Sister Agnes used to say that trust was like a flower unfolding in the sun: The more you opened yourself to the warmth of this world, the more of God’s blessings you would receive. But in Solara’s experience, trust was like a switchblade: Give it away too quickly, and expect to find a knife in your back.
As much as she wanted to believe that Kane was a friend, she’d found it suspicious when he offered to pilot the shuttle to Obsidian. He’d never volunteered for extra duties before, so why would he start now? Even more suspicious was his reaction when he’d learned that she wanted the job. He’d gone pale and offered his services as if his life depended on it. Clearly he was hiding something. Behind the goodwill and the easy smile, she’d sensed a simmering anxiety that warned his feelings toward Doran hadn’t changed.
That was why she’d insisted on flying here, and why she’d spent the last several minutes surveying the desert for a safe place to watch the skies.
Just west of Doran’s location stood a wide, curving cliff that surrounded a sooty valley resembling the Grand Canyon. Halfway up from the base of a long-dead river and concealed from above by a stone ledge, she’d discovered a crevasse just wide and deep enough to hide the shuttle. No sooner had she climbed out to stretch her legs than an Enforcer craft appeared on the distant horizon. It seemed Kane had cashed in on the reward.
A cold weight settled in her heart. She’d predicted this, but she didn’t want it to be true.
She strapped into the pilot’s seat and made two incog radio transmissions, first to the captain, asking him to let her shuttle go off the grid for twenty-four hours. If her plan went sideways, she didn’t want him wandering into this mess. As for the second transmission…that might’ve been a mistake. But the deed was done, and now she had to let the chips fall.
Traveling due east, she pushed the shuttle to the limit and arrived just as complete and utter hell broke loose.
A swarm of mismatched pirate shuttles circled like vultures above the smoking ruin of Doran’s ship, seeking a safe place to land and dodging cannon fire from the Enforcers on the ground. She peered through the dark fog and spotted Doran sitting twenty yards behind his craft, its shell consumed by flames that stretched toward the clouds. With any luck, the smoke would provide enough cover to scoop him up and make an easy getaway.
Keeping the flaming ship between herself and the Enforcers, she touched down dangerously close to Doran, hoping he’d have enough sense to get out of the way and open the passenger hatch. Sand flew in every direction, but she couldn’t afford to cut the engine and wait for it to restart.
For the longest five seconds of her life, she bounced a heel against the floor and waited for him to join her. When he didn’t appear, she opened the pilot’s hatch and lifted a hand to protect her eyes.
“Doran!” she yelled, earning herself a mouthful of sand.
She spat downwind and scanned the dunes, her stomach dipping when she spotted a red uniform heading toward her. If one Enforcer had made it to this point, others wouldn’t be far behind.
From somewhere above her head, the scream of metal rent the air, followed by the sickening crunch of a shuttle as it crashed to the ground. She needed to get Doran out of here before the cannons disabled her craft, too. She called his name again and found him striding into view with his T-shirt pulled over his nose and mouth. He seemed to realize who she was, and then he finally snapped out of it.
A foot soldier moved into Doran’s path, but that didn’t faze him. Doran bent and charged the Enforcer, planting a shoulder in the man’s midsection. The soldier flipped forward in a blur of red, and the next thing Solara knew, the passenger hatch opened and Doran leaped inside.
She lifted off without a moment’s hesitation while Doran wrestled the door shut. Another pirate shuttle went down in flames, nearly clipping their starboard wing as it spiraled toward the ground. Solara rolled away while trying to hug the sand. The closer she stayed to the dunes, the better her chance of avoiding the cannon blasts raining from above. As soon as she cleared the battle scene, she sped toward her hiding spot in the canyon.
“What are you doing here?” Doran asked.
She cut her eyes at him. “I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thanks for saving my pretty hide, Solara.’”
“But you—”
“Never left.”
He watched her while picking grains of sand off his tongue. “Why not?”
“I had a feeling someone would sell you out.” While Doran reached over to fasten her harness, she explained everything. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
“Kane,” Doran said, sounding wounded. “He even called Demarkus.”
“Um, actually…” She trailed off, focused on finding her bearings, then veered farther west. “I’m the one who radioed Demarkus.”