On the flight deck, Lyra went to the closest shuttle and wrenched the hatch open. She threw herself into the pilot’s chair and pressed her hand against the panel. After a second, the panel flashed its recognition of her bio-imprint and the controls lit up beneath its smooth surface. Working from memory, Lyra commanded the shuttle to prepare for launch.
While the shuttle ran through its startup protocols, Lyra slid out of the chair to kneel beside the computronic hatch below the flight panel. She pried the cover back, revealing the inner workings of the instrumentation panel.
The RSP core that allowed fleets to track all of their vessels was a small bit of circuitry submersed in in a bio-electric gel matrix. It looked very much like the one on Ravanoth vessels. Without any tools at her disposal, and with no time to waste, Lyra slid her fingers into the gel matrix. Mild electric shocks pricked over her skin as she plucked the core out.
The ship pinged at her, and the AI began to scold in the growling Scaeven language. Lyra closed up the computronic panel.
“NO!” Asier’s bellow echoed through the flight deck.
Lyra leapt from the pilot’s seat and reached the open hatch just in time to make contact with his wild-eyed gaze. As soon as he caught sight of her, his face hardened, and he surged towards her.
She wrenched the hatch down and just managed seal and lock it before Asier reached her. He gripped the handle, trying to rip it open. The shuttle let out a warning alarm. She couldn’t understand the growling AI, but she assumed it was something about not being able to move until all hazards were cleared of the shuttle’s perimeter.
She turned back to the hatch, looking through the small square window to make eye contact with the ferocious creature who had her heart. Even after his betrayal, she still wanted him. Wanted to give in and step out of the shuttle, and just be his. If he hadn’t betrayed her, she might have even asked for it. In a strange way, she had to be grateful that he’d driven her back to her honor and her obligations. He’d sent her back to her sister.
“Asier” she said hoarsely, her face rigid with grief. “It’s your fault that it’s ending this way.”
Asier slammed his fists against the sealed hatch. The entire shuttle rocked beneath the blow. “The shuttle has a tracker!” He snarled. “I’ll find you!”
Lyra blinked back tears. “I’m not stupid.” She held up the dismantled RSP core.
Asier’s face fell. A soft gleam lit behind his golden eyes. For a long moment, they only regarded each other, abject despair etched onto both their faces.
Asier let out a heavy breath. “You win, Lyra.” He stepped away from the shuttle, his gaze locked with hers. The gleam of his eyes grew stronger. “I can’t keep you. You’re not mine, are you?”
Lyra choked on a sudden sob. “I wish I could be.”
The alarm ceased, and the AI made a brief announcement. The shuttle dropped down into the track with a hydraulic hiss and began the slide into the launch chute. Inch by slow inch, Asier disappeared from view. Lyra stood at the hatch, watching him until he was gone, replaced by the solid black darkness of the chute.
The AI growled at her some more. A red light appeared on the flight panel. Swallowing the scream that threatened to boil out of her throat, she fumbled in the pitch black to the front of the shuttle and belted herself into the pilot’s seat.
Light appeared first as a faint line along the bottom of the bow window. The glow grew until it filled the cabin with the cold gray light of a distant, nameless dwarf star.
As the rear of the shuttle reached the terminal of the chute, the thrusters came on, and Lyra was pinned against her seat. The shuttle shot out into the cold, empty expanse of space, and all sound fell away except for the sobbing of her own breath, the horrible racing of her own heartbeat. There was nothing but cold light, long shadows, and the void.
Asier’s ship hovered darkly behind her. She felt his gaze like a weight on her body.
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wiping at the senseless hot tears that blinded her. When she could see again, she wiped her hands on Asier’s shirt, still damp with her sweat. Leaning over the control panel, she set the controls for a jump that would take her to the nearest Ellis gate.
Even through her grief, she felt a brief flash of awe over the capabilities of Scaeven tech. The fact that even a short-range shuttle had the capability to project a temporary superluminal bridge was astounding.
But very quickly the awe was consumed by sorrow. Lyra lay her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. The AI growled some sort of confirmation for the jump, and a second later, Lyra felt a disorienting shift that told her she’d passed through the bridge.
When she opened her eyes, the dark void of the Ellis gate was in front of her. She let out a heavy breath, and joined the line of ships waiting to jump.
Chapter Fifteen
Pavo-Indus Supercluster, NGC 7014
Manftigh Station
IG Standard Calendar 236.44.29
When Lyra reached Manftigh Station, she half feared Asier would be there waiting for her. But he wasn’t. She felt as much disappointment as she did relief, but let herself pretend to feel only the latter.
She moored Asier’s ship in a private berth. Payment for docking was extracted upon departure, so she didn’t have to worry about covering the docking fee.
It was idiotic, but she kept the shuttle’s RSP core. She knotted it into the hem of Asier’s t-shirt.
Extremely conscious of her odd dress, her bare legs, and bare feet, Lyra walked down to the commercial docks and found a Ravanoth tungsten hauler bound for human territory.
Captain Torsung was an elder Ravanoth female, her rosy pink skin freckled with red age-spots. Like most of the Ravanoth, she wore a scarf draped over her hairless head and wrapped loosely over her shoulders. The scarf—and her flight suit—would be woven with thermal fibers that kept the cold-blooded Ravanoth comfortable in the cooler temperatures that most other creatures preferred.
The captain’s round, black eyes regarded Lyra with the analytical detachment that seemed intrinsic to their species.
Seven faded blue tattoo lines ran from the captain’s lower lip, over her chin, and down her throat, where they disappeared beneath her clothing. They marked her as an adherent of a common Ravanoth religion—Paltunkth.
More of a spiritual ideology than a form of worship, Paltunkth required adherents to provide aid to any who asked of it, if it was within their power to do so. As a result, it was about as rude as possible to directly ask a Paltunkth for literally anything, since they categorically would not refuse you.
Instead, the polite method was to muse, aloud, that a particular object or occurrence might be optimal, leaving it up to the listener to decide whether or not they cared to assist.
Lyra couldn’t afford good manners. She’d found one Paltunkth among the crew, and asked for passage aboardship. It hadn’t been within the crew member’s ability to provide, so instead, he’d delivered her to the captain.
“I have an empty berth you may use,” Captain Torsung said, the trader’s Creole softened by the burr of her Ravanoth accent.
Lyra followed the captain into the ship’s loading bay, ducking workers and machinery. The heat and humidity of the ship was oppressive to Lyra’s human sensibilities, but she’d expected it.