Page 68 of Black Mamba

Darkness descends as Levy’s and Greg’s conversation ambles into silence as they’re handed their fish. Reaching for the knife Lukys gave me, I tug it from the side of my pack. Ensuring it’s clean, I slice my fish into small pieces. I poke at the pieces before scooping one up and taking a small bite.

I give a pleased moan and scoop up more. Greg and Levy do the same. I’ve been eating nothing but starchy, ultra-processed pasta and the fish is a luxury. It’s to them as well.

I catch Lukys staring at me across the flames. The firelight breathes embers over his lean form, their small bursts of light emphasizing his muscles. His stormy eyes glimmer with orange and red as he gazes at my mouth.

Suddenly, the fish doesn’t matter.

I swallow and hand my plate to Greg. “I don’t think I can eat anymore. I think I’m going to go to bed. I’m… really tired.” Rising, they watch as I grab my bag and pull out my biggest sweater, the closest thing I packed to a blanket that would fit without it being Lukys’s hide. Shuffling awkwardly and finding a spot a short distance away, I curl onto my side after bundling the sweater under my head to use as a pillow.

Luckily, and soon after the fish is eaten, the others take my cue. I don’t fully settle until I hear Greg and Levy ease into their own spaces. Having lost where Lukys went, I remain firm in facing away, refusing to look over my shoulder in case he’s there.

Because if he’s still on the other side of the fire watching me… I don’t know what I’ll do.

I press my arms into my chest and squeeze my eyes closed, hating that even now, even after an exhausting day, I’m aroused.

THIRTY

TRUST ISSUES

Elena

The farther I get from my parents’ ship, the more anxious I become. The trees look different, their trunks larger and branches wilder, the leaves thicker, wider, and fuller. Everything is strange and new after crossing the river. We’ve turned away from the mountains and… I don’t like that. My home and place of safety is all but behind us now and I was just beginning to find my footing there.

When we come across the first drone scouts, I’m not sure if I’m excited or terrified at the sight of the military—of seeing a hint of civilization at all.

Lukys is immediately anxious, his sharp gaze watchful as the drones leave and come back.

They intermittently fly over us as we continue east, and when it appears they’re not going to attack or stop us, I stop paying as much attention to them. Lukys, still tense, pricks his tipped ears to their movements every time.

I’m hoping the military at the encampment isn’t the same as the military on The Dreadnaut. I hope the soldiers, at least those who remain, have turned away from Minton Volp and all he’s done.

More drones appear as the lusher, fuller trees begin to thin out. It’s not long before the sound of machines hum in my ears. Lukys moves closer to me, his tail brushing my legs as it sways back and forth. I… find the contact reassuring.

The smells of the forest recede, soon replaced with the reek of human waste and spaceship exhaust. A breeze drifts in and the air is fresh for a moment before it immediately stales again.

“We must be getting close.” Levy points to footprints on the ground. “It’s just gotta be beyond this last patch of woods. This has to be the outskirts of where the fires are, the encampment. With all these drones… It has to be.”

Lukys turns and looks at me, and I frown, remembering his history with Volp’s soldiers. “Are the soldiers going to attack you if they see you?”

“I do not know.”

“You don’t?”

He points to a drone flying by. “They have not attacked yet.”

“Do you think they would, even if he’s with us?” Greg walks through a patch of brush, his heavy boots crushing the small twigs into the ground.

Levy shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should go alone the rest of the way?” I suggest, gripping my pack’s straps.

Lukys hisses. “No.”

“The drones have already seen him. They know he’s coming. If they haven’t shot at him already, I don’t see why the soldiers would shoot at him later unless he tries something. It’s not like nagas haven’t been all over the broadcasts for weeks now,” Levy argues. “Maybe they are open to dialogue?”

Greg places his hands on his hips. “Not all the broadcasts about them are good though.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll gun him down in cold blood.”