Chapters (37)
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Legals
“It’s not making me feel particularly obedient. Let’s check on our survivor.” Callie patted Elena on the shoulder and then took her hand, because Elena didn’t have thermal imaging in that old suit, and might get lost in the fog. The repair drone didn’t have thermal vision either, or at least she didn’t think so, but he could track the suits. “Shall, take point? Head toward the transponder that’s farthest away.” She followed the drone through the room, the yellow-orange-red blob getting larger in her display. He – it had to be a he, and since Callie knew which one of Elena’s crew had been armed with a shotgun, she was pretty sure which he, too – wasn’t reacting to the noise at all, which wasn’t a good sign in terms of responsiveness. Shall could carry him out, if it came to that.
When they got within ten meters, the figure moved, and there was a burst of sound, barely audible in the shrieking monotony of the alien commands. Shall was in front of them, and he paused. “He just shot me,” Shall said. “I am undamaged.”
“Elena, say something reassuring,” Callie said. “Shall, rebroadcast what she says, loud, in case his suit comms aren’t working.”
“Don’t shoot!” Elena said. “Hans, it’s Elena, I’ve come to rescue you, we have a ship waiting, we can get you out!”
The flashing colors and the guttural shouting stopped just as Shall broadcast the last word, and that “OUT” echoed in the space.
The figure stirred, rose laboriously to its feet, and moved closer. Callie switched her thermal view off when the figure drew close enough for him to be visible through the fog. He emerged from the mist, still in his environment suit, his helmet on, a machine gun dangling from a strap on his chest, a shotgun in his hands, limping, moving slow. Elena pushed past Shall and embraced him, and he just stood there, mute, unmoving, unresponsive. The assault shotgun fell from his hands and landed on the ground with a thunk.
“It’s– it’s Ibn,” Elena said. “I thought it must be Hans, because of the shotgun, and because, well, if anyone was going to shoot someone–”