“Yes, well, Veirn knows the way home.”
And now Tim did turn to hug Riina. If they’d dared to lift their faceplates, he’d have kissed her.
24
The shuttle materialized in front of them, not quite resting on the unstable ground. She and Tim had needed to move further away from the crater they’d helped create, as the ground kept shifting and shuddering.
“It was,” Tim said, “like being back on Arroxan Prime.”
They’d shared a grin, but more than the grin was the look of promise in his eyes. His gaze was like the one in her dreams. Intent, focused, filled with love.
When they went up the ramp, she was surprised to find the rear bay empty.
“This is the other shuttle,” Tim said, glancing around. He grinned again. “We’re alone.”
Riina grinned back and then had to bite back a yawn. “Sorry.”
He looped an arm around her waist. “You need food and rest in that order.”
Tim waited until Riina was settled into the fold down bunk, taking just a moment to look at her lying there with her lashes making half-moons on her pale cheeks. This had been a rough one and it wasn’t over yet.
Arroxan Prime was still out there and their first contact mission. But for now, they were headed back to the Quendala.
He headed for the cockpit and settled into the pilot’s seat. Yet another fragment of Veirn was piloting the shuttle, but he felt the need to monitor their progress—and that of the other shuttle.
As the strange junkyard began to fall way behind them, he could see it better now.
It was what he’d loosely call a space station, though it was more platform than anything. Wide and flat and messed up in every way he could think of.
There’d been no other life signs. So, the pilot who had tried to help him was dead, too, or had been lifted away by the aliens? That was possible.
The large alien and his side kick were definitely dead. And the myriad of smaller aliens that had attacked him?
No sign of any of them.
He wondered if anyone would come after them, perhaps to leave a derelict ship, and find a ghost station, or if some other nasty human would move in and take it over.
He wasn’t sorry he might not never know. He’d be happy to never come here again.
25
With an echo of the sense of ‘been here, done this,’ Kellen stood in his bay as first one, then another shuttle landed. The people that began to straggle out appeared shell-shocked, relieved, worried, afraid, and possibly just a little excited.
“It’s my first spaceship,” one woman muttered, looking around with awe.
But they were all also exhausted and though they hadn’t starved yet—the supplies on the shuttle had been enough to keep them going but they’d been rationed and running out—they were hungry for real food.
His people looked as strained as they each were capable of. Trac, of course, didn’t look like anything but himself.
But there were his people—crew and rescued—and it appeared they picked up a bird along the way. The strain of the last week showed clearly on their faces. Even Lt. Dish was missing all of her perkiness. She dragged down the ramp and gave him a wan smile that he suspected even a bowl of popcorn couldn’t help.
“What do you want more?” He asked. “Food or sleep?”
She paused, and it appeared to take almost more effort than she had energy for, to try to decide.
“Go get some rest,” he said.
She nodded. Kellen looked at Trac, nodding toward her and the cyborg went to her, picked her up and strode out. The lieutenant didn’t even squeak a protest. It was possible she was already asleep.
