Page 52 of Sixth
Chapter 13
THE PLANEThung beneath them like a fractured jewel, black and silver veins pulsing with light. Emmy leaned forward against the cockpit rail, watching lightning crawl between the floating landmasses as Core whispered telemetry through the comm. The atmosphere was alive, crackling with magnetics that made her skin prickle and her teethache.
“Field harmonics destabilizing. Recommend manual descent.”
Apex’s hands slid over the controls. “Understood.”
His voice carried that clipped precision she was coming to know—calm, deliberate, terrifyingly steady. The ship dropped lower, slicing into clouds that flamed from within. Bolts of blue fire rolled along the hull before discharging into the air behindthem.
Lightning spidered across the canopy and, without warning, leapt inside in a single white lash that turned the cockpit to day.The world snapped and Emmy flinched. Heat slammed her skin, then a body did. Apex’s arm came across her chest, the other braced to the bulkhead as the surge ripped through the ship. The Valenmark blazed, pain-bright, then steadied to his heartbeat. Ozone filled the cabin, sharp and metallic, and the strike poured itself through him like water finding ground.
The strike had left its scent everywhere: heat still radiating from the console where Apex’s forearm had absorbed most of the energy. Emmy’s heart had not slowed. It kept stuttering in that rhythm that matched his. She couldn’t stop watching the place where his hand had landed across her chest, aprint like a brand through the thin fabric of her shirt. He moved with his usual concentration, checking systems, but the edge of his jaw was tight. He’d taken more of that blast than he admitted.
When the next turbulence hit, he gripped the control yoke and the muscles in his shoulders bunched. She reached over and set her palm lightly on his arm. “Are you okay?”
“I am functional.”
“Functional isn’t the same as fine.”
He turned to her. “You are unharmed. That is sufficient.”
It wasn’t an answer, but it was all he was going to give. The next flash came from beneath them, not above. Lightning surged upward from the canyon floor, acolumn of blue fire that turned the cockpit into a cage of shadows.
Apex threw the ship sideways, and gravity peeled her out of her seat. She hit the safety web and would have slammed into the bulkhead if he hadn’t caught her again—both hands this time, one at her shoulder, the other locking at the small of her back. The harness bit into her ribs, their bodies fused for an instant of weightlessness before the ship righted itself.
Her face was a breath from his. She could smell the faint scorch on his collar, the clean heat of his skin underneath. The next heartbeat was his, hammering through her. The air felt thinner than it should.
He released her slowly, fingers sliding away with exquisite self-possession. “Secure yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, voice rough, and turned back to her console to hide the flush climbing her throat.
“Stay with me,” he said, voice level. He didn’t pull away until the light bled out of the air and Core’s diagnostics chimed green.
“Primary systems stable. Surface arcing only. Hull plating at ninety-two percent.”
Emmy turned her face into the curve of his shoulder for a breath she pretended was just to clear the smell. The heat of him stole the tremor from her hands. “I’m with you.”
His gaze flicked over her mouth, then the pulse at her throat, asingle, searing pass that left her skin prickling. He eased back by inches, precise as a knife sliding home, and set the ship into a hard bank that dropped them below the worst of the chargedsky.
Emmy tightened the harness across her chest. “Tell me again how this isn’t suicide.”
He didn’t answer. He never did when she was joking to hide fear. The Valenmark on her wrist pulsed, echoing his focus, syncing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
The connection filled her with the scent of his skin—clean metal and storm—and the faint warmth that always bled through the bond when he concentrated. It steadied her even as it scared her. When the ship hit the first magnetic shear,her breath caught. He absorbed it like he absorbed everything. Through sheerwill.
Below, the storm broke open to reveal a canyon glowing with pale light. The valley floor wasn’t solid but a lattice of metal, half-buried in glass. Emmy caught the shimmer of containment spires jutting from the cracks. “There,” she said softly. “That’s not natural.”
Apex adjusted their angle, bringing the ship down behind a jagged ridge. Dust and charged particles rained over the viewport. When the thrusters cycled down, the silence pressed in hard. He turned toward her, light from the controls reflected in his eyes—violet fire, quiet and sure. She wanted to say something, anything to pierce that silence, but his gaze stole the words fromher.
She unbuckled fast, every muscle tight. “Core, atmospheric toxins?”
“Minimal. Radiation index within human tolerance. However, electrostatic potential exceeds safe parameters.”
“So basically, don’t touch anything shiny,” she muttered.
“Correct.”
Apex opened the hatch. Wind whipped inside, metallic and sharp. The light here was strange—cold, refracted, humming faintly like a living thing. Lume hovered just above Emmy’s shoulder, her tiny body dimmed to a soft violet glow. The little creature’s wings trembled. “You feel it too, huh?” Emmy whispered.
