Chapter 7 #3
The rest of the assignments flow quickly.
Teams are dispatched to various parts of the capital and surrounding areas.
Some will be sent to assess agricultural systems, others to survey key buildings for habitability, and still others to evaluate the communications infrastructure.
It's a lot of moving pieces, a coordinated effort to ensure that Ceraste can truly live again.
Before the groups scatter, L'Zaen addresses A'Vanti directly.
"Once you've completed your work at the water plant, Chancellor L'Forn has a list of buildings he wants evaluated for structural integrity.
The specialty analysis bots are already loaded in Cody's shuttle; they'll help you collect the necessary data. "
A'Vanti inclines her head in acknowledgment. "Understood."
As people begin moving toward their assigned ships, L'Tarne catches my arm. His grip is firm, his expression unusually serious.
"Pilot to pilot," he says, his voice low. "Pay attention to the wind patterns out there. The desert generates sudden, strong gusts. They come out of nowhere, and they'll knock you off course if you're not ready for them."
"Noted," I say, appreciating the warning. "Any other tips?"
"Trust your instruments over your eyes when the sand kicks up. Visibility can drop to nothing in seconds during a gust." He claps my shoulder once, a gesture of solidarity. "You've got good instincts. Just stay alert."
"Thanks, L'Tarne."
He nods and heads toward his own ship, and I turn to gather my passengers.
The next few minutes are a controlled chaos of loading people and equipment.
My shuttle is one of the mid-sized vessels.
It's bigger than a fighter dart but much smaller than the main transport.
It's designed for exactly this kind of work: ferrying teams and supplies across rough terrain.
Still, with Dr. Petrova's team of six, plus A'Vanti and all their equipment, it's a tight fit.
I help everyone get situated, securing equipment and making sure the analysis bots are properly stowed. A'Vanti takes the co-pilot seat beside me without discussion, and joy fills me at her easy assumption that she belongs there.
"Coordinates locked in," I announce, pulling up the water treatment facility on my navigation display. "Flight time should be about twelve minutes, depending on conditions."
Dr. Petrova gives a curt nod from the seat directly behind me. "Let's get moving, then. Daylight's burning."
I power up the engines and lift off, guiding the shuttle through the open bay doors and out into the Cerastean suns. The military base falls away beneath us, and then we're rising higher, the full scope of Najara spreading out below.
Flying through the city is surreal. Skyscrapers rise around us like the bones of some massive creature, all that beautiful architecture standing silent and empty.
I thread between buildings, keeping our altitude relatively low to avoid the worst of the upper-level wind currents D'Rett warned me about.
The streets below are empty canyons of pale gold stone, and I imagine what they must have looked like when they were full of life.
Beside me, A'Vanti is quiet, her gaze fixed on the city passing beneath us. I don't need to ask what she's thinking. Every empty window, every silent street, must be a fresh reminder of what was lost.
We clear the main urban center and head out toward the facility, the buildings growing sparser as the desert reasserts itself. The landscape opens up into rolling dunes and rocky outcroppings, that same beautiful golden expanse we saw from orbit.
A massive gust of wind hits the ship without warning.
One moment we're flying smooth and level, the next the ship lurches hard to starboard as a sand-filled blast slams into the hull. The viewport goes momentarily opaque, a swirling curtain of gold that blocks out everything.
My training takes over before my brain catches up, my hands doing what thousands of hours in the cockpit taught them to do.
I punch the throttle and bank into the wind.
I don't panic and overcorrect, keeping my movements smooth and controlled.
The shuttle shudders and groans before quickly leveling out.
"Nice flying," A'Vanti says, and the approval in her voice makes my ego inflate.
"L'Tarne gave me a heads up. Couldn't let his advice go to waste." I give her a grin as my pulse starts to settle.
The water treatment plant comes into view ahead of us.
The facility is a sprawling complex of cylindrical tanks and interconnected buildings.
A series of massive pipes extends from the main structure, snaking out into the desert in various directions.
The whole facility sits on a slight rise, overlooking a valley.
I spot the landing pad, a flat circular platform on the facility's eastern side, and begin our descent. The wind is still present, but without skyscrapers or nearby rock formations to churn it into chaos, it's easy to read and compensate for. I set us down with barely a bump.
"Smooth as silk," Dr. Petrova comments, and coming from her, that's practically effusive praise.
Before anyone moves to debark, A'Vanti is already at her tablet, fingers moving across the screen.
"I'm deploying the analysis bot," she says, and somewhere along the hull, a small port slides open.
The bot, a sleek and more sophisticated than the cleaning units we left at the terminal, rises into the air outside, hovers for a moment as its sensors calibrate, then zips off toward the structure ahead.
"It will scan for structural instabilities, atmospheric hazards, anything that might pose a risk. I've recalibrated it to also scan for dangerous wildlife. We'll have results in a few minutes."
While we wait, I gaze out the viewport at the landscape surrounding us.
We're just outside the capital proper now, and the difference is striking.
Without the buildings to provide scale and context, the desert seems to stretch endlessly in every direction.
The vista is an ocean of gold and amber and terracotta, broken only by scattered rock formations and the occasional scrubby plant.
And dominating the horizon, impossible to ignore, stands Spire Mountain.
It's massive. Even from this distance, it towers over everything, a jagged peak of dark stone that rises from the desert floor like a monument to something ancient and powerful.
The light catches its upper reaches, painting them in shades of copper and bronze, while the lower slopes remain wrapped in shadow.
"The catacombs are beneath Spire Mountain," A'Vanti says, and I realize she's been watching me study the peak. "Generations of my people rest there now. Including—" She pauses, her voice catching slightly. "Including the ashes of those who were taken by Diamalla's poison."
I reach over and take her hand. She lets me, her fingers cool in my palm.
"When the capital is livable again," she continues, "I'm going to suggest to Chancellor L'Forn that we erect some kind of monument.
A memorial for those we lost." Her gaze stays fixed on the distant mountain.
"Perhaps at the base of Spire Mountain, near the entrance to the catacombs.
Somewhere their sacrifice can be remembered and honored. "
"That's a beautiful idea," I say, and I mean it. "They deserve to be remembered."
"Yes." Her voice is soft but firm. "They do."
The analysis bot returns, zipping back through the auxiliary hatch with a muted electronic chirp. A'Vanti pulls up its report on her tablet, her expression shifting into focused concentration.
"Structural assessment complete," she announces, loud enough for Dr. Petrova and her team to hear.
"The facility is largely intact, but there are several areas flagged as potentially unsafe.
" She manipulates the display, and a three-dimensional schematic of the building blooms into existence, certain sections highlighted in warning red.
"The northern pump house shows significant foundation settling.
And there's a section of the upper maintenance level where the roof appears to have partially collapsed. "
Dr. Petrova leans forward to study the schematic. Her sharp eyes trace over the highlighted areas, and after a moment, she nods with evident satisfaction.
"None of those sections are critical to my work," she says. "The primary filtration systems and control rooms are all in the green zones. We should be able to avoid the damaged areas entirely."
"Then we're clear to proceed," A'Vanti confirms.
The team begins gathering their equipment, the cramped interior of the shuttle becoming even more crowded as people stand and stretch. I stay in my seat, watching through the viewport as they file out the main hatch and head toward the facility's entrance.
"You're not coming?" A'Vanti asks, pausing at my shoulder.
"Figured I'd keep an eye on things from here," I admit. "I'm a pilot, not a scientist. I'd only be in the way while you and Dr. Petrova do the actual work."
She considers this for a moment, then nods. "If you see anything concerning, use the comms."
"Will do."
She heads out to join the others, and I watch until she disappears through the facility's main entrance.
The next few hours pass slowly.
I keep the transport's sensors running, monitoring for any approaching weather systems or unexpected movement in the surrounding desert.
Every so often, voices crackle through my comms: Dr. Petrova issuing instructions, A'Vanti reporting on structural conditions, various team members calling out findings and concerns.
Most of it goes over my head. I catch words like "reverse osmosis" and "membrane integrity" and "sediment buildup," but the technical details blur together into a language I don't speak.
What I do understand is that things seem to be going well. Dr. Petrova's tone shifts from brisk efficiency to cautious optimism as the assessment progresses. The systems aren't operational yet, but they're not destroyed either. With work, maybe a lot of work, they can be brought back online.
I scan the horizon again, watching the light shift as the larger sun continues its arc toward the horizon while the smaller one lingers higher in the sky.
A flicker of movement catches my attention. There is something in the distance, out in the dunes. I lean forward, squinting against the glare, but whatever it was is gone. Probably another keth'ra, or some other equally dangerous predator, I imagine.
I settle back in my seat and keep watching our surroundings.
Through the comms, I hear A'Vanti's voice. She is calm and professional as she walks the team through her structural findings, explaining load-bearing concerns and material degradation with an expertise I can only admire from a distance.
I think about the moment in the hangar when we worked together to drive the keth'ra out. The way she moved without hesitation, thinking three steps ahead. The way we fell into sync without needing to discuss it, as if we'd been working together for years.
That's what I want. Not just the stolen kisses and the quiet moments, though I want those too. I want to be her partner. In this work, in this life, in whatever comes next.
And sitting in the silence of the shuttle, watching the Cerastean suns paint the desert in shades of gold, I hope that she wants the same thing.