Under Snow and Stars

Chapter 2

When Leander came to, he noticed the headache first, stabbing and painful. He groaned, blinked, put a hand to his head. That had been a b***h of a landing. The entire control room was cold, but he was still breathing, so environmentals were on the fritz; he obviously had oxygen, but minimal to no heat. It was difficult to tell when his viewscreen showed nothing.

“Des, audio interface?” he asked. When he heard how his own voice croaked, he winced. The headache flared. Leander swore.

“Audio interface mostly intact. Sorry, some linkups unavailable,” replied his ship. The words were smooth, sexy, but the reminder that Leander had purchased a titillating voice option for his computer interface annoyed him now. It was all fun until something catastrophic happened, after all.

“Des, general status?” asked Leander, wresting with his safety restraints until they released him.

“Structural stability at eighty-eight point forty-seven percent. Cargo hold intact. No hull breach. Landing sequence ninety-three point two percent completed.”

“Des, what wasn’t completed?”

The computer interface took a moment. Leander took the opportunity to tilt back his head and close his eyes. He felt like s**t. His head throbbed again, causing his stomach to lurch, and his entire body felt mildly sore. Rough landings sucked.

“Unable to verify,” said Des.

Leander breathed out hard. “Okay, Des. Environmentals?”

“Engines not operational. Backup systems charged only enough to maintain breathable levels of air, minimal lighting, minimal heating.”

“Hey, Des, why is it so effing cold?” asked Leander. He slid out of his padded chair and staggered to the port side of the control system, hoping he could still access his ship manually.

“Temperature is five degrees Celsius and falling.”

“Falling?” asked Leander, irritated. Even on minimal environmentals, Des shouldn’t be getting that cold. “Des, why falling?”

“Unable to determine. Unable to link with backup systems.”

Bracing himself against the side of the ship with one hand, Leander went through the system manually, trying to work out what had happened. His engine had started flashing warning signals, which generally meant one of the cheap, second-hand parts he put in it needed maintenance. Since he’d just came on a system where he used to have a stash point, he figured he’d set down and take care of the issue, at least rig something until he could get to a proper ship mechanic.

He hadn’t expected the engine to just give out on him. One shitty emergency landing later, he had a headache strong enough to turn his stomach, and more questions than anything.

“Hey, Des, any cameras working?”

He let the interface search for some visual of where he was while he pulled up documentation of the landing. Engine failure, followed by emergency protocols. He remembered strapping himself in, the rush as he wondered whether he was about to die, the pressure around him, then passing out. Backup systems completed a rough landing but weren’t doing well if they couldn’t maintain a steady temperature.

“Aft starboard,” said Des, and displayed a white mess on the viewscreen.

“Oh, it’s winter now,” said Leander, unimpressed. This planet could be very pleasant during the warm months.

“Question?” asked Des.

“Yes, Des. Two. If the temperature in here falls to the outside temperature, will the cargo be affected? And how far from the destination point are we?”

“Cargo will be unaffected. Connection with destination beacon lost.”

Leander rubbed his temple, closed his eyes, and steadied his breath again. s**t. Just his luck.

“Des, calculate likely path to destination based on last known position of beacon. Transmit data to portable transceiver.”

Leander locked down the computer access and dragged himself to the airlock, swearing under his breath. He couldn’t stay here, not with environmentals screwed up, not when he’d stashed away a few things that were helpful in a pinch for repairs. In the cave he had once used for smuggling, he’d also left a portable space heater, and right now, he could really use one. He grabbed his transceiver and some food, suited up for cold weather, and left Des to run diagnostics alone.

A gust of freezing wind full of snow struck him full in the face the moment he stepped out. Leander staggered back against the ship’s hull and swore. He hated winter on any planet. He’d spent his childhood on the Moon, where everything had been climate controlled to perfect weather every day. He’d never even seen snow until he’d started smuggling, and he despised it. He checked his directions and set out.

Leander should have been glad a blizzard covered his presence here, but instead, he was pissed. This was turning into one bad day. The transceiver recorded the distance he walked and told him when to alter course, but not even halfway to his stash point he lost connection with Des. He tried to reestablish once, twice, three times before giving up. He’d deal with that later.

It was hell to be out in this frozen storm. How easy it would be to die caught up in something like this, the cold searing against any skin he hadn’t completely covered. Just when he was beginning to worry about the accuracy of the computer, he came upon the rocks. Not that the rocks themselves looked familiar, but it eased his mind somewhat, and within the next ten minutes, the directions brought him to solid rock, then the slit in the side of the rock barely large enough for him to squeeze into.

Leander wriggled through to a small cavern and steadied himself against a fresh wave of pain from his head. Passing out in space flight was always hard on him. The temperature in the cave was, at best, a degree or two warmer than outside, but there was no wind to tear at his skin, making it feel much warmer.

One flashlight and a crack in the wall later and he was opening his secret chamber to nothing. It was completely empty. Leander blinked, shone his flashlight around, and stepped inside. The small cavern held dust, chipped rock, and nothing else.

He stepped out, concerned.

“Yeah, we pitched all that s**t,” said a voice.

Leander looked up. A man held a gun on him, pointed at his chest, and he did not look like he was in a generous mood. He did, however, look good. Leander knew he was still feeling the effects of losing consciousness if he was about to be shot and all he could think about was how easy the man was on his eyes.

“Let me guess, hands up?” asked Leander.

The man tilted his head and Leander took that as a “yes.” He moved his hands up slowly, while the man watched him, wariness worse than Leander’s in his brown eyes. His face was set with anger, but even that looked good on him. He was black, with short hair and trimmed beard, good build, and held himself well. He looked comfortable holding a gun, which wasn’t a good sign, although his clothes appeared issued, implying he wasn’t one of Leander’s kind, but rather an employee.

If he was just Some Guy working for Some Company, Leander wasn’t in much danger. If he was security at all, though…Hell, Leander wasn’t reputable, but he wasn’t vicious, either. He only had a stun gun on him, and he’d been in some shitty situations, but never outright killed anyone.

He wondered whether the man with the gun could tell.

“So you’re waiting for me to talk?” asked Leander as casually as he could.

“Your name.”

“Leander, Leo, call me whatever you want as long as you don’t shoot me.”

Leander grinned. The man’s face hardened more.

“Disarm yourself. Slowly.”

Leander had been waiting for that. He kept one hand up as he removed his stun gun and knife, not liking the way the man frowned at the meager assortment.

“What?” he asked as he straightened and put up his free hand again.

“That’s your weapon? A little outdated shocker?” The man adjusted the gun. “No tranq rifle? No personal gun or handgun? No flash grenades?”

“Sorry if you were expecting more. I don’t like actually killing people.” Leander found it difficult to keep the upbeat expression on his face. This was definitely not going well. “And right now I’m really hoping you don’t either.”

The man eyed him, then gestured with a half nod. “Move over to that wall.”

Leander swallowed. The notion that he could be shot execution style and his body left in a cave on some random planet was not a comforting one. The pain in his head seemed distant now, but his stomach flopped harder. Halfway to the wall, his adrenaline surged and he turned back. “I want to face you.”

The guy looked confused, then surprise quickly covered the hardness. “I’m not going to shoot you unless you try anything.”

Leander didn’t really trust him, but he had no choice. He figured it meant he could put his back to the rock, so he did. He watched as his stun gun and knife disappeared into the man’s pockets.

“Now what?” asked Leander.

“Now you come with me.”