“Let’s begin again, with some proper introductions. Did I hear your name was Crescent?”
“Just Cress, please.”
He extended a hand toward her. When she gave him hers, he tugged her closer, bent his head, and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Cress stiffened and swooned, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her.
“Captain Carswell Thorne, at your service.”
Fourteen
Cinder followed the progression of the Rampion on her retina display, watching breathlessly as they entered Earth’s atmosphere over northern Africa and careened toward Farafrah, a small oasis that had once been a trading post for caravans traveling between the central African provinces and the Mediterranean Sea. It had fallen into poverty since the plague had first struck a decade ago, sending the trade caravans farther east.
She didn’t leave Wolf’s side. She dressed the wounds as well as she could using the bandages and ointments the guard had thrown down from the ship’s upper level. She had already had to change the bandages once, and still the blood soaked through. His face was pale and clammy, his heartbeat growing weaker, each breath a struggle.
Please, please, let Dr. Erland be there.
So far, the guard, at least, had proven trustworthy. He had flown straight and fast—very fast, to Cinder’s relief. It was a risk entering Earth’s orbit, but a necessary one. She only hoped this oasis would be the safe haven the doctor had believed it to be.
“Cinder,” said Iko, “the Lunar is asking where he should land.”
She shuddered. She’d been expecting the question. It would be safest, and most prudent, to land outside the town, out in the ruthless desert. But she could never carry Wolf and they didn’t have the luxury of being prudent.
“Tell him to land on the main road. On the map it looks like there’s only one—a town square of sorts. And tell him not to worry about being stealthy.”
If they couldn’t hide, then she would draw as much attention as possible. Maybe if they made enough of a spectacle it would draw Dr. Erland out from wherever he was hiding. She had to hope that any civilians would be so distracted by their brazenness, they wouldn’t bother alerting the police until it was too late.
It wasn’t a good plan, but there wasn’t time to come up with anything better.
The ship dove. Normally this was the quiet part of landing, when the engine power switched to magnetic levitation, but it seemed the guard was planning on doing this all manually.
Perhaps the town was so rural, they didn’t have magnetic roads at all.
Finally the ship clanked and groaned. Though it was a soft landing, the shock still made Cinder jump. Wolf groaned.
Cinder bent over him and cupped his face in both hands. “Wolf, I’m going to get help. Just stay with us, all right? Just hold on.”
Standing, she keyed in the code for the podship dock.
The dock was a sight—blood and destruction everywhere. But she walked past the remaining shuttle and tried to put it all from her thoughts. “Iko, open hatch.”
As soon as the doors had parted enough for her to fit through, she crouched on the ledge and jumped down into the street.
A cloud of dust whirled around her as her feet struck the hard, dry ground. The surrounding buildings were mostly single-story structures made of stone or clay or large beige bricks. Some window shutters had been painted blue or pink, and stenciled designs lined the entryways, but the colors had been bleached by the sun and chipped by relentless sand. The road dipped down toward an oasis lake a few blocks to Cinder’s right, both sides lined with thriving palm trees—trees that looked too alive for a town that hung with desertion. A few blocks to her left was a stone wall lined with more trees and, beyond it, reddish plateaus disappearing in a sandy haze.
People were emerging from the buildings and around street corners, civilians of all ages, mostly dressed in shorts and lightweight tops to combat the desert heat, though a few wore more concealing robes to keep off the blazing sun. Many were covering their mouths and noses. At first Cinder thought they were protecting themselves from the plague, but then she realized they were simply annoyed at how much dust the ship’s landing had kicked up. The cloud was already blowing off down one of the side streets.
Cinder scanned them, searching for a wrinkled face and a familiar gray cap. Dr. Erland would be paler than most of the townspeople, although skin tones ranged from the deepest browns to honeyed tans. Still, she suspected that a little old man with glaringly blue eyes would have drawn some attention in the past weeks.
She opened her hands wide to show she had no weapons and took a step toward the crowd. Her cyborg hand was on full display, and the townsfolk had noticed. They were staring at it openly, though no one shied away as she took another step closer.
“I’m sorry about the dust,” she said, gesturing to the cloud. “But this is an emergency. I need to find someone. A man. This tall, old, wears glasses and a hat. Have any of you—”
“I saw her first!” a girl squealed. She ran out from the crowd, her flip-flops smacking the dirt, and grasped Cinder’s arm. Startled, Cinder tried to pull away, but the girl held firm.
Then there were two boys, not older than nine or ten, emerging from the crowd and arguing over who had seen the ship drop out of the sky, who had seen it land, who had seen the docks open, and who had first spotted the cyborg.
“Step away from Miss Linh, you greedy little vultures.”
Cinder whirled around.
Dr. Erland was striding toward them, though she almost didn’t recognize him. Barefoot and hatless, he wore a pair of khaki shorts and a striped shirt that hung lopsided, as he’d missed a buttonhole and the rest of the buttons were all wrong. His gray hair stuck out along his bald spot like he’d recently been electrocuted.
None of that mattered. She’d found him.
“I suppose you can all share the prize for finding her, even though the deal was to bring her to me, not make me come all the way down here in this center-of-the-sun heat.” He pulled a bag of gummy candies from his pocket and held it up over the children’s heads, forcing them to promise to share before he handed it over. They snatched it and ran away squealing.
The rest of the townspeople remained where they were.
Dr. Erland planted his hands on his hips and glared up at Cinder. “You have much explaining to do. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you, watching the—”
“I need your help!” she said, stumbling toward him. “My friend … he’s dying … he needs a doctor … I don’t know what to do.”
He scowled, then his attention caught on something over Cinder’s shoulder. The Lunar guard emerged at the edge of the ship, shirtless and covered in blood and straining to support Wolf’s body.
“What—he’s—”
“A Lunar guard,” said Cinder. “And Wolf is one of her soldiers. It’s a long story, and I’ll explain later, but can you help him? He was shot twice, he’s lost a lot of blood.…”
Dr. Erland raised an eyebrow. Cinder could tell he wasn’t at all thrilled with the company she was keeping.
“Please.”
Harrumphing, he gestured at some of the onlookers and called out a few names. Three men stepped forward. “Bring him to the hotel,” he said. “Gently.” With a sigh, he set about redoing the buttons on his shirt. “Follow me, Miss Linh. You can help prepare the tools.”
Fifteen
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that we landed ourselves near any sort of civilization,” Thorne said, tilting his head to one side.
Cress picked her way through the debris to the nearest window. “I’m not sure we want to be near civilization. You’re a wanted criminal in three Earthen countries, and one of the most recognizable men on Earth.”
“I am pretty famous now, aren’t I?” Grinning, he waved a hand at her. “I guess it doesn’t matter what we want. What do you see out there?”
Standing on tiptoes, Cress peered into the brightness. As her eyes a
djusted to the glare, they widened, trying to take it all in.
All at once, it dawned on her. She was on Earth. On Earth.
She’d seen pictures, of course. Thousands and thousands of photographs and vids—cities and lakes and forests and mountains, every landscape imaginable. But she had never thought the sky could be so impossibly blue, or that the land could hold so many hues of gold, or could glitter like a sea of diamonds, or could roll and swell like a breathing creature.
For one moment, the reality of it all poured into her body and overflowed.
“Cress?”
“It’s beautiful out there.”
A hesitation, before, “Could you be more specific?”
“The sky is this gorgeous, intense blue color.” She pressed her fingers to the glass and traced the wavy hills on the horizon.
“Oh, good. You’ve really narrowed it down for me.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” She tried to stamp down the rush of emotion. “I think we’re in a desert.”
“Cactuses and tumbleweeds?”
“No. Just a lot of sand. It’s kind of orangish-gold, with hints of pink, and I can see tiny clouds of it floating above the ground, like … like smoke.”
“Piled up in lots of hills?”
“Yes, exactly! And it’s beautiful.”
Thorne snorted. “If this is how you feel about a desert, I can’t wait until you see your first real tree. Your mind will explode.”
She beamed out at the world. Trees.
“That explains the heat then,” Thorne said. Cress, in her thin cotton dress, hadn’t noticed before, but the temperature did seem to be rising. The controls must have been reset in the fall, or perhaps destroyed altogether. “A desert would not have been my first choice. Do you see anything useful? Palm trees? Watering holes? A pair of camels out for a stroll?”
She looked again, noting how a pattern of ripples had been carved into the landscape, repeating for eternity. “No. There’s nothing else.”
“All right, here’s what I need you to do.” Thorne ticked off on his fingers. “First, find some way to contact the Rampion. The sooner we can get back on my ship, the better. Second, let’s see if we can get that door open. We’re going to be baked alive if the temperature keeps rising like this.”
Cress studied the mess of screens and cords on the floor. “The satellite was never installed with external communication abilities. The only chance we had of contacting your crew was the D-COMM chip that Sybil took. And even if we did have some way of contacting them, we won’t be able to give exact coordinates unless the satellite positioning system is functioning, and even then—”
Thorne held up a hand. “One thing at a time. We have to let them know that we’re not dead, and check that they’re all right too. I think they’re capable of handling two measly Lunars, but it would put my mind at ease to be sure.” He shrugged. “Once they know to start looking for us, maybe Cinder can whip up a giant metal detector or something.”
Cress scanned the wreckage. “I’m not sure anything is salvageable. The screens are all destroyed, and judging from the loss of temperature regulation, the generator is—oh, no. Little Cress!” She wailed and kicked her way to the main databoard that had housed her younger self. It was crushed on one side, bits of wire and plastic dangling from the shell. “Oh, Little Cress…”
“Um, who’s Little Cress?”
She sniffed. “Me. When I was ten. She lived in the computer and kept me company and now she’s dead.” She squeezed the databoard against her chest. “Poor, sweet Little Cress.”
After a long silence, Thorne cleared his throat. “Scarlet did warn me about this. Do we need to bury Little Cress before we can move on? Want me to say a few words for her?”
Cress glanced up, and though his expression was sympathetic, she thought he was probably mocking her. “I’m not crazy. I know she’s just a computer. It’s just … I programmed her myself, and she was the only friend I had. That’s all.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m familiar with IT-relations. Just wait until you meet our spaceship. She’s a riot.” His expression became thoughtful. “Speaking of spaceships, what about that other pod, the one the guard docked with?”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that!” She tucked the databoard beneath its slanted desk and tripped over to the other entryway. The satellite sat at an angle, with the second entry near the lower end of the slope, and she had to clear away countless bits of plastic and broken equipment before she could get to the control screen. The screen itself was down—she couldn’t get a flicker of power out of it—so she opened the panel that housed the manual override locks instead. A series of gears and handles had been set into the wall over the door, and while Cress had known they were there for years, she’d never given them much thought before.
The devices were stuck from years of neglect and it took all her strength to pull on the handle, planting one foot on the wall to gain leverage. Finally it snapped down and the doors sprang open, leaving a gap.
Hearing her struggle, Thorne got up and trudged toward her, carefully kicking debris out of his way. He kept his hands outstretched until he bumped into her and together they pried open the door.
The docking hatch was in worse shape than the satellite. Almost an entire wall had been sheared off and piles of sand had already begun to blow in between the cracks. Wires and clamps dangled from the shattered wall panels and Cress could smell smoke and the bitter scent of burned plastic. The podship had been shoved up into the corridor, crumpling the far end of the hatch like an accordion. The docking clamp had been rammed straight through the ship’s cockpit control panel, filling the glass with hairline fractures.
“Please tell me it looks better than it smells,” said Thorne, hanging on to the door frame.
“Not really. The ship is destroyed, and it looks like all the instruments too.” Cress climbed down, holding on to the wall for balance. She tried pressing some buttons to bring the ship back to life, but it was useless.
“All right. Next plan.” Thorne rubbed his eyes. “We have no way of contacting the Rampion and they have no way of knowing we’re alive. Probably won’t do us much good to stay here and hope someone passes by. We’re going to have to try and find some sort of civilization.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, a mix of nerves and giddiness swirling in her stomach. She was going to leave the satellite.
“It looked like the sun was setting,” she said. “So at least we won’t be walking in the heat.”
Thorne screwed up his lips in thought. “This time of year the nights shouldn’t be too cold, no matter which hemisphere we’ve landed in. We need to gather up all the supplies we can carry. Do you have any more blankets? And you’ll want a jacket.”
Cress rubbed her palms down the thin dress. “I don’t have a jacket. I’ve never needed one.”
Thorne sighed. “Figures.”
“I do have another dress that isn’t quite so worn as this one.”
“Pants would be better.”
She glanced down at her bare legs. She’d never worn pants before. “These dresses are all Sybil brought me. I … I don’t have any shoes, either.”
“No shoes?” Thorne massaged his brow. “All right, fine. I went through survival training in the military. I can figure this out.”
“I do have a few bottles we can fill with water. And plenty of food packs.”
“It’s a start. Water is our first priority. Dehydration will be a much bigger threat than hunger. Do you have any towels?”
“A couple.”
“Good. Bring those, and something we can use for rope.” He raised his left foot. “While you’re at it, do you have any idea where my other boot ended up?”
* * *
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do that?”
Thorne scowled, his empty gaze pinned somewhere around her knee. “I may be temporarily blind, but I’m not useless. I can still tie good knots.”
Cress scratched at her ear and withheld further comment. She was seated on the edge of her bed, braiding a discarded lock of her own hair to use for rope, while Thorne knelt before her. His face was set in concentration as he wrapped a towel around her foot, then looped the “rope” around her ankle and the arch of her foot a few times before securing it with an elaborate knot.
“We want them to be nice and tight. If the fabric is too loose it will rub and give you blisters. How does that feel?”
She wiggled her toes. “Good,” she said, and waited until Thorne had finished the other foot before surreptitiously adjusting the folds of the cloth to be more comfortable. When she stood, it felt strange—like walking on lumpy pillows—but Thorne seemed to think she’d be grateful for the makeshift shoes when they were out in the desert.
Together, they fashioned a bundle out of a blanket, which they filled with water, food, bedsheets, and a small medical kit that Cress had rarely needed. The knife was safely in Thorne’s boot and they’d disassembled part of the busted bed frame for Thorne to use as a walking cane. They each drank as much water as they could stand and then, as Cress gave one last inspection of the satellite and could think of nothing else worth taking, she stepped to the docking hatch and pulled down the manual unlock lever. With a kathunk, the door’s internal devices released. The hydraulics hissed. A crack opened between the metal doors, allowing Thorne to get his fingers in and push one side into its wall pocket.
A breeze of dry air blew into the satellite—a scent Cress had no comparison for. It was nothing like the satellite or the machinery or Sybil’s perfume.
Earth, she supposed, memorizing the aroma. Or desert.
Thorne swung the makeshift supply bundle over his shoulder. Kicking some debris out of the way, he reached his hand toward Cress.
“Lead the way.”
His hand encased hers and she wanted to savor the moment, the sensation of touch and warmth and this perfect smell of freedom, but Thorne was nudging her forward before the moment had settled.
At the end of the docking hatch was the rail and two steps leading down to where a podship normally attached, but now there was only sand, tinted lavender as night’s shadows crept forward. It had already started to blow up onto the second step and Cress had a vision of the satellite being slowly buried beneath it, disappearing forever in the desert.
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