Page 8 of Breaking Storm

The ship was closing in at alarming speed. The shuttle’s alarms started to howl.

“It’s going to hit us!” Lysa shouted.

“Remain seated until⁠—”

Metal scraped against metal. The black ship clamped onto them with a grinding jolt that shuddered through the rows. For a heartbeat, gravity wavered. A storage bin popped open and dumped someone’s bag into the aisle. Passengers looked at each other with wide eyes, and for a moment everyone seemed too shocked to speak. Then chaos burst free.

Ryneth’s fingers burned. The static leapt from his palms and crawled hot up his wrists, coiling under his skin.

“Ryneth,” Lysa whispered. “What’s happening?”

But before he could reply, the inner doors at the front of the cabin hissed open.

2

RYNETH

The men who stepped through wore dark armor, broken only by faint lines of dull gray. Masks covered the lower halves of their faces, and their eyes were hidden behind mirrored visors that reflected the cramped rows back at the passengers. They carried short-barreled guns.

“Everyone, stay where you are,” the first one called. His voice was flattened by a modulator, more mechanical than human. “Hands visible.”

“What do we do now?” Lysa whispered, panic cracking her voice.

“We stay put,” Karo hissed.

They all watched as the uniformed men moved row by row, ignoring the screams, their attention fixed on the multi-slates that sat around their wrists.

“I don’t want to stay put.” Lysa tried to get up, but both Karo and Ryneth jerked forward and held her down before she could be noticed.

Good Light, Ryneth wanted to run. He wanted to break the window and fling himself into the black if it meant not staying here.

Dragging his fingertips over the glass, he wondered for one stupid second why this was happening to him, why he hadn’t taken the Kassa run, why he’d never see Tavi again.

Then he looked back at the horror unfolding in front of him. People were being tagged. Orders were being barked.

There was nowhere to go. No shadows to vanish into. No way out.

He drew a breath and forced his hands out of his pockets where they’d crept back. The static climbed his forearms, hot and restless, looking for metal, looking for somewhere to jump.

“Eyes forward,” one of them said. His boots struck the deck in a measured pattern as he paced down the aisle. “Row 7 through 10. Anyone moves or doesn’t shut up, we make an example. I promise you don’t want to volunteer.”

The nearest man moved along their row, scanning faces like inventory. His visor passed over Lysa, flicked to Karo, then caught on Ryneth. He stopped.

Ryneth stared back. His heartbeat pounded in his throat while he tried to keep his expression blank. “There’s nothing here for you,” he said as calmly as he could. “Just contract labor.”

The man tilted his head. The movement was sharp and oddly animal. “Pretty contract labor.” His gaze dropped to Ryneth’s hands. “Look at them.”

Ryneth’s knuckles were giving off the faintest halo. Only someone looking right at him would see the tiny static arcs jumping between his fingers.

The man smiled then, a small curl that didn’t touch his eyes.

Another voice from the front called, “Shackle them all. Everyone! You are now prisoners.”

They came down the aisle in practiced formation, guns up, boots hitting the deck in time. People flinched out of their way as far as the harnesses allowed. Karo threw an arm in front of Lysa. Someone at the back unbuckled and lurched for the opposite aisle.

The nearest masked man didn’t even turn. He swung the butt of his rifle sideways. The sound of it connecting with bone was flat. The person went down and didn’t move again.

Lysa’s scream tore through him. The rifle swung toward her.