Her body had stopped trembling and her breathing had slowed. Hawk had his cheek pressed to hers, and he whispered soothes in Rocanese while combing his fingers through her hair.
The peace was disrupted by a stomach-wrenching drop in altitude. Tray screeched, his body slamming against Hawk’s, the impact rippling through Sky and Danny. Sky’s eyes bugged out and she bit back a scream.
“What’s going on?” Danny asked, burrowing his hands in front of Sky to push Hawk’s weight off her.
“We’re landing,” Tray said, clenching his jaw. It was a few more seconds before Oriana’s lights came into view. The cargo bay was so bright, Danny was squinting.
“Amanda, we’re on! Go! Go!” Tray shouted, pushing back the hatch of the cockpit and uncurling his body. There was a final thud of the landing gear touching down, and Tray lost balance, falling on Hawk again. “Hawk, let go of me!”
“I’m not holding you! Get off me!” Hawk said, shoving Tray and standing over the seat, easing the pressure off Danny and Sky.
“Saskia?” Tray asked, pausing on the ladder, offering her a hand.
“I’ll keep. Get us safe,” she said, her strength forced.
“Get me to the bridge,” Danny said, sliding forward, getting dizzy.
Hawk reached for Sky, sliding her body closer to the ladder. Her body curled, her knees coming to her chest.
“I’ll climb over,” Danny said, disentangling himself from her blanket.
“We can take two minutes and get her out,” Hawk carped, reaching for Sky again. “You can pass out now, bébé.”
“No, she can’t,” Danny said, putting himself between Sky and Hawk. The ship bucked and Danny fell onto Hawk’s shoulder. Hawk gave him a shove back into the ‘sled, falling backward off the ladder in the process.
“Tray, I think Amanda needs help!” Danny shouted, rolling on the seat, trying not to pass out.
“Hawk, come with me,” Tray ordered. “Danny?”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Danny panted, coughing hard. Rolling sideways, he checked on Sky. He touched her face tenderly, but she jerked away.
“Get me away from this place,” she begged.
The ship bucked again.
“I should get up there,” Danny said, summoning his strength. If Corey had been here, she could have flown them out. Amanda and Hawk were still learning the ship. Tray, for all his years on the ship, didn’t even know which button controlled the thrusters.
“Yeah,” Sky agreed.
“Saskia?” Danny asked, sitting up so he could see her.
“I can pass out now, right?” Saskia asked.
“Go for it,” Danny said.
The moment Saskia climbed out of the Bobsled, Sky knew she had to make a run for it. She heard Saskia’s boots hit the ground and then she crawled over the seat back into the Bobsled’s cockpit, gasping and panting, fighting for consciousness. She felt Oriana wobble as it lifted off the ground, and she prayed that the Drava didn’t have good tracking on their cannon from below the canopy. Spirit loomed and swirled, choking off her breath. She had to time it just right—open the cargo bay door, fly out, disappear.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Saskia shouted, her voice muffled by the hum of the Bobsled’s engine. She was on the ladder, forcing the ‘sled’s hatch to remain open by brute force.
“I have to go,” Sky insisted, pushing her away.
“You’ll die out there,” Saskia said, clamping her hand over Sky’s wrist.
“But you won’t,” Sky said, shuddering. Spirit was ready to give up on her. If she was that close to death, this was her chance to take Spirit with her.
“Infirmary. Now,” Saskia ordered, her image floating amidst the sparkles in Sky’s vision.
Sky’s jaw tightened. If Spirit jumped into Saskia, then all the effort Sky had put into dying alone would have been in vain. It would be better for Sky to nose-dive out of the airlock than pass on her curse. A peaceful death meant nothing if it was meaningless.
“I’m fine,” Sky insisted, her resolve wavering. This always happened when she faced death; Sky got selfish and she fought to live.
“You were stabbed,” Saskia pointed out.
“It’ll heal on its own,” Sky said, putting her hand to her belly. The more options Spirit had for leaving, the less energy it put into healing her. “No sense wasting resources.”
“The infirmary is stocked and I have nothing to do besides get you there,” Saskia said.
“I thought you were ready to pass.”
Saskia pulled her stunner and Sky stopped talking. Spirit raged and cackled at its victory. If Sky were rendered unconscious now, she didn’t know what would happen.
“I’m will gladly keel in exhaustion, as soon as I’m confident you won’t bleed out. How injured do you have to be before you’ll accept my help?” Saskia challenged.
It hurt to laugh, but Sky couldn’t help it. Sky had never met anyone with a method of arm-twisting so similar to her own. Turning off the ‘sled engine, she reached out for Saskia. Now that the adrenaline had faded, it was harder to move. She vaguely felt Saskia’s arm on hers as the world went spotted again. Spirit lost this round; Sky could still breathe.
37
Five hours later, Douglas paced the infirmary, wringing his hands, his eyes solely on Sky. He wanted to help her, but she refused to be waited on. He’d gotten her puzzle book and Virclutch from the cargo bay—why she’d chosen to camp below the stairs like a bridge troll was beyond him—and despite his protests she was sitting up reading. She shouldn’t have been sitting up.
Tray came in, his attention going immediately to Saskia, who lay passed out on the second bed. Douglas glowered.
“Did you shoot her?” Tray asked Sky, pointing to Saskia. If it was a joke, Douglas thought it was a bad one.
“No,” Sky answered, smiling wryly. The casual humor was insulting.
“This is your fault!” Douglas cried, rushing forward and punching Tray in the face. Tray ducked and rammed into Douglas, knocking him back toward the wall. Douglas kneed Tray in the crotch, but Tray cut under Douglas’ legs and took him down.
“I didn’t hurt her,” Tray protested, bringing his knee down on Hawk’s back.
“You waited,” Douglas accused, jabbing his elbow up, catching Tray in the chin and flipping the hold so that he was in control. “We sat here and did nothing while she was brutalized!”
“Hawk! Let him go,” Sky commanded, slamming her Virclutch down. “I wouldn’t have been able to run if you’d come any earlier.”
Douglas looked angrily from Sky to Tray, then shoved off, putting as much distance between himself and Tray as possible. Tray jutted his chin smugly and smoothed his shirt, then went to check on Saskia.
Saskia stirred when Tray touched her face. “Is everyone safe?” she murmured. She’d asked Douglas the same thing an hour ago, when he’d lifted her off the floor and set her one the bed.
“More or less,” Tray said, glancing warily at Douglas. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Are you going to carry me?” Saskia asked.
Douglas snorted derisively, and Tray shot him another look.
“I’m going to try,” Tray said, scooping her up. Douglas could tell Tray was favoring his injured wrist. They had matching rope burns. Again. They were both passing through the same hell, but for different reasons. Suddenly, Douglas wanted to apologize.
“Hawk, come here,” Sky said, summoning him before he could follow Tray out the door.
“Do you need something?” Douglas asked, turning eagerly.
“I need you, here,” she said, pointing to the bed. She pretended to be brave, but she didn’t want to be alone, and he didn’t want to leave her.
One of the few benefits of a ship designed for micro-gravity were the ever-present handrails. Although intended for grip and propulsion, they were also handy as supports in the full-gravity. Amanda’s legs quivered and she gripped the handrails on the wall as she made her wa
y down the corridor. She didn’t get light-headed as quickly, but sometimes her arms went numb and her feet swelled. The fact that she was better off than half the crew shook her confidence. It was dark outside, and the lights inside flickered and gave her a headache. Everything on the lower level smelled like blood.
Sky sat up in the infirmary bed, her skin as pale as her platinum hair. The bright lights made her look like a marble statue. Hawk lay beside her, his golden skin only adding to the statuesque image. His faded red hair blended into the red from Sky’s bandages. They looked peaceful—a prey unaware that they were being stalked.
“I’m going to shoot you,” Amanda warned, peeking into the room, leaning heavily on the door frame.
“Mmhmm,” Sky murmured, shifting the blanket just far enough for Amanda to see the grav-gun under the pillow. She didn’t look up from her book.
“You shot me,” Amanda frowned, hiding behind the bulkhead so that Sky wouldn’t have a target. She didn’t figure Sky could get up without making a ruckus.
“You tried to steal my stuff,” Sky said flatly.
Amanda ducked her head, fighting the surge of shame that came with the memory of her erratic behavior. “You broke my arm.”
Sky held up her arm, as if daring Amanda to come in and break it.
“I needed to save Danny.”
“And did you? No, that was me,” Sky said snidely.
Her jaw quivering, Amanda peeked into the room again. Sky was gutted and bruised. Amanda didn’t know all that had happened, but she recognized a brutalized woman.
“I would not have survived,” Amanda said.
“Are you kidding? You survived the 5. This was just me being charitable. It doesn’t even qualify as a level of hell.”
Amanda shivered and wrapped her arms tightly across her chest. She had barely survived the 5, and she didn’t like Sky lauding her escape as bravery, when it was nothing more than self-preservation.
“I can read you a story,” Amanda offered quietly, touching the Occ over her eye. “I can see now.”
“I can see well enough, thanks,” Sky dismissed, letting the pillow cover her gun again. The conversation was over. Then Sky started reading aloud, her voice inviting Amanda in to listen.
Danny limped past the infirmary, forcing himself to make one more round of the ship before he fell over from exhaustion. He paused outside when he heard Sky’s sweet voice filling the hall, reading a piece of classic Quin mythology that Danny hadn’t studied since grade school. Peeking in, he was surprised to see her sitting up. Hawk was nestled against her thigh, fast asleep and Sky stroked his back maternally. Amanda lay curled up on the floor.
“If you shot her, I’m going to stop rescuing you,” Danny said.
“I might stop rescuing you, too. Do you really want that?” Sky teased.
Hobbling into the room, Danny squatted next to Amanda, making sure she hadn’t collapsed on her broken arm. Her breathing was steady and she hugged a small pillow; she’d fallen asleep naturally.
“I didn’t expect to find you sitting up,” Danny said. Sky had a blanket draped over her shoulders, but her chest was bare, and the bright red, carefully knit scar across her torso displayed as a testament to her sacrifice. There was a small bandage on her left side where a surgical drainage tube was threaded into her skin. Hawk had been diligent about changing the dressing every two hours and Danny imagined the boy’s Virp had an alarm set for the occasion. Sky’s skin was so pale that her purple bruises looked painted on.
“You know how it is when you’re abducted and tortured by former friends,” Sky said breezily, giving him a dismissive wave. “I didn’t expect to see you up either.”
“I have Captainy things to do,” Danny shrugged. “Are you—”
“I’m fine, Danny. It’s nothing I haven’t been through before,” she deadpanned, keeping her eyes down. “At least this time, it was for a semi-decent cause.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more decent. If there’s anything you need . . .”
“I have a lackey,” she smiled, caressing Hawk’s cheek.
“I owe you—”
“Nothing,” she finished firmly. “If we start keeping score of who saved whom when, we’ll just wind up tied to each other. I don’t work like that.”
Danny nodded. He kept a similar philosophy, never assuming his kindness toward others would be reciprocated. During the Terranan Revolution, he’d been arrested and tortured, but he’d refused to give up his friends. There were some debts that could never be repaid.
Sky had suffered, and he wasn’t part of her coping mechanism. His mind kept spinning around what Sky had said in the camp about Tray dying. Given her own injuries, she could have been delirious at the time, but it made him suspicious. Danny had never encountered Panoptica on Aquia, and as far as he knew, the only Seers on this planet were the ones he’d brought from Terrana. As far as Danny knew, no Seer ever survived past adolescence because of the physiological toll of the experience. But if Sky were a Seer, or even rumored to be, that explained why the Drava wanted her.
“If you want to sleep, I have Hyproxin,” he offered. Hyproxin was an herb mixture the Elysian Seers used to get rest. “There’s only a little mix left, but we can make more.”
“I’m reading,” Sky said dismissively. “Did you need something?”
“A course would be nice,” Danny shrugged.
Sky set aside her Virclutch and nudged Hawk away like she was trying to stand. The blanket fell from her shoulders, exposing her bare chest. Danny quickly placed a hand on her shoulder to still her.
“The stops put a dent in our fuel supply, but I figure we have another day before the Drava track this far,” he said. “I’d rather travel by daylight.”
“Don’t underestimate their technology,” Sky warned, a frown lining her face. “We’ve travelled?”
“Almost a hundred miles, but then one of our wheels fell off. And we had to go back and find it. I guess we took more damage from the Drava cannon than I thought.”
“Are we tracking the coast?” Sky asked. “Let’s get back to the coast and keep heading south.”
“This is why we need daylight,” Danny said with a smile, pulling the blanket around her shoulders again. It was difficult to adapt to her immodesty, but he didn’t figure he could talk her into a shirt any time soon.
“Daylight would help, but coast-wise we have a ways to go,” Sky continued, pulling Hawk’s head onto her lap and making sure the blanket didn’t smother him. “No more food stops. Or archeology expeditions through infected lands.”
“Is he hurting you?”
“He’s fine,” Sky assured, rubbing Hawk’s cheek with her thumb. “Whatever Saskia gave me, I can’t feel much below my ribs.”
“He is very attached to you,” Danny commented.
Sky huffed and bobbed her head in agreement. “I’m not quite sure what to do about that.”
“Danny!” Tray hollered from the hall. “Danny Matthews, are you walking around again?”
“No!” Danny hollered back, laughing at how much Tray sounded like their mother when he used that tone of voice.
“He seems very attached to you,” Sky commented, her lips curling in a smile.
Crawling into the second bed, Danny winked conspiratorially at her. “I’ve learned to cope.”
38
The rain seemed fitting. The lakebed that once harbored the Oriana tribe had flooded overnight, blocking the Drava’s most convenient exit from Fox Run. The lingering smell of smoke carried by the humid air wafted into the scorched tree branches where Brishen sat alone. The damage looked worse from up here. The collapsed camp was patched with black soot. Desperate families sorted through the mess of overturned tents, salvaging what they could. Whatever was left behind would likely be picked over by scavengers from other tribes. Only two tents remained standing—the medical tent and the children’s shelter. Everything else was being loaded onto wagons. Drivers orchestrated the evacuation, not delaying f
or the rain. The Drava would simply get wet.
Brishen winced as he inhaled, pain searing across his skin. Sky and the Oriana were dry today. If what the elders said was true—if Sky was Adita who had lived among the Drava a generation ago—then Sky had found the Oriana after leaving the nomads. If Brishen left, perhaps he could be so lucky.
“There you are,” Laos said, swinging down from a higher branch.
Brishen lurched, and cried out in pain, nearly falling out of the tree. She grabbed the back of his shirt to steady him, then balanced on a nearby branch. Most of the tree limbs had been damaged by fire and there weren’t as many stable places to stand.
“Hello, Chief,” Brishen said, addressing her formally.
“Hello, Scout,” she replied, mockingly. “The drivers would like scouts sent ahead to Fox Tail, Deer Cove, and Haven. I want you to lead the team to Deer Cove.”
“I’m on bed rest,” Brishen said, his hand hovering over his injured rib cage.
“You are still able to climb,” Laos pointed out, testing a higher branch and ducking when the wood cracked. “You know Deer Cove better than anyone.”
“Because I always scout it and we never go there,” Brishen complained. She gave him a look and he frowned, saying: “Bed rest.”
Laos’ lips parted and she quirked her brow, confused. “I could assign you to keep an eye on the Nayak. The Judges have deemed it unnecessary, but I can . . . if you want,” she said softly, not making eye contact. He knew she was trying to be a friend, and that made him angry. If it weren’t for her, he’d be gone. She kept him here—kept him chained—feeding him just enough hope to keep him in line.
“I’m on bed rest!” Brishen snapped. “If I could get myself out of this tree, I’d be in the surgeon’s wagon.”
“Did the Seer hurt you?” Laos asked curiously.
Brishen didn’t answer. Laos had asked him not to hurt Adita, and he’d obeyed. He’d loosened the woman’s bonds so that she could escape in the night. After what the Nayak had done to them, he knew it was the right thing to do. He’d been injured in the Chanti skirmish after the tents blew over, but the details were moot. He was not a warrior, and he’d nearly gotten himself killed by pretending.
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