“I know.” Sawle frowns as he struggles to keep control of the ship and maneuver back into his seat. “It’s closing in around us.”
I stare at the glitchy screen, then out of the window. Where there had been clear skies and mountains, there is now nothing but clouds—and not the fluffy kind. There’s a solid wall of dense gray.
I try to plot a safe path out, but I don’t trust the instruments as the readings are shifting too fast to be true. Without visual and without instruments, we can’t fly. “We have to land or—”
“I know. I thought you didn’t want to go beneath the floor.” He’s battling to keep the ship stable.
“I didn’t and now look.” I rein in my annoyance, blaming him won’t help. I exhale slowly, trying not to let fear take over from anger, but it’s a tug of war and I’m caught in the middle. Being angry feels better than being scared. I want to be brave and tough. I repeat what I had been saying before he’d interrupted. “We either land or go straight up and hope to break through.”
Both are risky. If we get hit by lightning, we’ll drop out of the sky and make a rather messy crash. If we try to land blind, we might hit the side of a mountain, or trees.
That’s when I realize either way, we’re damned. And we’re going planet side whether or not we like it. And I do not like it. I’m not an explorer. I don’t want to be on the ground. I’ve spent my entire life trying to get off the ground. So while I think mining this planet until its rubble is a waste when people could live here, I don’t actually want to be the first citizen.
“Which one is least dangerous,” Sawle asks.
I glare at him, unable to keep my fury in check. “You care about my opinion now?”
“You were admiring the planet. I was being nice.”
“No you weren’t. You were hoping to get lucky.”
“Did it work?” Sawle smiles like this is still fun.
“Not a chance.” I snap. I’d be telling HR too, though they probably wouldn’t care. Everyone loves Sawle. Such a great guy. So charming. I have to decide. I want to throw the responsibility back on him. This is his fault. “You got us into this mess. You fix it.”
The ship jolts again. Are we hitting air pockets or trees?
“Rin…” He begs like we’re friends.
“Fine.” I already know which option we should take according to company protocol, and it wasn’t trying to land. He should know that too, but he’d probably thrown away the manual. “Go up. Less chance of hitting a mountain.”
This time Sawle listens to me. The nose tilts up, and the engines labor. The ship jerks and I suck in a breath that I then hold. But we keep climbing. The only reason I can tell we’re climbing is because I’m pressed back into the seat as gravity tries to drag us down.
There’s a crack like the ship is breaking apart. The control panel sparks, and I yelp. Every light goes dark and I lurch forward, held in place by the harness. Sawle’s head slams into the windscreen with a wet crunch. He hadn’t put his harness on.
“Sawle!”
I can’t reach him to see if he’s okay. The ship rolls to the side, and he slides off the control panel and onto the floor.
I try to toggle the controls on my side, but everything is dead. I can’t pull the nose up.
Metal squeals and I don’t have time to brace.
