I was quiet for a long moment, negotiating a particularly treacherous stretch of loose rock. Why did she want to know? Was she trying to distract herself from our situation, or was this her way of trying to understand me?
“Henic is my chief navigator,” I said finally. “Been flying longer than I have. He’s got a mate and two kids back on Damiron’s Sola.”
“And the others?”
“Benda was on that shift for communications. She’s got a gift for languages—can speak twelve different alien dialects fluently. Sibir is a great pilot operator. Make jokes at inappropriate times, but is dead serious on duty. The rest of the crew are good people. Competent. They…” I paused, trying to find the right words. “They deserve better than to be scattered across this planet because their captain made a bad call.”
“It wasn’t a bad call,” Zara said firmly. “You had no idea the storms were abnormal.”
“I should have aborted the mission as soon as we detected those storm cells.” I gritted my teeth. “We’ve flown through many types of weather. I thought we could handle this.”
“Hey.” She stopped walking and turned to face me, even though the wind was making it difficult to stand still. “You made the best decision you could with the information available. Just like you told me about the storm readings. Sometimes bad things happen despite good decisions.”
There was something in her voice, a certainty that made me want to believe her. But the weight of responsibility was still there, pressing down on my shoulders like a physical burden.
“Come on,” I said, starting to walk again. “We need to keep moving.”
Twenty minutes later, Zara stumbled.
It wasn’t a little trip over loose rock. Her foot hit a hidden depression in the ground, and she went down hard, her hands barely breaking her fall before she hit the jagged stone.
“Rivers!” I dropped to my knees beside her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said, but she was breathing hard and I could see where the rock had scraped across her palms through the torn fabric of her gloves. “Just clumsy.”
“Let me see your hands.”
“Captain, I’m fine—”
“Let me see them.”
She held out her hands, and I could see the damage even through the helmet’s visor. The cuts weren’t deep, but they were bleeding, and we couldn’t afford for her to lose strength or dexterity.
I reached into one of the packs on my belt and pulled out the small med kit I’d salvaged from the ship. I took out a self-adhering antiseptic patch meant for quick wound coverings. Another thing I’d hoped I’d never have to use. “This might sting a little.”
She stood still as I placed the bandages on her palms. I was acutely aware of how close we were. Even through the helmets and heavy coats—we’d packed on as much as we could for protection—I felt the warmth of her body and could hear her breathing in my comm system. My own pulse was racing, and not just from concern about her injuries.
When had she become more than just a passenger? When had keeping her safe become about more than just professional duty?
“There,” I said, finishing with the bandages and running my thumbs over her palms to keep them in place. “Those should hold until we reach the station. And no more of this ‘Captain’ nonsense. Out here, we’re just two people. Call me Torven.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, and something in her tonemade me look at her face through the helmet’s visor. “Torven.”
She was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Trust, certainly. Gratitude. But there was something else there, something that made my chest feel tight and my skin shift to colors I was grateful she couldn’t see through my clothing. I liked the way my name sounded on her lips. I liked it enough to wonder what it would sound like moaned, or whispered, or…
Move,I snarled at myself.Stop staring at her and walk.
But for a moment, neither of us did. We stood there in the howling wind, surrounded by alien desolation, and I felt like something deep and real and unfamiliar was shifting between us.
Then a particularly strong gust of wind reminded me that we were exposed in a toxic environment, and I forced myself to shake out of it.
“We need to keep going,” I said, offering her my hand. “We’re almost there.”
“Right,” she said, taking it and letting me pull her to her feet. “It’s huge.” She bent backward to peer up at the tall tower.
The tower rose like a dark spear against the stormy sky. As we got closer, I could see more details of its construction. I couldn’t determine who’d designed it, but it was clearly old.Veryold. The metal had the patina of decades, or even centuries, of exposure to harsh weather, and I could see places where the structure had been repaired multiple times.
“Someone definitely lived here once,” Zara observed, following my gaze. “But not recently.”
