The Girl Who Dared to Endure (The Girl Who Dared #6)

The body was long and wide, reminding me of an oversized boat. I could make out four arms, or wings, as the case may be, and could tell from their glimmer that there were exposed propellers in them, which allowed me a view of the sky through the blur of machinery inside. From nose to tail, it had to be at least fifty feet long. The wings at the side looked positively comical compared to the body—they were so short and stubby that it seemed impossible that they were keeping the heavy underbelly aloft—and yet there it was, slowly sliding forward, dozens of feet above our heads. The body began to turn around in place, and the light of the moon cut a white, reflective light against a glass bubble at the nose. I could see a dark figure backlit by lights inside, though details were hard to make out.

But what impressed me most was that it didn’t make any sound whatsoever. Short of the wind it was kicking up by whatever process it used to fly, there was nothing, not even a whisper of noise.

But then again, we were still fifty feet away from Quess and Leo, and an additional fifty from where the vessel was slowly easing itself down onto the roof, still rotating, the nose disappearing from view.

As fascinating as it was to watch, my brother’s sharp intake of air and Maddox’s gasp jerked my attention from it, and I realized that we were all gaping like a bunch of loons. Any minute, that thing would land, and if we were standing here like several slack-jawed idiots, they would never respect us.

“C’mon,” I told the others, already moving away from them. I glanced back at them, paused when I saw them still staring, and added a quick, “La-dee-dah, they can fly. Bet they don’t have a sweet Tower like we do.” That earned me two surprised smiles, and they poured on a little speed to catch up to me. We walked quickly, and even though I wanted to keep a cool exterior in front of the aliens, I couldn’t help but watch the machine continue to land, captivated by all the details that came into view. It was a dark gray, but there was white lettering on the rear, painted over what appeared to be a door. It read C4-137 in tight, perfect print, and underneath it, in elegant script, were the words The Nautilus. The name of their machine, maybe?

I made a mental note to ask, provided the first exchange went well, and found myself smiling. Today had been long and filled with calamity and chaos, but everything else paled in comparison to what was about to happen. We were going to meet people who weren’t from the Tower. An entirely different group of people, with their own culture and beliefs, and I was betting that I would have more questions than just the name of the ship by the time we were through.

We reached Leo and Quess as the ship was settling on the top of the roof with a metallic groan that came from some metallic struts at the bottom. The sound was so loud, I immediately cringed. We might have shut off the sensors, but anyone beneath us would definitely hear such a loud noise, and could come up to investigate.

“Liana, do you even see this thing?” Quess asked, his voice filled with the awe and delight of a small child. “Did you see it fly?”

I could tell that his clever mind was already trying to memorize the details and figure out the physics involved, but I needed him focused. “We all did,” I told him. “But let’s not stand around staring at them like idiots. We have no idea what to expect once they come out, so be alert. Watch them, and if they try anything funny…” I trailed off, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder. I was sincerely hoping it wouldn’t come to that. I wanted to believe that they hadn’t lied, and that I hadn’t fallen prey to some sort of elaborate trick.

But I held my breath as the back of the ship began to open from the top, the rectangular door slipping from its groove and opening down and out, toward us, to form a ramp. Bright light streamed from the edges, growing wider, and I took a few steps toward it, drawn by the marvel in front of me.

The light eventually hit the glass panels that made up the roof, creating a halo of light around the opening as the door finished its decent, the edge of it hovering only an inch or two from the ground. Two dark figures stood in stark contrast against the light, one male, one female. I couldn’t see any features because of the light in front of them, save for the woman’s deep, brick-red hair, while the man was just as dark as the shadow he was cutting.

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, I squared my shoulders and moved forward. The others followed, maintaining a tight grouping with me, and the figures at the top of the ramp stepped down, heading toward us.

I was so obsessed with trying to catch a glimpse of their faces that I jumped when Leo whispered, “Liana, they have guns.” My eyes tracked down, and sure enough, I could see the outline of a gun on each of their hips. If I had been anyone else from the Tower, I would’ve ignored them, not knowing what they were.

But I did know, and the realization that they had come out armed did not fill me with a lot of reassurance. We were giving them help, not trying to steal from them.

I slowed to a stop a few feet from the base of the ramp and held up one hand so the others would stop. That forced the two figures to pause, and I pointed at their hips. “Lose the guns,” I told them firmly, in a no-nonsense voice.

The woman, her face still a mask of shadows, cocked her head. “You know what guns are?” she called back. Her voice had been the reasonable one on the radio, I realized. The calmer one. I considered the question, and then met it with one of my own.

“Why do you assume we wouldn’t?”

I asked the question to buy me some time, and to make them rethink things, but based on her question, I was even more certain that these were the same people who had been here twenty-five years ago. The only reason for them to assume we didn’t know was for them to have intimate knowledge of this place, so the fact that they had an opinion on whether we would know what guns were…

Meant these might be the very people Roark’s wife Selka had met.

The two people on the ramp exchanged looks, something silent passing between them, and then they looked down. “We’ll keep the guns,” the man announced in a deep, rich voice that immediately had my skin tingling with awareness.

I turned my attention to him and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who has an injured person needing medical assessment. You’ll lose the guns, or else.”

“Or else what?” he demanded in a voice that was one part arrogance, two parts teasing humor. For some reason, it hit me the wrong way, and before I knew it, my gun was in my hand, my arm stretched out so that it was pointing at him. Maybe I was tired from the extraordinarily long day I’d had, or impatient because I wanted to get home and put everything behind me, but either way, I needed to make a point to them: I wasn’t messing around when it came to the safety of my people.

“This,” I told him, pulling back the hammer of the gun with a sharp click. For a second they stood motionless, and then their hands slowly began to rise into the air. “You don’t know me yet, but let me make this clear. My people’s safety is my one and only concern. If you expect us to help you, then I am telling you to throw the guns away.”

The two were quiet for several long seconds, and I stood there, holding a gun on them both. “If we get rid of our guns, then you must get rid of yours,” the girl finally said, her eyes darting between me and Leo. I glanced over at him and saw he had drawn his weapon as well, but wasn’t holding it as high up as I was, just pointed in the general vicinity.

I considered it, and then shook my head. I wanted to ascertain whether they had been here before, and I had to be certain they weren’t lying about it. It was dangerous, keeping a gun on them, and not exactly inviting, but they could have answers I needed. I was certain that someone from the Tower—one of the people who had been there when they arrived—was responsible for what was going on now. Even more certain that they had escalated the legacy group’s plan for the Tower, based on the visitors from the outside. But I didn’t have access to the records to prove it. And if these people knew and could tell me who was there, then that was something I could use. But I had to maintain a reason for them to tell me.

“Not yet. I have some questions for you.”

“What sort of questions?” the man asked, his tone neutral this time. “We have an injured woman on board.”