It's the same gut-deep certainty I felt the first time I watched a fighter jet tear across the sky. That instant, inexplicable knowing that changed the entire trajectory of my life.
I love her.
The phrase passes through my mind, settling into place like a puzzle piece I've been holding for months without realizing where it fit.
I've probably loved her since the day she hissed at me in that cell, too weak to stand but too fierce to stop fighting. I wasn't ready to call it what it was.
I don't say it out loud. Not yet. Not because I'm unsure, but because these words deserve the right moment, and I'll know it when it comes.
For a while, nobody moves. We just stand there, a cluster of humans and Cerasteans squinting into the glare. On one side, the desert stretches to the horizon, dunes rolling like frozen waves under the twin suns. On the other, the capital looms –towers and spires rising against that lavender sky, silent and still.
L'Zaen's voice crackles through my earpiece. "All teams, report to the hangar. We have work to do."
The spell breaks. People blink, roll their shoulders, remember why we're here. We file back inside, boots scuffing along the sand-dusted floor.
The terminal stretches above us, vast and echoing. It must have been magnificent once. The ceiling arches high overhead, supported by massive columns, and a row of transport ships sits abandoned in their berths, their hulls blanketed in a thick layer of dust. I think about what that means that these ships never launched, because the reshen had already done its work before anyone could even attempt an evacuation.
Sand has crept in through cracks and gaps, gathering in drifts against the walls and piling in the corners. A fine layer of dust covers every surface, muting the shine of what must have once been polished stone floors. Some of the windows are cracked or missing entirely, and where they've failed, the desert has seized its opportunity. Small dunes have formed beneath the broken panes, miniature echoes of the vast golden expanse outside.
Still, it's not as bad as I'd pictured.
The structure itself seems sound. There are no collapsed sections or any major damage that I can see. The decay is one of neglect rather than destruction. Like a house that's been left empty too long, waiting for someone to come back and breathe life into it again.
"Not bad," D'Rett says from somewhere behind me, and I hear the relief in his voice. "I expected worse, honestly."
"The climate preserved much," L'Zaen replies, his tone thoughtful as he surveys the space with analytical eyes. "Low humidity. Minimal precipitation. Without moisture to accelerate decay, the structures have remained largely intact."
A skittering sound echoes through the terminal, and everyone freezes.
My hand goes to my sidearm instinctively, even as I scan for the source of the noise. Movement catches my eye near one of the sand drifts, something small and fast, darting between shadows.
"There," A'Vanti says quietly, pointing.
I follow her gesture and spot a creature about the size of a large cat, but that's where any resemblance to an Earth feline ends. It looks like a massive skink. It is covered in sleek black scales with an oily sheen that catches the light as it moves. Six legs carry it in quick, fluid movements, almost serpentine in the way it flows across the floor. Its head is flat and wedge-shaped, dominated by large, multifaceted eyes that catch the light like black opals. A ridge of spines runs down its back, and as we watch, they flare outward in obvious alarm.
"A keth'ra," A'Vanti breathes, and there's shock in her voice. "They're desert creatures. They shouldn't be this far into the city."
"Without people to drive them away, I imagine they've expanded their territory," L'Zaen observes. "A natural response to the absence of urban activity."
The keth'ra hisses, a surprisingly loud sound for the size of the creature, and those spines rattle together like dry reeds in the wind.
"Let's encourage it to find somewhere else to live," I suggest.
The keth'ra has other ideas.
I take a step toward it and the thing bolts – not away from us, but directly between L'Zaen's legs. He stumbles sideways into D'Rett, who catches him with a grunt. The creature loops around a sand drift and shoots up one of the columns, its six legs finding purchase on the smooth stone like it's nothing.
"Cut it off on the left!" someone shouts.
Three of us lunge that direction. The keth'ra launches off the column, sails over Dr. Petrova's head, who screeches like a banshee and drops to her knees. The giant lizard-like creature lands on a dusty control console with a skittering of claws, kicking up a cloud of dust. It hisses at us, spines rattling.
"Over there," A'Vanti calls out, pointing toward a section of wall where an entire windowpane is missing. "Drive it that direction."
"Volt guns," L'Zaen says, already drawing his. "Power down to the lowest setting, just enough to sting."
We spread out, weapons drawn and dialed down. A quick zap at the floor to the creature's left sends it skittering right. Another shot behind it keeps it moving forward. The keth'ra hisses its displeasure but can't argue with the tiny jolts nipping at its heels.
It feints toward a gap in our line, but Chelsea cuts it off with a well-timed shot that sparks off the stone. Finally, we manage to funnel it toward the missing window.
