Rift in the Sky

Doors, in her experience, were only useful under one condition. “A door you could open?”

“Could? I think so. But we’re not ready yet.” He cupped his hands tightly together. “The inside has been sealed a very long time. Still intact. We want to know about the internalenvironment—the air—inside. Vital to detect any systems still operational.” He lifted his thumb to make a small opening. “Tyler’s Triad made controlledaccesspoint, lockdown rest until ready. Send tiny vidbots to look for us. They’ll finish the first level soon, then move to the next. Takes time.” His gloom lifted as he spoke. “Hoveny structures are almost always empty, as if the owners moved out and then locked the doors. Best finds so far have been what was missed. Objects left on a floor, perhaps dropped in a hurry. Artifacts. Tell us little alone. Have nocontext. What we really want to find are workinginstallations. Parts of building that couldn’t be moved. Remarkable preservation inside. They might still work.”

Aryl thought of the tables filled with objects she’d seen being sorted. “You have artifacts at Sona.”

He grimaced. “Oud don’t respect doors. Made big mess.”

Enris laughed.

TRILLLLLL!!

The noise burst from the control panel. Lights flashed. Marcus bent over it, muttering in his own language. He did something to silence the sound, but the lights reflected on his pale skin, turning it red, then blue, then yellow. Red again. He stood to stare through the clear ceiling at the scattered clouds overhead, then dropped back into his seat. “Watch,” he ordered. “Tell me if you see anything approaching.”

“From above?” Naryn asked in disbelief. Aryl shared her reaction. What was the Human thinking?

“From anywhere.”

The aircar began to descend, quickly.

“Don’t crash this time,” Aryl reminded the Human, her hands gripping the edge of the seat.

For some reason this made Marcus choke on a laugh of his own.

Down. Down. The lights played over them like biters hunting a spot to bite. Aryl did her best to ignore them, staring out as Marcus directed. Enris and Naryn did the same.

They had to be close to Site Two by now, Aryl thought. Looking down, she could see the slope of the mountain, littered with loose rock. Loose rock with an appetite. A patient, seldom rewarded appetite—not much wandered here.

“Something’s behind us.” Enris. What is it?

he asked her, sharing the image of a distant speck.

Wastryl—or not.

Marcus didn’t look around. “Is it getting closer?”

“I can’t tell.”

TRILLL!!!

The aircar swung violently to one side and back again, like a branch pulled and released with a snap. Aryl clung to her seat, her eyes on Marcus.

Who now looked furious.

“What was that?”

“A suggestion.” Unhelpfully. “Don’t talk now.”

A suggestion? Enris sent. What’s going on?

Maybe he avoided a wastryl. She’d seen a vidbot explode when attacked by the flying creatures.

Can he land at this speed?

Aryl glanced out the side and flinched. The mountainside roared by, too close, a blur of shadow and jagged edge. We have to trust him.

Privately, through the M’hir, their link as solid as flesh touching. No, we don’t. We could leave, now.

I won’t risk Naryn. Or Anaj.

This doesn’t?

We must know what’s happening to the Strangers. Aryl pulled free, refused to be distracted. Some risks had to be taken. She focused on Marcus. His hands were sure on the controls, as if anger had burned away all fear. Anger at what?

The aircar tipped to one side, answering her question.

No one spoke as they flew past what had been Site Two. Wisps of smoke marked the remains of buildings. Crumbled machines, scorched and useless, lay on what had been the landing ledge.

No one had escaped that way, Aryl thought.

The Hoveny buildings were unscathed. Rock lay shattered around them, mixed with bits of machine, but the structures were as flawless as she remembered.

Marcus did little more than glance at the devastation before turning back to the small screen. A muscle along his jaw twitched. It was the only expression left on his face. He sent the aircar upward again; faster than before.

This time, no talk of taking them home first.

Or of accidents.

Site Three, Aryl told the others. She didn’t know where it was, what it was.

I don’t want to meet what could do this, Naryn protested.

We must. Enris, as grim as she’d ever felt him. So he shared her dread. Ruthless, coordinated attacks. Technology equal to or superior to that of the Strangers. What chance would Om’ray have, if they became the next targets?

Or Oud.

Or Tikitik.

Courage, she sent, wishing for more of her own.