Page 54 of Shadows of Stardust

I close my eyes, drawing on memories of the dozens of schematics I’ve studied.

All the while, the rain is unrelenting, soaking all the way through my clothes and making a slippery mess of the control panel.

But after all that study, I know this tech like the back of my hand. My fingers falter, but don’t fail as they connect the two circuits controlling the ignition mechanism, and the hover rumbles to life.

Step two, complete.

All that’s left is to climb on and head north from the beach, into the deeper, undeveloped wilderness and toward the only permanently inhabited settlement on Eritin II. I have no idea what I’ll find there, but I’m so close to knowing whether my sister is here, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks for the storm’s assistance in covering the hover’s sound as I climb on.

But the rain also muffles any other ambient sound on the landing strip, and that’s my undoing.

I don’t hear the heavy booted footsteps approaching. I don’t hear the rustle of clothing or what might have been panted breath from how far and how fast he must have had to run to get here and intercept me.

I don’t hear anything but the roll of thunder and the pounding rain as two muscular arms close around me, yanking me off my feet and tossing me over a hard, plated shoulder.

14

Zandrel

Roslyn stops fighting me as soon as we’re back inside the fence.

Her body goes limp on my shoulder, her fists and legs cease their pounding and kicking, and I’d almost be grateful for it if I were capable of such an emotion right now.

The storm unleashing its fury above is the very last of my worries as I give the comms band on my wrist another quick swipe, ensuring we’re unobserved as I lock the hidden perimeter entrance behind us and start the long trudge back to the bungalow.

We go the entire way without exchanging a word.

Oh, she certainly threw a few choice curses and insults my way when I caught her stealing one of production’s vehicles to do fates know what in the middle of the Eritin wilderness. But whether she tired of the sound of her own voice, or realized I wasn’t going to say a damn word to her until we made it somewhere private, she quieted down pretty quickly.

Rain still falls in heavy, pelting sheets as we reach the bungalow, and we’re both soaked through as I step us inside, set Roslyn down, and quickly re-arm the security system and the programming I’ve set that’s kept our movements undetected.

Then I turn to face her.

She didn’t retreat immediately into her room like I might have expected, and we both drip puddles onto the floor as we stand in silence that stretches for five seconds, ten, longer.

If her glare had the power to injure, I’d certainly be lying dead in that puddle. As it stands, all I can do is accept her ire and try to quell my racing thoughts, try to swallow back my anger over what her reckless stunt could have cost us both.

I need to keep a handle on myself, need to rein in that anger, need to stay focused on all the reasons it’s better to play this calm, collected. I need to make Roslyn see reason rather than fly off the handle and force her to retreat even further behind those walls of hers.

But it’s a losing battle.

Thank fates Brivik’s little errand was more an annoyance than anything, quickly dealt with and forgotten. Another minute, and I might have missed her. I would have been forced to steal my own hover and hunt her down in the Eritin wilderness.

I shudder to think of it.

It’s not a particularly dangerous planet, but there would have been no explaining away a mad dash into restricted territory without adequate time to prepare and cover our tracks. Our ruse would have certainly been blown, the game would have been up, with both of us worse off and further from our goals.

“Enough of this,” I say through my teeth, right at the edge of my patience. “This is the last time you try to run.”

Roslyn seethes. It’s a wonder the rainwater covering her skin and clothing doesn’t steam with the white-hot force of her anger.

“You could have stayed out of it. You could have just let me go.”

I scoff. “And what? Face the consequences here all by myself? Give up on getting my life back because you refuse to see the opportunity you have here?”

It’s her turn to scoff—a rough, inelegant sound that conveys the depth of her disgust, her frustration, her hatred of me.

“Opportunity? You’ve got to be kidding me.”