“No buts.” The captain disappeared into the guard station. They couldn’t see him, but they heard his final words through the link. “Don’t you dare cry for me. I’ve lived twice as long as most men do, and I’ve finally found something worth dying for. That’s a blessing.” His voice turned soft. “Now, go, and take care of each other. It’s been an honor to have you as my crew.”
The next sound they heard was the synchronized click of a dozen shuttles releasing from their docking ports, followed by the hum of the hangar door opening. The pressure changed, sweeping Solara off her feet as her body drifted toward the exit. She thrashed her limbs, unprepared for zero gravity, until she caught hold of a rudder and used it to steady herself.
Shuttles floated into space, and beyond them hovered the Banshee, cargo ramp open and ready to welcome her inside. As Solara launched herself toward the exit, she listened for the captain’s voice, hoping more than anything that he would join them. But when a sharp boom rang out from the guard station, tears flooded her vision, and she had to hold her breath to keep her heart from cracking in half.
She forced herself to focus on the scene outside. It was an obstacle course of floating debris—everything from shuttlecraft and hull fragments to a few frozen bodies. Once a path cleared, she used both legs to push off into the icy chill of space and braced herself to collide with the Banshee’s cargo hold. She met the end ramp with a thud and grabbed on tight, hauling to the top as Gage and Cassia followed. When she turned around, the tail end of the pirate ship was practically torn off from the captain’s detonation, blowing even more debris outside. She scanned the carnage for Doran but couldn’t find him.
“Doran,” she called through the link. “Where are you?”
He didn’t answer.
She gripped the edge of the ramp while frantically searching for him. Part of her view was obstructed by a floating sheet of metal. Once she pushed it aside, she spotted him, and her stomach lurched so hard she nearly heaved inside her helmet. Because there, far below the ruined pirate ship, Doran was caught in the planet’s gravitational pull, tumbling out of control and free-falling to his death.
Doran couldn’t scream. His fear was beyond that.
He flailed both arms to right himself, but stars and soil alternated in his field of vision until he couldn’t tell up from down. The spiraling images triggered his gag reflex, forcing hot bile up the back of his throat. He shut his eyes, swallowing hard as he curled into a ball and focused on filling his lungs. Each of his gasps seemed amplified, like breathing underwater through a snorkel. So he counted breaths—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—and tried to ignore the question burning at the edges of his mind.
When will I hit?
He reached twelve when voices invaded his helmet.
“Kane!” Solara shouted. “Do you see him out there? He’s falling!”
“I see him,” came the reply. “Doran, I’m on my way. The shuttle hatch is open. All you have to do is grab on and climb inside.”
Doran opened his eyes and tightened his core, extending all four limbs in an effort to provide enough wind resistance to keep from tumbling. It didn’t work right away, but after a few tries, he finally faced the planet below, then yelped when he noticed the surface rising up to meet him.
He tapped his com-link and shouted, “Kane!”
“Right behind you,” Kane said. “I’m almost there.”
Doran tore his gaze away from the planet and glanced over his shoulder. The nose of the shuttle kept pace at his heels, not quite fast enough to catch him. Kane must have known it, because he shut the hatch to eliminate air drag and increase his speed.
It worked. The shuttle accelerated, but now Doran had no way to get inside.
He made the mistake of looking down and nearly wet himself. If something didn’t happen in the next ten seconds, the crew would be cleaning his splattered remains from the shuttle windshield. He turned his head to the side and made eye contact with Kane, who flew next to him on the right.
“New plan,” Kane shouted, zooming ahead of him. “I’m dispatching the tow cables. Grab one and don’t let go.”
Doran’s first thought was that it wouldn’t work, that the weight imbalance would send the shuttle into a tailspin, or his grip wouldn’t hold. But then he looked down and saw the landscape so near he could make out a pirate’s toilet seat that’d hit the ground ahead of him. That was all it took to send his arms into action. He reached ahead and gripped one of the metallic coils snaking out from the rear of the shuttle, ignoring the slap of a second cable against his shoulder. He struggled to wrap the cable around his wrist for more security, but the line was too tight.