CHAPTER SIX
Lem
Fire flashed outside the needlecraft as it plunged toward Luna Guetala’s atmosphere, diving away from the cool of space with a panicking spin.
“Jei?”
The needlecraft’s pilot didn’t respond. His head drooped down his chest. There was some kind of murmur?
No time for murmurs. Lem ripped out of her restraints to climb over the pilot’s seat in front of her. She slammed her hands onto the smooth compuwall and rubbed the panel clockwise to slow the ship’s descent, hooking her knees under Jei’s seat so she didn’t go flying backward as the force of the fall punched her belly through her spine—
“Yo, Jei, you okay, man?” she asked, eyes forward as she directed the dive through the flashes of heat and bursts of clouds. Shyte, she hadn’t flown a spacecraft in over a year. Gentle pressure—now firm, to the side—whose airspace had they just plunged into? Over the ruins of Fort Jehu she would’ve asked for permission to land, but she wasn’t allowed on that hallowed ground. They were somewhere near Retrack City now—couldn’t land there, either, that was Growen—landing somewhere in the woods—?
She glanced at their destination coordinates on the top right of the viewscreen in front of her and held the ship on course as planet surface rose toward her. She wanted so badly to look, to check Jei’s pulse, but if they crashed he definitely wouldn’t have one.
Warmth—his scarred hands came to life over hers. “Bloodseas, Lem, get back in your seat,” he grumbled.
“You sure? You good?” Lem asked. She’d love to punch him in the head for his tone, but hurtling through the sky wasn’t the time for ego.
“Yeah—yeah, I’m sorry—hold on.”
Lem unwound her knees from his seat, trying not to elbow him in the face. She clawed the back of his chair to keep herself from slamming against the back wall—the force yanked at her fingers—she snatched her safety belt—sparks flew around her as she focused her neurons on pulling, attracting herself like an electromagnet to where she needed to go—
She got herself seated and strapped in.
The ship turned with Jei’s palms now, and he spoke—order restored, dangerous or not, when you did something every day you could multitask. “Thanks for grabbing the controls.”
“It was just a couple of seconds. Maybe a minute,” Lem said. “But you know as well as I do that a minute during atmosphere re-entry—well. That’s death.”
“Yeah. There’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”
Lem understood in his tone what had happened. He’d been sucked into the portal in his mind, leaving most of his brain on auto-pilot—almost a complete blackout. “You gotta break that connection, man,” Lem said.
“I’ve had it all my life. It’s part of my brain, my abilities—I don’t think I can.”
“Maybe you’re just afraid to try.”
The jungle canopy reached toward them now; verdant shamrock, emerald, and purple leaves shuddered under their wind as they sailed over. “Maybe I’m afraid he’ll go insane,” Jei said. “There isn’t much keeping him from what he could be.”
“What, you think his abilities will unlock or something? You’re like a fuse breaker?”
He put his shoulders and elbows into controlling the ship as if lifting weights; the ship shook as he swerved over a river, fighting for a landing zone. “I don’t know. I think actually Njande can get to him through my brain.”
Lem gripped her arm-rests—oh man, so long since her last space travel. “You never cared about that before. You want him to die as far away from Njande as possible.”
“Yeah, I did. But Njande wants to … save him.”
The river basin opened up in front of them as they shed altitude. The needlecraft wove between two large Bangla trees; branches cracked off; everything knocked forty-five degrees to the right; Jei’s knuckles whitened as he pressed on the compuwall, one hand rotating, the other swiping right.
They slid into their landing, waves splashing across the viewscreen and river boiling under their glide as the reverse thrusters fired to slow their momentum. Lem’s mind echoed her adopted space-lemur brother: Such good fishing area wasted …
“How do you know what Njande wants if you can’t hear him?” Lem asked.
“It’s there. It’s in the ancient texts.” With the ship now resting on the riverbank, Jei shut off the engines and cracked his knuckles. A waterfall thundered beyond them. Outside, singing day-lizards called to each other under the caws of parrots, the laughter of canopy dogs, and the squeaking of baby peacock-feathered guinea pigs chasing their mothers. Lem sighed and unbuckled, aching to smell the humidity, the earth, and the plants.
Jei turned; his elbow draped over the back of his seat as he tapped her knee. “It’s also in the texts that you were right, by the way,” he said. “Njande didn’t allow ancient people to cut down fruit trees for siege works, or take both generations of an animal while hunting. War’s supposed to be between people, not against the land, and even what we eat is supposed to be in harmony with the universe.”
Lem smiled. “Jei Bereens, saying I’m right? Psh, never.”
He laughed. “Ready to come home?” He unbuckled, yanked a lever to release the space-worthy walls with a large clunk, and pressed his hand through the polymerwall, holding it open for her. The wall split and dribbled under his palm like water, and suddenly, staring out at the brilliant colors as hot breeze blasted Lem’s face, she felt … nervous. Her heart raced, and she didn’t know why.
“Is it home?” she murmured, slipping out through the gap in the wall.