Page 30 of Exiles on Earth
But all that was before.
“And… what of after?” Gara asks. “Once we’ve repaired their barn, what do we do then?”
They all stare at me, waiting for answers.
“I don’t know,” I tell them honestly. “I never imagined we’d be exiled, let alone on a planet with sentient life.”
I want to tell them I have it handled. I want to convince them they can rely on me again, but there’s no belying the nervous churning of my stomach. El-len’s giving us a chance, but the slightest misstep could shatter the fragile thread of tolerance.
My hands fall into my lap. “I think we should rest now. El-len allowed me to ask questions; hopefully that extends to you, but refer anything you want to me. I’ll handle it.”
I cannot fail again. El-len’s giving me a chance—fragile, fleeting, but a chance nonetheless. I have to make it enough. For her, for my crew, for the responsibility that weighs on me like the rain-soaked air. Protect. Lead. Prove myself worthy.
If I fail here, I don’t just fail her—I fail everyone.
TEN
ILIA
“Ilia?”Arture shakes me awake from dreams of finding out what’s under El-len’s coverings. Shimmering scales melt into luscious skin, soft and silky to the touch. Except just as I’m about to give her pleasure, the barn collapses around us, trapping her under the rubble. I use my extra strength to toss blocks aside, but she’s nowhere to be found.
I failed again.
I roll to my feet immediately, casting about. “Is El-len safe? Gara still well? Dom? What about Arik and Nevare?”
The house lights are on and my crew are all here. Seeing them makes my muscles relax. Gara looks better, his leg less swollen as the nanites do their work; Dom, Arik and Nevare lie close, Dom on the edge with his back blocking the worst of the wind from his wave brothers. Pink taints the horizon, the system star coming into view.
“I asked to be woken at the second watch,” I point out to the pilot. His motives may have been pure, to allow me to rest and heal, but he disobeyed a direct order.
“It is the second watch,” he reassures me. “The nights are short here. There was no movement anywhere around thislocation apart from wildlife.” He sighs. “And no break in the weather, so no stars.”
My hearts twist for him, but all we can do is hope. Standing, I gesture to where I had been sleeping. “Get some rest, Arture.” He looks about to argue with me, so I thread command into my voice. It sharpens to be as cutting as Dom’s correctional whip. “Rest now.”
Arture slides into the warm space and closes his eyes, but the trembling along his body gives him away. He’ll break soon if I can’t get him data to triangulate our position in relation to Oloria.
I flex my arms and legs, loosening my muscles. A dull ache twangs in my shoulders, a discomfort I associate with growth and improvement. Leaving my crew to recuperate, I exit the lean-to.
The homestead is a long building of stone connected by a shared wall to the barn we destroyed. This area has seen many years of use, perhaps some kind of primary production facility. Pure, quiet air envelopes the house, set at the foot of rising hills which surround it securely. The setting could be relaxing, but my muscles tense as I walk toward the remains of the barn.
Shattered splinters of beams alongside cracked blocks tear at my hearts. The smell of charred timber rises, sharp and bitter. I caused this, I made trouble for El-len and my crew, but I will not fail anyone again.
I step forward, the squelch of mud loud in the oppressive quiet, and kneel to lift a splintered beam from the rubble. It groans in protest as I raise it, my muscles straining under the weight, but it is nothing compared to the burden in my hearts. I set the wood aside and move to the next, not stopping, not speaking, until I’ve cleared a small path through the wreckage.
El-len is rightfully upset at the damage we caused by landing in her life. Pulling out my diagnostic hand tool, I scan the walls, reading the data flickering across the tiny screen.Slowly, my shoulders unwind. A lot of the barn has retained its structural integrity, and the rest should be easy to reproduce if we have the right technology to assist on the shuttle. I let out a low breath. No new materials or strange composites here, just sturdy structures meant to last a long time.
As the system star rises, something green catches my attention, poking between the stones on the ground. My hearts leap—a species of plant I haven’t seen before. Setting aside my tool, I crouch down to investigate. The green blades are long, a rich, iridescent green, almost as bright as a Selthiastock. Strong stalks as purple as my scales run through each slender stalk. I drop to my knees, fingers trembling as I brush them gently, marveling at how soft yet sturdy they feel. The seed heads at the top fan out, compact but with tiny feathery filaments that catch the light like threads of spun glass. I pluck a single blade and hold it up to the yellow-orange star, turning it over, studying its structure, the way the light filters through the veins. It’s a great treasure, and the possibilities rush through my mind: its uses, its adaptations, the conditions it could thrive in. My pulse quickens at how much there could be to learn.
“Good morning.”
The words startle me. I rocket to my feet, spinning around to face El-len. She and the female with darker hair called Nic-coal stand in the cold light of the morning, the starhound El-len called Floss next to her. Floss’ tail waves back and forth slowly. El-len’s eyes are red but her gaze holds mine steadily.
I go down onto one knee, bowing my head, and pointing to the diagnostic tool. “I’m gathering data so my crew and I can begin to plan the restoration work.”
El-len glances at my hands and the plant sample crushed in my palm. My stomach drops. “Have I touched something I shouldn’t?”
“N… No, not exactly. Good morning, and please get up, you don’t have to kneel all the time.”
The flush on her face has an unknown meaning, but it makes my chest warm. What does that color symbolize? There’s no anger in her expression, only a guarded weariness that makes the guilt in my chest twist harder.
