The Arrow’s long-range radio was lying somewhere in
the wreckage, probably in as many pieces as the ship, but
there was a smaller one among the emergency kits. Taz
fiddled with the dials as Up took inventory of their supplies
and starting packing two backpacks.
“Too much interference,” she said. “I can’t get a signal.”
Up had expected that. “We’re in a valley,” he said,
handing her one of the packs. “We’ve got to head for those
mountains in the distance. They’re our only shot. Feel like
taking a hike?”
“Or a bounce,” she said. “Guess we don’t have much
choice, do we?”
They walked for hours, but it felt like days. It took time
to adjust to the buoyant ground, and Taz felt muscles
engaging in her legs she hadn’t known existed. The fierce
Graali sun burned. Her Ranger jacket had long ago been
relegated to her pack, and Up had stripped off his uniform
from the waist up. Sweat soaked both of them, and her
white tank top was drenched through, but she was too tired
to worry about that. Her black combat books simmered
heavily on her feet, and the metal of her dog tags grew so
hot she had to put them in her pocket so they wouldn’t
scorch her skin. She pushed on, determined to keep up,
vowing not to be the first to complain. The mountains
looked no closer when Up finally stopped, the sun inching
lower in the sky.
“There’s no sense in killing ourselves trying to get
there,” he said, dropping his pack. Taz gratefully did the
same. “Let’s make camp.”
Up bent to open his pack, and Taz saw a long scar across
his back, running diagonally from shoulder to hip. There
was another story she’d never heard. It wasn’t the only scar
Up carried, but certainly the worst. His arms were raked