Vinduthi design. Sleeker than human systems. The readouts glowed in unfamiliar spectrums, and half the labels were in a language I couldn’t read.
“Primary ignition, left panel.” Kallum’s voice came from behind me. I turned. He was slumped against the cockpit doorframe, one hand pressed to his side. Blood seeped between his fingers. “Red toggle. Top row.”
I found it. Flipped it.
The ship hummed to life beneath us. A deep sound, different from the processing station. Older. More powerful.
“Navigation interface.” He pointed. His hand was shaking. “Touch the screen. Picture where you want to go.”
“I don’t know where we’re going.”
“Think of open space. Empty. Far from here.”
I pressed my palm against the screen and thought about nothing. About darkness and silence and getting away from the flames I could still see through the cockpit window.
The ship responded. The navigation display shifted, calculations scrolling faster than I could follow.
“Vertical thrust,” Kallum said. “Blue lever. Pull gently.”
I pulled.
The ship lurched upward. The window filled with smoke, then sky, then the thinning gray of atmosphere. The farm shrank beneath us. The fires became orange dots, then a single smear of color, then nothing.
We were leaving.
I was leaving.
Everything I’d built was burning below me, and I was flying away in a ship with a dying man and a wounded pig and the last piece of a puzzle I didn’t understand.
“Hyperspace coordinates locked.” Kallum’s voice was getting weaker. “The ship knows what to do. When we clear the gravity well, it will jump automatically.”
“Jump where?”
“To thePenumbra. My team is there. We have a med bay.”
I turned to face him.
He was gray. Grayer than before. His sigils looked wrong, flat against his skin instead of catching the light. His eyes were still open, still tracking me, but the focus was fading.
“Kallum.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re dying.”
“I’m not dying.” He slid down the doorframe. Slowly. Like he was trying to control it. “I’m conserving energy.”
I was out of the pilot seat before he finished sliding. I caught him before he hit the deck. His weight was heavy in my arms, heavier than it should have been, and when I lowered him to the floor his head lolled against my shoulder.
“Hey.” I tapped his face. “Stay with me. You don’t get to die. You promised.”
“I said I’d stay vertical.”
“You’re horizontal.”
“Technicality.” His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “The ship. You need to monitor the ship.”
“The ship can monitor itself. You said so.” I pulled his jacket open. The shirt beneath was soaked. Red and spreading. “Where’s the medical kit?”
