“Image match found,” Moss replied. “They are similar to a known species in the oceans of Verdaan. At a later stage in their evolution, members of this species ventured into the airspace above the oceans for extended periods.”
“So, they learned to fly? But how—”
“Approaching the ship!” Auto-Nav highlighted a blip on the radar.
Torian pressed out of the chair, craning to see better through the window. Confirming Torian’s worst nightmare, Amelia’s ship came into view… sparking from the engine, drifting in the dark.
It was completely inert, although its hull seemed to be intact.
That hardly mattered. Asteroids were all around them, and it was only a matter of time before something collided. If Amelia’s crew was still alive after hours without heat or fresh oxygen, the debris in this nebula would do them in.
“Fuck,” Torian breathed. She’d spent last night chatting with aliens, laughing with her sister, eating good food, and sleeping away years of stress. She’d just assumed Amelia had been farther out than expected, and was still approaching Vaesa in good time. She’d shared the “safe” flight path, after all.
She never imagined creatures stalked this nebula, incapacitating starships independently.
It was entirely possible that Auto-Nav was the only reason theDestitutehadn’t wound up in a similar position.
Cold dread slid through Torian’s chest, and her voice was hard. “Get us closer.”
“Okay.” Auto-Nav angled theDestituteas close to the ship as possible, offering Torian a good view.
But human ships didn’t use windows, for better structural integrity. Which meant there was only one option to see inside the ship—to know if Amelia’s life support had already failed—and it was the flight deck’s single viewport.
If Torian sent Amelia into a known ship graveyard, and Amelia died for it… Torian would never forgive herself. Feeling sick, she took control from Auto-Nav, angling the yoke. The flight deck crept into view.
Dark.
Empty.
Except… there was Amelia, covered with heavy blankets, staring numbly into space.
The relief Torian felt was immense, radiating to every corner of Torian’s body, honing her despair into something actionable. Thank theHeavens.
Amelia was alive.
That meant, this time, it was up to Torian to save her.
With desperation, Torian waved at her through the windows… but it took Amelia several moments to notice. She was moving sluggishly, undoubtedly freezing, and her eyes were unfocused as she stared at Torian’s ship.
“Come on, Ames,” Torian whispered. “You see me. We’re going to help.”
Recognition finally registered. Amelia blinked slowly, pushing to her feet. She was unsteady as she staggered to the flight deck’s sole window, pressing close to the thick glass. Maybe she didn’t believe help had really come.
Torian wished she could get on the radio and talk to her—but of course, Amelia’s ship didn’t have power. Instead, Torian offered a mock salute.
A slight smile tugged Amelia’s pale lips. She pressed one hand to the window and mouthed,About time.
Torian swallowed a laugh that might have been a sob.
“Moss,” Torian demanded, “what are our options?”
“Scans indicate the temperatures aboard her ship are reaching fatally cold levels. One room is warmer than the rest, likely a spot with auxiliary power. I believe her crew is stationed there to conserve body heat.”
Of course Amelia would be on the flight deck, alone, searching for rescue.
Ofcourseshe’d leave the rest of her crew in the safest location in the meantime.
It was ironic, considering how often she begged Torian not to do anything stupid or take unnecessary risks. Torian didn’t know whether to kiss Amelia or throttle her.
