“What the…” Jackin suddenly grumbled under his breath, scowling down at the ship’s controls.
“Looks like there’s a structure across the way, Jack,” Rake said. She pointed to the bronze sphere. “Let’s head there.”
“Sorry, boss,” Jackin said, lifting his hands off the controls and holding his palms up. “I don’t have control anymore.”
“What?” Rake barked.
He shook his head, then continued sliding through the ship’s menus. “It’s bringing us in itself.”
A weighty silence fell across the cockpit, and Cavalon looked to Emery. She chewed her gum slowly, a wide grin spreading across her face as she met his gaze. Of course she’d find this awesome.
Cavalon let out a deep breath. The more surprises, the more he found himself wishing he could change his vote.
“We’re picking up speed,” Jackin said, a hint of warning in his tone.
Rake exchanged a nervous glance with Griffith, and Mesa continued to run her eyes over every centimeter of the viewscreen, cataloging every detail. Only Emery’s enthusiastic gum-chomping sounded in the nervous quiet of the cockpit as the Viator autopilot pulled the SGL across the seventy-meter expanse.
As the bronze sphere drew closer, Cavalon realized it was smaller than he’d first guessed, maybe only a quarter of a kilometer in diameter. A single triangular doorway sat flush to the outside of the sphere. Extending out from under the door, a narrow platform reached toward the SGL like a runway. As they neared, it became obvious it was far too narrow for a landing. More of a human-sized—or rather Viator-sized—walkway, with no railing of any kind.
The SGL decelerated of its own accord, coming to a stop directly above the end of the platform. Jackin swept through the controls again, but nothing happened. He even brought up the manual control levers, but the ship didn’t respond.
He heaved a sigh and sat back. “Well, I guess this is it. I don’t even know how to disengage us.”
“Then we’ll just have to check it out,” Griffith said, with a hint of a grin not unlike Emery’s. Cavalon had to hand it to the man. Death sentence or no, he intended to live his last moments to the fullest.
All eyes turned to Rake, but she didn’t immediately respond. After a few seconds she looked up at Griffith. “You up for this?”
“Of course.”
“Okay,” Rake said. “Let’s suit up.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bruised midsection aching miserably, Cavalon worked his way into a space suit—yet again. He decided he would just keep it on this time. This would be the one. He’d wear it until he died, which seemed more imminent the deeper they went into this Viator monstrosity.
He stood in the SGL’s common room, where Rake, Griffith, and Mesa suited up along with him. Jackin and Emery had helped them prep, but would stay on board and determine how to disengage the autopilot, in case they needed to make a quick retreat—and, Cavalon supposed, just so they could leave period.
Cavalon sealed up his suit while Rake helped Griffith stretch his up over his broad shoulders. The pearlescent white fabric responded, glittering as it expanded to accommodate his size.
Mesa waited off to the side, clutching the atlas pyramid in both hands. She stood pristinely still, suit already sealed over her lithe frame. Hers had done the opposite of Griffith’s—resizing itself smaller to accommodate her petite figure. It revealed thin legs, a narrow waist, and scrawny arms. It made her seem all the more Savant, and so much more frail than suited her presence. Her strong mind made it easy to forget the fragility of her body.
Rake and Griffith strapped their weapons belts on, and Cavalon hesitated, wondering if he should even bother taking his own. They had a two-Titan escort, after all. Then his weapons belt appeared in front of him, clutched in Emery’s grip, her brows raised expectantly. He took it from her with a thankful grin and secured it around his waist.