Forged (Star Breed #10) - Elin Wyn Page 0,39

argument. “Really. Those things stink.”

Right, then.

“I’ll go pull the inventory logs, see what I can find.”

Not the first thing on my to-do list for the ship, but if it meant he’d get some rest, it was worth it.

New sheets found, and the bed remade surprisingly neatly, Hakon still stalled.

“Repairs will go faster if we’re both working on them,” he insisted.

“It’ll go faster if you stop arguing, go to sleep, and let me get started,” I said, hands on his chest gently pushing him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

He sank down and I knelt to unlace his boots.

Halfway through the first one I realized he’d stopped moving entirely.

I glanced up to see his dark eyes fixed on me, heat overruling exhaustion.

“None of that until you’ve slept.” I held a finger up quickly. “A full shift of sleep,” I clarified.

“I don’t need that much downtime,” he grumbled, but stopped fussing.

Pulling the sheets over him, I was tempted to give in for just a moment.

Curl up next to him even if we did nothing more than snuggle.

The voice in my head snorted.

Snuggle?

When did snuggling become so high on my list of things to do?

Reminded of my actual list, I kissed him on the forehead and went back to the engines.

Now that I’d had an initial look at the engine compartment, I could see where I needed to go to get more comfortable and right-side-up access.

After the first hour of work, nothing was any clearer.

The engines were fine. Nothing that would be winning any interstellar races anytime soon, but solid and functional.

I hauled myself out, went back to the cockpit, and flicked the comms system on.

This time I skipped the family channel and went straight to the widest broadcast band possible.

“Emergency assistance requested,” I repeated. “We have crashed on Sat 9 and need assistance.”

Nothing but static.

The atmosphere might be thin, but something was interfering with communications.

Right. On to the next task.

“Systems engage, replay last ten log entries.”

Nothing answered me.

Either there was no AI, it had been damaged, or it only responded to authorized voiceprints.

No matter, I could work around that.

Thankful once again for my friend’s tutorial in getting around basic computer security protocols, I got to work.

Even if I hadn’t found that bit of plexi with the Desyk logo on it, once I was in their systems, it was obvious.

Status reports and log files, all using the corporation’s internal filing structure that I’d become so familiar with back on Station 112.

And all of them date-time-stamped ten years ago.

Hours passed as I read, going back in time, searching for answers.

Naval and Hill had been the crew assigned to the ship.

They’d been a resource discovery team for a number of years before their final trip to Sat 9.

As far as I could tell, their method was the same as similar teams that ExaTek worked with.

The Areitis Sector was huge. There was simply no possible way any one corporation could explore all of it thoroughly.

Resource discovery teams were sent out, hopping from one promising location to another as quickly as possible.

They were seldom staffed with environmental experts or scientists, rather with pilots who didn’t mind the long hours in exchange for no one looking over their shoulders and plenty of privacy.

Teams took sample readings and sent everything off to home base, where massive AIs sorted, analyzed, and flagged the most promising discoveries for further review.

But what had they been doing here?

The moss that exuded an excess of oxygen was interesting, but hardly groundbreaking. I’d bring back the samples we’d collected, just in case, but Naval and Hill hadn’t reported anything like that.

Granted, I’d been asleep for most of our trek across the valley, but surely Hakon would have mentioned if he’d seen anything unusual.

My brain caught on the word.

Unusual.

How unusual was it that he’d been able to carry me throughout the entire night without stopping?

Unusual.

Inhuman.

With everything that had been happening, I hadn’t had a chance to really think about what he’d told me back in the cavern.

How had he phrased it?

A Pack of illegal, lab-grown, genetically modified mercenaries.

Leaning back in the pilot’s seat, I weighed each word in my mind and set it against what I knew of Hakon.

Bigger, faster, stronger than anyone I’d ever met.

Smarter and kinder, as well.

I could only hope that the rest of his brothers, his Pack, had the same temperament.

But they weren’t my concern.

The beep of another completed search brought my attention back to the logs.

Naval and Hill had only been here two days