Chapter 17

Chigs sat hunched over the antiquated shuttle controls, his large hands dwarfing the joystick as he navigated away from the Icarus. Although Tovik had given the shuttle a quick once-over, the control console flickered with unreliable luminescence.

Emmy sat silently in the co-pilot seat, gaze doggedly locked on the forward viewscreen. She'd barely spoken five words since he'd joined her in the shuttle bay to begin the mission.

The decision for him to accompany Emmy to Naraka had been a foregone conclusion, one even Rust didn't argue after witnessing Emmy's outburst. Yet Chigs felt awkwardly embarrassed. He was usually focused and decisive, but the new emotions he felt around Emmy left him unbalanced.

He cast a sidelong glance at her, the dim light of distant stars from the viewscreen etching the silver piping on her Syndicorp uniform. Clearing his throat, he said, "Sure is lucky Doug got us this undocumented shuttle on Jarboa, huh?"

She shrugged and nodded, eyes not leaving the screen.

Uminaq. She wasn't making this easy. He was dying to confess his change of heart. But how do you tell a woman who's been hurt by love that she's your chosen one, especially when she thinks she's just helping you rescue another?

He licked his lips and tried again. "Once we get inside, how long do you think it'll take to reach the mainframe?"

"Depends on how many guards we meet," she clipped out. "My clearance is for the patient levels, not security."

Reminded of the danger he was putting her in, Chigs clenched his teeth, chastising himself for even considering this as the appropriate moment to bare his soul. Planning for this mission and Emmy's safety should be at the top of his thoughts. "I'm hoping you can sweet talk our way out of any confrontations, but I can take out a few guards if necessary."

"Let's hope it's not." She looked at him for the first time since he'd joined her on the shuttle. "There will also be cameras everywhere. You brought your disguise?"

Chigs nodded, tapping the holo projector around his throat. "Tovik added a Syndicorp uniform to my wardrobe."

She nodded curtly and returned her attention to the viewscreen. "Good."

He sighed, the sound lost amidst the low drone of the shuttle's engines, yearning for the easy companionship they'd shared during their time on Alleigh. Just say it. He cleared his throat again. "Emmy, I want to talk to you about what happened between us."

Her hands curled into fists on her lap, and she shook her head. "I'm not in the mood to talk, Chigs. Let's just focus on getting through this alive, okay? We can't afford distractions."

"Sure," he muttered, knowing she was right. Much as he wanted to get this weight off his chest, he focused on the controls. His confession would have to wait. For now, he steered their fragile vessel onward, toward the growing circle of light that was the planet Naraka.

Soon it loomed large in the viewscreen, an expanse of tan and black with dust clouds swirling across the surface. The shuttle creaked as they entered the outer stratosphere, and the yoke vibrated under Chigs's palms.

"Shuttle AX-237, this is Naraka Orbital Patrol," crackled a voice over the comm. "You've entered restricted airspace. Please leave the area immediately."

"We have clearance," Chigs replied. He punched in the passcode Doug had provided, stomach churning like the dust clouds below.

"Processing," came the terse reply.

Chigs gripped the yoke with sweaty palms. If the code didn't work, the best they could hope for was being ordered to turn around. But there was also a chance they'd be blown to space dust.

Silence stretched like a wire about to snap. In the darkness beyond the planet's curved surface, the hailing patrol ship drifted into view like a predator lying in wait.

Finally, the voice over the comm said, "Your clearance code is expired."

Breathing shallowly, Chigs tightened his grip on the joystick, wishing it was the control for a gun turret. At least then he had a fighting chance against the other ship. He glanced at Emmy's pale face. "Buckle in. This could get ugly."

"Wait." She leaned forward and engaged the comm. "This is Dr. Emilia Voss, here to oversee the transport of test subjects. Let us land and I'll get this cleared up." She then rattled off credentials and additional authorization codes with such rapid confidence that even Chigs almost believed she still worked for the lab.

"Can't let you land without the proper clearance," the patrol insisted.

"Unless you want to face the director's ire, I suggest you check my credentials and let me through," Emmy said. "This is a time-sensitive mission, and any delay could compromise years of research."

Another moment of silence passed, then the voice said, "Dr. Voss, your status has been confirmed. Please be sure to update your ship's passcode for future entries. Be advised, a severe dust storm is active on the surface. Proceed with caution."

"Understood," Emmy replied coolly, then cut the link.

As the patrol ship peeled away, Chigs gave her an appreciative glance. "Nicely done."

Emmy blew out a loud breath. "I'm not sure my story will hold up if he asks around. Let's get down there before he digs any deeper."

He aimed the shuttle toward the surface. The hull rattled, drowning out the static-filled hum of the console. Chigs adjusted the throttle, trying to stabilize their course. "He wasn't kidding about that storm. Better buckle in."

Though the inertial dampeners should keep them safely seated for the ride down, he was wary of this beat up old shuttle.

Emmy struggled to pull her harness across her body. He longed to reach across to assist her, to take her shaking hand in his, but focused on keeping his grip on the juddering yoke.

As they pierced the hazy veil of the storm, trails of black dust clouds snaked over the viewscreen. The small craft convulsed and pitched sideways. Emmy gasped and gripped her armrests while Chigs engaged his ionic shielding, securing himself in place. He wished he could provide Emmy the same measure of safety.

The shuttle bucked and shivered, while the ship's metal hull groaned with the sound of stressed metal. A vibration started in the floor panels, a treacherous shiver that traveled up through Chigs's boots and settled like ice in his veins.

"Steady, girl," he murmured to the shuttle, though it was his own nerves he sought to calm. He had flown basic missions, but piloting was not his calling. Ellam Cua had shaped him for battle, not finesse with thrusters and trajectory calculations. Through the viewscreen, he caught glimpses of craggy rock and drifting sand through brief openings in the storm.

A jolt sent the shuttle spiraling, the rasp of blowing sand on metal nearly deafening. He realized the inertial dampeners were offline when a stray ration pack floated past him toward the viewscreen. The pack wobbled uncertainly for a few heartbeats, then dropped like a stone as the dampeners came back online.

He glanced at Emmy, who sat gripping her armrests, face pale. "Hang in there," he said. "Almost there."

But they weren't. The readings on his control panel said they were off course. He jerked hard on the yoke, trying to steer them back toward the facility's landing pad. But he couldn't get the gyros to compensate, sending the shuttle back into a spin.

Suddenly, a wrenching pop filled the cabin, like a cable snapping under too much tension. To his horror, the co-pilot chair ripped free, slamming the top of Emmy's headrest into the ceiling. She screamed, raising her arms to protect her face as the ceiling panel broke free, spilling cables and wires down around her. Then Emmy and the entire chair sailed backward, out of sight.

A glance over his shoulder showed her seat wedged sideways against the wall near the door. He couldn't see her face to know if she was all right. "Emmy!" he shouted, voice lost amidst a cacophony of alarms and the banshee wail of the storm outside.

The yoke jerked in his hands again, and he whipped his attention back to the controls. The shuttle felt like it was about to be ripped apart, and his altimeter showed the ground quickly approaching. He had to focus, or they'd be splatted like insects. Ellam Cua, please help...

The swirl of dust outside the viewscreen was now a solid wall as Chigs wrestled with the controls, fighting for mastery over the careening shuttle. His sensors were going haywire, confused by the density of blowing sand. All Chigs could do was hold on, navigating by instinct and his desperate, silent prayers to Ellam Cua.

With a bone-jarring crash, they hit the surface, metal screeching as the shuttle carved a jagged furrow through the landscape. The acrid tang of fried circuits filled the air, a billowing cloud of smoke from the control panel stinging Chigs's nostrils.

Jumping to his feet, he stumbled through the haze toward Emmy. She was still strapped to her chair, the jagged metal that had once held it to the deck now embedded in the access panel of the thruster control unit. More smoke curled from the damaged panel like ghostly fingers, and sparking wires swayed alarmingly close to Emmy's head. Her eyes were closed, but she appeared to be unharmed.

He dropped to his knees beside her, hands trembling as he jerked at the release of her seat harness. She slumped limp into his arms when the restraint finally let go.

"Emmy! Emmy, wake up!" he cried, shaking her gently.

She didn't move.

"No, no, no," Chigs muttered, panic clawing up his throat. His fingers sought the pulse at her neck. The beat under his fingertips was weak but steady, a symphony amidst chaos. Relief shuddered through him when her eyelids fluttered.

"Stay with me, Emmy," he said, the smoky air making his voice raspy. They had to get out of the shuttle before the smoke suffocated them.

"Chigs?" Her voice was faint.

"Right here," he assured her, cradling her against his chest as he stood.

"Did we... make it?" she slurred.

"We're alive, and that's what matters. We need to find shelter."

He activated his ionic shielding, a shimmering bubble enveloping them both, then kicked open the hatch. Sand blasted against the shield, an abrasive roar that took every ounce of his concentration to keep at bay. He stepped out into the storm, setting a course for the shadowy outline of the nearest rock formation, praying it might offer some respite.

Emmy's arms tightened around his neck, and she pressed her cheek against his chest. With each plodding step, he became more aware of not just her physical presence, but the emotional gravity she'd come to hold in his life. I could've lost her.

The thought of existing without Emmy was unbearable.

When they reached the rocks, Chigs carefully laid her down on the soft sand, his heart pounding with both fear and relief. The rocks created a sanctuary of sorts, an area where the racing sands couldn't reach them. Though the sandstorm still howled like a vicious animal, at least Chigs could drop his shielding for a little while.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gently pushing her thick brown hair off her forehead to reveal a bruise.

"I think so." She sat up and took stock of herself, wincing when her fingers touched the bruise. "Just a little knocked around."

All the fear and desperation Chigs'd felt during their descent cracked open like a dam. He placed both hands on her shoulders, drawing her attention to his face. "Emmy, I need to tell you something. My mate isn't in that lab."

She frowned. "Wh-what do you mean? Did you have another dream?"

"No. I just... I think I was wrong. Emmy, I believe you are my mate."