LEXA
I recognizedpieces of the Nostos everywhere as we approached the settlement.
Hull plating bent at wrong angles, support beams repurposed as structural columns, sections of corridor twisted into walls. The ship that was supposed to carry us across the galaxy had been cannibalized, transformed into this desperate cluster of shelters that looked like they'd collapse if the wind blew hard enough.
My escorts kept close. Not threatening, not restraining, but present in a way that made it clear I wasn't free to wander. They'd introduced themselves during the walk, names I'd already forgotten because my brain was too busy screaming at me to turn around, to fight my way back to Nyx, to stop pretending I needed rescuing.
People stared as we passed. Humans in various states of survival, their clothes patched and faded, their faces marked by months under these brutal suns. Some looked curious. Others pitying. Like I was something fragile that had been saved from a terrible fate.
I wanted to scream at them. Wanted to tell them I'd chosen that fate, that the only terrible thing happening right now was being separated from him.
But I kept my mouth shut and my expression neutral. Assessed instead of reacted.
The buildings were crude but functional. No power that I could see, no comms arrays, no tech beyond basic structural engineering. Everything manual, everything low-grade. They had shelter and probably water somewhere, food stores hidden in the cooler structures. Survival basics.
How the hell had they pulled off a rescue operation in Ignarath with this level of resources?
The question circled through my mind as we walked deeper into the settlement. The answer mattered. If they had weapons, organization, intelligence-gathering capabilities, that changed everything about how I approached this situation.
One of my escorts, the woman who'd been so relieved to find me safe, gestured toward a larger structure ahead. "Captain's waiting. She'll want to meet you, make sure you're okay."
We stopped at the entrance to the central building, their own little City Hall. The woman knocked twice, waited. A voice called out from inside, words I couldn't make out but the tone was clear.
Permission granted.
The door swung open. Not automatic, just hinges. Inside was cooler, the thick hull plating providing insulation from the heat. A desk made from salvaged materials dominated the space, covered in maps and documents. Behind it sat a woman maybe ten years older than me, her dark skin marked by wind and old scars.
She looked up. Her eyes were sharp and assessing, the kind of gaze that cataloged threats and weaknesses in the same glance.
"Lexa Petrov." Not a question. She already knew who I was. There were probably files somewhere with all of our biographical data. "I'm Captain Awiti Runa. Please, sit."
I remained standing. "I'd rather not."
Her mouth twitched. "Suit yourself." She gestured to my escorts. "We’re fine in here. I'll call if I need you."
They hesitated. The woman who'd been so concerned about my safety looked between me and the captain, clearly reluctant to leave the captain alone.
"She's safe here, Karima," Runa said. Her tone made it an order wrapped in reassurance. "Go."
They left. The door closed behind them with a solid thunk.
Silence filled the space. Runa leaned back in her chair, studying me with that same calculating expression. I studied her right back. She had a military bearing that was beginning to fray at the edges from months stranded here. There were calluses on her hands from hard work. And a blaster at her hip.
A leader who'd kept her people alive through months of hell.
"You must have questions," she said finally.
No small talk. Good.
"How … who—?" Now that I had her attention, my words got all tangled up. We’d come hoping to find a handful of humans. Notthis.I gestured vaguely at the door. "What happened?"
Runa's expression didn't change. "There was a catastrophic malfunction on the ship. Our automatic systems couldn't compensate. The emergency crew was awakened to handle the crisis." She paused, her fingers drumming once against the desk. "We were fortunate. This planet was close enough to reach, had breathable air and water. We had to make an emergency landing. Which we weren’t designed to ever do."
My stomach dropped. A generation ship was a massive thing. It had been built in space, lived there. It was never meant to land. That anyone had survived was a miracle.
"The entry was … bad," Runa continued. Her voice stayed level, professional, but something flickered in her eyes. "We lost several sleeping pods during descent. Jettisoned accidentally, damaged beyond recovery, or destroyed on impact. Approximately two hundred people disappeared before we even hit the ground."
Two hundred. At worst, I’d thought we were dealing with a couple dozen people. Not a small town’s worth.
