“I know what you told me.” She sat up fully, the cold air making her shiver as the furs fell away, and he immediately tucked her against his side. “But escape pods have backup systems. Redundant memory cores. If any of the electronics survived, there might be data I can access.”
Understanding dawned in his expression, followed quickly by something that looked almost like dread. “You want to know what happened.”
“I need to know what happened.” She held his gaze steadily. “Someone tried to kill me, Rykan. Someone sabotaged my ship and murdered my crew and left me to die in the void. And I need to know who.”
For a long moment, he was silent. She watched him wrestling with something—saw the conflict in the tension of his shoulders,the tightness around his eyes. She knew what he was afraid of. The same thing she was afraid of.
That once she knew the truth, everything would change.
“The pod is an hour walk from here,” he finally said. “The terrain is difficult, and some of the wreckage is buried in snow.”
“Can you take me there?”
Another pause, and then he nodded. “Yes.”
She let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
He caught her hand before she could climb out of bed, his fingers warm and rough against her skin. “Whatever you find there… it won’t change what’s between us.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement—or maybe a plea, disguised as certainty. She looked at his face, at the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide, and her heart cracked just a little.
“I know,” she said softly. “But it might change what I have to do next.”
The wreck was worse than she’d imagined. They’d been walking for more than two hours by the time they reached it—his estimate of travel time hadn’t accounted for her shorter legs and still-developing stamina. The first hour had been manageable, following a narrow trail through snow-laden trees. The second had been grueling, climbing steep inclines and navigating rocky outcroppings that he scaled with effortless grace while she struggled behind him. The final portion had nearly broken her.
But she hadn’t complained. She hadn’t asked to stop or slow down or turn back. She’d gritted her teeth and kept moving, one foot in front of the other, fueled by a determination that burnedhotter than her exhaustion. The thought of finding out the truth kept her moving.
Now she stood at the edge of a bowl scooped out of the rock, staring down at the twisted wreckage of her escape pod. It had wedged itself into a snowbank at an angle that made it look like a wounded animal trying to crawl to safety. One side had crumpled and the other was scarred with burn marks, the whole thing covered in a layer of ice that glittered in the weak mountain sunlight.
“Can you get down there?” he asked.
He stood beside her with his arms crossed, his expression grim. He’d been quiet for most of the trek, responding to her attempts at conversation with monosyllables and grunts. She understood. This wasn’t a pleasant errand for either of them.
“I think so.” She studied the descent, mapping a path in her mind. “If I’m careful.”
“I’ll go first. Test the footing.” He didn’t wait for her agreement before stepping over the edge and beginning the climb down, moving with the sure-footed confidence of someone who’d spent years navigating mountainous terrain.
She followed more slowly, placing each foot with deliberate care. The rocks were slick with ice, and more than once her boot slipped before finding purchase. But she kept going, lowering herself hand over hand, until finally she stood beside him at the bottom of the amphitheater.
The pod looked even worse up close.
The entire front section had been destroyed on impact, the hull peeled back like the skin of a fruit. She could see tangledwires and shattered components inside, coated with frost and debris. The larger rear section containing the stasis chamber was relatively intact, though badly dented and covered in scratches. Thorns surrounded part of the pod and she could see where they’d been torn away.
“The main computer is gone,” she said, circling the wreckage with a critical eye. “But there should be a secondary core in the back. All pods have them—it’s a safety requirement. They’re designed to survive impacts that would destroy the primary systems. The ship’s logs should have been transferred to it when the launch sequence was initiated.”
“And if it’s damaged?”
“Then I’ll repair it.”
He gave her a skeptical look, but he didn’t argue. He simply moved to the back of the pod and began clearing away the snow and vine and debris that had piled against the access panel.
Once it was clear, she knelt beside him, examining the damaged metal. The panel was dented but still attached, and when she applied pressure to the manual release, it popped open with a groan of protest.
Inside, nested in a protective casing, was the secondary memory core.
Her heart leaped. The casing was cracked, and one corner showed signs of heat damage, but the core itself appeared intact. She pulled it free with trembling hands, turning it over to examine the connection ports.
“I need tools,” she said. “Something to pry open the casing. And if there’s any wire in your cabin—something I can use to bypass the damaged circuits?—”
