Forged (Star Breed #10) - Elin Wyn Page 0,37

us from across the valley.

“What is a ship doing here?”

“I’m guessing they crashed, same as us. But unlike us, they managed to avoid running into a cliff.”

She walked towards the blocky gray craft, slowly, considering. “I haven’t seen a model like this in years. You?”

I shook my head. “Not from here, remember? The ship design isn’t anything I’m familiar with offhand, other than I’d guess it was meant for practicality rather than comfort.” I walked around the craft, checking it over. “But I’ll bet there’s enough of it left we can get her up and running.”

On closer examination, the damage appeared to be fairly minimal. “Except for that one buckled landing strut, you’d almost think they’d landed here on purpose, instead of crashing.”

The rest of the struts had sunk into the soil, and fallen leaves and branches covered most of the ship’s body. I pulled them off carefully, revealing the scorch marks of an atmospheric entry.

“The panels under the nose took some damage when they hit,” Yasmin added, crawling out from underneath the frame. “We won’t be able to tell how severe it is until we get inside.” She brushed leaves from her hair, frowning. “But why is it here?”

“Only one way to find out,” I answered, moving towards the entry hatch midway down the body of the ship. It was open, just a crack.

Never a good sign.

Yasmin stepped toward the hatch, but I held her back. “We’ve got no idea who’s in there,” I explained. “Or what’s taken up residence in the years since this crash.”

“Hopefully not a cousin of the ugly fish,” she agreed.

I readied my spear and motioned for her to stay close behind me, then we went up the short flight of stairs, squeezed through the opening, and paused, waiting, listening.

After a short entryway, the hatch opened to a narrow corridor running the length of the ship. To the right would be the cockpit, to the left would likely be crew quarters, maybe a cargo bay.

The ship design might not be totally familiar, but really, there were only so many ways to box together all the functions humans needed to survive the Void.

Traces of old muddy tracks covered the deck, overlapping too much to make out what they were. “Something’s been up and down, all over this thing,” Yasmin whispered.

Deep claw marks scored the cabinets set into the bulkheads, but none of the panels appeared to have been opened.

“Depending how long it’s been here, the supplies might still be good,” I murmured, still mentally circling through what it would take to get this hunk back in the air again.

Straining my hearing to the limit, I heard nothing but the wind through the bushes outside. The interior of the ship was silent, musty.

“Which way?” Yasmin asked.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t think.” I took another sniff. Nothing. “I don’t think anyone is in here.”

If you ignored the faded muddy prints that seemed to cover everything, the cockpit looked intact, as if the pilot and crew had just walked out.

Yasmin ran her fingers over the controls. “If the engines work, I can fly this thing,” she said. “It’s a bit out of date, but not too bad.”

“That’s a plus,” I said. “Now let’s see if we can find the engines.”

Slowly, we made our way aft.

A cramped galley.

Cargo bay.

Crew quarters. All empty.

But finally, rifling through one of the two minuscule crew rooms, Yasmin found something.

A thin sheet of plexi with a circular logo of some type on it, had slid behind the door.

“Desyk,” she said, tapping it, jaw tight, voice flat. “What were they doing here? And if this was an official corporate mission, why is this the only indicator?”

“Maybe scouting for resources?” I offered. “If they could resupply the station from down here, wouldn’t that save them money?”

“Maybe…” Yasmin traced the logo with her fingertip. “But now I’m even more curious as to what happened here.”

“Some mysteries we may not be able to solve.” I put my hand on her shoulder, rubbed the tightly knotted muscles. “Right now, we need to focus on seeing if we can get this back in the air. Or at least see if they’ve got supplies or even an oxygen generator.”

Yasmin perked up at the thought of tangible tasks rather than more questions without answers. There’d be plenty of time for those once we’d sorted out survival.

“Engines first,” she said decisively. “If I’m remembering right, they should be this way.”

A bit further aft, she stopped mid-corridor, crouched, then started pulling up panels set flush into