Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Come on. I need to move faster," Thiago muttered under his breath as he jiggled the ignition lever of the spaceship controls. Warning klaxons blared over the speakers. He squinted at the diminished level of the drained fuel gauge on the corner of the dashboard screen. Shaking his head, he hastily left the cockpit and moved to a storage locker. At the locker, he collected backup jugs of puranium fuel and clamped them under his armpits. He raced back to the cockpit to start refueling.

Hercules slid through the gap of the door just before it sealed shut. He wagged his tongue between his pincers, a puddle of drool pooling underneath him as he watched his master at work.

Thiago lifted a hatch door behind the driver's seat. He unscrewed the caps of the black jugs and tore off the protective seals with his teeth, dispensing the gooey, blue-tinted liquid into the opening of the fuel tank. Hercules moved from side to side behind him, carefully evading the empty jugs of fuel flying in his general direction.

"All right, Herc," Thiago announced. He slammed the hatch door closed and locked the latch with his feet. Swiveling around in his seat to face the dashboard, he started up the ignition. "Hold on, buddy. I'm kicking up the gears, and we're going to be moving quickly."

Hercules nodded, wrapping his bristly legs around the base of the passenger seat. Thiago requested some information from his shipboard computer, drumming his fingers on the dashboard as he waited for a tracking page to load. A complex set of maps complete with grids and exact coordinates filled the monitor. After inputting a set of codes on the keypad, the system beeped. A highlighted route appeared on the map, showing a neon yellow path leading from the current location of the ship to a general area that was unfamiliar to the computer.

Thiago's natural inclination for distrusting everyone had ultimately paid off. Years of a solitary life and never-ending clashes with polite society may have created a jaded personality, but it also formed an efficient bounty hunter. As soon as Ardela had 'stumbled' uninvited into Thiago's life, he had concealed a tracking device of his own on her ship.

The ship's wheels rattled against the rugged terrain, rolling forward on the ground before lifting off into the air. Thiago steered the vessel at a steep angle as he tried to accelerate. He angled the spaceship to the left until his course aligned with the route on the screen.

There was nothing Thiago could do now except wait. Although his exterior looked like an empty slate, his fists were clenched impotently around the controls in a death grip. There was nothing empty about the chaotic anxiety running rampant through his body. His eyes repeatedly moved from the windshield to the dashboard screen, confirming the autopilot was still working.

About two and a half hours later, the triangular symbol on the craft finally crept toward the flashing dot indicating Ardela's destination. Rings appeared around the dot, alerting any observers that the journey was almost over. Thiago looked out the windows of the spaceship, trying to find any clue that would help him locate Eden.

The ship hovered over a dark expanse of barren land covered with innumerable craters. Thiago modified the map on his screen to display thermal imagery, which would show him any living beings. To his dismay, nothing but dark blues and greens turned up in the forsaken land underneath him. When the craft began its inevitable descent, Thiago groaned with frustration.

Had the tracker he planted on Ardela's spacecraft been faulty? He didn't see anything here.

Thiago decided to exit his ship to investigate. He transferred the tracking data on his dashboard computer to a portable device in his hands. He exited the cockpit with an excited Hercules hounding him from behind. Thiago packed a spare satchel with flashlights, weapons, rope, rounds of ammunition, and other necessities. He slung the bag over his shoulders before donning a weapon belt strapped with restraints, laser magnums, and a lightweight black-market submachine gun smuggled in from Earth. Fitting his black helmet over his head, he left the ship to begin his search.

As Thiago looked around at the darkness surrounding him, he clicked a button on the side of his helmet visor. The glass whirred to life as his night vision gear activated. He glanced down at the portable tracker in his hands. According to the computer, he should be close to the location already.

Exploring the site on foot didn't help. He couldn't see anything in the deserted area. Uncertain of what he should be looking for, he started to become frustrated. The mark on his head flashed in anger. Thiago angrily hit the side of the tracker with his fist.

Behind him, Hercules was becoming more agitated. "Not now, Hercules," Thiago called out without looking over his shoulder. "I need to concentrate."

But as Thiago spun around to retrace his steps, he missed his footing entirely. With his complete attention on the computer in his hands, he had neglected his safety. His feet were dangling over the edge of a deep crater. Before Hercules could grab hold of him, Thiago's grip slipped, and he plummeted down the slope of the crater into a pitch-black abyss.