She sniffed. “Me. When I was ten. She lived in the computer and kept me company and now she’s dead.” She squeezed the databoard against her chest. “Poor, sweet Little Cress.”
After a long silence, Thorne cleared his throat. “Scarlet did warn me about this. Do we need to bury Little Cress before we can move on? Want me to say a few words for her?”
Cress glanced up, and though his expression was sympathetic, she thought he was probably mocking her. “I’m not crazy. I know she’s just a computer. It’s just … I programmed her myself, and she was the only friend I had. That’s all.”
“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m familiar with IT-relations. Just wait until you meet our spaceship. She’s a riot.” His expression became thoughtful. “Speaking of spaceships, what about that other pod, the one the guard docked with?”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that!” She tucked the databoard beneath its slanted desk and tripped over to the other entryway. The satellite sat at an angle, with the second entry near the lower end of the slope, and she had to clear away countless bits of plastic and broken equipment before she could get to the control screen. The screen itself was down—she couldn’t get a flicker of power out of it—so she opened the panel that housed the manual override locks instead. A series of gears and handles had been set into the wall over the door, and while Cress had known they were there for years, she’d never given them much thought before.
The devices were stuck from years of neglect and it took all her strength to pull on the handle, planting one foot on the wall to gain leverage. Finally it snapped down and the doors sprang open, leaving a gap.
Hearing her struggle, Thorne got up and trudged toward her, carefully kicking debris out of his way. He kept his hands outstretched until he bumped into her and together they pried open the door.
The docking hatch was in worse shape than the satellite. Almost an entire wall had been sheared off and piles of sand had already begun to blow in between the cracks. Wires and clamps dangled from the shattered wall panels and Cress could smell smoke and the bitter scent of burned plastic. The podship had been shoved up into the corridor, crumpling the far end of the hatch like an accordion. The docking clamp had been rammed straight through the ship’s cockpit control panel, filling the glass with hairline fractures.
“Please tell me it looks better than it smells,” said Thorne, hanging on to the door frame.
“Not really. The ship is destroyed, and it looks like all the instruments too.” Cress climbed down, holding on to the wall for balance. She tried pressing some buttons to bring the ship back to life, but it was useless.
“All right. Next plan.” Thorne rubbed his eyes. “We have no way of contacting the Rampion and they have no way of knowing we’re alive. Probably won’t do us much good to stay here and hope someone passes by. We’re going to have to try and find some sort of civilization.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, a mix of nerves and giddiness swirling in her stomach. She was going to leave the satellite.
“It looked like the sun was setting,” she said. “So at least we won’t be walking in the heat.”
Thorne screwed up his lips in thought. “This time of year the nights shouldn’t be too cold, no matter which hemisphere we’ve landed in. We need to gather up all the supplies we can carry. Do you have any more blankets? And you’ll want a jacket.”
Cress rubbed her palms down the thin dress. “I don’t have a jacket. I’ve never needed one.”
Thorne sighed. “Figures.”
“I do have another dress that isn’t quite so worn as this one.”
“Pants would be better.”
She glanced down at her bare legs. She’d never worn pants before. “These dresses are all Sybil brought me. I … I don’t have any shoes, either.”
“No shoes?” Thorne massaged his brow. “All right, fine. I went through survival training in the military. I can figure this out.”
“I do have a few bottles we can fill with water. And plenty of food packs.”
“It’s a start. Water is our first priority. Dehydration will be a much bigger threat than hunger. Do you have any towels?”
“A couple.”
“Good. Bring those, and something we can use for rope.” He raised his left foot. “While you’re at it, do you have any idea where my other boot ended up?”
* * *
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do that?”
Thorne scowled, his empty gaze pinned somewhere around her knee. “I may be temporarily blind, but I’m not useless. I can still tie good knots.”
Cress scratched at her ear and withheld further comment. She was seated on the edge of her bed, braiding a discarded lock of her own hair to use for rope, while Thorne knelt before her. His face was set in concentration as he wrapped a towel around her foot, then looped the “rope” around her ankle and the arch of her foot a few times before securing it with an elaborate knot.
“We want them to be nice and tight. If the fabric is too loose it will rub and give you blisters. How does that feel?”
She wiggled her toes. “Good,” she said, and waited until Thorne had finished the other foot before surreptitiously adjusting the folds of the cloth to be more comfortable. When she stood, it felt strange—like walking on lumpy pillows—but Thorne seemed to think she’d be grateful for the makeshift shoes when they were out in the desert.
Together, they fashioned a bundle out of a blanket, which they filled with water, food, bedsheets, and a small medical kit that Cress had rarely needed. The knife was safely in Thorne’s boot and they’d disassembled part of the busted bed frame for Thorne to use as a walking cane. They each drank as much water as they could stand and then, as Cress gave one last inspection of the satellite and could think of nothing else worth taking, she stepped to the docking hatch and pulled down the manual unlock lever. With a kathunk, the door’s internal devices released. The hydraulics hissed. A crack opened between the metal doors, allowing Thorne to get his fingers in and push one side into its wall pocket.
A breeze of dry air blew into the satellite—a scent Cress had no comparison for. It was nothing like the satellite or the machinery or Sybil’s perfume.
Earth, she supposed, memorizing the aroma. Or desert.
Thorne swung the makeshift supply bundle over his shoulder. Kicking some debris out of the way, he reached his hand toward Cress.
“Lead the way.”
His hand encased hers and she wanted to savor the moment, the sensation of touch and warmth and this perfect smell of freedom, but Thorne was nudging her forward before the moment had settled.
At the end of the docking hatch was the rail and two steps leading down to where a podship normally attached, but now there was only sand, tinted lavender as night’s shadows crept forward. It had already started to blow up onto the second step and Cress had a vision of the satellite being slowly buried beneath it, disappearing forever in the desert.
And then she looked out, past the railing and the dunes, toward the rolling horizon. The sky was a haze of violet, and where that faded away—blue and black and stars. The same stars she’d known all her life, and yet now they were spread out like a blanket over her. Now there was an entire sky and an entire world ready to engulf her.
Her head swam. Suddenly dizzy, Cress stumbled backward, crashing into Thorne.
“What? What is it?”
She tried to swallow down the rising panic, this sensation that her existence was as small and unimportant as the tiniest fleck of sand blowing against her shins. There was a whole world—a whole planet. And she was stuck somewhere in the middle of it, away from everything. There were no walls, no boundaries, nothing to hide behind. A shudder swept over her, goose bumps crawling across her bare arms.
“Cress. What happened? What do you see?” Thorne’s fingers tightened on her arms, and she realized she was trembling.
She stammered twice before forcing the thought out of her head. “It—it’s so big.”
“What’s so big?”
“Everything. Earth. The sky. It didn’t seem so big from space.”
Her pulse was a drum, thundering through every artery. She could hardly take in any air, and she had to cover her face and turn away before she could breathe again. Even then the sensation was painful.
Suddenly she was crying, without knowing when the tears had started.
Thorne’s hands found her elbows, tender and gentle. There was a moment in which she expected to be taken into his arms, pressed warm and safe against his chest. She yearned for it.
But instead, he shook her—hard.
“Stop it!”
Cress hiccupped.
“What is the number one thing people die from in the desert?”
She blinked, and another hot tear slipped down her cheek. “Wh-what?”
“The number one cause of deaths. What is it?”
“De-dehydration?” she said, recalling the Survival 101 lecture he’d given while filling up their water bottles.
“And what does crying do?”
It took a moment. “Dehydrates?”
“Exactly.” His grip relaxed. “It’s all right to be scared. I get that until now most of your existence has been contained in two hundred square meters. In fact, so far you’ve shown yourself to be saner than I expected.”
She sniffed, unsure if he’d just complimented or insulted her.
“But I need you to pull yourself together. You may have noticed that I’m not exactly in prime form right now, and I am relying on you to be aware and observant and help us find our way out of this, because if we don’t … I don’t know about you, but I’m just not fond of the idea of being stranded out here and eaten alive by vultures. So, can I depend on you to hold it together? For both of us?”
“Yes,” she whispered, though her chest was about to burst with all the doubts being crammed into it.
Thorne squinted and she didn’t think he believed her.
“I’m not convinced that you fully grasp the situation here, Cress. We will be eaten. Alive. By vultures. Can you visualize that for a second?”
“Y-yes. Vultures. I understand.”
“Good. Because I need you. And those are not words that I throw around every day. Now, are you going to be all right?”
“Yes. Just give me—I just need a moment.”
This time, she took in an extra deep breath and shut her eyes and grappled for a daydream, any daydream …
“I am an explorer,” she whispered, “setting courageously off into the wild unknown.” It was not a daydream she’d ever had before, but she felt the familiar comfort of her imagination wrapping around her. She was an archaeologist, a scientist, a treasure hunter. She was a master of land and sea. “My life is an adventure,” she said, growing confident as she opened her eyes again. “I will not be shackled to this satellite anymore.”
Thorne tilted his head to one side. He waited for three heartbeats before sliding one hand down into hers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “But we’ll go with it.”
Sixteen
Thorne passed the makeshift cane to his opposite side so he could hold Cress’s elbow as they stepped out onto the sand. She kept her head down, carefully choosing each step but also afraid that if she looked up into the sky, her legs would freeze beneath her and she would never be able to make them move again.
When they’d gone a safe distance from the satellite, Cress tentatively lifted her gaze. Ahead of her was the same eternal landscape, the sky growing darker.
She glanced back toward the satellite, and gasped.
Thorne’s hand squeezed her elbow.
“There are mountains,” she said, gaping at the jagged peaks along the horizon.