“We take on the storm,” she finally said. “But I’m piloting the ship.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. But spines weren’t reserved just for 8th Wing flyboys. Mara had one, too, and she wouldn’t back down. Arcadia was hers. Only hers. He saw that she would not yield, then grudgingly acquiesced, settling into his seat with only a slight grumble.

If he really wanted to, he could have lifted her bodily from the captain’s seat. Found some way of restraining her while he took the controls and flew them through the storm. But he didn’t. True, she’d demonstrated her skill by getting them through Ilden’s Lash. But, dangerous as the Lash was, ships breached it often. No one was attempting to breach the energy storm.

Kell, however, trusted her. His trust moved her, more deeply than his blatant desire. She had never allowed any of her supposed scavenger friends close enough to develop trust. Yet in the short time she had known Kell, he’d seen something within her, something he believed in.

Suddenly, navigating the storm seemed a little less daunting—knowing she was in control, but having him beside her.

“It’s time,” he said.

“Time to make this energy storm our slave.”

A corner of his mouth curved up, and she wanted to trace the shape with the tips of her fingers or, better yet, her tongue. Instead, she rubbed her slightly damp palms on her skirt. She didn’t miss how his eyes followed her movement, his gaze lingering on the expanse of bare thigh between her boots and her skirt. The heat in his eyes matched the fury of the storm.

Taking the controls, Mara guided the ship forward. As they neared the outer edge of the storm,

the comm line shrilled.

“Skiren, what the hell are you doing?” She recognized the voice as belonging to a fellow scavenger.

“Heading toward Ryge, Vachan.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

“A long time ago.”

The ship shuddered as it breached the first energy clouds. Kell kept himself remarkably still.

“If you make it through in one piece, you’ll be a legend,” Vachan said.

“If I don’t, have a drink in my honor. And charge it to Sekou. That bastard never pays for his own drinks.”

Vachan rasped his hoarse laugh. Then, quieter, “See you in the Treasure House.”

“See you.”

The comm line fuzzed out as the clouds thickened around the ship. Mara gripped the controls tighter, struggling for stability.

“Is the Treasure House a bar?” Kell asked above the rattling hull.

“Scavenger’s afterlife.”

He gave a small nod, thick with understanding, and then everything went insane.


Arcadia was a solidly-built ship. It had to be, to produce enough power to tow sizeable cargo. Mara made minor repairs from time to time on the hull, but it held together without problem, unlike some of the cheap, old ships she saw clattering through the galaxy.

Right now, flying into the energy storm around Ryge, she seriously considered that the Arcadia was going to break into tiny fragments. The ship quaked and shuddered as energy clouds buffeted it from every side. It sounded like they were being attacked by sonic hammers.

She gripped the controls until her hands ached, fighting to keep the ship steady.

Beside her, Kell stared ahead, grim and focused. The cockpit was filled with sulfurous light,

painting his stern face in harsh yellow illumination.

There was no fear in his eyes, only determination. That helped stabilize her, even as the ship was knocked back and forth like a child’s mechtop.

She cursed. “The damn energy currents are shoving us all over the place.” As she said this, they were flung to the side, and only her seatbelt kept her from being thrown to the wall.

“Don’t fight them.” Kell’s voice was level, raised only to be heard above the clamor. “Use their swells to move forward.”

It sounded like a bad idea, since she had no idea where the currents would take them, but things couldn’t get worse. At this rate, she and Kell would soon be burning fragment falling to Ryge. So, instead of wrestling the ship away from the energy swells, she steered with them.

For a moment, they careened, out of control, as the swell’s momentum took hold. Mara knew a brief panic as command of the ship vanished. The Arcadia belonged to another creature. It belonged to the storm. She wanted to pull hard on the controls, seize her ship back.

“Wait,” Kell said.

She shouted above the clamor, “We’re going to be cosmic powder in a second.”

“Wait,” he said again. Then, “Trust me.”

Despite the chaos of the storm around them, she held his dark, cool gaze. Once more, she marveled that he trusted her enough to put his life in her hands.

So she waited, letting the energy current take the ship where it willed. Incredibly, the hull’s shaking subsided, and the ship’s wild trajectory evened. Mara felt the controls ease back into her command.

“How?” she asked.

“Sometimes, it’s better to let the current take you where it wants to go.”

She chuckled, then cursed when a blade of lightning shot from the clouds and clipped Arcadia’s wing. The ship screamed and bucked. Mara held tight to the controls.

Checking the energy shield’s readout, she saw that Arcadia couldn’t take many more direct hits.

More lightning struck, and Mara just managed to steer away from them—barely. She used every ounce of piloting skill she possessed to weave and dodge the lightning, sweat filming her back.

Kell’s brow furrowed, and the flashes of garish light from the lightning carved the lines and hollows of his hard face.

“Does the cockpit window have viewing filters?” he asked.

“Yes—using the planetary filter now.” The filter allowed her to keep track of planetary masses,

no matter what obstruction blocked her view. The shape of Ryge could be seen through the thick morass of energy clouds.

“Use the spectral resonance filter.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“No time to explain why. Do it.”

She never took kindly to having people tell her what to do, but Mara wasn’t foolish. Now was not the time to take offense. She tapped her fingers on the control panel. The filter overlaying the cockpit window shifted, switching to spectral resonance.

What she saw made her gasp. The sickly yellow clouds now appeared as multihued shapes. It took a moment for her eyes to acclimate as she learned how to read the images. With the filter engaged, she could see the patterns of energy as they shifted and formed.

Including seeing the hot blue glow that coalesced in the moments before lightning formed.

Which meant she knew the areas to avoid as she steered the ship closer to Ryge’s surface.

“Brilliant,” she crowed. She knocked a fist into Kell’s solid shoulder, and he grinned at her—a mesmerizing sight.

No time to appreciate it now. She still had to get them safely to the other side of the storm. Using the spectral resonance to sidestep developing lightning, Mara guided them through a complex dance.

She saw gathering energy and slipped around it, then took advantage of a swell to shoot forward. Time lost its significance as her world narrowed. All she knew was the shifting forms of energy, the narrow passages of safety. It took precision, delicacy. Her heart beat with a combination of fear and excitement.

They rose one final current of energy and then—suddenly—the clouds parted. Ryge’s surface appeared. Its grimy seas and sandy wastes, and the glittering sores of its cities. No one ever thought Ryge was a pretty planet, but at that moment, Mara had never been so glad to see the old rubbish lump.

She switched off the spectral resonance filter to better see the planet that came as close as any to home.

The comm line trilled. “Arcadia, this is Beskidt By Control. Am I drunk, or did you just fly through that son-of-a-bitch energy storm?”

“You probably are drunk,” she answered, “but, yes, I did fly through that bastard.” With one incredibly smart and daring 8th Wing flyboy beside her.

Whomever was at the other end of the comm line whistled. “Well, hell. You’re cleared to land at Dock 32-Rho.”

Mara cut the line and focused on landing. The familiar skyline of Beskidt By drew closer, spires and slums crisscrossed by small darting craft and larger shuttles ferrying people from one nefarious destination to another. Everything lay washed in tawdry light from countless signs and advertisements, and some buildings crumbled while new monstrosities rose toward the sky. The city stretched like a riddle with no answer, as though it had been designed by a mad specerij addict.

She knew her way to the docks and didn’t need the flashing lights along the landing strips to guide her there. The only thing that struck her as odd was how quiet it seemed around the docks—until she remembered that no one was coming in to or leaving Ryge while the storm continued to rage. Only she—and Kell—had managed to get through.

“Nice flying,” Kell said, and though his eyes never stopped moving, taking in everything around him, when he did glance at her, his gaze was warm with admiration.

“I did it,” she breathed. “We did it.” She started to laugh—it felt wild and freeing after the tension of the last hour.

His low, husky laugh blended with hers. “Hell of a ride.”

The atmosphere between them thickened, sultry as a heat typhoon, heavy with promise.

They finally touched down at the designated dock. The moment the landing gear contacted the ground, Mara and Kell’s gazes locked. Heat washed over her. She didn’t know who moved first,