Page 52 of Autumn L.A.W

Bas’s attention came back to Sahara and sharpened. “Listen to me,” she said. “We’re with you. We trust you. Go be brilliant.”

That was the blessing she’d been hoping for. Simple and heavy as a hand on a bowed head.

Some part of Sahara wanted to close her eyes and let it sink in. Instead, she gave a short nod. “Copy that.”

“Bas, stop making me emotional before breakfast,” Rayna muttered.

“You aren’t emotional,” Joell said. “I’ve seen you stalwart during Super Bowl commercials involving puppies and horses.”

The signal stuttered. Sahara’s screen froze on Joell mid-eyeroll, Rayna’s mouth open as she was about to say something else, Bas’s gaze steady as starlight.

Then the bars dropped to one, then to none.

Connection lost. Sahara felt a little lost too. She stared at the blank screen for three counts longer than necessary, then locked the phone and slid it into her pocket.

“So,” she said. “That’s that.”

Ezra pushed off the bulkhead and came to stand beside her at the window, shoulder to shoulder, leaving just enough distance that she didn’t feel crowded. “You have a loyal crew.”

“They’re nosy,” Sahara said. “There’s a difference.”

“Nosy is just another word for caring.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

He watched the horizon for a moment. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve just left the last gas station before the desert and realized I should have used the bathroom,” she said. “But otherwise, fine.”

His mouth quirked, the faintest smile. “We’ll manage.”

“We have to,” she said.

They stood in silence, side by side, watching the faint line of horizon dissolve into haze and then into nothing at all.

After a while, when the only light came from ship instruments and a low gray sky, Sahara said, “All right. Before I start reciting my checklist out loud, we should go over logistics.”

“I thought that’s what we just did,” Ezra said.

“That was the emotional logistics,” she said. “Now we do the boring kind. Chow schedules. Watch rotations. Arcane tripwires. Whether we pretend the coffee in the mess is drinkable.”

“I fear you may be disappointed by my opinion on the last item.”

“I’m already disappointed,” she said. “Come on.”

She turned away from the window. Ezra fell in step beside her as they left the bridge, the door closing behind them with a soft, final click that sounded a little like the end of one world and the start of another.

The mess smelled like coffee that had been brewing for decades, and food with an unidentifiable, yet fried signature. Sahara took it as an insult on principle and poured herself a mug anyway. If she was going to be trapped on a floating metal rectangle with a mystical roommate, she was not doing it caffeine-free.

Ezra accepted his own mug from her with a small, grateful nod. He sipped, considered, and said, “It’s… energetic.”

“I’ve had worse. Rayna tried to make Turkish coffee once with a camping stove and several spirits of mischief egging her on.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“You should be.”

They claimed a bolted-down table in the corner, away from the few off-duty crew clustered near the television. The ship’s constant vibration hummed up through the metal bench, a steady thrum that made the mugs buzz faintly.