I'm so relieved he's talking that I struggle to blink back tears. "I'm fine. Are you?"
He shifts beside me and inhales sharply.
"What's wrong?"
"My right leg," he barely manages. "I think it's broken."
Swallowing down my panic, I quickly run my hands along his thigh and down to his lower leg, stopping when I feel the strange angle that I recognize shouldn't be there.
Carefully, I roll up his pants to expose his calf. He hisses in pain as my fingers trace lightly along the injury. "We'll have to set it with something."
"There's a bone mending device in the emergency bag."
His body shifts, and his breathing quickens as he struggles to sit up. "The med kit," he bites out, "should be in that compartment."
Confused, I blink several times as if that will somehow help me see in the dark.
"Can you not see?" An edge of panic bleeds into his tone.
A rush of air moves back and forth across my face, and I can only surmise that he's waving a hand in front of me to test my vision.
"Not in the dark like this."
He cups my chin and tips my head up slightly as if studying me, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind my ear with his other hand. “This is...normal for your species? This night blindness?"
I shrug. "That's a strange way to put it. But...yes."
"I knew you did not like the dark, but I didn't know you were unable to see in it.”
"How well can Mosaurans see in the dark?"
"Almost as well as we can in the daylight."
Okay, so that would be a really helpful genetic trait to have right now. "Are there any emergency lights in the pod that I could use?" I ask, hopeful.
"No."
That makes sense. Why would a species that can see in the dark need flashlights? Great...just great.
A muffled grunt followed by a sharp hiss of pain tells me he's trying to get up again. "I think I can retrieve the med bag.”
I stand. "No. Just direct me. Be my eyes. I'm not useless, Soran."
With a loud thud, he settles back on the metal floor. "All right,” he reluctantly agrees. “Just keep walking straight. Three steps."
I nod and do as he says. "Now what?"
"Turn right and reach up."
I turn and reach up along the smooth wall until I feel an indentation. "Here?"
"Lift and pull on the handle," he instructs.
Standing on the tips of my toes, I brace one hand on the wall for leverage. I struggle to lift up before the small door finally swings out. I sweep my hand inside and bump against something immediately. My fingers brush against course fabric. I grasp it tightly. "Is this it?"
"Yes."
Cautiously, I slide the bag out and hold it to my chest as I retrace my steps back to Soran. He takes it from me. A rustling sound fills the cabin as he searches for the bone mending device.
I'm thankful we're alive, but angry at myself. Of all the things I learned about the glider, I should have familiarized myself with the emergency med kits. Any pilot worth their wings knows how important it is to be prepared. I can't believe I didn't think of this. And now, my ignorance could mean the difference between life and death out here. Wherever "here" is.
"Here it is," he says.
I nod even though I can't see what he's talking about and reach out my hand to take it from him. "You'll have to tell me what to do.”
"I must wrap this around my leg," he explains as if I can actually see what he's doing. "It will inject a sedative before it starts to work. I should only be—” He stops. A short puff of air escapes his nostrils the way it does when he catches himself just before saying something he thinks will upset me.
"You should only be what?" I ask, encouraging him to continue.
"I'll be unconscious while it works because of the pain medication. Hopefully, it won't be more than a few hours." His warm hand gently takes mine as I stare unseeing into the darkness. "Please stay in the cabin until I'm awake again. It is completely dark out there. We're safe in here. We do not know what may be outside."
Fear skitters up my spine at the realization that he can see out the viewscreen of the pod, and it's so dark outside that it's pitch-black. What if we've landed on a planet of perpetual night? I struggle to push down the painful memories that surface and float to the front of my mind, of my time spent in the cages; kept in the total darkness.
Clenching my jaw, I shake my head to clear my thoughts. Soran needs me; I have to focus. "Okay," I reply, trying to keep my voice even despite my fear. Up to this point, I'd been so focused on him I hadn't even considered the possible dangers outside. But now that I have...my mind is imagining all sorts of horrors.
After a few moments that consist of him hissing and grunting in pain, followed by a few words that my translator doesn't quite pick up because I'm fairly certain they're Mosauran curse words, he takes my hand in his own and places it atop something cold and smooth like glass.
"Press here to activate the mender when I tell you, all right?"
"Okay."
Even with the chill in the cabin, a bead of sweat trickles down my spine as I wait for his signal.
"Liana?"
"Yes?"
"I'm going to kiss you."
Despite all my anxieties, a short puff of air escapes me as a small smile curves my mouth. His warm hand cups my cheek. He presses his lips to mine in a tender kiss. He pulls back just enough to skim his nose alongside mine as he whispers, "You are my heart."
"And you are mine," I reply softly.
He draws in a deep breath. "Now."
Pressing firmly against the glasslike surface, it vibrates softly as it turns on, filling the cabin with a low hum. Soran's body slumps beneath me, and I swallow down my panic.
"Soran?"
He doesn't answer, and my waiting begins.
Chapter 27
Liana
While he sleeps, I search the cabin, attempting to make a mental map of the space to familiarize myself with everything. In the same cabinet as the medical bag, I find a blanket and drag it back to Soran, covering him as the air inside the pod grows colder. If it's cool in here, I can only imagine how cold it must be outside.
An image of a winter wonderland fills my mind, but I quickly dismiss it. The nav computer picked this place because it was habitable. So, it can't be all that bad out there, right?
Okay. One thing at a time, Liana. A wistful smile tugs at the corner of my lips as I remember my father's words when he was teaching me how to fly. Tears sting my eyes, and I quickly blink them back. I'm not going to cry. Swallowing against the lump forming in my throat, I inhale deeply and breathe out through pursed lips to center myself as I mentally run through my checklist.
Every good pilot has a checklist for any number of situations. Whether it's for preflight, landing, course adjustment, or in this case, a crashed landing. My first priority is to make sure the transmitter is working. It’s comforting to know that even an alien ship has one of these. Nobody wants to be stranded without any means of transmitting a distress signal for rescue.
Since I have no way of determining who might respond to our beacon, I'll have to wait to activate the transmitter until after Soran wakes up. We'll need to place it somewhere far enough away from the pod that nobody can find us without our knowing it, and yet close enough that we can see who responds before we approach them.
Because we don't know what's outside, and our vessel is intact, this will make a better shelter than anything we could construct ourselves. Once the transmitter is activated, hopefully it won't be too long until a nearby "friendly" ship detects us. I'd make an inventory of our supplies, but I still can't see anything. My blaster is tucked in my belt, and I run my hand over it for reassurance. If anything tries to get in here, I'll at least be prepared for that.
All that's left is to wait for Soran to wake up. I'm tired, and there's nothing else I can really do at this point. I lift the edge of the blanket and lie down beside him. He's so warm, it'
s not long before I succumb to the urge to nestle against his side, draping my arm across his chest. Resting my head on his shoulder, I listen to the even sound of his breathing. His exotic scent clings to his clothes. A pleasant yet masculine mixture of spice—I love how he smells. I smile to myself as I wonder if all his people have this scent or if it's specific to my big, strong Mosauran warrior. If I have to be stuck on a strange, alien planet, I'm glad, at least, it's with him.
As I lay here, my mind drifts to Tr'lani, Rowan, Grex, and Abby. I hope they're okay, wherever they are. Their pods left several minutes before mine and Soran's. Maybe they got picked up by a ship, and they're looking for us even now. The thought fills me with hope as I struggle to stay awake.
After what feels like an eternity, I finally close my eyes and allow myself to drift off. I'm sure Soran will wake me when he's up.
Chapter 28
Liana
My eyelids flutter open as a twinge of urgency in my lower abdomen startles me awake. Blinking several times, it takes my vision a moment to adjust to the low light coming in through the viewscreen. Soran's outline is just barely visible with his face turned to me.
I reach across and lightly touch his cheek. "Soran?" I whisper, but he doesn't stir.
The ambient hum of the bone mending device reminds me the machine is still working. The break must have been worse than he let on because, surely, it's been more than a few hours at this point.
I roll to the side, and the urgent discomfort of my body demanding that I relieve myself reminds me why I'm awake. Now that there's some light in the cabin, my eyes drift to the lever of the hatch door. Feeling again for the blaster at my belt, I stand and quietly pad across the floor.
Taking a deep breath, I activate the release mechanism. The metal groans loudly as I push the door open. I shiver against the sting of cold that assaults my skin as the outside air rushes into the cabin. Poking my head out, goosebumps pebble my flesh as I take in the winter wonderland that surrounds us.
A dark gray and overcast sky looms overhead as a sharp wind howls around the pod, carrying small flurries of snow that dance wildly in the current. The ground is covered in a thick blanket of white. The cold air burns my lungs with each inhalation. Why couldn't we have landed on a tropical island instead? That would have been nice.
We've landed in the middle of a clearing surrounded by a heavily wooded area. Turning to look at the downed line of trees near the edge, I recognize the path of our descent. We're lucky to have survived this crash at all. Thankfully, our pod was able to land in one piece.
A sea of trees surrounds us. Towering up toward the clouds, they remind me of the extinct, majestic sequoias of Terra. Covered in red pine needle leaves, the trunks are varying shades of gray. They're so thick, the only thing I can really see beyond them are large imposing snow-covered mountains in the distance.
I went to Alaska once with my dad. We flew up there just after I qualified for my pilot's license. It was a celebratory flight; I'd always wanted to see the wild and untamed nature that everyone always raved about when they spoke of that part of the world. I remember how beautiful everything was. It was amazing, but terrifying as well.
Any pilot can tell you that there is no room for error when flying through those mountains. Even one mistake can be catastrophic—the sharp edge that exists between life and death. That knowledge alone lent a breath of thrill and adventure to the trip. To be in the midst of nature at its most raw...to recognize and accept that there are forces much stronger than anything created by Terrans was both a humbling and exhilarating experience.
This place reminds me of that. We can survive here, but it is not going to be easy.
I scan the terrain for any hidden dangers, including wildlife. I don't see any alien animals nearby, so I cautiously step out of the pod and gently close the door behind me. I don't want to risk anything going in to find Soran while he's asleep.
After finding a nice spot just a few meters from the door and away from the pod's viewscreen, I quickly relieve myself and then go about studying our surroundings. A glowing pair of yellow eyes catch my attention, and I freeze. My heart begins to thunder as the menacing gaze holds mine a beat before disappearing back into the forest. Whatever that was, it had the eyes of a predator. I can only hope it was just curious about us and has decided to move on.
Turning, I look again at the several downed trees from our crash. From the scattered and splintered wood, I could probably build a fire, but I worry that would only draw unwanted attention. I can't risk it while Soran's still so vulnerable.
When I go back to the ship to open the hatch, I'm struck by how close the door is to the ground now. I'm certain it wasn't like this before. In fact, I remember practically having to climb out, and now I can easily just step inside.
Kicking aside a patch of loose snow next to the hull, my mouth falls open when I notice a fine web of fissures splintering across a layer of ice beneath my feet.
My heart stops. We've landed on an iced-over lake.
That explains the clearing.
Cautiously, I open the door, and a series of sharp cracks slice through the howling wind; the hatch lever drops another couple of centimeters as the pod sinks farther into the icy water below.
Fear coils tight in my chest. I have to get Soran out. Now! I can't wait for him to wake up.
I rush back inside, crying out his name. "Soran! Soran, wake up!"
He doesn't move, and he doesn't respond. The bone mending machine continues to hum, and I curse under my breath. I drop to my knees behind him and bend down to wrap my arms up under his shoulders. Standing, I lift and pull with all my might, barely managing to move him a few centimeters if even that.
Frantic, my breath comes in short, clipped pants as panic threatens to overwhelm me.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing...just like my father taught me. "One step at a time, Liana," his voice echoes in my mind. I can do this. I just have to focus.
Opening my eyes, I scan the room for something, anything that might help me to move him. My gaze falls on the blanket covering his body. Kneeling next to his sleeping form, I pull off the blanket and roll it, laying it along the length of the opposite side of him. Placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, I groan in frustration as I try to maneuver him onto his side, but he's too heavy. Working quickly, I shove as much of the material under his body as I can. I move to his other side and barely manage to pull it underneath him the rest of the way until his entire form is on top of the blanket.
Moving to his head, I gather the top corners of the fabric in each hand and stand, pulling him across the floor. He's still heavy, but this makes it so much easier to move him, and he practically glides over the smooth metal until we reach the hatch. Now, I just have to figure out how to get him up over the step.
Straddling his abdomen, I curl my arms up under his shoulders, lifting him into a sitting position. I brace the med bag behind his back to keep him upright as I move back behind him. Grabbing his arms again, I step outside the ship and pull. Every muscle screams in protest, but I somehow manage to drag him through the opening. Once his upper body is on the ground, I grab the blanket again to pull him the rest of the way out. It's much harder to slide him over the ice and snow, but at least it's doable. I drag him far enough away from the pod that I don't have to worry about him sinking with it if it goes down.
I scan the forest, checking for any other watching eyes before darting back into the ship and quickly throwing out all the supplies. A low groan echoes along the hull as the ice shifts around the vessel.
Searching for anything else of value, a green blinking light on the display reminds me I haven't detached the transmitter. Without that, no one will ever find us.
I grip the control panel firmly to pry it off, but it won't budge. Clawing at the casing, I dig my nails into the seal and grit my teeth as I force it open. It peels back just enough that I can reach my hand in while holdi
ng the warped metal open with the other.
The pod drops suddenly, and I lose my grip, trapping my hand in the casing. A pained cry escapes my lips as sharp metal slices the top of my forearm just above my wrist. Icy water slowly pours in through the open hatch.
Despite my anxiety, I push down my fear. My father warned me that people die when they allow panic to overwhelm them. It clouds their thoughts so much they can't concentrate on doing the things they need to ensure their survival. One thing at a time, Liana. One thing at a time.
I reach inside the panel and grip the transmitter, forcing it loose from the connectors. Grasping the metal casing with my other hand, I hold it open as much as I can while I wrap my fingers around the device firmly. I've got to do this, no matter how bad it hurts. I have to pull it free, or else we'll never get off this frozen rock.
More water rushes into the pod, so cold it's like a million tiny needles stinging my skin, numbing my legs from my calves to my feet. Panting heavily, I steel myself and begin to count.
One. Two. Three.
Jerking my arm, I rip the transmitter from the casing and scream as the warped metal slices my skin. Blood pours from my wound and drips into the water below. The freezing air offers a temporary reprieve from the pain as I hold tightly to my hard-earned prize. I look down at the ice water filling the pod. My legs feel heavy and numb, but I push myself to move.
Sloshing through the cabin to the open hatch, I slide the transmitter toward Soran. If I don't get far enough away from the pod before it sinks, at least he'll have it when he wakes up. Water pours inside the vessel as I grip the edge of the ice and pull myself up and over until I'm free of the opening.
Frozen and shaking, each inhalation of cold air stabs at my chest as it fills my lungs. I dig my nails into the ice and drag myself forward. The urge to curl into a ball and allow darkness to take me is so tempting, but the memory of predatory yellow eyes flash through my mind, and I force myself to keep going. I have to protect Soran. He's still unconscious, and he'd be easy prey for whatever is lurking in the forest.
The Edge of it All Page 19