Chapter 2 Tai
TWO
Tai
Crash-landing is not the way these fucking pods are supposed to work.
I’m alive, but this thing is dead. I kick the hatch open and immediately know where I am when the sand pours in.
The one place in the entire universe I swore I’d never return to.
I fling the respirator back into the lifepod.
It would almost be better if I needed to use it because then it would mean I wasn’t on Sabaak. At least I’ve got my blaster this time.
This is all Bri’s fault.
Once things calmed down back home, Aro gave me a simple mission: get Bri back to j’Tilak.
But things are never that simple with her.
Silly me for expecting her to be happy when I showed up.
Instead of gratitude and cooperation, she radiated disdain and fury.
It still doesn’t quite make sense to me.
A few weeks ago, Bri was on my home planet doing anything she could to stay.
Then, she wouldn’t let me take her back.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by any of this. Come to think of it, every interaction with Bri has sent me on a collision course with ruin.
I don’t know which is more irritating: Bri refusing my help, which she obviously needs, or the sand grinding between my teeth.
The thing I hate most about Sabaak is the bad memories it brings up. I’m a completely different Tilak now—those memories belong to someone else.
First things first: I need to get to higher ground and locate Bri.
She can’t be far. Hopefully she’s still with her pod.
Anyone with the smallest amount of self-preservation knows to stay with the lifepod after a crash landing.
It’s a lot easier to find a lifepod than a lone figure wandering the desert.
We’ll probably be stuck here a day or two—max. Then we should be picked up. The locator beacons in the lifepods these days are pretty reliable. Any competent recovery operator should find us easily.
But then again, there are multitudes of travelers who get marooned on random planets and have to make it their home. Not me, though. I’ll get back to j’Tilak—or die trying.
I double-time it up the hill, moving fast so the sand doesn’t fill up my boots.
From the top of the dune the howling wind lashes my face.
I put on my visor, and it gets to work gathering data on my surroundings.
Neon green glyphs leap across the screen and blink, rubbing in the bad news, as if I needed a reminder.
Inoperable lifepod.
Boiling temperatures.
Limited emergency supplies.
No known way off the planet.
The visor pinpoints my location relative to local civilizations—useful information. I prefer not to interact with anyone on this planet.
There is a Sabaaki village to the south and an Oo’rahim colony to the north. Now I know exactly where to avoid. The only person on this planet that matters is Bri. The instant I find her, I’ll drag her ass back home and never think about this place again.
Seventy percent probability of survival flickers across my field of vision. I thought I had better odds than that. My bionic arm is already reacting poorly to the environment. Sand has worked its way into the joints. The gears hitch when I move the arm.
Fuck. Every second on this planet increases the likelihood of permanent damage. These things are hard to come by, and I’d rather not have to deal with the hassle. As it stands, it’s going to take me weeks to get my arm working properly again.
My visor locks on the horizon. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the distance, but very clearly I can make out a trail of footprints through the sand.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The visor shows what my own vision can’t: the green outline of another lifepod on the backside of a distant hill and farther in the distance a tiny bright red dot.
Biosignature Identified: Human
Identity: Brisa Mitchell
This is bad. Worse than bad—it’s annoying.
My objective hasn’t changed, but it is getting more complicated by the second. Why can’t that female stay where she’s supposed to?
It shouldn’t be a problem to get to her. I’m bigger and faster and should be able to catch up in less than a day.
She should not be out here alone. These desolate planets are the perfect place for outlaws and criminals to hide out. I should know.