spots, for fear the whole thing would crumble. She glanced around the rest of the bay, and sighed when she saw no other shuttle. Runaways can’t be walkers. She walked to the open mid-ship door on the side of the ill-looking vehicle, grabbed both edges of the shuttle’s mouth and hoisted herself up into its stifling warmth.

A tall man was already sitting on a cramped seat, wearing an expensive-looking suit that covered most of his darkly tanned skin — an unmistakable mark of a passer-by through the dark landscapes of Collar. There was nowhere else to go, so she took a seat beside him. His insulted eyes peered at her for a second before lowering again and reading the paper document he adamantly clutched. The ship had no windows and its interior smelled of wet dog. It would be a long trip.

Sweat trickled down her back and she began to wish she had more than one spare shirt. The engines powered up, their thunder roaring in her ears. The shuttle jostled once and Layela gripped the side of her chair to keep from landing on the man beside her.

Bang! Layela’s legs went flying up and she almost followed them, somehow managing to stay on her seat. She gritted her teeth, wishing she had a seat belt to count on.

The man beside her was not so fortunate. His document flew up, but not quite as high as he did. Within a heartbeat, he landed back on the small section of floor, his legs tangled above him.

She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so busy clutching to the seat for her life.

She braced for the second take-off attempt, the noise ringing in her ears. The shuttle shot forward, throwing Layela against the back of the seat and trapping her there as it picked up speed, her sweat-riddled shirt plastered to her back. She managed to move her head just enough to see the man still scrunched on the floor, his tanned features more green than brown.

She forced her eyes to stare forward at the dim metal wall, wondering how soon before they cleared the atmosphere and, hopefully, received a moment’s reprieve from the various laws of physics tugging at their bodies. The shuttle jostled and the lights flickered, and Layela closed her eyes. The ship was small and with few supplies, so they would likely not be going far. Anator, Grimsvll, Rockt...Layela listed the nearby planets she was aware of, forcing her mind to go over the few details she knew of them. Her first priority would be to get aboard another ship and go...go where?

Her arms ached from clutching her seat and her legs were shaking from the exertion. She forced her laboured breath and tense muscles to relax a bit. Her instincts would guide her. Surely they would. Just because they hadn’t worked of late, it didn’t mean they wouldn’t now. Maybe she had simply been too occupied with all the details of opening the shop and had not paid enough attention to her connection with her sister. Guilt tugged at her for a moment. Maybe if she hadn’t been so absorbed, she would have spotted Yoma’s discontent and been able to prevent all of this.

The shuttle slanted forward and Layela wrestled with her muscles, raising her tired legs just enough to catch the wall and keep herself from flying forward. The man rolled on the floor. Although she couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the engines, she could see that he was moaning. She was starting to fear she would never hear anything again.

The shuttle dropped again and the lights flickered, and Layela swore she heard, even over the engines, a blast from outside. The shuttle rocked and tilted, descending in a rapid nose dive that forced Layela to completely rely on her outstretched legs to keep from faceplanting on the dirty metal wall. This time she distinctly heard two blasts.

Was someone shooting at them? Layela forced herself to inhale the heavy, stale air. Another blast. She was certain they were under attack. The blood drained from her face and she grasped the seat harder, wishing she could do something — anything but sit and hang on for dear life. Had she picked a shuttle from a warring faction? Was the man beside her hunted? She wanted to scream at her own carelessness. Her worry for her flower shop and her sister had made her act too rashly.

The shuttle buckled again and landed with a crunch, bouncing Layela on the seat and knocking her teeth together. The engines powered down and their deafening sound ended. Her ears still tingled from the noise and she barely heard the man’s swear as he climbed back into his seat, a look of deep insult on his green face.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe, trying to steady her heart. Her fingers felt numb and cold with the fear of imminent death. She would throttle Yoma as soon as she saw her. It would be a fitting greeting.

A few minutes passed. Layela strained her ringing ears, but the walls were too thick for her to hear any sound aside from her own ragged breathing. She sat back against her seat, hoping her tension would drain. The businessman beside her held his document with shaking hands, a strange but comforting company.

She looked back, but there was nothing there to see except more metal. She just wanted to be off Collar, towards some mystery planet, so that she could beat her sister up. Was that not a simple enough wish?

The door opened beside her, and she barely had the time to gasp before two Solarian soldiers boarded and grabbed both her and the businessman.

Fingers dug into her arms as she was dragged out and thrown against the hull of the ship, the side of her face hitting the cool surface with a force great enough to split the skin at her hairline. Warm blood trickled down her temple.

Her gun was quickly removed, as well as the knife

Вы читаете Destiny's Blood
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