whatever plan they’d devised. “The security cameras caught you prowling through restricted areas. You were responsible for the attack. So either you’re spying for the Specters, or else—” She cut herself off with a frown, as if the second option were too disturbing to say aloud.

“Or else you are a Specter,” Zafir continued calmly.

Her years of training kicked in, allowing Orelia to keep her voice and breath steady despite her frantically thudding heart. “A Specter ?” she repeated with as much incredulity as she could muster.

“Enough,” Admiral Haze snapped. “We have sufficient evidence to lock you up on Chetire for the rest of your life. If you even make it that far. The Quatra Federation knows we captured a spy who put the entire solar system at risk, and we have the legal authority to extract information from you by any means necessary. If you refuse to tell us the truth, then Lieutenant Prateek will be forced to resort to less pleasant methods.”

Orelia looked at Zafir, desperately searching his face for a sign of sympathy, some indication that he’d do his best to protect her. But his expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

She’d been trained to resist interrogation. It’d been the most frightening, grueling portion of her intense preparations, but she’d learned to stay calm and withstand pain. This one will never crack , her gruff instructor had told General Greet while Orelia sat slumped in a nearby chair, struggling to breathe normally after being deprived of oxygen. She’d find out soon enough if he’d been right.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Admiral,” Zafir said, turning to Orelia. Instead of the sadistic gleam she’d always associated with interrogators, Zafir’s eyes seemed full of something akin to wonder. “You are a Specter.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said quickly. Under no circumstances was she to admit the truth. Better to die a terrible, violent death than endanger her people.

Zafir’s face hardened slightly as he reached into his jacket and produced a metal device Orelia didn’t recognize. “Fine. If you don’t feel like cooperating, there are other ways to discover the truth.”

Orelia took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steel herself for what was about to happen. Part of her had always known she’d be forced to withstand torture, but she’d never imagined that the first person she’d ever cared for would be the one to do it.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Zafir said with unsettling composure as he stepped up next to the bench. “Are you a Specter?”

“Of course not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zafir leaned toward her with the metal device and she twisted away, but he still managed to brush it against her arm. She felt a mild stinging sensation and braced for the agonizing shock of pain that was sure to follow, but to her confusion and relief, Zafir drew back. He held the tool in the air and squinted as he examined it, brow furrowing as he stared at a small screen Orelia hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t a torture device, she realized as her relief drained away. It was something far more dangerous.

“What does it say?” Admiral Haze asked.

“Her DNA matches the structure of the samples we collected from the Specter ship.” Orelia could tell it was taking considerable effort to keep his voice steady as he turned to her and said, “This is remarkable. You are a Specter. Though you certainly wouldn’t call yourself that, would you?”

Her brain raced to come up with a plausible explanation: The DNA scanner had malfunctioned or been contaminated. Yet the denials fizzled in her mouth as she took in the expression on Zafir’s face. He knew the truth, and for the first time since she’d left her home planet, the fact filled her with more relief than terror.

“No.” Orelia met his eyes. “I’m a Sylvan.” It was the first time she’d spoken the word aloud since arriving in the Quatra System.

“Sylvan,” Zafir repeated, frowning. “How many of you are at the Academy?”

“Just me,” Orelia said quickly.

“How many of you are there in the Quatra System?” The edge had returned to his voice, and all traces of wonder had disappeared from his penetrating gaze.

“Just me,” she repeated. “I’m the only one.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Admiral Haze said with a dismissive sniff. “Why would they send you on your own? It’d be a suicide mission. If you’re actually a Specter, then there must be more of you embedded throughout the Quatra System.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I’m the only one.”

Admiral Haze narrowed her eyes as she took a few steps toward Orelia. “What do the Specters want from us?”

Orelia stared at her, wondering if this was a trick. She glanced at Zafir for clarity, but the counterintelligence officer’s gaze had become searching and urgent. “We don’t want anything from you,” Orelia said. “We just want you to stop killing us.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have attacked us unprovoked,” Admiral Haze said drily.

They really don’t know , Orelia thought as her confusion turned to disbelief. During her first week at the Academy, she’d discovered that the cadets and instructors were under the false impression that the Sylvans , not the Quatrans, had attacked first. But she hadn’t realized just how far the lie had spread. Not even the highest- ranking officers in the Quatra Fleet seemed to know the truth.

“We didn’t,” Orelia said, careful to keep her voice firm without being accusatory. “Fifteen Tridian years ago, the Quatra Fleet sent a probe to collect soil samples from Sylvan. A few months later, three battlecraft arrived and dropped a bomb on our capital city.”

“That’s impossible,” Admiral Haze snapped. “No Quatran battlecraft has ever made it all the way to your home planet.”

“That’s what you’ve been told. But it’s a lie.”

“This is becoming ridiculous. Lieutenant Prateek, you have ten minutes to extract the truth from this girl, or else I’ll bring in someone who’ll get the job done. There’s an attendant that’s been programmed to interrogate enemies of the state. It has a one hundred percent success rate and even cleans up after itself, no matter how much blood it leaves on the floor.”

“Just wait a moment, Admiral,” Zafir said before turning back to Orelia. “What kind of soil samples? Do you know what the probe was looking for?”

“Fyron,” Orelia said, using the Quatran word for the mineral.

Zafir and Admiral Haze exchanged startled looks. “Are you sure?” Zafir asked.

“Yes. After the first bombing, it was clear that the Quatrans would be willing to kill every Sylvan on the planet to get to the fyron. That’s why we launched a retaliatory attempt.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “And that’s why I was sent to transmit the coordinates of the Academy.”

“That’s the most absurd story I’ve ever heard,” Haze said as she shifted her weight uneasily, glancing at Zafir out of the corner of her eye. “There’s no record of any such mission.”

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Orelia’s voice grew louder, her exhaustion momentarily pushed aside by desperation.

Haze gave Orelia a long, searching look that made her glad the admiral was Vesper’s mother and not hers. Then she jerked her head to the side to focus her penetrating gaze on Zafir instead. “Can we trust her?”

Zafir’s eyes traveled over Orelia, and for a moment, she felt some of her anxiety drain away as she thought about their kiss, when he had looked at her with an expression she’d never seen directed at her before. Like he’d glimpsed the real her, and it’d been enough to make him want to kiss her back.

Zafir would believe her. He’d understand that she’d done the best she could, given the terrible position she’d been put in.

When he spoke, his voice was so light, it took a moment for her to process the meaning of his words. He sounded almost amused when he said, “She’s the last person I’d ever trust.”

“Clarke… wake up. There’s something I want to show you.”

Bellamy’s breath tickled her ear, and with a sleepy smile, Clarke rolled onto her side. “I don’t have to get up yet,” she mumbled. “No patients.”

For the first time in weeks, the infirmary cabin was empty. The Squirrel Flu epidemic had passed. The girl with the broken leg had healed. And the boys who’d stupidly eaten the poisonous berries had both made a full recovery. There was no one she had to check on, no one depending on her. Finally, she could get a full night’s sleep.

“Clarke, come on. We need to go.”

“Go where?” she asked hoarsely.

“It’s a surprise.”

Clarke groaned. Bellamy’s “surprises” were a mixed bag. The hidden pond he’d shown her had been beautiful. The carnivorous earthworms thicker than her arm, slightly less so. “We’ll go later.”

“We have to go now, before everyone wakes up.” He tugged on the blanket, pulling it down a few inches, and kissed her shoulder. “Come on.”

She tried to wriggle away from him, but he wrapped his arm around her, kissing her neck before moving his mouth back to her ear. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

Clarke sat up and glared at Bellamy. “Sleeping Beauty fell asleep because she was dumb enough to prick her finger on a needle. I’m exhausted because I’ve been busy keeping people from dying.”

The smile fell from his face. “Okay. Go back to sleep. I’ll see you later.” There was no irritation in his voice, only disappointment.

Clarke sighed, then reached over and twirled her finger around a lock of his shaggy, uneven hair. She’d tried giving him a haircut earlier that week, but it hadn’t turned out very well. “See you at sunset?” It was their ritual to hike up the hill and watch dusk settle over the valley—often the only chance they had to be alone.

“Of course.” Bellamy bounded out of bed with his usual frenetic energy, pulled on the clothes he’d left in a messy heap on the floor, then bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Clarke had only just fallen back asleep when there was a loud pounding on the door. She hardly had time to sit up before Lila rushed in, holding a piece of bloodstained fabric against her forehead. “I hit my head on a stupid branch,” she said by way of greeting. “And now it won’t stop bleeding. Can you hurry up and do something? I’m wearing my favorite shirt.”

By the time Clarke had finished with Lila’s stitches—a process complicated by the girl’s constant refrain of “If I have a scar, I’m going to kill you”—the infirmary cabin was filled with people who needed Clarke’s help. It’d recently snowed for the first time, and the ice had proved a formidable new foe for the Colonists. Graham had sprained his ankle coming back from the stream. A few of the kids who’d gone out early to collect firewood showed signs of frostbite.

Clarke’s job was made extra difficult by the fact that all their water had frozen. “Don’t look at me,” Wells told her wearily. “Bellamy was supposed to heat it over the fire this morning. But I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Great. Maybe that was his surprise. Making my day as annoying as possible.”

When the sun started to set, Clarke was practically delirious with exhaustion and frozen to the core. The thought of a cold hike up the hill suddenly seemed a lot less appealing than warming herself by the huge, merrily crackling bonfire in the middle of the clearing. But she’d promised to meet Bellamy, so with a sigh, she wrapped herself in some extra layers and slipped away from the camp.

It hadn’t snowed for two days, but the forest floor was still blanketed in white. After a few minutes, Clarke had walked far enough that there were no more footprints. Just a carpet of snow under a canopy of ice-covered branches glinting in the soft evening light.

As Clarke headed up the hill, the trees thinned and the wind increased. She shut her eyes as a gust of icy air rushed over her, stinging every inch of exposed skin. By the time she reached the top, her eyes were watering so badly she could barely see. Well, this was a smart move, Clarke thought as she jumped up and down in place, trying to stay warm. The sky was so full of purple-gray clouds that there wouldn’t even be much of a sunset to watch.

A few minutes passed and the sky darkened while the temperature dropped. Where is he? Clarke turned from side to side, but there was no sign of Bellamy. If I get hypothermia, I’m going to kill him, she thought. Though, since no one else in the camp knew how to treat hypothermia, she’d likely die before she had the chance to kill him.

“Clarke!” a voice called, so faint that it might’ve been the wind. A few moments later, Bellamy bounded up next to her. “Hey, I’m so, so sorry.” He was shivering so badly his teeth were chattering, and his hair was covered with frost.

“Where were you? What happened?” Clarke rubbed her hands up and down his arms, trying to increase his circulation.

“That thing I wanted to show you. Since you wouldn’t come with me, I brought it back for you.” She realized he was holding a misshapen, rusty metal container with something in it: a mound of dirt with a spindly twig sticking out of it.

“Wow… thank you?” she said. The wind had died down, so now she was just really cold, not on the verge of freezing, but still had no interest in lingering on the hilltop.

Bellamy sighed. At least, she thought he’d sighed. It was hard to tell when he was shaking so badly. “That’s why I wanted you to come with me. It doesn’t usually look like this, but it’s unpredictable.”

It hurt her cheeks to smile, but Clarke did it anyway. “I’m sorry I ruined your surprise.” Something wet and cold landed on her forehead. She looked up. It had started to snow again, large, soft flakes that fell gently, nothing like the stinging bits of ice that’d pelted them days earlier.

“It’s okay. It’s good you stayed behind. I got lost on the way back,” Bellamy said sheepishly.

“Lost? Bellamy Blake, hunter extraordinaire, wild man of the forest, got lost?”

“Everything looks different in the snow!”

Clarke looked around. The barren, icy landscape that’d seemed so harsh and dreary on her walk up was now suffused with moonlight and softened by the falling snow. “I think it makes everything more beautiful.”

Bellamy smiled and reached out to brush the flakes from Clarke’s hair. “It certainly makes one thing more beautiful.” He bent his head and kissed her. His lips were freezing, but that didn’t stop a tingling warmth from spreading through her. Still holding the container with one hand, Bellamy wrapped his other arm around Clarke, pulling her close. “Let’s get you back so you can warm up.”

“I’m not cold anymore,” Clarke whispered, then kissed him again, melting into him like she was snow and he was fire. His lips were chapped, but she barely noticed as she inhaled his familiar Bellamy scent: pine, campfire, and something vaguely spicy.

“Clarke, look,” he said, pulling away slightly.

She followed his gaze down to the plant. Now covered with a dusting of snow, the spindly twig no longer looked dead. Its shriveled leaves had expanded, and the bud at the top was slowly unfurling, revealing petals a color Clarke had never seen before. Redder than blood. Richer than the sunset. “It’s a rose,” she said, her voice full of awe. “I assumed they went extinct during the Cataclysm.”

Bellamy tilted his head to glance up at the sky, then looked down at the flower. “It only blooms in the snow. Must be some kind of mutation.”

Normally, such a comment would send Clarke’s thoughts racing as she listed the evolutionary advantages of such an unusual trait, but this time her mind st. . .