Free The Prodigal Sun by Sean Williams, Shane Dix
Authors: Sean Williams, Shane Dix
check on him, he hadn’t moved a muscle. A perfect sentry , she thought. Almost too good, in fact.
She didn’t smile as she returned to the storeroom. “That’s a luxury I can’t afford at the moment,” she said, more to herself than to the Box.
* * *
Four hours later, a voice roused her from a deep slumber she couldn’t remember entering:
Her head jerked up, and the sudden movement sent her drifting across the room. More by chance than anything else, she managed to catch hold of a stanchion and bring herself to a halt. A rush of panic subsided when her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her surroundings and she realized where she was: the lander’s storeroom. She had come in to check on what equipment was available to them, but the low lights coupled with her exhaustion had seduced her into sleep. Not, however, before she had ascertained how little in the way of supplies they actually had: two medical kits, three basic communicators, six survival suits, and enough food to last them two days—five if rationed severely. The only weapons on board were Veden’s laser and her own pistol.
The voice was sterner this time, cutting through her tired thoughts.
Roche rubbed her eyes, shook her head. “Yes, Box,” she said. “I’m awake. How long have I been out?”
“Oh? What?”
She shook her head one last time to clear it of the residue of sleep, then pushed herself toward the door. It slid aside with a hiss, and she slipped out into the narrow accessway. The only other room in the lander, a privacy and waste cubicle opposite the storeroom, was sealed, occupied. Sparing it but a glance, she brushed past it and into the cockpit.
Cane had moved to a position by the main entrance. The Surin lay with her back to Roche, still strapped into the central couch. The only movement as she entered the room came from Cane’s eyes, which glanced at her before returning to the reave.
The reave’s voice echoed deep in Roche’s head, although the statement was intended for Cane. It was a strange and intimate kind of intrusion—almost a rape—and felt as though someone was using her brain to think their own thoughts. It was very different from the Box’s clear input, and Roche detested it. continued the Surin.
Roche watched from the other side of the cockpit as Cane kept his eyes still. Nothing was spoken aloud, but a conversation took place nonetheless.
The Surin’s tone was desperate. She was clearly uncomfortable in her restraints.
Roche cleared her throat pointedly. “Where’s Veden?” The couch next to the Surin was empty.
replied the reave.
Roche forced herself to reply civilly. “Thank you,” she said, “Maii.”
“Should I?”
“She’s telling the truth.” Cane finally wrenched his eyes away from the Surin’s. “He’s locked in the cubicle. The couch was too uncomfortable for an old man to be confined to for such a long period of time.”
Roche nodded. It seemed reasonable, she supposed. “What about you two?”
Cane shrugged noncommittally.
explained the Surin.
She didn’t smile as she returned to the storeroom. “That’s a luxury I can’t afford at the moment,” she said, more to herself than to the Box.
* * *
Four hours later, a voice roused her from a deep slumber she couldn’t remember entering:
Her head jerked up, and the sudden movement sent her drifting across the room. More by chance than anything else, she managed to catch hold of a stanchion and bring herself to a halt. A rush of panic subsided when her eyes adjusted to the dim light of her surroundings and she realized where she was: the lander’s storeroom. She had come in to check on what equipment was available to them, but the low lights coupled with her exhaustion had seduced her into sleep. Not, however, before she had ascertained how little in the way of supplies they actually had: two medical kits, three basic communicators, six survival suits, and enough food to last them two days—five if rationed severely. The only weapons on board were Veden’s laser and her own pistol.
Roche rubbed her eyes, shook her head. “Yes, Box,” she said. “I’m awake. How long have I been out?”
“Oh? What?”
She shook her head one last time to clear it of the residue of sleep, then pushed herself toward the door. It slid aside with a hiss, and she slipped out into the narrow accessway. The only other room in the lander, a privacy and waste cubicle opposite the storeroom, was sealed, occupied. Sparing it but a glance, she brushed past it and into the cockpit.
Cane had moved to a position by the main entrance. The Surin lay with her back to Roche, still strapped into the central couch. The only movement as she entered the room came from Cane’s eyes, which glanced at her before returning to the reave.
The reave’s voice echoed deep in Roche’s head, although the statement was intended for Cane. It was a strange and intimate kind of intrusion—almost a rape—and felt as though someone was using her brain to think their own thoughts. It was very different from the Box’s clear input, and Roche detested it. continued the Surin.
Roche watched from the other side of the cockpit as Cane kept his eyes still. Nothing was spoken aloud, but a conversation took place nonetheless.
Roche cleared her throat pointedly. “Where’s Veden?” The couch next to the Surin was empty.
Roche forced herself to reply civilly. “Thank you,” she said, “Maii.”
“Should I?”
“She’s telling the truth.” Cane finally wrenched his eyes away from the Surin’s. “He’s locked in the cubicle. The couch was too uncomfortable for an old man to be confined to for such a long period of time.”
Roche nodded. It seemed reasonable, she supposed. “What about you two?”
Cane shrugged noncommittally.
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