The Lost Ship of the Tucker Rebellion - Marie Sexton Page 0,105

it, OPAL,” Laramie said. “I assume we’ll all get used to it.”

He held out a hand, and Denver let his brother pull him to his feet, bringing them face-to-face, much as they had been in that bright beam of light on board the Legacy. Laramie had been exhausted at the time, his weariness easily felt through their shared connection—a connection made stronger than ever by their time piloting the Legacy. He was still tired, running largely on adrenaline, but Denver could have sworn that Laramie looked healthier already. It was foolish to think a few hours on the planet could have changed his complexion, and yet it seemed to be true.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t ever need one again, but it seemed like a good indication that the doctors were right. Sunlight and gravity really might be the cure his brother needed. Denver’s eyes filled with tears, and he hugged Laramie again, tighter than ever.

“We made it,” Denver said, not caring about the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Maybe only for a week or two.” And then, only because he knew he could, he spoke the next bit through their psychic link.

“Now stop doing that. It gives me a headache.”

Denver laughed, stepping back to wipe his eyes. “I’ve been telling you that my whole life.”

He finally took a moment to look around again, being careful to keep his eyes on the horizon and not look up. Rolling green hills in one direction. To their left, a row of towering peaks blocked the horizon. On the other side, Gru was leading Treesa through a copse of trees, pointing things out to his apt young pupil. OPAL’s spider body glinted in the sun as she scuttled around doing who knew what. He rounded the Jiminy, where a cluster of oddly shaped structures caught his eye—too geometric to be natural.

“They’re houses,” Spence said. “Crazy, right? There are even more on the other side of the river. Gru says they’ve been abandoned for at least a hundred years and that the, uh, indignant—”

“Indigenous flora,” Marit offered.

Spence laughed. “Right. Basically, the plants have taken over, but once we clear them away, we should be able to use the houses themselves.”

A hundred yards past the overgrown settlement sat a shuttle Denver didn’t recognize. A group of people milled around it. At least one of them was on the ground retching. Still, considering how many people they had on board the Legacy, there wasn’t a lot going on.

“Where is everybody?”

“Most of them are still figuring out how to shuttle everybody down,” Marit said. “We have no idea how to land the Legacy, and two of the ships in Dusty’s armada weren’t designed to enter an atmosphere. Which leaves lots of people and lots of cargo, with a limited number of ships and not a whole lot of fuel. Honestly, I should take the Jiminy and help, but we were waiting for you to wake up.”

Denver eyed his small crew—Laramie, who’d always be with him. Marit and OPAL. Treesa and Gru, off doing their own thing. And Spence, who he’d somehow fallen head over heels for. Now he understood the elation he’d felt from Laramie. He wasn’t sure how much of the warmth and love he felt was his own and how much of it came from his twin. He grabbed Spence and Marit and hugged them both at the same time. Laramie joined them, wrapping his arms around them all. OPAL scurried up Marit’s body to join in on the most joyfully awkward group hug Denver had ever been a part of.

“Jesus,” Denver said as he held them. “We did it.”

“We did,” Marit said, hugging him back. “Now stop being sentimental and get your ass in gear. We have a hell of a lot of work to do.”

Denver was fine with that, as long as he could do it without looking up.

Epilogue

Denver sat on the front porch of the house, on the single step that dropped from the knobbly platform of flat stones to the gravel walkway that led toward the center of the town of Legacy, and stared up at the sky. Panic beat a broken rhythm in the very back of his throat, like a crucial valve on the verge of