TO: A. FALKNER
SUBJECT: Package ready for pickup
Contact made. Meeting arranged for tomorrow evening. Coordinates attached. Come alone—but bring your friend.
Alina stared at the message for a long moment, her heart pounding.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow she would leave this place forever.
Tomorrow she would take Rhyx into the unknown and hope—pray—that they’d find somewhere safe.
She closed the tablet and lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling until exhaustion finally dragged her into uneasy sleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The landscape stretched before them in waves of rust and shadow—broken terrain that shifted between sharp ridges and shallow valleys carved by ancient water long since vanished. Rhyx walked beside Jeb, matching the cyborg’s steady pace, his bare feet finding purchase on the rocky ground with an ease that still surprised him.
He could feel the planet beneath him.
Not just the texture of stone and dust, but something deeper—a thrumming presence that pulsed through the bedrock like a slow heartbeat. It had been growing stronger since he’d left the cavern, this awareness, as if the act of walking on Mars’s surface had awakened something dormant in his blood.
Or in whoever’s blood runs through me now.
“You’re quiet.” Jeb’s voice was low, barely audible over the whisper of wind through the rocks. The cyborg moved with the particular grace of his kind—efficient, economical, every motion serving a purpose.
“Thinking.”
“About Alina?”
Rhyx’s chest tightened at her name. She’d been gone for hours now, and the distance between them felt like a physical ache—a cord stretched too thin, threatening to snap.
“Always.”
Jeb made a sound that might have been acknowledgment. They walked in silence for another few minutes, following a narrow path that wound between two massive boulders. Rhyx noted the way Jeb’s enhanced eyes scanned the terrain constantly—checking shadows, noting disturbances in the dust, cataloging every potential threat.
He’s done this many times, Rhyx realized. Guarding his territory. Protecting what’s his.
“What are you looking for?” Rhyx asked.
“Signs of intrusion. Tracks, equipment traces, anything that doesn’t belong.” Jeb paused at the top of a small rise, his gaze sweeping the valley below. “GenCon has been getting bolder. They used to stay near the cities and let the colonial authorities do their dirty work. Now they’re sending their own teams into the territories.”
“Like the ones who attacked you?”
“Yeah.” Something dark flickered in Jeb’s steel-gray eyes. “Like those.”
They descended into the valley, Jeb leading them towards a narrow canyon that cut through the rock like a scar. The walls rose on either side, casting deep shadows that even the thin Martian sunlight couldn’t penetrate.
“This is the eastern boundary of our claim,” Jeb said. “The canyon opens up on the other side—a good approach vector for anyone trying to come in undetected. I check it every few days.”
Rhyx studied the terrain with new eyes, noting the strategic value of the position. The knowledge felt borrowed—military training bleeding through from whoever had donated their blood to his resurrection. He didn’t fight it. The instincts had kept him alive this long.
“You were a soldier,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Jeb glanced at him, something flickering across his features. “How did you know?”
“The way you move. The way you see the land.”
