“Always,” Asier answered. “But I haven’t yet seen them in the grass.”
A few nerve-wracking meters into the field, beneath the draping cover of several tall, yellow-leafed trees, Asier stopped. The air rippled in front of him. Lyra blinked, not certain if she’d really seen it. But then it rippled again.
Asier reached out, placing his hand flat against something Lyra couldn’t see. The sound of flesh hitting metal sounded with a dull thunk. She might not see the ship—but she could hear it.
A second later, a doorway opened in the empty air.
Lyra gasped.
Through the opening, she saw the innards of a ship. Dark corridors glowed faintly from in-floor track lighting. The bulkheads and deck were made of the same marled black as the ship that had transported her to this planet. A thread of unease ran down her spine.
And then Asier turned back, holding out his hand. She let go of the fear. This wasn’t a trick. He wouldn’t do that to her.
Lyra reached out, and took his hand. Asier handed her up into the ship, and then followed after her. The door shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss.
And then there was quiet.
They had made it to safety. They were alive and whole. And the tension was still there, thick as honey. The narrow passageway crowded them close. In the low light, in the quiet, Lyra was acutely aware of Asier’s big body, of the rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathed, of the warmth of him.
They looked at each other. Asier’s eyes were dilated wide—big black pupils surrounded by a thin gold ring. Lyra’s hands shook. She swallowed convulsively.
Asier turned away first. “The control cabin is this way,” he said gruffly.
Lyra drew in a shaky breath, and followed him. Their footsteps thudded dully over the ship’s impact-absorbent decking. Strips of recessed lighting glowed to life as they approached, illuminating their way.
The control cabin was a small space with two pilot’s chairs in front of a single, long, smooth, black instrumentation panel below a long window that looked out over the nose of the ship.
Asier stepped inside and waited for Lyra to follow. The space was just big enough for the two of them. She could almost feel his body heat, radiating out, begging her to lean into his warmth.
Asier moved abruptly away from her. He sat in the port-side chair.
“Come sit,” he rumbled. “You should know how to pilot the ship.”
She hadn’t expected this. To give her the ability to take control of his ship… it stunned her. It took her a second to lurch into motion. She dropped clumsily into the other chair. It was meant for a body much bigger than hers. She felt like a child in it. She slid forward, perching on the edge of the seat. Her toes just touched the deck.
Asier woke up the instrumentation panel with a tap. “Lay your hand here—” he gestured to an illuminated square in front of Lyra.
She obeyed, pressing her palm to the panel. “Why?”
“If something happens and you need to pilot manually, the ship needs to recognize your bio-imprint.”
The illuminated square flashed bright, and then faded to darkness, matching the rest of the panel. An AI voice filled the cabin, growling in Scaeven.
Asier tapped at the panel. The AI made a brief declaration.
“You’re an authorized pilot now.” Asier began the process of getting into flight, explaining every step to Lyra.
She followed along easily. The ship was very much like the Ravanoth vessels she’d been aboard—except even more advanced. Lyra realized suddenly that the Ravanoth weren’t the engineering geniuses they’d pretended to humanity. They were the beneficiaries of their dealings with Scaevens. Their tech was only a weak copy of Scaeven developments.
The displays were all in Crurian numerals, so they were readable. But the language of the panel was completely foreign to her. Scaeven was a runic writing system, matching what she’d seen when she’d looked through Asier’s scope. Lyra examined them, trying to identify patterns. Was it read up and down? Left to right? Or some other method that would never occur to a human mind?
When he’d entered the last command, the ship lifted off. Through the bow window, Lyra watched the ground recede. The ship moved silently, smooth as butter. She felt only the faintest suggestion of lift, a little tug in her stomach, when they crossed the threshold between atmosphere and open space.
They’d done it. She’d escaped her abductors. She was going home.
Chapter Eight
Undeclared Space
Enforcement Vessel Ashritha
IG Standard Calendar 236.44.20
When they broke orbit, Asier leaned over and touched an indicator at the top of the panel. The controls rearranged into a new formation.
“It’s better to travel through constructed gates, but when we’re this far out, we can project a temporary bridge around the ship.”
Lyra forgot the tension between them. She blinked, almost at a loss for words. “Are you talking about a superluminal Ellis bridge?”
“The mechanics are a little different from what you call an Ellis bridge,” Asier said. “It exists only in contact with the ship, and collapses immediately. Endpoints aren’t fixed, and distances vary depending on hundreds of factors—but the ship calculates all that.”
Lyra goggled at him. “Show me.”
Asier smiled, the point of one fang revealed against the curve of his lips. He leaned over the control panel and walked her through the commands. “Two jumps will take us within a reasonable distance of a gate.”
“Why use a gate? Why not just keep projecting your own bridges?”
“A projected bridge burns through fuel pretty fast. If you jump too far, or too often, you’ll end up sitting in the void until the fuel cells rebuild.”
Lyra stared down at the control panel, almost unable to believe it. “Are we going to do one now?”
“Yes. The ship is just waiting for our authorization.”
A thrill ran through her. Breathless, she asked, “How?”
Asier showed her the initiation sequence. She watched closely, memorizing every detail. She couldn’t read the language on the panel, so she’d have to rely on the choreography of Asier’s hands dancing over the panel.
The AI growled something at them.
“Ready?” Asier asked, leaning back against his seat.
Lyra mirrored him. “Yes.”
The control panel flashed bright blue. Ahead of them, the view of distant stars, galaxies, and planets suddenly faded into black emptiness. Lyra’s stomach lifted as if she’d just jumped off a cliff. The empty darkness remained, but her stomach settled.
Asier unclipped himself from his seat and stood up. “We’re in the bridge.”
“How long will we be in it?” Lyra asked unclipping and standing as well.
He pointed to a sequence of Crurian numerals on the instrument panel. “Here’s the timer.”
Lyra did the math—roughly five hours. “This is… Asier. I can’t believe this. Even the Ravanoth don’t have this kind of tech.”
“No.” He turned away from the black view out the windows. “Follow me.”
He walked over to the door and placed his hand on a smooth metal panel like the one she’d been trying to figure out on the traffickers’ ship. At his touch, the doors slid shut, sealing them both into the small space.