The road back to Owangara wound through shadows and jungle haze. Inelius kept one hand on the wheel, another resting near the dash, eyes flicking between the road and the sky above. Tamiyo sat in the back, her eyes fixed on the stars through the window. Raine rode shotgun, one leg tucked beneath her.

  After finding the ship empty, Inelius had told them it was too dangerous to go searching before morning—too many things in the jungle to make someone go missing. But the man who had been on her ship—Inelius had an uneasy feeling about him. The footprints leaving the vessel were big—confident too, he hadn’t stumbled away half-conscious. He’d deliberately walked off into the jungle.

  After finding out Tamiyo had yanked her engine’s control cluster out to disable the ship, Raine had insisted on her returning to Owangara with them.

  This girl is smarter than she lets on, Inelius thought to himself.

  “So who is this guy, anyway?” he asked casually as he guided the truck through a rut. “Those footprints leading away from your ship don’t exactly match up to your ‘frail older gentleman’ story.”

  Tamiyo hesitated before answering. “I picked him up before I came to Nox.”

  “That’s not much of an answer.”

  “I know.”

  He waited, letting the hum of the engine fill the gap.

  “He was just... there. Hurt. Alone. I couldn’t leave him.”

  Inelius gave a soft grunt. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “He was unconscious when I brought him aboard. He didn’t wake up the whole time I had him.”

  Inelius nodded slowly. “So you don’t even know his name.”

  She shook her head.

  He didn’t push further.

  They rode in silence the rest of the way. As Owangara’s outskirts emerged from the trees, familiar warmth returned to the air. They entered the east gate and streetlights glowed soft across cobblestone paths. Music drifted faintly from a second-story balcony. Life was resuming.

  He pulled the truck into a side street near the residential quarter and parked under a flickering lamp.

  Raine glanced back toward Tamiyo. “My place is just up here,” she said, already stepping out. “You can stay as long as you need.”

  “I don’t want to be a burden,” Tamiyo murmured.

  “You’re not,” Raine replied without missing a beat. “Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

  Raine led the way up the stairs to her building. She punched in the code on the door panel and the interior lights flicked on as they stepped in. “Come in,” Raine said, stepping aside. “You can shower while I get the tea going.”

  Tamiyo hesitated. “I… if you don’t mind me asking,” she looked at each of them. “Why are you guys being so nice to me? Why are you going out of your way to help a complete stranger?”

  Raine gave a soft laugh. “You’re not a stranger. You’re someone who needed help. That’s enough for me.”

  Inelius glanced at Raine, then back to Tamiyo and added, “My dad wasn’t raised on Nox. He had it a lot harder than I’ve ever had to. He made sure his kids knew that we should try to leave the world a better place than the way we found it.”

  Tamiyo blinked, like what he said had caught her off guard. After a few moments, she stepped inside.

  He lingered for a second, making sure they had everything they needed.

  “Inelius, you want anything?” Raine asked him lightly.

  “Not tonight,” he shook his head. “I’m going to check in with the watch before I turn in.”

  “Alright. Thank you again.” Raine leaned in and kissed his cheek, then gave him a playful shove out the door. “Go be useful somewhere else.”

  He was left standing out in the hallway by himself as the door clicked shut. He reached up, touching the spot where she kissed him. She’d never done that before. Not once. For all their teasing and late-night conversations, their friendship had always hovered just outside the edge of something more. He’d been quietly hoping that maybe someday, if he was patient enough, she’d want to cross that line. Lately, he’d started to wonder if he should stop hoping altogether.

  But something about this Tamiyo girl… it had changed Raine. Softened her, opened her up in a way he hadn’t seen before.

  He started down the stairs, his footsteps quiet against the concrete. He wanted to make sure he was back bright and early to help with whatever they needed.

  The first light hadn’t even touched the rooftops yet when Inelius stepped into the kitchen carrying his duffel bag.

  His mother looked up from the table, groggy, a steaming mug cradled in both hands. “You’re up early.”

  “Yeah, morning,” Inelius responded, moving past her. “We’re trying to track down someone who went missing. Shouldn’t be gone long.”

  His father grunted from the other room. “You say that every time.”

  Inelius chuckled. “People need help. I can help.”

  His mother took a slow sip from her mug. “You don’t have to check on us every morning, you know.”

  “I know.” He opened the pantry, double-checked their dry stock, and grabbed a canister of water for the road. “Just making sure.”

  “We’re not made of glass, sweetheart.”

  He heard his father grumble something indistinct about overprotective sons and stubborn old knees.

  As he zipped the duffel closed, his mother set her mug down with a gentle clink. “You should bring Raine by sometime.”

  Inelius paused, not quite turning.

  “She was always good company,” she added, casually enough to pretend it was just a thought. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”

  He hesitated, then said, “We still talk. She’s just been busy.”

  “She’s not the only one,” his mother said, then waved it off with a smile. “No pressure. Just dinner. No matchmaking—promise.”

  Inelius slung the strap over his shoulder and leaned down to kiss her on the crown of her head. “I’ll think about it.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Mmmhmm,” she hummed with a little flair of attitude.

  He stepped outside into the morning chill, the first light catching on the rooftops of Owangara. Raine’s building wasn’t far from his parents’ place, but the walk still gave him time to take in the morning air and get his head clear for the day. When he arrived, he knocked once, holding a small, cloth-wrapped bundle in another hand.

  Raine opened the door almost immediately, her hair pulled up in a lazy twist. She wore an oversized shirt hanging loose off one shoulder.

  “Bright and early,” she said, voice still husky with sleep. Her eyes dropped to the bundle in his hands. “You brought breakfast?”

  “Fried buns and dried fruit,” he said. “The corner stall just opened. Figured we could all use something real before heading out.”

  She lightly bit her lip, looking lost in thought as she carefully picked something out of the bundle, then she stepped aside to let him in. “Thanks.” Her gaze lingered a little as he entered—or maybe he just hoped it did.

  Tamiyo was out on the balcony, seated with a cup in her hands and wearing clothes borrowed from Raine.

  “I was hoping to catch you before you wandered off into the jungle again,” Inelius said with a grin, stepping into view.

  Tamiyo glanced over, smirking faintly. “Tempting.” She looked back out over the town.

  He leaned beside her on the railing and held the bundle out. “Still warm”

  Tamiyo hesitated, her gaze darting between his face and the offered food. Then she looked to Raine.

  Raine gave a small, warm nod. “He’s not trying to poison you.”

  Tamiyo grasped the bundle with both hands and quietly said, “Thank you.”

  “I already ate mine on the way over,” Inelius said, “so help yourself.”

  She took a couple small bites, almost as if she was inspecting it.

  “Your ship won’t stay safe out there for long.” Inelius said. “Raiders, scavengers, someone’s going to pick it clean if we don’t move it.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve already spoken with someone at the port,” he added. “We’ve got a temporary spot. Let’s get the control cluster reinstalled and go from there.”

  Tamiyo nodded, sipping her tea. Raine emerged from the kitchen behind them with another mug and leaned in the doorway, watching them both.

  Inelius smiled and stretched his upper arms into the air, looking out over the city. “I’ve got a good feeling about today.”

  The drive out was quieter this time, but stranger. Pockets of fog clung to the road. Dry gusts kicked up bursts of grit. Inelius gripped the wheel tighter as one gust pushed them sideways. Raine sat beside him again, one hand braced against the dash, the other loosely curled around a to-go mug she’d insisted on bringing for Tamiyo.

  “Something’s off today,” he muttered.

  Neither girl responded.

  When they reached the clearing, the ship stood exactly where they left it, half-shrouded by stirred leaves and low jungle mist. Inelius parked the truck and stepped out, eyes scanning the perimeter, then settling on the vessel itself.

  It was compact and tough—a little ugly in a way that meant it had seen things and survived. The hull was dulled with age, sun-bleached in patches, with rust-orange striping crisscrossing reinforced plating. The cockpit curved into a wide-bodied cargo section that was designed for function, not style, and twin thrusters sat mounted on the rear.

  Tamiyo stood watching it for a long moment. Inelius couldn’t quite name the expression on her face. Not pride. But maybe something close to relief. Maybe even a little affection.

  He didn’t interrupt. She seemed to get lost in thought often enough to be noticed, and whatever history she had with this ship, it wasn’t for him to prod.

  She got to work and he kept watch from the top of the ramp. Raine sat on the floor inside the ship, leaning up against the doorway to the engine room. From inside Tamiyo could be heard muttering under her breath, half technical instructions, half frustrated cursing. The words were too soft to make out, but the tone was unmistakable.

  “Always scold your ship when you work on it?” Raine asked.

  “Well I’ve only had her about three weeks,” Tamiyo replied. “We’re still negotiating the terms of our relationship.”

  Inelius smirked. “That why you pulled her heart out when you landed?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got trust issues.”

  Inelius chuckled, noting a snark in her tone he hadn’t heard before.

  The silence stretched a while, filled only by the occasional clink of tools on metal. When she brought the systems back online, everything came up green.

  He heard Tamiyo exhale from the engine room. “She still works.”

  “Perfect,” Inelius said over his shoulder. “Plenty of daylight left for our search.”

  They loaded Inelius’ truck into the cargo bay, then Tamiyo led them up to the cockpit. The space wasn’t cramped like a fighter, more like a cozy command hub. Multiple seats lined the sides, with consoles and display panels forming a semicircle around the main chair. It felt more like a hybrid between an office and a bridge, built for function but lived in just enough to feel personal.

  “Ever been off planet before?” Tamiyo asked casually as she prepared to lift off.

  “Yep,” Raine said simply.

  “Oh yeah,” Inelius said, “But it’s been several years. Shoot, now that I think about it, it must have been at least 5 years since the last time I tasted space.”

  “Tasted space?” Tamiyo asked in a skeptical tone. She looked at him with one raised eyebrow. “What does space taste like?”

  “Bland and not very filling.”

  Raine groaned, Inelius chuckled, and Tamiyo hid her face in her hand, shaking her head. She lifted the ship into the air without another word. The jungle dropped away beneath them, green canopy rippling in slow waves like a sea caught mid-breath.

  Inelius noticed that the gauges on Tamiyo’s console were indicating she was extremely low on fuel—enough for the short trip to Owangara but not near enough to leave the planet. He decided not to inquire, at least for now.

  As the ship raised higher, moving towards home, the stabilizers began to ripple, barely noticeable at first. Then the wind caught them from several directions at once. The ship jerked to the right, Tamiyo corrected, and a sudden downdraft struck from above, sending the nose down sharply.

  Tamiyo swore under her breath and fought the controls.

  Inelius leaned forward, throwing two hands out to steady Raine next to him while he braced a third against the dash. “This ship fall out of the sky often?”

  Tamiyo glared back silently and cranked hard left.

  “Probably about as often as you tell a funny joke,” Raine teased.

  He smirked despite the jolt. Outside the viewport, the sky still looked deceptively serene. Sunlight shimmered off the clouds and the horizon stretched clear. But the turbulence didn’t match the visuals. It felt like they were flying through pressure shifts that hadn’t decided what season they belonged to.

  A sudden updraft slammed the hull, jolting the cockpit.

  Tamiyo gripped the controls tighter. “Either Nox has mood swings, or something’s wrong with the atmosphere.”

  “You’re not imagining it,” Inelius said, eyes narrowing as another crosswind cut across their path. “We’ve had strange weather for a couple days now. The tides yesterday were higher than usual with crazy inland swells that came out of nowhere. And there have been lightning storms, rain, hail… they come and go like they’re testing the place.”

  Tamiyo was gripped hard, holding her breath while the ship shook around them.

  They leveled out as they passed above the last ridge. Owangara came into view, clustered along the crescent of the coastline, its walls and buildings softened by early afternoon haze.

  Tamiyo blew out her breath, cheeks puffing, and Inelius could almost feel the tension drop off her frame. “Almost there.”

  He nodded, eyes still on the viewport. “Let’s hope that it stays quiet long enough for us to find your friend.”

  The ship coasted low over the outskirts of Owangara, its engines humming smoothly now that the worst of the turbulence had passed. Inelius leaned forward, observing his home from above. Stone walls, clustered rooftops, the crescent of the coastline stretching wide and familiar. Below, the spaceport’s landing grid flickered to life: a simple patch of reinforced stone and alloy divided into segmented pads. Nothing fancy, but it did the job.

  “Pad 3,” he pointed. “They had an open spot—I told them it was a Union-adjacent ship assisting with a field survey. Shouldn’t raise any alarms.”

  Tamiyo gave him a sideways look. “That’s not exactly the truth.”

  “No one asked for the truth,” he said with a shrug. “Just a reason.”

  The landing struts hissed as they deployed, followed by a soft jolt as the ship touched down. Stabilizers engaged with a gentle whir, anchoring them into place.

  Inelius and Raine followed Tamiyo toward the central room, then waited while she lowered the cargo bay floor down to recover his truck. When the starboard hatch opened, a rush of cool air swept into the ship, carrying the scent of salt, firewood, and wet stone.

  It smelled like home.

  Before leaving town again, he made a quick stop by the armory, grabbing the matte grey plates that made up his militia uniform. Cylindrical forearm guards, thigh wraps, reinforced gloves, and plates over his boots. The flexible weave beneath it all moved with his joints like second skin, and the helmet wrapped around the crown of his head, leaving space for all four eyes to stay unobstructed. They were heavy, but he was so used to wearing the gear that he hardly noticed the weight anymore.

  He also checked in with Captain Banto. Even on his day off, protocol was protocol. The old man trusted that Inelius knew what he was doing, he just reminded him to stay in uniform if he planned to play hero again.

  So here he was.

  As they drove back out the east gate, Inelius joked, “I feel like we just did this.”