Page 5 of 20% Stud 80% Muffin
My tail wound around my calf, a comfort among the quiver that plucked at my nerves. A familiar alert to stay away rang strong and clear—an alpha warning system. The same internal warning that had driven me to the Reiner System in the first place. Nothing had quieted the alarm more than moving as far away from my home planet as possible, but alphas lived everywhere.
As much as I would’ve loved a good breakfast that didn’t come from a ration wrapper or my makeshift kitchen, there was no way I trusted Raz enough to accept his offer. My wristport chimed.
Appointment with the archbuilder: new week at seven suns
My tail unwound from where it hugged my calf. I wanted to hop on the spot but held back. I couldn’t wait to talk about my dwelling plans.
I flashed my wristport at Raz. “Looks like I’m already booked.”
Thank the goddess Sola.
I sighed. A meeting with the new archbuilder at last. My unfortunate reality couldn’t be kept from my brother much longer, as overprotective as he was. Omegas were always protected by the alphas in their families until a complete bond with their soul-linked was made. He would board the next shuttle to Tern if he knew my living situation required me to scour the wastelands for parts to repair the few hovercrafts that did come my way. And if he knew my slipshod hovery also acted as my dwelling…
“Another time then, Makir?” Raz’s voice rattled as he hissed out my name. “I’ll leave you to your”—he looked around with open disdain—“hovery?”
I wasn’t aware my shoulders had tensed until they slumped after his departure. My table tilted as I rested my elbows on it, scanning my dwelling. The walls were riddled with so many holes that they could’ve been the grounds of a blaster battle. The new archbuilder had his work cut out for him.
Under a drip-free corner stood a makeshift table covered in drawings for my dwelling and hovery. My now-dry tail bounced behind me as I added storage compartments and extra hover bays to run by the archbuilder. All set for newweek, I hovered my wristport over the drawings and scanned the imagery with a smile on my lips.
With one problem solved, the next reared its ugly head.
I peeked through the holes in my wall, searching for Raz. All clear. I settled on my hovercraft and flew out through a gap I hadn’t had the supplies to patch yet. My earlier encounter with my neighbor had left me on edge. For the first time in my life, I was not under the care of an alpha. My brother couldn’t protect me here.
The images of Tern pre-cleanse flashed before my eyes, the wreckage below me transforming into what once was. Towering buildings with hovercrafts swirling around spiky pyramid-shaped roofs. The former hive-like world had been reduced to rubble.
As I searched the wreckage for a flat enough place to land, I planned how to win over a few enforcer friends. A twisted ankle tromping through the wastelands would be worth the risk for the protection I coveted.
The remnants of buildings, hovercrafts and daily life formed a treacherous maze of sharp-edged caves and collapsed arches as far as the eye could see. The wastelands.
I laced up the thick-soled boots Bonic had gifted me. They muffled my steps as I picked my way through the twisted piles of wreckage. Today’s mission to salvage material for windshields was part of my plan to win the contract to repair the enforcers’ hoverbikes and make an impression. Every market weekend, they complained about the extreme cold encountered in the Starry Mountains on their patrols. I could earn their favor if I outfitted their hoverbikes to protect them from the frigid temperatures.
A warm breeze lifted my damp mane off my shoulders. The honeyed scent of graneth blossoms filled the air alongside the odd chirp of the woodskies. It transported me back to my youth, when Bonic and I would set traps in the rocky outcroppings for bush-tailed monties and listen to the chirps on the hillside around us. We’d held the prize for the most monties trapped five years in a rowand had won a hefty pile of credits each time. We’d used them to buy our first hoverbike.
Post Fires That Cleanse, crawling through the wastelands was like crawling through a graveyard. I stood and kicked through the remains. Pots were buried in warped steel beams, curled by the extreme heat of the Fires. Massive fan blades draped in wires and broken concrete mesh littered the ground.
When half a buried hovercraft came into view, my heart skipped—it was like winning the lottery. I stuffed my backpack with the smallest of its parts and noted the coordinates to return to on my wristport.
My boot-clad toe caught on a wire loop, throwing my weight to the left and landing me on my ass. “Blant!” My tail twinged when a jagged edge cut into it from below before I could jerk it away. I quickly sealed it with the healing energy from the suction buried in the tip of my tail and resolved to be more careful.
My wristport pinged—almost out of range. Trapped out here, I’d be all on my own. My squished tail righted itself with a swish, and when I pried my thick boot from under the wire, the motion dislodged a metal panel, revealing thick sheets of lamar. A contented purr rumbled in my chest.
On Lorne, lamar covered the openings on walls that allowed light in. Thin, transparent and lightweight, and most importantly, it stood up to the seasonal windstorms that had blasted my former dwelling for months. Nothing could be more perfect for hoverbike shield fabrication.
I jumped on the spot, grinning for half a second before grabbing my tail and stilling it. A glance over my shoulder ensured there were no witnesses to my youngling-like behavior.
I’m the only idiot salvaging in this mess.
I straightened my shoulders and jumped one more time for good measure, finally free from the restrictive decorum my parents expected. A lightness I hadn’t felt since my departure ballooned in my lungs, and I walked back to my hovercraft with a spring in my step, planning out how to extract my bounty.
The archbuilder would undoubtedly agree that lamar could be incorporated into my living quarters and hovery. It let in natural light—every archbuilder’s dream. At least, it worked that way on Lorne. My tail twirled all the way home as I mentally added lamar into my drawings for our upcoming meeting.
3
My arrival in Yurstillewas not earth-shattering, and meeting Mayor Yurst, the settlement’s namesake, was unremarkable, but convincing myself to take the leap had been giant. Still, I questioned my decision to leave Earth for the fifteenth time today as I leaned back against my creaky chair. My new office extended off one side of the shared sono like an afterthought. Haphazardly built, it did nothing to extol the virtues of an architect.
My mind drifted—a defense mechanism to avoid the overwhelming amount of work that needed to be caught up on—and thoughts of my first day on Terntook over.
Mayor Yurst had greeted me in the arrival port, shaking my hand like he was drawing water from an old-fashioned pump. “Welcome to Tern and the settlement of Yurstille.” The tufts on his catlike ears shook.
