The boy woke up on the floor.
The metal beneath him was cold. His head hurt. He opened his eyes and did not recognize the ceiling. It was low and dark, lined with panels and wires. The air smelled sharp and clean, nothing like the city.
He pushed himself up slowly.
The room was small. Crates were strapped to the walls. A single light flickered overhead. His hands were shaking. He pressed them against his legs until they stopped.
A door slid open.
A woman stood there with a rifle held loose but ready. She looked down at him, eyes flat, not surprised.
"You done pretending you're dead?" she asked.
He did not answer.
Another voice came from behind her. Calm. Almost amused.
"He cleared the ramp on instinct alone. That's not nothing."
A man stepped into view. He was smiling, like this was interesting to him. Like the boy was a problem he hadn't decided how to solve yet.
The woman did not lower her weapon.
"We don't take strays, Jerad."
Jerad glanced at the boy again. "We didn't take him," he said. "He took us."
Jerad crouched so they were eye level.
"What's your name?"
The boy swallowed.
For a second, the pressure stirred again, faint but there.
He shook his head. "I don't know," he said.
The smile faded.
That was when the room went quiet.
Not the same quiet as the street. This one was thin and tight, like everyone was listening for something they could not see.
The boy felt it before he heard it.
A low vibration ran through the floor. It crept up his legs and into his chest. The light overhead flickered again, then steadied.
The woman with the rifle shifted her stance. Her grip tightened.
Jerad straightened.
The vibration deepened. A sharp sound rang through the ship, followed by another. The floor jumped under the boy's hands.
"What was that?" the woman asked.
Before Jerad could answer, the ship shook hard enough to throw the boy sideways. He slammed into a crate and cried out, pain shooting through his ribs.
A voice crackled over a speaker, fast and loud.
"We've got instability across the hull," a man said. "Atmospheric shear is spiking."
Jerad tapped the side of his ear. "Mikael," he said. "Status."
Another jolt hit the ship. Something heavy slid across the floor and slammed into the wall. The boy curled in on himself, arms over his head.
"Not great," Mikael's voice came back, strained but sharp. "The planet's tearing itself apart. Debris field's thick and getting worse."
A new sound joined the others. A deep, rising whine that made the boy's teeth hurt.
The woman swore under her breath.
Jerad looked down at the boy. "Stay there," he said. "Hold on to something."
The boy grabbed the edge of the crate with both hands.
The ship lurched again, harder than before. He felt his fingers slipping and tightened his grip until his arms burned.
Jerad turned toward the door. "Pethia," he said. "Secure him."
"What?" she snapped.
"We don't have time to argue."
Pethia hesitated, then grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and dragged him toward the wall. She shoved him into a recessed seat and slammed a harness over his chest. It dug into his shoulders.
"Don't move," she said. "If you throw up, don't aim at me."
She stepped back just as the ship bucked violently. The lights dimmed, then flared bright.
A warning alarm blared.
"Multiple impacts!" the voice from the comms shouted. "We're losing plating on the lower hull!"
Jerad was already moving. He braced himself against the doorway and keyed the ship-wide channel.
"All stations," he said. His voice was calm, but louder now. "Prepare for full burn. Mikael, get us out of the atmosphere. Thessa, clear us a path."
"Copy," came two voices at once.
The boy's stomach dropped as the ship tilted sharply upward. The harness bit into him as gravity pressed him back into the seat.
The noise became constant. Engines roared. Metal screamed.
Through a narrow viewport near the ceiling, the boy caught a glimpse of the sky. It was dark and broken, filled with fire and falling shapes. Pieces of the city burned as they fell, leaving long trails behind them.
The ship shook again. Something struck the hull with a heavy thud.
"Shields at sixty," Thessa reported. "Debris coming in fast."
"Route it forward," Mikael said. "I'm threading us through."
"You miss, we die," Pethia muttered.
"That's usually how it works."
Another impact rocked the ship. The boy's head snapped forward, then back. His vision blurred. He tasted blood.
The pressure returned.
It started behind his eyes, sharp and sudden. The noise around him dulled, like it was being pushed away. His skin prickled. His heart hammered against his ribs.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Jerad," the voice from the comms said, tighter now. "Structural integrity is dropping. We can't take much more."
"I know," Jerad said. "Damon."
"We're close," Damon replied. "But not clear."
"Mikael," Jerad said.
"I see it," Mikael replied. "Hold on."
The ship surged.
The pressure inside the boy spiked. For a moment, everything else fell away. The alarms. The shouting. The sound of the engines.
There was only the hum.
It filled his head, deep and steady.
The ship steadied.
The shaking eased, just a little.
"What did you just do?" Pethia asked sharply.
"I didn't do anything," Mikael said. "Why?"
"We just cleared a cluster that should've shredded us."
Jerad looked toward the boy.
The boy opened his eyes.
The hum faded. The noise rushed back in. He gasped, chest heaving. His hands were numb. He did not understand what had happened, only that it had stopped hurting.
Another blast struck nearby, but this time it slid past the ship instead of hitting it.
"Altitude climbing," Mikael said. "Atmosphere thinning."
The boy looked back toward the viewport. The fire below was spreading. The city was smaller now, distant, swallowed by smoke and flame.
Something twisted in his chest.
He looked away.
The ship shook one last time, hard and sudden, then broke through into open sky.
The noise dropped.
The alarms cut off one by one.
The engines leveled into a steady roar.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then Mikael laughed, breathless. "And that," he said, "is why you pay me."
"Shut up," Pethia said, but there was less bite in it now.
Damon exhaled loudly over the comms. "Hull damage is bad, but we're holding. We made it."
Jerad did not respond right away. He was still watching the boy.
The boy felt his gaze and shrank back against the seat. The harness creaked as he pressed into it.
Jerad stepped closer.
"You felt that," Jerad said.
The boy swallowed. His throat was dry. "I don't know what you mean."
Jerad held his stare for a long moment.
"Unstrap him," Jerad said.
Pethia frowned. "You sure?"
"Yes."
She reached down and released the harness. It snapped back into the wall. The boy did not move.
Jerad crouched again, slow this time.
"We're out of the atmosphere," he said. "You're not dead. Yet."
The boy nodded, once.
"What's your name?" Jerad asked again.