Page 7 of Breaking Storm

He clicked the harness across his chest and hoped it would squeeze away the nerves. Regret crawled further up his throat. Maybe he should’ve stayed with Mara instead. Taken the Kassa job. Kept Tavi safe.

Now it was too late. The lights dimmed and the engines rumbled to life. The dock fell away.

“Welcome aboard Helion Central Orbital transit shuttle KS-47…”

Ryneth barely heard the rest. Through the small window, Düren shrank. From this height, the planet looked almost peaceful. Ahead of them, Helion glimmered faintly in the distance, its orbital lanes and transfer platforms strung around it in pale rings of light, bright near the heart of the planet and sparser at the outer edge where the labor shuttles docked.

He wished he could outfly all the bad times as well.

Static prickled under his skin with every mile they climbed. It buzzed in his knuckles, gathered at the hinge of his jaw.

It felt wrong, as if it was listening. Like it was waiting for something to answer it.

A light on the panel above his head flickered, then steadied.

“Does anyone else feel that?” he asked.

“What?” Lysa turned her head.

“Nothing,” he said, sharper than he meant to. “Just… ears popping.”

But it wasn’t just that.

The first jolt was small. Nothing more than a shiver through the hull, but enough to rattle the overhead storage.

Ryneth uncurled one hand, pressed his palm against the bulkhead beside the window.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s just turbulence,” someone said.

Turbulence, my ass, Ryneth thought. His static deepened inside him, as if to prove his point.

Something was wrong.

The second jolt came harder, making the shuttle lurch sideways. His shoulder slammed into the metal wall.

Panic struck around them.

Lysa yelped, and Ryneth watched as Karo put his hand on her thigh, trying to calm her.

That was before the thin, mechanical tone started to beep from the front console, the pitch drilling into his skull.

The lights flickered. Came back. Flickered again.

“Please remain seated,” the smooth voice said. “Minor course adjustment in progress. There is no cause for⁠—”

The voice cut out.

“Look there!”

Ryneth jerked, then stared outside the window. “Good Light…”

There shouldn’t have been anything there. Just star-dark and the distant glimmer of small stations, the thin line of Helion’s orbital platforms. Instead, a ship slid into view. Its hull was matte black, swallowing starlight. It had no registration lights. No company markings.

“What’s that?” Lysa whispered.

“Something that shouldn’t be there.” Karo planted his hands on the glass. “It’s coming right at us.”