Page 46 of Lost in Barbarian Space

“Reentry angle is too steep,” the computer intoned.

“Ha, would never have guessed,” Honor muttered in response.

Colm squeezed her nape again. “You can do this. I have plans for you. Plans that involve you naked.”

She groaned. “Don’t distract me.”

But as she kept working the dying controls, she realized he was doing it on purpose to help keep her calm. Her warrior was far too perceptive.

Another alarm started, shattering her thoughts. Flames poured over the canopy of the marlin and the ship rattled.

They were still going too fast.

The thick clouds engulfed them, and she fought with what was left of the ships controls.

Still too fast.

She kept tapping, kept swiping, and bled a little bit of speed from the ship. They burst out of the clouds, and below, she saw the moon’s snowy surface.

Still too fast.

“Colm.” She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He laced his fingers with hers. “In a way, this is better for me.”

She didn’t know what he meant by that, but as they hurtled toward the moon’s surface, she felt despair wash through her. “I wish I’d taken you up on your offer that first night we met, at the dinner.” She wished she’d felt him inside her, stretching her, filling her. Wished she’d explored him all over with her hands, with her tongue.

She wished she slept beside him and heard his hearts beating under her ear.

As the ground rushed up to meet them, instead of closing her eyes, Honor kept her gaze on Colm’s.

The impact was staggering.

Metal crunched. She was tossed against her harness. Pain bloomed.

Colm’s hand slipped from hers. Something smashed into her head.

Then everything went black.

Colm slowly awoke. He was cold, and his head throbbed.

The last time his head had felt like this, he and a teenage Kavon had drunk too much stolen ale at the winter feast. Colm had woken up half naked and facedown in the training yard. Since then, he learned to temper the amount he imbibed at a meal.

He opened his eyes and saw a spider web in front of him. He frowned. That wasn’t right. He squinted. It was glass.

The canopy of the marlin.

Smashed and broken.

A frigid wind blew in along with snow. Everything, including him, was covered in an inch of white powder.

He jerked. Honor.

He turned and saw her slumped beside him, her face turned away.

Be alive. He wrenched the harness off his chest. Blood stained his hands and he touched his head. He felt the wound where his head had contacted something. He knew his nanami would already be racing to fix it.

But Honor had no nanami.