Chapter 7
TORVEN
The competent, practical, chatterbox scientist who’d handled atmospheric storms and a crash landing without losing her composure started shaking like a leaf. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, and her eyes went wide with what looked like pure terror.
“They’re dead,” she was saying, backing away from the aisle. “They can’t hurt anyone. They’re just bones, but they’re here and they’re dead and what if we end up like that, what if—”
“Hey.” I stepped toward her, concerned by the panic in her voice. “It’s okay. We’re safe. You’re safe.”
“Are we? I’m not so sure we are. If they’re dead, that means it could happen to us.
Statistically, the odds are that we won’t survive this anyway,” she babbled, still backing away.
“I know it’s absurd and irrational but I just have this problem with corpses.
It makes no sense, I know. But ever since I was little and I found them and they were supposed to be safe but they weren’t and—”
She was hyperventilating now, her words coming so fast that I could barely understand them. Without thinking, I crossed to her and pulled her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her trembling form.
“Breathe,” I said firmly, walking both of us well away from the pile of bones in the aisle. “Just breathe. You’re safe.”
She buried her face against my shoulder, and I could feel the warmth of her fast, shallow breath through my shirt.
Her whole body was shaking, and for a moment I was completely at a loss.
This was the same female who’d faced down a planetary electromagnetic storm with scientific curiosity.
What could have triggered such an extreme reaction to a long-dead skeleton?
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know it’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous.” I ran my hand down her back, trying to provide what comfort I could. “Everyone has something they’re afraid of.”
It took several minutes for her breathing to return to normal, and even then, she didn’t pull away from me.
If anything, she seemed to press closer, to melt against me.
I swallowed hard and pushed down the sudden and acute awareness that holding her drew up.
My body was completely unaware that this was not an appropriate time to be aroused.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked gently. “You mentioned finding ‘them’ when you were little.”
She was quiet for so long that I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “My grandparents. When I was eight. There was a string of very bad storms this one season, and a tornado hit their farm.”
I wasn’t familiar with the word “tornado.” She spoke Destran to me, but there was no word for that in my language, so she used the word in her language. Nevertheless, I was able to put together that it was some kind of disaster. My chest tightened as I comprehended what she was telling me.
“They didn’t survive,” she said thickly.
“They were in their storm room. It was supposed to be tornado-proof, reinforced concrete and steel. But the storm was stronger than anyone predicted, and the whole structure…” She swallowed hard.
“I was the one who found them when my parents and I came to check on them after the storm passed. It…left an impression, I guess.”
“Stars above,” I breathed. “No wonder you’re afraid.”
“They were supposed to be safe,” she repeated, and I could hear the eight-year-old child in her voice. “The weather predictions said the tornado would miss their area. The safe room was rated for much stronger storms. But none of it mattered.”
“Is that why you became an atmospheric scientist?” I asked. “To understand storms better?”
She nodded against my shoulder. “I wanted to be able to predict them better. To make sure other families didn’t go through what we did.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. The woman who’d dedicated her life to understanding and predicting weather patterns had been failed by a storm forecast, just like her grandparents had been years ago. Now she was stranded on an alien planet because another storm had been stronger than anyone predicted.
“I need to get you out of this room,” I said, guiding her toward the door. “You don’t need to be in here.”
“But the data—”
“I’ll search the room. You wait in the stairwell.”
I helped her to the landing outside the records room, where she sat down heavily on the metal steps. The color was slowly returning to her face, but she still looked shaken.
“I’ll be right back,” I promised, then returned to the archive to examine the skeleton more closely.
The remains had been here for cycles, possibly tens of cycles. The bones were clean and dry, with no clues about the cause of death. But when I searched through the decayed uniform, I found something interesting—a data pad, much more modern than the storage cubes that filled the shelves.
I took it back to the stairwell, not wanting to leave Zara alone for too long.
“What did you find?” she asked, looking determinedly away from the records room door.
“A data pad.” I sat down beside her and activated the device, relieved when it powered up despite its age. “And it’s in universal standard script. We can read it.”
Zara leaned closer as I scrolled through the device’s contents. The first entry was dated several cycles ago, and it provided exactly the kind of information we’d been hoping to find.
“‘Personal log of Explorer Thex-Nol, Hol-ta Research Expedition Seven-Seven-Alpha,’” I read aloud. “‘Sun cycle one of unscheduled planetary survey.’”
“Hol-ta,” Zara said, some of her scientific curiosity returning despite her earlier trauma. “I’ve heard of them. They’re a species from the Outer Rim territories. Traders, for the most part, I think.”
“That’s what I know of them, too. They’re about as advanced as our species.
” I continued reading, “‘Our ship suffered catastrophic engine failure during routine hyperspace travel. Emergency protocols initiated, but we were caught in this planet’s gravitational field before repairs could be completed. Captain ordered abandon ship. My escape pod landed near this research facility.’”
Zara and I exchanged looks. The parallels to our own situation were unsettling.
“‘Day three,’” I continued reading. “‘Still no contact with other expedition members. This facility appears to have been abandoned, but basic systems are functional. Water and power available. Beginning exploration of the research archives to determine what happened to the previous occupants.’”
The entries continued for several weeks, detailing Explorer Thex-Nol’s attempts to contact his fellow expedition members and his growing understanding of the facility’s history.
“‘Day fifteen,’” I read. “‘Translation of the archive materials has revealed disturbing information. This facility was constructed by a species called the Kythrans as part of a planetary management system. They built multiple towers across the planet to control weather patterns and suppress attacks from a hostile native population when negotiations were unsuccessful.’”
“Weather control,” Zara said. Her brows snapped together. “That would explain the atmospheric anomalies we encountered. If the system is malfunctioning…”
“‘Day twenty-two,’” I continued. “‘Found evidence that the Kythrans lost control of their weather management technology. The system began generating increasingly violent storms, making the planet uninhabitable. At the time these logs are made, only two Kythrans remain in this facility. They avoid me by staying to the upper levels, but show no hostility. They will not communicate with me, despite my repeated attempts. Everything I have learned has been from their records. As far as I can tell, they take shifts at the control stations. Their exact objectives are unknown.’”
“What happened to the Kythrans?” Zara asked.
I scrolled ahead, looking for more information. The entries became shorter and more desperate as Explorer Thex-Nol’s situation deteriorated.
“‘Day forty-one. Food supplies running critically low. Still no contact with other expedition members. Must assume they did not survive landfall. The Kythrans in this facility have disappeared. Found evidence they may have tried to reach one of the other towers, but atmospheric conditions make surface travel extremely dangerous.’”
“‘Day fifty-five. Last of the emergency rations consumed today. Attempting to process local plant matter for nutrition, but most species appear toxic to Hol-ta physiology. Growing weak. If anyone finds this record, know that I tried to warn the galaxy about this place. The weather control system is still active, still generating storms that could spread beyond this planet’s atmosphere if the containment protocols fail.’”
The entries ended there.
I set the data pad aside and looked at Zara. She was staring at the device with an expression of horror.
“He died here,” she said quietly. “Alone, starving, with no hope of rescue. Just like we might.”
“No,” I said firmly, standing up and pulling her to her feet with me. “We’re not going to end up like him.”
“You can’t know that.” There was something fragile in her voice that made my chest ache. “We’re in exactly the same situation. Stranded, no communication with the outside galaxy, limited supplies…”
“I won’t let that happen.” The words came out with more force than I’d intended, but I meant each one. “I didn’t crash-land a ship and lead you through a toxic storm just to watch you waste away in some abandoned tower.”
She looked up at me, and I saw something shift in her expression. The fear was still there, but it was tempered now by something that looked almost like hope.
“You really believe we’ll get out of this?” she asked.
“I know we will.” I took her hand, noting how small and warm it felt in mine.
“We have advantages that Explorer Thex-Nol didn’t have.
We have water; we know there are other people somewhere on this planet—my crew made it to the surface.
And we have more technological knowledge than the Hol-ta, who are more delicate than either of our species.
Plus, much has changed in the eighty cycles since he’s been here.
Better tech. More advancements in the devices we were able to save from the wrecked ship.
” I brought my hand up and, unable to help myself, drew my thumb over her smooth cheek.
“And we have you. If anyone can figure out how this tower works, it’s Dr. Zara Rivers. ”
She leaned into my hand. “This weather control system is far outside of my expertise.”
“And that’s not going to stop you. If we can find a way to shut it down, or at least stabilize it, we might be able to create safe conditions for rescue operations.”
I could see her gaze flicking all over the place as her mind worked, processing what we’d learned. “We need to keep climbing,” she said. “Find the main control systems for this tower.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it?”
She glanced back at the records room, and I saw her swallow hard. But when she looked at me again, her expression was determined.
“I’m sure. We can’t help Explorer Thex-Nol, but we can make sure his death wasn’t meaningless.”
I squeezed her hand gently, then released it. “Then let’s keep climbing.”
As we resumed our ascent, I found myself thinking about what Zara had revealed about her past. Her fear of death, her drive to understand and predict the unpredictable—it all made sense now.
She’d chosen a profession that put her in direct contact with the very forces that had traumatized her as a child, not despite her fear but because of it.
That took a type of courage—or stubbornness—that most people never found. And now she was drawing on that courage again, facing down her deepest fears in order to survive. To help both of us survive.
I’d started this mission thinking of her as a responsibility, someone I needed to protect. But as we climbed toward whatever waited for us in the upper levels of the tower, I realized that wasn’t true anymore.
She wasn’t just someone I needed to protect. She was someone I couldn’t bear to lose.
The distinction mattered more than I was ready to admit.