Rift Read Free

hit.… Secure all gear, we’re going into a tumble.…”
    Reeve buckled in as the shuttle fell into a gut-wrenchingyaw. It was all over. This was the end of it. Now they would follow the Station to oblivion. Outside, the hull roared with reentry burn and the craft shuddered endlessly, filling his ears with thunder. He never knew death would be so loud or so welcome.

2
 
1
    Day one
. The smells were all wrong: sulfur, engine oil, humus, and putrefaction. Reeve opened his eyes, peering through a blur at a small, gold disk that at last resolved into focus. A yellow bird perched on its nest, pecking at a bit of meat clutched in its talons. It cocked its head, shifting its weight from one stick-foot to the other. When Reeve tried to move, he found he was pinned down by a metal panel pressing against his legs. Sunlight flooded through a rent in the cabin while the smell of burning fuel threaded its way up his nostrils.
    He closed his eyes again to fend off the return of memory. But it was all coming back, it was all true—the roaring descent, his arms shaking as he gripped the seat, a concussive landing, and something glancing off the back of his head. They were down, on planet. And oh God, Station …
    Something was wrong with that bird. It wasn’t sitting in a nest, it was perched on someone’s dark brown hair. Dana’s, sitting there in front of him. She didn’t bother to fend off the creature.
    He tried to pull up his knees to leverage the paneloff him. The bird took flight as Reeve heaved the hull section off and staggered to his feet. Beside him lay the bodies of his companions. Dana Hart, Marie Dussault, and the three others. Struggling forward to the cockpit, he found the shattered remains of the cabin and its occupants. A drift of smoke carried the smell of burning hull composites and fuel, but the fires were sputtering out. They’d been down a while. He could have burned to death. Maybe he should have.
    Reeve made his way out the gaping hole in the starboard side of the craft, squinting against the light.
    Everywhere, cloaks of green cascaded before him. The wind rustled millions of leaves. All green, green, in more shades than seemed possible: bright apple-green, chartreuse, pale yellow-green, deep emerald, and, in profusion, a lacy moss-green. In the corridors between the trees, a shadowy blue-green gave way to distant black.
    The shuttle had landed in a swamp. Black water lapped around tree trunks, glinting here and there from sun refracted through the festooned moss. The air smelled brackish and foul. He sat on a tree stump, boots sunk into the murky water. After a while, he felt the first sobs come lurching up from his chest.
    Eventually, he was able to think again. He stood, realizing he had to leave the shuttle, and maybe quickly—enclavers might have seen the craft come down. He climbed back into the shuttle to hunt for weapons, but there was nothing, not even a knife. Then he remembered that the space suit he was still wearing had a tool pocket. Inside he found a folded titanium blade bristling with attachments. He stripped off the suit and substituted a padded flight jacket from one of the stowage bins, slipping the knife in his pocket. Rummaging through the bin, he found a field pack containing a med kit, water purification tabs, and two breathers. Without taking time to apply a breather, he combed the rest of the ship for everybreather and food pouch he could find, cramming them into the pack. He’d need the breathers, eventually. He could smell some of the poisons in the air—the sulfur if not the high carbon dioxide—but it was long-term effects he must avoid. For now, he was in a hurry.
    He knelt beside Marie’s body and reached out to touch her face.
You should have lived, Marie
. Sunlight fell on her hands, and he wished she could have had that instant of sun-on-skin. He brushed aside long wisps of her iron-gray hair.
    At his touch, Marie stirred, and whispered something