Page 41 of Lorran
She could feel the smoke stinging her eyes, even though she knew the suit was airtight and nothing could get in. Her throat tickled, wanting to cough. Every part of her screamed this was wrong, that she needed to run out of the smoke, but Lorran kept a steady pace. As long as her alien wasn’t panicking, she was fine.
Then the power went off.
Her feet clamped down on the floor as the suit’s magnetic grip activated. Moving became ten times harder. In her panic, she forgot the trick of rolling onto her toes and tried to lift her foot straight off the floor.
No joy.
Her tiny little Terran legs couldn’t keep up. She watched helplessly as Lorran disappeared into the darkness.
She was stuck in a cloud of smoke, positive she could feel it choking her, smothering the life out of her, burning her lungs, and there was nothing she could do. She lasted two days in space. Two fucking days. The injustice of that slight seemed the greatest insult of all, because Wyn knew she would be awesome in space if the haunted ghost ship hadn’t been hungry for more victims.
She fumbled for the flashlight with her free hand. The beam illuminated the smoke, further blinding her.
Alone and lost.
“Wyn,” Lorran’s voice called over the comm link. He only said her name, but it brought her back from the edge of panic. She was not alone. She was not lost.
“Your heart rate is elevated, and shallow breathing indicates distress,” he said, even though he couldn’t possibly hear all that.
“The suit’s AI sent an alert to the team,” he said, as if he knew her thoughts. “Are you injured?” Lorran trotted up to her, his figure emerging from the smoke.
“I’m sorry. I can’t—” Her chest tightened.
“Do you require a medic?”
“No. My boots—” Speaking felt impossible. If she had her inhaler, she’d take a dose, even though this wasn’t an asthma attack.
A ceiling panel crashed behind her. She jumped at the noise, turning around and expecting to find a wall of flames.
Nothing but smoke. Her eyes watered.
She had enough air.I’m not choking, she told herself. There was nothing but her own anxiety making her chest tighten.
“All is well,” he said. A hand on her shoulder snagged her attention away from the ship’s imminent destruction. “I need you to breathe, Wyn.”
His chest heaved with an exaggerated breath, and Wyn mimicked his movement. In. Out. Repeat. The pressure in her chest eased.
“Good. I have you. I will not leave you,” he said.
“I believe you.” She didn’t know why. Lorran had made all sorts of jokes and humble brags, and she wasn’t certain he tookanythingseriously, but this rang true. He would not leave her.
“Forgive me for what I am about to do. I respect your autonomy and consent, but we have no time. The ship is unstable.” Before she could reply, he scooped her up in his arms and took off at a run.
Wyn yelped in surprise and bounced with each step. She wasn’t a small woman. Made for the homestead, her grandmother always said. The women in her family had a sturdy, broad build meant for hard work, for farming. She would never be described as delicate, even if she lost the love handles. Yet Lorran lifted her up like she weighed nothing. She knew the Mahdfel were strong, but all those muscles hadn’t seemed real until she felt Lorran’s arms flex around her.
She turned her face toward his chest and closed her eyes. She’d enjoy this more if the ship didn’t creak and groan so ominously. Hopefully, the bouncing would end soon. Impossibly, she still clutched the flashlight and the map.
A booming sound rolled through the ship and Lorran stumbled as the floor shook. His arms tightened around her, but he did not drop her.
“That did not sound good,” she squeaked.
“An oxygen conversion tank blew. Do not be alarmed. They functioned as intended.”
“Exploding and operating as intended, sure.” She didn’t believe it.
At the ladder, he lifted her halfway up, and she climbed the rest of the way. The other man, Mylomon, reached down and pulled her up the rest of the way.
The smoke was not as dense on the upper level. The flashlight’s beam faltered, fading before blinking out entirely. In the darkness, she had no idea which way to go.
