.:.:: FEY AYAN ::.:.

  Stillness. stillness. Don’t trust it, Fey.

  She was in one piece. Head, arms, torso, legs, all still there. Upside-down, but that was just a matter of orientation. Bruised, yes, and with a burning scrape along her forearm where she’d braced against the console. Nothing broken.

  Good.

  The strataglider’s dim emergency lights offered a view of the cockpit. Dented and jumbled and far smaller than it had been, it had nonetheless held up, riding the pinnacle’s collapse with the surety of solid design.

  Ayan took stock of her situation. The harness had her pinned to the seat, but she could move her arms freely.

  The hatch? Jammed.

  The canopy release? Also jammed.

  Behind her, where the strataglider had once had a tail, the hull was buckled and split open. The gap was large enough to squeeze out.

  She gripped the side supports and swayed back and forth, gently at first, then harder. There was little movement from the cockpit. It was solidly wedged in somewhere. For now.

  Also good.

  She pinged the Hub. There was no answer.

  She pinged again, adding a priority squeal.

  “Chief!” Marlo’s voice spluttered through the dashboard speaker.

  “What’s your status?” she asked.

  “We’ve been hit hard. Someone’s screaming that the southern quadrant is completely gone.” He was talking fast. “There’s dead and injured everywhere. The systems, uh, I don’t know, seem offline, and there’s smoke. I think we ruptured a fuel line somewhere.”

  “Steady, Marlo. Where are you exactly?”

  “Administration module. It took off, I mean took off. We were flying at one point.”

  “I see. How many are in there with you? How many of them are injured?”

  “About twenty, I think, and some are a bit battered but nothing too serious. But the rest of the Hub…I don’t know, I mean…oh man…”

  “I know, Marlo. I understand. Listen carefully. The administration module is designed to withstand strong forces, meaning those of you inside are likely in better shape than anyone else out there. Which makes you the emergency coordinator.”

  “Me? But I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can and will. This is what you are going to do. First, account for everyone in the module. Get names and injuries. Then organize them into teams of three or four. Keep at least one medical staff in there with you to set up triage in the module.”

  “Okay, I can do that, but shouldn’t I also go out to look for—”

  “No. You stay put and focus on coordinating everyone. Send the teams to check other modules. No one goes out alone. Have your engineers check for structural damage and secure any hazardous materials. Have everyone report back every thirty minutes, and warn them this might not be over. The ground could still be unstable.”

  “You think there could be another one? The sensors are all down, I can’t tell if—”

  “We don’t know. That’s why everyone needs to be cautious. And Marlo? Stay calm. People will follow your lead. I’ll try to make my way back as soon as I can. Ayan out.”

  She closed the connection, then shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Right. Time to extract herself.

  With one arm gripping a support strut and her feet braced against the console, she unclipped the harness. The buckle immediately snagged on her elbow, leaving her dangling precariously by one arm. Cursing, she twisted to free herself, blood pounding in her head. When the clasp finally released, she tumbled awkwardly, her shoulder cracking against the crumpled instrument panel. She landed heavily on what had once been the strataglider’s ceiling.

  “Smooth, Fey,” she muttered, massaging her shoulder.

  The split in the hull now loomed behind her, showing the sky with a sliver of Mosogon. She surveyed the cramped space. The section that held the emergency kit was gone, its contents scattered, crushed and buried. Her pack was within reach, but she hesitated, weighing its contents (picnic rations, the AutoCanvas, and Gyllon’s beacon) against its weight and bulk.

  The cockpit suddenly creaked and shifted, and she jumped in alarm, then snatched up the pack and pulled herself toward the gap. The edges of the mangled hull were sharp, and she had to carefully ease herself past. As her weight shifted, the strataglider lurched violently. Metal groaned and something deep cracked far below. She froze, half in and half out of the hull, as the entire craft tilted several degrees..

  She held her breath, waiting for the movement to stop, then quickly pulled herself the rest of the way through and scrambled onto the nearest stable surface: a jagged shelf of rock that might once have been part of the pinnacle’s crown.

  Behind her, the strataglider shifted again, its nose dipping downward as whatever had supported it gave way. Ayan pressed herself flat against the rock as her former craft slid several meters, picking up speed, then hurtled downward.

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  “Farewell, old friend,” Ayan murmured to the strataglider as it crashed down into a jumble of pinnacle fragments and biomass. She took a moment to check her position. The once-striking geological formation had been shattered into crumbling shards. On the one side was the dark chasm that now held the strataglider cockpit. The other side looked halfway intact yet rippled, like a bunched carpet of jungle.

  The descent would be treacherous, but staying put wasn’t an option.

  Securing her pack tightly across her back, Ayan began to pick her way down the fractured slope. Each foothold required careful testing before committing her weight.

  “One step at a time,” she told herself, reaching for a jutting shard of rock. She’d navigated worse situations. Okay, maybe not worse, but certainly more complex and often with panicked staff looking to her for guidance rather than just herself to save.

  Halfway down, she paused on a relatively stable ledge to catch her breath. Below her, at least another twenty meters of precarious descent awaited before she’d reach anything resembling solid ground, if indeed such a thing still existed on Kabus.

  Her comm-unit chirped. Pressing her back against the rock face, she tapped it to answer.

  “Chief!” Marlo’s voice came through, more excited than earlier. “We’ve completed the first sweep of accessible modules. We’ve also set up triage in Administration as you suggested.”

  “Good work,” she replied, eyeing a particularly unstable-looking section ahead. “Casualties?”

  “Twelve injured, mostly cuts and broken bones. Five...” he hesitated. “Five confirmed dead. Research Center Alpha collapsed. Dr. Rizul... We’re still missing twelve others.”

  “I see.” Ah, Rizul. Brilliant biochemist, terrible card player.

  “Chief, there’s something else. You’re not going to believe this, but the entire Hub has shifted nearly half a kilometer to the west. The foundation anchors completely sheared off.”

  “Okay, Marlo, I need you to focus on immediate concerns,” Ayan said, stretching her leg toward a narrow foothold. “Position changes can be—”

  “And Chief! Oh, the plants!”

  “Marlo, I—”

  She shifted her weight to reach a handhold and the shelf underfoot suddenly crumbled away. Her other hand shot out, grasping for purchase, but found only air. Her pack pulled her off-balance, sending her tumbling sideways, smack into a piece of pinnacle. The impact drew a gasp, then the rock broke and she fell.

  Straight down.

  Tuck your head! Her last thought before something hard struck her temple with a sharp crack.

  The world exploded into starbursts of light, then dimmed around the edges. Darkness crept in from her peripheral vision like spilling ink.

  She lay stunned on her back, gasping, her breath distant and hollow in her own ears. Mosogon above her became two giants, then three, then two again, merging and separating as nausea overwhelmed her.

  “Cell and keel,” she hissed an old frontier curse.

  Had she been lying here for seconds? Minutes?

  Time stretched like taffy.

  With tremendous effort, she rolled onto her side, immediately regretting the motion as the world spun violently. Her stomach lurched. She swallowed hard against rising bile, tasting blood. Her hand found her temple, coming away sticky.

  Not good. No, not... Need to...

  The thought dissolved before she could complete it. Something important. The Hub. Marlo. The tide. Ootu.

  She tried focusing on a single point, a jutting fragment of rock, but it kept sliding away from her attention. Each blink lasted too long, the darkness behind her eyelids dangerously inviting.

  Stay awake. Must stay...

  “Hey, need some help?”

  What?

  “I’m over here.”

  She blinked, trying to see the voice in the shadows through the spinning blur.

  “Can you stand?” It was a male, steady and unfamiliar.

  “Uh,” she managed. “I…”

  “No problem.” Something held her arm, then she was rising. The world tilted sickeningly, but his firm grip kept her upright. “Let’s get you to firmer ground. This whole section is unstable.”

  The stranger’s arm supported her waist. His other hand had her arm across his shoulders. Her feet dragged. Each step shot pain through her skull, but she kept moving.

  “There,” he said after what felt like an eternity. “This outcropping should hold.”

  He eased her down to sit against something solid.

  “Head injury,” he said, crouching to examine her. “Looks like a concussion...” Gloved fingers gently probed the wound at her temple. “You’ve a laceration. Nasty, but not too deep.”

  His face was finally coming into focus. A mask across its lower half. Above it, his eyes suggested youthful energy.

  “Who…are you?” she asked as he produced a small med-kit from his pack. “Hub staff?”

  “No,” he said, applying something numbing to her wound. “Not exactly.”

  “Then...”

  “It’s...complicated. And probably not what you want to hear right now.”

  Ayan forced herself to focus. “Try me.”

  He sighed, sitting back on his heels. Then he removed his mask to reveal a warm smile. “Okay, you got me. I’m not supposed to be here. I paid a cargo pilot to smuggle me in about two weeks ago. I’ve been camping in the wilderness since then.”

  “You snuck onto Kabus?” Disbelief momentarily cleared her fog. “Why?”

  “Adventure.” His smile turned sheepish. “I collect experiences. Abandoned colony sites, shuttered power stations, places people aren’t supposed to go. There’s a whole underground network for it.”

  “That’s... incredibly stupid,” she said, wincing as nausea hit her again.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He shrugged, returning his medical supplies to his pack. “I’ve been living off the land for the past two weeks. I know how to avoid the dangerous flora, where to find water. I can help you get back to the Hub.”

  Ayan studied him, fighting through her double vision. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Matt,” he said. “Matt Taddor.”

  Another wave of dizziness washed over her, and she closed her eyes against it. When she opened them, he was holding out a water container.

  “Small sips,” he said. “The concussion will make you nauseous.”

  “Yeah.” She accepted the water cautiously. “You know a lot about this?”

  “Basic wilderness first aid. You pick it up when you do this kind of thing regularly.” He gestured at the transformed landscape. “Though I have to say, I wasn’t expecting anything like this. What happened?”

  “Tidal event,” she said. “Mosogon’s pull on the ocean. This one was surprising.”

  “I’ll say. I nearly got swallowed by a canyon that opened right under me.” He shook his head. “Lucky to be alive.”

  Ayan tried to stand, immediately regretting it as vertigo hit her again. Matt caught her arm, steadying her.

  “You really shouldn’t be moving yet,” he said. “That’s a serious concussion.”

  “I need to get back to the Hub. They need me.”

  “In this condition? You’d never make it.” He gestured at the chaotic landscape. “And the ground’s still unstable in places. You need rest.”

  The rational part of her knew he was right. In her current state, she was more likely to injure herself further than successfully navigate back to the Hub. But accepting help from a self-admitted trespasser felt wrong.

  A sudden panic pierced her mental fog. “My pack,” she said, reaching for her shoulders but finding no straps. “Where is it?”

  “Your pack?” Matt looked confused. “It’s back there. Do you want me to get it?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay. On one condition.” Matt’s voice was firm but not unkind, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Yes?”

  “You stay here and don’t move until you’ve stabilized.” He held up his hand, palm out, as if expecting her to argue. “Head injuries are serious business, even with basic treatment.”

  Ayan swallowed against another wave of nausea. “Fine.” She pressed her palm against her chest to steady herself. “I still have questions. About you.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Something flickered across his face—caution, perhaps, or amusement. “I’ve got a spare compression tent that we can set up. We can rest there for the night, then figure out the best route back to your Hub. And once we get back, I’ll even let you arrest me for trespassing.”