Page 36 of Pocket Wife

“It often is.”

The crawler climbs another bend.

A warning blinks amber on the dash.

I lean forward. “That’s new.”

Rethan reaches for the console. “Guidance fluctuation.”

The crawler jerks.

Not hard. Just enough to shift the sealed case against my thigh.

Then the steering column locks.

“Rethan.”

“I see it.”

He moves fast, hands crossing the controls with startling precision. The crawler’s wheels shudder against the gravel. Another warning flashes, then another, red this time. Brake line failure. Guidance loss. Manual override unavailable.

The road curves left.

The crawler does not.

I grab the emergency rail as the vehicle punches through scrub and drops onto the slope below the track. Stone slams beneath us. The world tilts. The sealed case flies loose. Rethan catches it with one hand and braces his other arm across me before the crawler strikes something solid enough to throw us both forward.

Glass cracks.

Metal screams.

Then everything stops at a wrong angle.

For a moment, there is only cooling metal and the hard rush of blood in my ears.

“Lucy.”

Rethan’s voice breaks through the ringing.

“I’m here.” I taste blood where my teeth caught the inside of my cheek. “You?”

“Functional.”

“Of course you are.”

His hand is still near my shoulder, not holding me down now, only there. He withdraws it carefully, as if the space between us needs permission.

The crawler rests against a cluster of black stone halfway down the slope. One wheel hangs over open air. Below that, the ravine drops into a dry wash lined with thornbrush.

Another meter, and we would not have stopped.

I check the dash. “That was not a guidance fluctuation.”

“No.”

Rethan opens the side panel and scans the exposed wiring. He doesn’t describe what he finds, which tells me enough.

“Sabotage?” I ask.