“Then get in here with me!”
“Rivers—” He strode over to the pod, reached inside and flipped the cover. With a stormy look, he slammed the eject button and yanked his hand out, expecting the hatch to slide closed.
But nothing happened.
He pressed it again, harder. Still nothing. The door was still open, the pod was still attached to the ship, and neither of us were going anywhere.
“Why isn’t it working?” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.
Torven locked eyes with me and right then, both of us knew something was very, very wrong. “Hit the button from the inside.”
I did, only because I was certain it wouldn’t work. “It’s not responding.”
He leaned into the pod, his hands moving over the control panel with quick efficiency. I was suddenly very aware of how close he was, close enough that I could feel the heat and fear coming off him in waves.
“The door mechanism is jammed,” he said, and I heard fear in his voice for the first time since this nightmare started. “The electromagnetic interference must have fried the circuits.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Not in time.” He straightened, running a hand through his dark hair. “Damn it.”
“Torven.” I reached out and grabbed his arm, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath the fabric of his shirt. “We’ll figure it out.”
He looked down at me, and for a moment I saw something raw and vulnerable in his pale green eyes. Then the mask slammed back into place.
“Get out of the pod, Rivers,” he said curtly, hurrying back to his control station. “I’m landing this fucking ship and I need you at the communication station.”
I climbed out on shaky legs, and he grabbed my shoulders, steadying me when the ship lurched again. “But I’m not a—”
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and intense. “I swear on my life that I will get you to safety, but you must do as I say. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“Good. Now move.”
It kind of felt like I wasn’t entirely attached to my body anymore, and thatwasmy scientific assessment of my current state of being, but I made it to the console formerly operated by a nice Destran female named Benda. She’d seemed nice, anyway. We’d only been on this ship for two days. Not enough time to get to know anyone, really.
Through the viewport, I could see the escape pods winging away from the ship like bright sparks, whipped away into the churning wind. Their emergency beacons blinked in the chaotic darkness before disappearing from sight.
I sat down, gripped the edges of the console, and tried not to think about Cleo plummeting toward an alien planet’s surface in a metal can, probably terrified.
“Where are we trying to land?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on practical concerns.
“Grid section fifteen,” Torven said, his hands flying over the controls. “There’s a weather-monitoring station there emitting a pulse. I’m detecting a small section of lesser winds there. We might be able to take shelter until this storm passes.”
A weather station. Of course. Leave it to me to end up stranded at the one place on this planet that was designed for studying atmospheric conditions.
“How far?”
“Twelve minutes, if I can keep us in the air that long.” He glanced back at me. “We’re running on backup power, but is there any chance you can tell me what the surface conditions are like?”
I looked at the large, curved screen before me, grateful to have something useful to do. This was a new type of interface, and it likely didn’t have enough power to scan anything, but I delved into the menus and found the scanning systems. The readings were incomplete, but I could make out the basic parameters.
“High winds, electrical activity, and…” I frowned at the display. “You’re right.”
“What?”
“There’s a pocket that is less stormy near the weather station.” I frowned. “Weird. The atmosphere is reading as toxic, but the levels are fluctuating so wildly, it’s almost like the storm is changing the chemistry of the air itself.”
