The explosion rattles the deckplates like a meteor hit just outside the base.
I’m already running.
Screams crackle over the comm lines, a dozen voices trying to report at once. I cut them all off and sprint through the corridor, dodging personnel and med bots that haven’t caught up to the chaos yet. The lights are flickering red, pulsing like a heartbeat through the metal hallways.
I know what that sound was.
It was a ship hitting the atmosphere wrong. It was too fast, too low, too hard. It washisship.
“Kaz,” I whisper into the comm, even though I know it’s useless. “Kaz, please.”
The eastern hangar doors are already open when I barrel through. Smoke pours in through the breach. The air stinks of scorched metal and vaporized fuel. The kind of smell that clings to your clothes, your hair—your soul.
And there it is.
A crumpled, half-melted mass of what used to be a ship, still smoking in the clearing just beyond the perimeter. Rescue teams are fanned out in disarray, too shocked to get close.
I don’t stop to suit up.
I run barefoot across the scorched landing strip.
My lungs burn. My legs scream. I don’t care.
Kaz’s ship is a wreck. One of the wings is gone. The hull’s torn open like something clawed it midair. There’s a deep furrow in the earth behind it where he must’ve skidded—hard.
I scramble up the side and peer into the cockpit, heart in my throat.
He’s there.
Slumped.
Still.
But breathing.
His chest rises—shallow and uneven—but itrises.
My hands shake as I hit the emergency latch. The cockpit glass hisses, depressurizing, then slides back with a groan. The smell hits me instantly—burnt plastic, ozone, and blood. So much blood.
“Kaz,” I breathe, and the word comes out like a sob.
His eyes flutter. One is swollen nearly shut. The other, glassy and unfocused.
He smiles.
Gods help me, hesmiles.
“Told you… I’d make it,” he croaks.
“You magnificent, stupid idiot,” I choke out, reaching for him, cradling the side of his face even though he winces. “You absoluteasshole.Youpromised.”
“I kept it,” he murmurs. “See? Not even dead.”
“Notyet.”
He coughs, and there’s blood. My heart seizes.
“Med evac now!” I scream to the responders, finally catching up. “Get him stabilized!”
