Chapter 4
TORVEN
The helmet’s visor immediately fogged up the moment we stepped outside, and I had to adjust the internal ventilation to clear it.
The wind hit us hard enough that I had to brace myself against the ship’s hull to keep from being knocked over.
And this was “quiet” weather on this planet.
I didn’t see how this could be Destra and I couldn’t imagine how we’d begin to find proof of that.
Of course, the mission had changed. It was now survival. I wasn’t sure we’d succeed.
“Stay close,” I called to Zara, hoping she could hear me over the wind. The communication system in these damaged helmets was spotty at best.
She nodded and grabbed my arm. Her grip was tight even through the fabric of my jacket. Smart. In visibility this poor, losing each other could be a death sentence.
I pulled out the portable navigation scanner I’d salvaged from the wreckage and strapped it to my wrist. It was a survival multi-tool that I’d hoped to never have to use.
With luck, it could possibly pick up the signal of our crewmates’ pods.
The electromagnetic interference was still playing havoc with most electronics, but the transmitter could work on many frequencies.
Through the swirling dust, I could make out the dark silhouette of the tower rising above us.
I judged the distance to be less than one kilometer.
It might as well have been a hundred in these conditions.
The landscape around us was a nightmare of broken rock and twisted metal debris.
Some of it looked like it had been here for decades, slowly being scoured by the wind into strange, organic shapes.
We started walking, and immediately I understood why no one had tried to establish a permanent settlement here. The ground was unstable, covered with loose rubble that shifted underfoot with every step.
“How much farther?” Zara asked, her voice crackling through the helmet’s comm system.
“Looks like about half a kilometer. Maybe less,” I replied. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but I could hear the strain in her voice. She wasn’t used to this kind of physical exertion, and the toxic atmosphere meant we were both working harder just to breathe.
Keep her moving, I told myself. Don’t think about how fragile she feels beside you. Don’t think about what happens if she collapses out here.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Every stumble, every labored breath through the comm system, sent a spike of fear through my chest that I hadn’t felt since…
Since I lost my last crew.
The memory hit me like a punch to the gut.
Bren and Kira, my navigator and engineer, had been caught in a reactor breach when pirates attacked our ship.
I was on the bridge, trying to coordinate our defense, while they were trapped in the engine compartment.
By the time I fought my way down to them, it was too late.
Afterwards, I swore that I would take zero chances, keep to myself, never again put a crew at risk.
And here I was, leading a brilliant scientist across a hostile alien landscape because I’d foolishly thought we could navigate the storms on the surface.
And we could have, if these were normal storms.
“Captain?” Zara’s voice cut through my spiral of self-recrimination. “Are you okay? You stopped.”
I realized I’d been standing motionless for who knows how long, lost in memories. “I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.”
We pressed on, and I forced myself to focus on the immediate dangers rather than the ghosts of my past or the mistakes of my present.
The wind was picking up, making it even harder to maintain our footing on the unstable ground.
Several times, I had to grab Zara’s arm to steady her when a particularly strong gust threatened to knock her over.
Each time I touched her, even through layers of protective clothing, I felt something twist in my chest that had nothing to do with fear for her safety.
Well, not entirely.
The problem was that Dr. Zara Rivers was not just a responsibility I’d taken on.
She was smart, brave, and had a way of looking at the world that made me want to see it through her eyes.
When she got excited about atmospheric readings or started explaining some scientific concept, her whole face lit up in a way that made my pulse quicken.
And now she was trusting me to keep her alive in an environment that could kill us both.
Focus, I commanded myself. Keep her safe first. Deal with whatever this is later.
If there was a later.
“Tell me about your crew,” Zara said suddenly, her voice cutting through both the wind and my increasingly dark thoughts.
“What about them?” I replied, though my throat felt tight.
“I know you’re worried about them. You keep checking your wrist scanner like you’re hoping it will suddenly start picking up their beacon signals.”
She was right, of course. I had been checking the device obsessively, hoping against hope that somehow the escape pods’ emergency beacons would break through the electromagnetic interference.
“They’re trained for this,” I said, though it sounded weak, even to me. “Emergency landings, hostile environments. They’ll look out for Cleo, find shelter and wait for rescue.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Zara said. “I asked about your crew. What are they like?”
I was quiet for a long moment, negotiating a particularly treacherous stretch of loose rock. Why did she want to know? Was she trying to distract herself from our situation, or was this her way of trying to understand me?
“Henic is my chief navigator,” I said finally. “Been flying longer than I have. He’s got a mate and two kids back on Damiron’s Sola.”
“And the others?”
“Benda was on that shift for communications. She’s got a gift for languages—can speak twelve different alien dialects fluently.
Sibir is a great pilot operator. Make jokes at inappropriate times, but is dead serious on duty.
The rest of the crew are good people. Competent.
They…” I paused, trying to find the right words.
“They deserve better than to be scattered across this planet because their captain made a bad call.”
“It wasn’t a bad call,” Zara said firmly. “You had no idea the storms were abnormal.”
“I should have aborted the mission as soon as we detected those storm cells.” I gritted my teeth. “We’ve flown through many types of weather. I thought we could handle this.”
“Hey.” She stopped walking and turned to face me, even though the wind was making it difficult to stand still. “You made the best decision you could with the information available. Just like you told me about the storm readings. Sometimes bad things happen despite good decisions.”
There was something in her voice, a certainty that made me want to believe her. But the weight of responsibility was still there, pressing down on my shoulders like a physical burden.
“Come on,” I said, starting to walk again. “We need to keep moving.”
Twenty minutes later, Zara stumbled.
It wasn’t a little trip over loose rock. Her foot hit a hidden depression in the ground, and she went down hard, her hands barely breaking her fall before she hit the jagged stone.
“Rivers!” I dropped to my knees beside her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said, but she was breathing hard and I could see where the rock had scraped across her palms through the torn fabric of her gloves. “Just clumsy.”
“Let me see your hands.”
“Captain, I’m fine—”
“Let me see them.”
She held out her hands, and I could see the damage even through the helmet’s visor. The cuts weren’t deep, but they were bleeding, and we couldn’t afford for her to lose strength or dexterity.
I reached into one of the packs on my belt and pulled out the small med kit I’d salvaged from the ship. I took out a self-adhering antiseptic patch meant for quick wound coverings. Another thing I’d hoped I’d never have to use. “This might sting a little.”
She stood still as I placed the bandages on her palms. I was acutely aware of how close we were.
Even through the helmets and heavy coats—we’d packed on as much as we could for protection—I felt the warmth of her body and could hear her breathing in my comm system.
My own pulse was racing, and not just from concern about her injuries.
When had she become more than just a passenger? When had keeping her safe become about more than just professional duty?
“There,” I said, finishing with the bandages and running my thumbs over her palms to keep them in place. “Those should hold until we reach the station. And no more of this ‘Captain’ nonsense. Out here, we’re just two people. Call me Torven.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, and something in her tone made me look at her face through the helmet’s visor. “Torven.”
She was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.
Trust, certainly. Gratitude. But there was something else there, something that made my chest feel tight and my skin shift to colors I was grateful she couldn’t see through my clothing.
I liked the way my name sounded on her lips.
I liked it enough to wonder what it would sound like moaned, or whispered, or…
Move, I snarled at myself. Stop staring at her and walk.
But for a moment, neither of us did. We stood there in the howling wind, surrounded by alien desolation, and I felt like something deep and real and unfamiliar was shifting between us.
Then a particularly strong gust of wind reminded me that we were exposed in a toxic environment, and I forced myself to shake out of it.
“We need to keep going,” I said, offering her my hand. “We’re almost there.”
“Right,” she said, taking it and letting me pull her to her feet. “It’s huge.” She bent backward to peer up at the tall tower.