“It’s still possible. If we can get enough dark material gel to fuel us,” Mickie argues.
“The Dreadnaut’sgone…” Tata says, trailing off. “Where are we going to get more?”
“Mr. Whicker, obviously.” Annora flips her shoulder-length brown hair back—then, remembering the wound on her brow, pushes her hair forward again. “He was our seller before. If he escaped with his fleet, he might still have some left to trade.”
“Trade for what?” I ask, finally chipping in, twirling my finger around. “We’d be lucky enough if we could bargain ourselves as hired help on his ships, we all know he uses his artificial intelligence for everything. It’s more cost effective. Everyone who’s on this planet without juice is going to sell all they have for a seat off of it, especially if help’s not coming for months, if not years.”
Weston kicks some debris out from under his seat. “Yeah, well, one thing at a time. I’m with Annora about Mr. Whicker. We’ll listen to the radio and reach out to him and the others, see who responds, who’s survived. But like I said, first we need to assess the ship. Mickie, Tata, with me to the engine room. Annora, take a moment to get cleaned up, then maybe pick up the shit that’s fallen. As for you, Sabrina, I want you to put an ear to the channels and see if you can gather more intel on what’s happened. Someone must have survived. Who knows? The moreweknow, the better we all are. Let’s get on with it.”
Orders from the boss have us scattering. As the rest of the crew leaves the bridge, I haul my tense ass to thecaptain’s seat and drop into it with a huff. Weston isn’t a big guy, though he’s still bigger than me. Most people are; I had the luck to be born with a slighter, lither frame. In space, less mass is almost always a good thing. It’s saved me from dying through a few episodes of food shortage, that’s for sure. My legs are my best asset. They’re long and my feet are booted with soles embedded with razors. One kick from me equals agony.
Because of this, Weston’s seat has been molded into a frame that’s comfortable for me.
Throwing on an earpiece, I tune in on the radio and shift through the myriad of signals, receiving mainly static. After a few minutes of nothing, my pulse jumps when I hear the first voice.
“Help! Our ship is on fire, and we’re trapped?—”
I pull the earpiece out and squeeze it in my fist. I have to force myself to put it back in.
Except when I go back to listening, the voice is gone. All that’s left is static.
Slowly more voices come through, reaching out, looking for others. Flicking through the channels, I’m inundated with all sorts of people and emotions, each one giving me more of a clue as to what happened. Well, what's happening now. I already know what happened onThe Dreadnaut.
A naga happened.
As the smoke finishes clearing and my lungs ease, I risk looking up at the window before me.
A vision of dust, rust, and concrete fills my eyes.
Pulling the earpiece out, I stand and lean forward, my lips parting at what reveals itself beyond the screen. Old human structures rise on metal shafts and crumbling walls on every side. The ground we landed on is broken andcrammed with debris. Huge slabs in all shades of gray jut from the ground at diagonal angles, split apart by the impact of the ship.
My gaze rises back to the dilapidated structures. As far as the eye can see, they span out in every direction, blocking out the sky. Like jagged peaks, all that’s left of Earth's civilization has been rendered into nothing more than eroded rubble. Having expected to see a forest of green trees, bushes, and plants, I don’t know how to react to… this.
“Rickton City,” Annora announces from behind me, making me jump. She leans forward, joining me in staring out the window. “If we’re going to find what we need to trade our way home, it’s going to be here. Where no one else is looking.”
I peer at her and give her a smile, impressed. “Always thinking one step ahead, aren’t you?”
“I’m the navigator, that’s my job.” She places her hands on her hips. “I pulled up some old maps of this place once we got the coordinates. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t have several backup plans outside of Weston’s at any given moment. We both know how valuable I am to him.” She grins.
“Cool, but you mean your pussy, right?” I tease.
She pushes my shoulder. “Sabrina!”
Weston and Annora have been sleeping together for months, and although they’ve been trying to hide it, everyone knows. It’s hard to hide something like that in a ship as small asThe Wreck.
She sobers again when we both look back out at the enormous, ancient structures our ancestors built. “I hope this plan works,” she murmurs.
“It will,” I reassure her… because what else am I going todo? Like her, I’m hoping for a good outcome. There's no future in giving up. Ever.
“I’m going to miss Blat,” she whispers.
“I…” I swallow and my shoulders fall as my heart clenches. I don’t want to say the words out loud, though do it anyway, for her sake. “Me too.”
Me too.
I’m going to miss him too.
THREE
