3. Sophie
SOPHIE
I wake up choking on heat and panic.
My eyes snap open to a sky that’s too bright, too close, a flat white glare that makes my vision swim.
Sand crunches under my palms as I jerk upright, heart slamming so hard it hurts, lungs pulling in air that feels thick and dry and wrong.
For half a second I don’t know where I am.
For another half second I know exactly where I am, and that’s worse.
“No,” I rasp, scrambling to my feet. “No, no, no?—”
The camp comes into focus in ugly pieces.
A low shelter rigged from scavenged fabric and bent struts.
A heavy crawler idling nearby, engine ticking as it cools, its bulk half-buried in sand like a patient animal at rest. Dust coats its reinforced frame, plates scarred and dented, heat shimmering off the metal like the world is melting in place. No ship. No cockpit. No stars overhead.
Zhankar.
My stomach drops so hard I feel hollowed out.
“Hey,” a voice says sharply. “Easy.”
I spin, fists already clenched, pulse roaring in my ears.
A man crouches near a small cook flame, hands raised in a way that’s practiced and deliberate.
Dark hair pulled back, clothes layered for the desert, eyes sharp and tracking every move I make.
The crawler looms behind him, solid and immovable, like it belongs exactly where he does.
“Where’s my ship?” I demand. My voice comes out hoarse, half-shattered, but there’s steel under it. “Where is it?”
He doesn’t flinch. “Gone.”
The word hits like a slap.
“Gone how,” I snap. “Gone crashed or gone exploded or gone you’re-lying-to-me?”
“Exploded,” he says plainly. “Fuel cells went critical. You were out cold when it happened.”
My chest tightens. I swallow hard, the air tasting like dust and fear. “That’s not possible. I stabilized the descent. I should have?—”
“You stabilized it enough to survive,” he cuts in. “That’s not nothing.”
I shake my head, backing away until my calves hit something solid. The crawler’s armored flank stops me cold, heat radiating through my clothes. The desert presses in on all sides, endless and empty and merciless.
“I need to get off this planet,” I say, words tumbling over each other now. “I just need to find my father and leave. That’s it. I don’t need—” I gesture vaguely at the camp, the man, the crawler, the horizon. “Any of this.”
He studies me for a beat, expression unreadable. “You’re not leaving.”
That snaps something in me.
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” I say, heat flaring up my spine. “You don’t know me. You don’t know why I’m here.”
“I know you crashed through a forbidden energy field that kills tech for fun,” he replies. “I know your ship came apart like it was made of paper. I know nothing with an engine works here the way it should.”
My gaze flicks to the crawler despite myself. “Then how is that thing running?”
“Because it doesn’t depend on anything Zhankar can break,” he says calmly. “Low-tech. Reinforced. Built to survive this place.”
I laugh, sharp and brittle. “That’s propaganda. Alliance scare tactics.”
“Call it whatever helps,” he says. “Field fries guidance systems, disrupts power distribution, scrambles anything more advanced than a solar coil. That wreck out there proves it.”
My hands curl into fists. “I don’t care. I’ll walk if I have to. I’ll find a relay. A beacon. Something.”
“There is nothing,” he says, firmer now. “Zhankar traps what lands on it.”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the hiss of the cook flame and the low, steady tick of the crawler’s cooling engine. My skin prickles, sweat cooling too fast along my spine.
“You don’t get it,” I say quietly. “My father is here. Somewhere. They said he died, but they’re lying. I know they are.”
His jaw tightens, just a fraction. “You’re not the first person to come here chasing ghosts.”
I step closer, invading his space without thinking. “And you’re not the one who gets to decide whether I stop.”
For a long moment he just looks at me. Then he exhales, slow and controlled.
“Name’s Jax,” he says. “You passed out in the wreck. I dragged you clear before the fuel cells cooked off. Treated what I could. You’ve been out half a day.”
I blink. “Half a?—”
“The sun doesn’t wait,” he says. “Neither does this place.”
I glance down at myself. My flight suit is gone, replaced by lighter fabric wrapped and strapped in layers. My arm is bandaged, skin tight and sore beneath it. My head throbs when I move too fast.
“You undressed me?” I ask flatly.
“Medical necessity,” he replies without missing a beat. “If you want to argue about it, do it after you’re not bleeding.”
My mouth opens, then closes. The fight drains out of me all at once, leaving something colder behind.
“I just need to find him,” I say again, softer this time. “Then I’ll go.”
Jax watches me for a long second.
“You’re not thinking straight yet,” he says. “Dehydration. Shock. Head trauma.”
“I’m thinking just fine.”
“Fine enough to cross hostile territory alone?”
I hesitate. Just a flicker.
He sees it.
“This planet eats people who think they’re special,” he continues. “Makra’s raiders run patrols through these stretches. Scavenger clans shoot first and ask questions never. Sweetwater’s the closest thing to safety you’re going to get.”
“I don’t need safety,” I snap.
“You do,” he says. “Whether you like it or not.”
The words sink in despite my resistance. I look past him, at the horizon shimmering with heat. At the crawler, heavy with supplies, water strapped along its sides, the only thing here that looks capable of movement. At the empty vastness that suddenly feels very real.
“Fine,” I say tightly. “We go to Sweetwater. Then I leave.”
He nods once. “We’ll see.”
We break camp fast. Jax moves with practiced efficiency, stowing gear in the crawler’s compartments, checking water reserves, tightening cargo straps. I try to help and nearly pass out when I climb onto the rear step.
“Sit,” he orders.
“I’m not?—”
“Sit,” he repeats, voice sharp enough to cut.
I sit, bracing myself against the warm metal as the crawler rumbles to life beneath us.
When we finally move out, the desert unfolds its cruelty inch by inch.
The crawler chews through sand and stone, engine vibrating steadily under my boots.
Heat presses down like a weight. The air shimmers, making distance meaningless.
My mouth dries no matter how carefully I sip from the canteen Jax hands me.
“What happened here?” I ask, squinting at a stretch of land littered with bleached debris. Broken tools. Shattered containers. Bones.
“People ran out of water,” he says. “Or luck.”
A settlement comes into view, or what’s left of one. Structures half-buried by sand, solar panels shattered, cloth banners reduced to rags. No movement. No sound.
My chest tightens. “They just… died?”
“They got outcompeted,” Jax replies. “Zhankar doesn’t care who you are.”
We move on. The weight of it all settles into my bones. Scarcity isn’t theoretical here. It’s visible. It’s everywhere.
A sudden tension ripples through Jax’s posture. His hand lifts from the controls, fist clenched.
“Down,” he whispers.
He kills the engine instantly. The crawler goes silent, massive and still.
We drop into a shallow depression beside it as the sound reaches me: engines. Low, rumbling. Multiple.
I peer over the edge and my breath catches.
A patrol crests the ridge, vehicles bristling with mounted weapons, figures armored in jagged silhouettes. Makra’s raiders. I recognize the markings from Alliance briefings.
“Don’t move,” Jax murmurs.
The convoy slows, scanning the terrain. One of them points, laughing, and my stomach twists.
Jax grips my arm, pulling me back as he drags me under the crawler’s shadow and toward a narrow canyon mouth barely visible behind it. We slip inside just as the patrol turns, engines growling closer.
The canyon closes around us, walls rising high and tight, shadow swallowing the heat. I press my back against cool stone, heart pounding so loud I’m sure they can hear it.
The engines pass. Voices echo, distorted and cruel.
Then silence again.
I sag, breath shaking.
“They would have killed us,” I whisper.
“Yes,” Jax says simply.
I look at him then, really look. At the calm in his eyes. At the scars. At the way he moves like this world expects him.
For the first time since I woke up, the truth settles in fully.
Zhankar isn’t just dangerous.
Zhankar is lethal.
But it’s not going to stop me from finding my father.