Chapter 6
Kael’s admission lingers in the charged silence, echoing louder than the fading rumble of falling stone. My throat tightens, but there’s no time to unpack what he said. “Help me,” I say, nodding toward the skirmisher. Near the top, by the hatch, several wires spill out like twisted veins.
Kael releases my shoulders slowly, unclenching his jaw, then stalks to the ship and climbs up the ladder. Rocks block the escape hatch. His cybernetic arm glows faint blue as he tosses stones to the ground and pulls open the door. The metal gives a faint squeal.
He hoists himself to the top of the vessel and stands, pointing at the ladder. “It is clear now. You are small enough you should be able to slip inside.”
I climb, my gloves scraping against the scorched plating. I wonder how long ago the pilot wrecked? It’s hard to judge due to the moon’s low oxygen levels, but the ship definitely looks ancient compared the Volderen skirmishers I’ve seen on Mars.
When I reach the dark opening, I drop inside. The ship’s small and the drop’s only a couple of feet. Weak emergency lights flicker, giving a quick view of the mangled interior.
A shadow looms from above. Kael puts his arm inside and extends a finger. “That panel.”
Nodding, I twirl toward the wall and push against the rectangular plate. It opens with a click. A fist-sized orb pulses faintly, its purple glow reminding me of a dying heart. My fingers close around its smooth surface.
“Got it,” I whisper, cradling it against my chest.
The ravine answers with another tremor, only this one is much stronger than before.
Dust rains down and the ship lurches, forcing me to throw out a hand and grab the back of the passenger chair.
Kael curses in Volderen, grabs the back of my harness, and yanks me just as the skirmisher shudders with a deafening crack.
I fly straight up, through the hatch opening and into the weak sunlight. My feet find the hull and I regain my balance.
“Jump.” Kael’s voice is a whip, and we sprint along the length of the skirmisher as the tail slopes closer to the ground
We jump, and my boots slam against the unstable ground as I land. The hiss of the mist drowns everything, swallowing even the clatter of our boots against the rock.
Somewhere distant, metal groans as the ship’s hull contorts, muffled by the fog.
My own breathing is loud in my ears, ragged and shallow, punctuated by the dull thump of Kael’s footsteps at my side.
Sprinting, he and I pound our way back to the ravine’s wall.
Kael tugs on the cord, clips its metal end to my suit, then shoves me upward. “Climb! I’ll be right behind you.”
I stuff the power core into my front chest pocket and scramble, my muscles screaming, the core heavy against my sternum. Halfway up, the line jerks with Kael’s weight as he ascends from behind. A boulder shears off the wall, slamming into the stone a few feet below. Sparks fly.
“Kael!”
“I am okay.” His voice is raw and fierce. “We are almost there. Keep going.”
He’s right. The lip is right above me. I give an enormous push to the rope and pull myself up onto flat ground. With a final haul, I stand. Running to the rod, I push the button on top, anything that’ll make it easier for Kael since he doesn’t have any sort of safety harness.
It begins reeling the cord. Five seconds later, Kael appears, scrambling upward until he stands next to me, locking his arms around my waist. “Gods.”
We collapse onto solid ground, gasping.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The world is a blur of green haze and pounding hearts. Then Kael cups the side of my visor, his thumb brushing away grit. His eyes—filled with storms darker than black holes—search mine as if memorizing every line.
“You are a reckless, stubborn human,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “I do not want to lose you.”
An urge to laugh and kiss him at the same time rises in me, but the core pulses; a reminder our fight for survival isn’t over.
I swallow hard and nod. “Then let’s make sure neither of us get lost.”
The trek back feels endless. The ravine behind us is a scar on the horizon, and the old Volderen base, a speck of hope, lies across a barren stretch of silver dust. My oxygen gauge blinks yellow, mocking me with every step.
Why is it low? I should have two more hours left.
Well, if I’d been walking at a normal pace and breathing at a normal rate, it should.
But I haven’t, have I? Between the quakes, climbing the gorge, and running for my life, I’d been burning oxygen twice as fast, maybe more.
“Kael.” My voice cracks through the comm. “I’m running out of O2.”
He grimaces. “So am I.”
Wind howls across the moon’s surface, carrying flecks of stinging ice against my visor. Kael stops abruptly, unhooks his mask, and presses it into my hands.
“Retract your visor. We will share it,” he orders in s rough voice.
I hesitate. “What about you? What about frostbite?”
“We will be fine with short exposure times. The base is not far. Do not argue.” His tone is steel. “Breathe.”
I slip on the mask and inhale sharp, sweet air, then pass it back.
He takes a drag, his chest rising, and we fall into a rhythm—one breath for me, one for him—as we trudge onward.
Our faces hover inches apart when we trade the mask, our breaths mingling in the cold.
“Come back to Mars with me,” I whisper. “I’ll show you we’re not all the same.”
His eyes, black and burning, lock onto mine. “Do not waste oxygen talking.”
My lips curve despite the ache in my lungs. “Then maybe you should shut me up with a kiss.”
Why? Why did I say that? It’s true, though. I can’t stand the thought of him just giving up and dying out here, alone and forgotten.
His jaw clenches. For a heartbeat, I think he will kiss me. His gaze drops to my mouth.
Heat flares in my bones; a fire racing through my stomach to my core, creating a yearning ache only he can soothe.
But then he exhales sharply, shoving the mask toward me. “Keep moving,” he growls. “We will go directly to the shelter entrance. It is a shorter walk than the main entrance.”
I do. Barely.
The shelter to the base greets us like a shining beacon as we shoulder our way inside, heaving large breaths of blessed oxygen.
As the door shuts, I hang my suit on a wall. My head feels less foggy.
Several cracks in the ceiling spider across, but it’s still intact.
Kael uses his pen scanner and nods. “It will hold for now.”
The ionospec lights above flicker, and the temperature feels much cooler against my bare skin. I don’t remember it being this cold when we left.
Frost creeps along the walls as Kael wrestles with the holographic computer, grumbling about rebooting the backup generator located at in the other area of the old base.
“The quakes must have damaged the system. I am reading lower oxygen farther back. Right now, this room is the only section of base receiving a continuous flow of air.”
“We need to replicate what triggered the lifecord so we can get out of here,” I say, my teeth chattering. The bracelet gleams faintly from my jumpsuit’s pocket, mocking me with its silence.
Kael’s gaze slices to me. “Ideas?”
“Just one.” I grab an old Volderen helmet since my suit needs to recharge and head for the sealed doors leading to the other section.
“Ellie, stay—” His voice is a warning, but I’m already gone.
Cerium. I think that’s the missing link in opening the wormhole. It was there in the soil on Mars, but I was too consumed with getting the lifecord to put it together.
The helmet’s visor fogs over with every hard exhale, vision fragmenting between frost blooms and the jagged blue-white glare of emergency lights.
Frost webs over the corridor walls, catching pale, flickering light as the crystalline shard pulses like an exposed nerve in the dim.
The overlaying O2 feed shows the oxygen level in this area of the base at below recommended levels for humans or Volderens.
My head spins at the reduced air. With a final push, I slam my hand on the mineral and spin around, pushing my feet to move even though they feel like two balloons.
At the edge of blackout, everything narrows to the raw geometry of the corridor and the sharp, refracted gleam of the crystal in my hand.
At the door, Kael beckons at me. Only three feet away. I can make it.
Kael lunges through the opening and grabs my upper arms, hauling me against him with a force that rattles my bones, and slams his hand on the button to close the doors behind me.
“You are too reckless,” he snarls, his breath hot against my ear.
I manage a grin, dizzy and defiant. “You l-l-like it.”
His answer is a growl—low and primal—before his mouth crashes onto mine.
The kiss is hard; desperate and claiming. His hands grip me like he’s shackling his fingers to mine. And maybe he is.