Page 26 of Full Speed to a Crash Landing

Rian cuts through. “One at a time.”

“Yadav, you go,” Magnusson says. He gestures for me to start climbing down out of the ship. We go slowly aroundthe ragged metal, then reach the twisted steps we took to get up to this level.

“I said before—this job isn’t worth risking your life over,” Saraswati says. I can see her below, on the ground, her helmet tilted up to us. Worry leaks into her voice, cracklingthrough the communication channel.

“Actually, you said the job isn’t worthyourlife,” I say. “Mine, on the other hand?” I jump down out of the ship, landing on the slick obsidian rocks below, my boots skidding. I manage to remain upright, even as Saraswati rushes over to help me. At least Rian isn’t here to see that less-than-graceful descent. Magnusson takes his time climbing out of the rubble, and even though he doesn’t say anything, I can feel his aggravation at me radiating over comm.

“No one’s going to die,” Rian interrupts. “Switch channels.” There’s a slight hiss in my ear, and then it’s just Rian. “Hey, Ada.”

Oh, it’s Ada now, not Lamarr. And don’t think I missed that “mission” bit from before everyone got all squeamish about death—the other two are now searching for the second “item” they’ve been sent to find. Never waste a moment. Well, I can’t blame them. The nose of this ship is going to fall into the rift any minute—if they think something else they need is hidden in the rubble, best find it before the whole bridge flops into the lava river.

“Yadav is right,” Rian continues, “you don’t have to try for this.”

“So, you don’t think the box is worth it either?” I quip.

Rian’s silent for a beat too long. And in that space, I know: Hedoesthink this is life-or-death. “You don’t have to do it,” he says finally, which is not an answer to my question.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I say. “You guys are all extremely dramatic; has anyone told you that? It’s abox. I can handle a box.” I check my jetpack levels, analyzing how much thrust I’m going to need, inputting the variable heat radiance I’m expecting when I go down. “You don’t want to admit it, but this job is just scavenging. You’ve fancied it up, but it’s still looting.”

“And you’re good at looting.”

“The best,” I say. “When a ship like this crashes, there’s a lot to take. You have to train your eyes. Can’t take everything, not at once.”

“I heard you. One goal.”

“Full speed,” I add.

“That really doesn’t sound like good logic, and—”

I boot my jetpack on and shoot straight up.

“Okay, we’re doing this,” Rian mutters.

I adjust my helmet. Like I said, everything here’s custom-fitted to me and what I need. I may cheap out on some things butneveron my suit. Rian has some idea of this. He had to have been the one to scan my suit in the med-baylocker, downloading all the info and specs. But there’s a difference between knowing what an object can do and seeing it.

I swoop over the ridge, analyzing the heat differential. A jetpack that operates on land through hot air propulsion is going to fuck up over a lava river. That’s why jaxon fuel makes a difference here. Thermodynamics still apply, but the cold burn is more stable.

I came prepared.

Full speed,I think, shooting straight down toward the lava. Meters flick by in seconds. Twenty down, forty, sixty.

One goal, I think, veering close to the ridge side.

My targeting array is focused on the box, locked in with a constant stream of data scrolling through the left side of my vision, blocking out much of the lava stream. Thankfully. Don’t really want to be reminded of how if my jets fail, I burn alive. No suit I’ve ever seen can withstand a dip in a river like that.

I flex my fingers. My gloves are thincraft too but not thin enough. Not like real skin. That can’t be helped, though. Not only because there’s no oxygen on this planet, and taking the gloves off means breaching the suit; the thincraft material is doing what it can to protect me from the heat.

My eyes flick to the temperature gauge. The lava itself is more than a thousand degrees centigrade, but the box ismore than ten meters above the flow, putting thermal flux still in the danger zone. I have to be quick about this. I’m sweating, and it’s already distracting, not just because salt stings my eyes but because I can feel my whole body slick with it, too much for the inner liner to wick away, which means it’s getting into dangerous levels for both my body and the suit to operate properly.

But it’s soclose.

An insulated lockbox, teetering on the edge of a mini-cliff in the rift’s sheer side. I jet closer, closer.

Almost—

“Ada,” Rian starts.

“Shut up,” I grit out. I can’t afford any distraction. I don’t need a pep talk or a warning.

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