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They’d crashed. Somewhere horrible.
Everywhere was yellow dirt and dry brush and cracked rocks. Plumes of dust rose from their footfalls and coated the inside of Fal’ran’s mouth. The sun beat down on them, burning the back of Fal’ran’s neck and making him sweat streaks through the dirt covering his face. It didn’t let up until they turned a corner in the ravine and plunged into shadow.
“Hold,” Patrick ordered just loud enough to reach Bar’in up in front. “We might have lost them.”
“Might?” Fal’ran put his hands on his hips and tipped his head back to swallow great gulps of air. His head pounded and his shoulder ached, and he couldn’t remember why.
“Might.” Patrick motioned for them to huddle under the overhang of the cliff above them. “Can’t confirm until we take a breath, though.”
“Let’s take a look at you.” Sazahk went straight for Fal’ran while Bar’in and Tar flanked their little group, guns in hand. “You’re running around so it can’t have been that bad, but it’s truly amazing what adrenaline can do to a body. You never knew what catastrophic injuries it might be hiding.”
“Check him out but stay quiet.” Patrick switched places with Sazahk so he could get close to Fal’ran without stepping out into the open. “Everyone listen.”
A hush fell over them and the silence pressed in.
Fal’ran had never heard such silence. The hairs lifted on the back of his neck as Sazahk flashed a light in his eyes. No bustling civilization, no roaring engines, no shouts or bangs or crashes. None of the sounds Fal’ran had grown up with and found continued on Base Givast. But also, no insects, birds, rustling leaves, or any of the sounds he’d heard for the first time in the jungle on Klah.
Only the wind whistling through their shallow canyon.
A rock fell somewhere to their left, its clatter echoing through the ravine, and they tensed. Then the silence resumed.
“I’ve always wanted to come to the Dead Zone,” Sazahk murmured as he moved his light back and forth for Fal’ran to track.
“Curiosity?” Fal’ran had lost all ability to be surprised by Sazahk.
“You’d think the Qesh might want to study their greatest calamity, but you’d be wrong.” Sazahk's brow streaked with purple as he clicked off his light and stowed it in his pack. He grabbed Fal’ran’s bad arm with gentle fingers. “There’s incredible political opposition to it. The moralists think that if we look at it, if we understand it, then we’re blasphemously trivializing it.” Sazahk lifted and rotated Fal’ran’s arm in its socket, still gentle despite the bitterness wafting off his skin. “And of course, it never takes anything more than a little political opposition for my brother to put a stop to any of my work.”
“Brother?” Fal’ran had never heard of Sazahk’s brother. He’d never heard of any qesh having a brother or any siblings at all.
“Yes.” Sazahk’s tone did not invite prying. He moved Fal’ran’s arm back and forth. “Pain?”
“Yeah.”
“Sharp?”
“No.”
“Best we can do, then. Or, best I can do at least. I’m a biologist, not a doctor.” Sazahk released his arm and turned toward the dry riverbed at his feet. “I’d love to take a soil sample.”
Patrick caught Sazahk’s shoulder. “Not right now.” He snorted a laugh and his lips pulled up into a boyish half smile when Sazahk pouted. “In a bit, I promise. Anyone hear anything?”
“Other than my heartbeat?” Bar’in lowered his weapon and leaned against the rough, yellow rock at their back. “Nothing.”
“It’s quiet, sir.” Tar didn’t lower his weapon. He stayed facing the direction of their pursuers and shielding them with his massive body.
Fal’ran shook his head when Patrick looked at him. “Nothing. I stopped hearing anything half an hour ago.”
“Alright.” Patrick clapped Sazahk’s shoulder. “Go ahead, sample to your heart’s content. You’ve got five minutes. Everyone else, take a breath.” His half smile spread into a grin that soothed the tension in Fal’ran’s chest. “Congratulations. You all survived your first combat encounter.”
Bar’in scoffed. “Did that count? I didn’t even see anyone.”
Fal’ran remembered the pincers ripping through metal. “It counted.”
“You’d be surprised how often you don’t see the enemy.” Patrick held his hand out to Bar’in and nodded at the pack on his back. “How much ammo did we make it out with?”
Bar’in handed the bag to Patrick. “Whatever’s in there, along with whatever Tar got.”
Embarrassment curdled Fal’ran’s belly as Tar passed Patrick his pack. He hadn’t grabbed any ammo. He’d had to be rescued.
