Cold. Snow. A howling wind.
Jessica shivered.
Daya pulled the hood of his fur cloak down over his forehead. His field of vision became restricted to the broad back of the woman in front of him. He stood in some sort of line. The biting wind carried shards of talk over the high scream of propulsor jets and the howl of hot air cannons. Daya stamped his feet, wishing those cannons warmed him instead of the shuttle’s engines.
Just his luck that a passenger service had come in on his tail. By the time he had shut off and cooled the engines of his craft, packed and locked up, the line of waiting passengers stretched out of the building.
Jessica probed into his thoughts. Who are you? Where are you?
He drifted off into thought, and his mind was filled with sloshing water, and boats, and warm
