“Elaborate.”
“It was fresh, alien, like how it is on most of the new worlds and planets that we visit.”
“Could be disease, could be a rift, it could be the result of a new breeding cycle of an alien beast that only fucks once every sixty years. Who the fuck knows? The deaths only started recently so they could be related. But Montihan said that there was no body when they discovered the wreck. In fact, there might not even be a ship remaining if the other farmer, whose land we’re beside, decided to reel the parts back in.”
Netto dropped his hand as the ship slowed. He heard their host and his daughter preparing the anchor but he didn't turn around to help. Zeph walked away and joined them, returning several minutes later to his side.
“I have a feeling,” Netto said.
“Is it a good one? Does it have something to do with Rylie?” Zeph laughed.
Netto sliced his tongue against his upper teeth, hating the sound of Rylie's name on the Croc's lips. He wanted to claim her name.
“No. I need to see the ship before I know for sure.”
Zeph pulled off his shirt and threw it on a nearby seat. Netto turned away as Rylie ascended the steps. She didn't smell like the ocean anymore, but of fresh water and soap. He breathed her in as it was the only thing he could do without losing control and frightening her. She stopped and looked at him for a moment before coming to his side.
He wanted her to kiss him again, but she made no move to do so as everyone readied the ship to depart.
“Do you think there's more to this than the lack of crops? And the spyware on the ship?” she asked quietly. “Do you think the deaths have anything to do with this?”
He didn't know what to tell her so he simply told the truth. “Yes.”
Netto peered down at her as her countenance sagged. Her breath slowed and a look of worry clouded her otherwise sunny features. She wasn't tall—barely reaching his chest—and there was more than a foot of difference between them, in both directions.
Rylie openly gazed at him, he reached out and touched a strand of her hair. It felt like silk between his fingers and he fought the urge to bury his hands in it. He liked the way it looked against his skin.
“Don't worry. If it all connects then whatever's causing it won't hide for long.” Netto kept speaking just so he could continue standing before her playing with her hair, “I'll take care of it.”
Rylie looked away from him and from where he touched her, her brows furrowed as if trying to understand what was happening. If she asked him, he wouldn't know what to say. He didn't understand either. Only that he was holding himself back from taking what he wanted.
“You keep saying that. Why? We didn't ask for your protection.”
He let go of her hair and led her down the steps, toward the railing where the others had already jumped into the water that came up to their knees as they headed for the shore.
“I give it freely,” he answered honestly. “I need to protect you.”
He jumped over the side.
“Why?” she asked looking down at him with puzzlement.
Because I like your voice and the way you look at me. You comfort me.“Because we need to complete the mission. Do you have your knife?”
She looked away from him and pulled up the hem of her shirt, revealing the knife clipped to a threaded belt on her hip. “I do.”
Netto rounded his hands over her waist and lifted her from the boat. She gripped his wrists from the sudden contact, but before she could struggle away from him, he set her down in the water. His hands remained around her for a second longer than necessary. He couldn't stop himself from squeezing before he let go.
The water splashed as Rylie stepped back. Her feet kicked up plumes of sand, clouding the area between them. She turned away from him and walked toward the others. Netto followed and the five of them proceeded companionably down the beach.
They came upon the shipwreck a short distance away, hidden behind a series of rocks jutting up from the ocean floor.
“Well, I guess Charlene hasn't removed the wreck yet.” Montihan walked forward, leaving the rest of them behind.
Netto didn't know what to make of it. He had expected a damaged watership that had drifted up onto shore, but something else altogether lay before them. It didn't take a Cyborg to know it wasn't what Zeph or the girls were expecting either.
Netto scanned the remains; every broken piece and groove, every scratch, scrape and tear. If he didn't know what he was looking at, he might have never realized it had been a ship at all. He had a perfect point of reference, having spent the last day and a half on an identical one.
“What the hell?” Janet said, echoing what they were all thinking. “A storm did not do that. Da, what were you thinking?” The girl took a step toward Montihan but stopped when Zeph put a hand on her shoulder. Janet turned back, burning him with a look that could kill before she dislodged herself from his grip and approached her dad.
