The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,111

The sound was the wind—in a space station devoid of anything but artificial breezes, she had missed the wind. She closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

Real dust.

Real air.

For a second, she wondered if Armstrong wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe not the paradise Dane had described, but maybe not awful either. She didn’t care if it was dusty and hot, as long as it was a safe haven.

The fresh air seemed to have the same effect on all of them, except for Bonebreak. He grabbed a bag from under the control panel and slung it over one shoulder. “I’m going to find something to drink.”

“You’ve been here before?” Cora asked.

“No. But I have never found any inhabited space in the universe, even desert planets run by lesser species, that didn’t have a bar.” He dropped down the hole.

The others stared after him.

Nok squeezed Cora’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s see what’s out there.”

45

Cora

THE DUST NEARLY BLINDED Cora as she jumped down the hatch; Leon caught her, wiping the dust from his own eyes.

“Not looking so much like paradise, sweetheart.”

Cora pushed her hair out of her face—its new length meant it kept blowing in her eyes—and squinted into the dust. “Maybe everone here lives indoors, or underground.”

“I think this is just what’s left of a dust storm that already came through,” Nok said. Her 1950s-housewife apron kept billowing in the wind. “One of the models back in London was from Morocco. Used to tell me about the sandstorms there, and how the wind howled.” She coughed as the others climbed out of the ship. “Maybe the dust will settle soon.”

She was frowning, and Cora didn’t blame her. It wasn’t a place she’d want to raise a daughter either.

The shadowy silhouette of low mountains hung in the distance—rounded and ancient. And a sun that was bigger than theirs on Earth, which was probably why it was so hot. Bonebreak was walking off toward a collection of dark shapes that might have been buildings. He seemed to move and breathe just fine, and for once she envied him the mask.

“We should catch up with Bonebreak.” She took a step, but her legs felt heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s the gravity.” Rolf came up beside her, stooped over, like it took effort just to stand up straight. “This must be a very dense moon to have gravity this strong. That’s why those mountains are so low. And the air—they must have manipulated the atmosphere.”

Cora glanced behind her. Anya had stayed on the ship, her head still aching, and Mali stayed as well to take care of her. Mali and Leon exchanged a few words before parting. Mali suddenly stood on tiptoe and kissed his ear.

When he came over, he looked as off-kilter as if she’d slapped him. “Right,” he said, a little discombobulated. “She said me and her are doing a rescue mission.”

“You okay with that?”

He rubbed at the ear she’d kissed. “Oh, yeah.”

Cora rolled her eyes, and they started trudging through the dust after Bonebreak, toward the hazy structures that were getting more visible in the clearing dust.

“What do we say to them?” Nok asked nervously, bobbing along next to Cora as they caught up to Bonebreak. “That Rolf and I are going to be their new neighbors, and by the way, I’m pregnant?”

“I think we start with hello,” Cora said. “And then see where that takes us.”

The ground was uneven and fissured and marked with spiny vegetation, and Cora had to be careful not to trip. Her lungs burned; the air didn’t quite seem right. She felt light-headed, which didn’t match with the heavy gravity. The structures came out of the dust in a wavering sort of way, and for a moment the angles didn’t seem right. For a terrifying second she thought she was back in the Kindred’s cage, where angles had been distorted illusions, but then she stumbled upon a clapboard hut, and she reached out and touched it.

Solid.

The wooden siding was rough-hewn; it must have been made from trees chopped in a nearby forest. A tin bucket of muddy water sat beneath a cloth tarp.

“Vegetation,” Rolf observed. “Water. Breathable air. Your friend didn’t lie about there being ample resources.”

“I wouldn’t call Dane a friend,” she muttered. She ran her fingers along the board that formed the corner of the hut, and a splinter came off in the pad of her finger. She broke into a grin. “Look—it’s real!”

“Hooray,” Nok muttered. “The wonderful world of splinters. It’ll probably be