Chapter 20
ZARA
The crawler that returned for us was more crowded than the one that had brought us into the caves.
Six Kythrans who could barely walk, four D’tran warriors whose hostility had only partially thawed, one injured Destran who insisted he was fine despite the grimace that crossed his face every time he moved, and one human scientist who was trying very hard not to have a complete nervous breakdown.
The weather outside had deteriorated so rapidly that even the short wait for the crawler’s return had been nerve-wracking.
Through the cave entrance, I could see the sky churning in shades of green and purple that I’d never observed in any atmospheric conditions.
The electromagnetic readings my broken scanner would have shown were probably off the charts.
“We take crawler to nexus,” Vikkat announced. “Faster. Safer than walking.”
“Can the crawler handle the surface conditions?” I asked, looking at the ancient vehicle with skepticism. It was tough, but it wasn’t designed for the kind of weather I could see building outside.
“Better than they can,” one of the D’tran guards said. “The nexus is three ticks travel by crawler, if coordinates are true. Two days on foot, if we survive.”
Torven settled himself carefully onto one of the benches, his face carefully neutral, but I could feel the pain through our bond. The Kythran medicine had helped, but he was still healing, still weak. The trek through the caves to reach the pickup point had clearly cost him.
“You should have stayed behind,” I muttered, sitting beside him.
“And miss all the fun?” He managed a smile. “Besides, you need me. My marks are part of the solution, remember?”
He was right, but I hated it. Hated that he was injured because of me, hated that we needed him when he should be resting, hated that I had petitioned for this expedition in the first place.
The Kythrans loaded themselves into the crawler with evident relief, clearly exhausted and in pain from the violence in their chamber.
The eldest one—whom I’d learned was called Thresk—sat as far from the D’tran as possible, though his large eyes kept darting toward them with a mixture of fear and cautious hope.
It was clear they were frightened of their larger, more powerful hosts as their skin changed to match the wall of the crawler behind them.
The D’tran didn’t like that, even though everyone, including the Kythrans, were mostly covered by thick cloaks.
The D’tran warriors, for their part, were maintaining a tense silence. Dorek, in particular, looked like he was chewing on something bitter. His jaw was tight and his eyes still carried tinges of red. He’d agreed to this plan, but he clearly wasn’t happy about it.
As the crawler lurched into motion, I pulled out my portable light and the small notebook I always carried.
With my scanner destroyed, I was back to the oldest form of data collection: handwritten notes.
I’d already started documenting everything we’d learned about the marks, the codes, the system architecture.
“You’re making notes,” Torven observed.
“Force of habit. Plus, if we survive this, someone’s going to want a detailed report.” I sketched out the pattern I’d seen in his marks when the Kythran had touched them. “And if we die, maybe someone will find this notebook and learn something useful.”
“That’s morbid.”
I shrugged. “It’s practical.”
The crawler picked up speed as we left the caves and hit the surface. Through the narrow windows, I could see the landscape racing past in a blur of tortured rock and stunted vegetation. The sky was getting darker, the clouds pressing down like they were trying to crush the planet beneath them.
The journey was tense and silent, broken only by the grinding of the crawler’s treads and the occasional crack of thunder from outside.
I spent the time going over everything we knew about the weather control system, trying to prepare for what we might face at the nexus.
At least I was able to pause use of my implanted translator for a while and give my headache a chance to abate. It did, a little.
The Kythrans had explained as much as they could about the system architecture.
The weather towers were all connected, but the nexus was the central hub.
If we could access it, input the correct control codes, we might be able to shut down the entire network or at least stabilize it enough to make the planet habitable again.
Might. Could. Possibly. My entire plan was built on uncertainties and hopes.
“Rivers,” Torven said quietly. “Stop spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling. I’m analyzing.”
“You’re catastrophizing. I can feel it.”
Damn the bond and its inability to let me worry in private.
“Fine. I’m catastrophizing. We’re about to attempt to shut down a planetary weather control system using improvised methods, partial information, and species that were trying to kill each other six hours ago.
I think some catastrophizing is warranted. ”
“Fair point.” He shifted carefully, wincing. “But try to ease up on yourself.”
“I really can’t,” I said. “My head is so full right now. I’d give anything for Cleo and Maya to be here.
” They were the other two legs to the stool that was us.
Maya, the natural leader with a clear, even head and a wide breadth of knowledge.
Cleo, who was pretty fearless, plain-speaking, and whose tech skills blew mine out of the water.
I was the analyst, the data aggregator, the one who gave them all available information so they could organize it and form a plan.
I liked my role. Never once had I wished I could take on theirs.
But here I was, having to be all three legs to a stool with questionable structural integrity.
Torven’s large hand rested on my back and rubbed in large, warm circles. “We’ll figure it out, Rivers.”
To think there was a time when I didn’t like that phrase of his. Just then, it was exactly what I needed to hear. Each time that we’d had to “figure it out,” we had. I needed to believe we would this time, too.
The crawler shuddered as we hit a particularly rough patch of terrain, and I heard one of the Kythrans make a pained sound. They were holding up better than I’d expected, but they were clearly suffering. The eldest, Thresk, looked like he might collapse at any moment.
“How much farther?” I asked.
“One tick,” Vikkat replied. “Maybe less if weather holds.”
The weather didn’t hold. Fifteen minutes later, the crawler was being buffeted by winds that made the vehicle rock on its treads.
Rain lashed at the windows—not the acid rain we’d encountered before, but something worse.
It was thick and oily, leaving smears across the glass that glowed faintly in the darkness.
“What is that?” I asked, staring at the substance.
“Atmospheric breakdown products,” one of the Kythrans said. “The system is releasing concentrated pollutants. This is what happens when the weather network goes through a failure mode.”
“Failure mode?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“When the system can no longer maintain even the illusion of control. When it begins actively destroying the atmosphere rather than managing it.” They looked at me with those dark, sad eyes. “It usually corrects itself after a time.”
“Usually?” I pressed. “So it’s possible that it won’t?”
Thresk shook his head. “It’s always possible that each failure mode will be the final failure mode. Meaning, it will never end.”
I translated for the others, and saw the urgency settle over everyone like a weight. Even Dorek’s hostility seemed to pale in comparison to the reality of what we were facing.
The crawler pushed on through conditions that should have been impossible.
The D’tran driver was clearly skilled, navigating by instruments and instinct through visibility that had dropped to almost nothing.
Lightning cracked across the sky in patterns that looked almost like circuitry, like the planet itself was shorting out.
Then, through the murk and the rain, I saw it.
The nexus tower.
It was massive. Easily three times the height of the weather tower where Torven and I had sheltered, and ten times the diameter.
It rose from the tortured landscape like a monument to power and might.
Its surface was covered in the same intricate patterns I’d seen in Torven’s marks.
But these patterns were glowing, pulsing with energy that I could see, even through the poor visibility.
“Stars above,” I breathed.
The tower was still operational. Not just functional—actively running. Everyone in the vehicle could feel the power emanating from it, even through the crawler’s shielding. A deep thrumming that made my teeth ache and my bones vibrate.
The crawler pulled up to a reinforced entrance that looked like it had been designed to withstand exactly the kind of weather we were experiencing. The D’tran driver maneuvered us into a sheltered bay, and suddenly the violence of the storm was muted.
We climbed out on shaking legs and hurried inside after four D’tran were able to haul open a door wide enough for us to slip through.
I got my first clear look at the interior of the nexus.
It was pristine. Unlike the abandoned weather tower or the Kythran refuge, this place looked eerily maintained.
Clean surfaces, functioning lights, the hum of active systems. No signs that its inhabitants had hastily departed under bad circumstances.
“How is this possible?” I asked Thresk. “You said you couldn’t control the towers.”