“The Liberty party has the best plan for dealing with those things,” a lady walking behind her said. A male voice agreed, but a Callite walking the other direction didn’t. Molly quickened her pace even more as an argument broke out, the din of political discourse competing with the roar of thrusters vaporizing air.

If there was one thing she had learned and learned well regarding Lokian elections, it was that the process spilled copious amounts of blood. For votes and otherwise. And frankly, she was growing sick of the sight of the stuff.

As she left the squabble in her wake, she felt ever more impatient to do the same for the entire village. Her entire planet, even. All she wanted was to get to hyperspace, to find Cole, to be in his arms, and to see her father. Hopefully, the next stop would be their last. The problem was, Cat the Callite’s trail seemed to be taking them toward Bekkie, Lok’s capital city.

The absolute last place she wanted to be with elections looming.

4

Cole worked the manual crank to open the landing gear hatches and heard the distant hiss of air leaking inside the ship. He grabbed his helmet from the ground and snapped it on, even though his suit could only retain an hour or so of air. Riggs left his helmet off as he worked the last bolt out of the panel behind the seats. He pulled the sheet of flimsy steel free.

“Drenards, it’s freezing out there!” Riggs said. He turned to Cole and smiled at his closed visor. “The air’s fine, man. Frigid, but breathable.”

Cole lifted his visor and felt the draft of cool air on his face. It didn’t match the bright, searing light he’d seen during their rapid descent. “I wanna go first,” he told Riggs.

“Be my guest. I’d rather keep you in sight, anyway.”

Cole bit his tongue and grabbed one of the survival kits before duck-ing under the back of the hanging nav seat. He squeezed past Riggs and pushed the kit into the maintenance tunnel, then crawled head-first after it.

Cole held his biostick aloft as he worked his way across a series of jutting pipes and bundled wires. Above him, a smooth track ran into the distance, a mechanic’s car hanging from its rails just a few meters ahead. Inverted and useless, the track and car taunted Cole as he moved across a rough terrain of mechanical systems, trying not to cut his flightsuit open on any of the sharp hose clamps.

The air he crawled into became more frigid by the meter. Cole snapped his head forward, locking his visor down against the biting cold. He could see light coming in from an opening ahead, which reminded him of a little problem: the blinding light they’d encountered during the crash landing was still out there. Without the canopy filters, they’d be blinded in an instant.

“What’s taking you?” Riggs asked from behind.