High Flyer - Michelle Diener Page 0,88

they were no worse off than they had been before.

Chapter 30

The door to the flight deck was slightly ajar.

Iver came to a stop in front of it and angled his light for a look inside.

“What do you see?” Hana leaned against him, trying to look at what lay beyond. She felt a sudden roiling of nerves batter her, and she hitched in a quick breath.

Iver cupped her cheek with one of his big hands, and tilted her head up to his. “Bodies.”

They had guessed that. They had even expected it.

She forced herself to straighten. “Can we get in?”

Iver shone the light over the area beside the door, and put his hand against the screen.

The door gave a sudden screech, moved open a little more, and then stopped.

It was just wide enough for them to sidle through.

“I think there are bodies in the way.” Iver's warning was unnecessary. She had already guessed that.

He went first, grunting a little as he squeezed through, and then he turned for her, hand out, but she slipped through easily enough.

“So many.” She whispered it as his light moved over the bones lying scattered over the floor.

Runners loomed out of the gloom, sleek but dust-covered. It was dark inside, but not completely.

The bodies were completely decomposed here, just as the two on the bridge were, and she felt a trickle of moving air touch her face.

“There's some exposure to the outside from here. Light is coming from up front.”

Iver nodded. “There are leaves.” He pointed the light at the ground, and sure enough, dried leaves had drifted down over some of the bones.

They made a strange, eery scratching sound as she walked over them.

Both she and Iver kept to the walls as they explored, taking everything in, until they found the flight ramp.

It was shrouded in thick, green vines which undulated a little in the breeze blowing in from outside, letting in shafts of light every time they moved.

Iver thrust his arm through, pushed the vegetation back, and light poured in. Hana saw trees and the steep side of the valley up ahead.

She looked over at Iver, but he was crouched down, one arm still holding back the vines, the other reaching to pick something up from the floor.

She made a sound that caught in her throat, and with shock, she realized her upgrade had squeezed the muscles to stop her from calling out a warning.

She tried to lift a hand, but she stood, immobilized, as he lifted two small, shiny metal balls in his palm.

“What do you think--?”

They both watched the balls disappear.

Suddenly free, Hana coughed, put a hand to her throat, and held Iver's gaze.

“Welcome to the club.” Her voice was hoarse.

He lifted his palm closer to his face. “You're saying . . .?”

“There were obviously two left.”

He lowered his arm, and flexed the fingers of his hand. “I don't feel any different.”

She pursed her lips. “You will. When we get out of the magfield.” She closed her eyes, and raged at her upgrade. Taking her choice away was unacceptable. Unacceptable.

The tentative response she got was a series of images that blossomed in her brain. A loneliness and a sense of abandonment that had to be rectified. A desperate act in desperate circumstances.

She opened her eyes on a sigh, found Iver looking at her with that steady, calm look of his.

“It's not a bad thing. I'm certainly better for it.” She shook her head. “I just wish I'd been able to warn you, so you'd have had the choice.”

“You told me about the beads. I should have realized what they were.” He flexed his hand again. “Nothing we can do about it now anyway.”

He had dropped the curtain of vines during their conversation, but he put his hand on it again, lifting it wide enough for Hana to step through.

“Let's see how overgrown it is on the outside and whether we can get a runner out at all.”

She stepped through, and then pulled up so suddenly, Iver ran into the back of her.

A man in black fatigues stared at her from the trees.

He gave a sudden, high-pitched whistle, as Iver lifted her up bodily and pulled her back behind the leafy curtain.

“They're here. The combat flyers.” She felt a calm come over her. Her gaze went to the runners, and she strode over to the one closest to the opening.

She touched the side, her movements on automatic, as if she had done them a thousand times, and steps creaked out from a panel, sending