Heritage Lost by S M Wright

Author:S M Wright [Wright, S M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734155419
Publisher: Far-Flung Press
Published: 2019-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

After three weeks, during which Katya and Rein maintained an awkward dance of avoidance, they found themselves orbiting Pestor. Its surface, while largely shades of brown, harbored splashes of green around its costal, river, and jungle regions. But of course her father's latest archeological study had set its base camp in the savanna region of Pestor. From the information her slate presented, that area would at least be more comfortable than some of the planets they'd been on . . . well, for most of them. Yet Aquila had to come this time. Her father would be tickled to see her with a child. A fond smile rooted itself on her face.

She flipped on the communications and sought her father's signal; with it being mid-afternoon locally, he should be available. The screen blinked green once the signal had been found. Clearing her throat, she initiated the connection. A momentary pause, then: "This is Faustus Cassius."

"Papa, this is Katya . . . I need your help."

"I thought you were captaining The Maelstrom," her father said. If he was concerned, she couldn't tell over the speaker, one of the downsides of not having a visual image displaying facial expressions. But her father had long mastered the ability of retaining a monotone voice and guarded expression. Even when he'd received calls—no, especially when he'd received them—from Magistrate Central Police after her one older brother's drunken escapades, he displayed his masterful grasp of the art of disinterest.

"It's a long story."

"It's a good thing I enjoy a long story, no?" His line went silent until what resembled a sigh came through. "Land on the outskirts of the camp. I'll meet you there."

Katya closed the connection and orchestrated their descent into the atmosphere. With no Magistrate outposts on Pestor, there were no specific protocols to follow. Just land. As for the locals, they were primitives who lived in the coastal and river areas. A few sects of them traveled through the savanna, but her father in one correspondence had stated they gave wide berth to the Magistrate archaeologists. Given the natives' lack of technology, the Magistrate had labeled the planet a preserve, allowing admittance only to scientists and scholars; of course, without an outpost or relay, policing unlawful incursions to the world proved impossible, so Pestor served as a halfway point for smugglers who hid in the jungles to the south.

"You're sure he won't turn us in?" Mina asked from behind her. The teen had been so quiet, Katya had forgotten she'd snuck into the cockpit.

Prepping the ACPS through the helm, Katya replied, "He took me in as a young child. I doubt he'd sell me out now after all that time and effort rearing me. He never did with Seneca, who's kind of a criminal—been in and out of prison. He struggles with substance abuse."

"What's he like?"

Katya pursed her lips. How best to describe her father? "He's extremely . . . passionate about his work. While we officially lived on Meracus Domus, he dragged us all over the galaxy with him.

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