Page 67 of The Edge of Dawn

So why was Earth still unscathed?

And what the fuck did Earth’s government think it was doing, trying to play politics with these aliens?

Jade sat down on the bed—if it could even be called a bed; it was more of a curved pod—and bent down, undoing the straps of her work boot—she only wore one since the other had been removed when Zyara had treated her foot. She kicked it off, pulled off her smelly sock, and pressed her foot against the smooth floor, luxuriating in the feeling of her bare skin against the alien surface. It was slightly cool and neither hard nor soft. Different. But not bad. Just unfamiliar.

Her boot was caked in red dust.

The dust of Earth.

She had no idea where the other one was.

It looked so out of place against the flawless black floor. She had one boot. She was still wearing her dusty work clothes: a pair of worn but comfortable khaki utility pants, a black tank top, and a long-sleeved cotton shirt that was no longer white.

She was coated in a fine layer of dust and sweat, not to mention the aftermath of violence and fear.

Yuck.

She was suddenly overcome with the urge to wash every last speck of dirt from her body.

There was a shower—with hot water, as Noa had promised. Jade almost jumped off the bed as she remembered. She was still bone-tired—her little involuntary nap, with Dragek watching her, no less—had done little to alleviate her tiredness, but the promise of being able to curl up in bed feeling clean was much more powerful than the drag of her fatigue.

After everything that had happened, she needed it.

But as she rose to her feet, her little floating crutch, or whatever it was, whirred and drifted up against her arm, nudging her insistently. She stared at it for a moment, taking in its sleek black form—leaf-shaped but gently hollowed in the middle, with two small blue indicator lights at one end, reminiscent of a pair of eyes.

Everything here was so surreal as if conjured by sorcery.

And for once, she didn’t need to worry about trying to block out the noise of hundreds of voices because there were none.

The little blue lights blinked—as if winking at her.

“Oh, all right.” She hated being incapacitated like this, but she had to remind herself it was only for a day or so. That in itself was miraculous, considering she had broken bones.

No matter how advanced it was, human medicine couldn’t achieve such a result. She’d had broken bones before—in her jaw and her forearm—and each time, the healing process had been a pain in the ass. Four weeks of immobilization and no contact sports for two months.

Back on Earth, Jade had lived her life in constant motion. When she wasn’t in the office, she was always doing something—swimming laps at the oceanside pool, working in the garden, playing in the local touch football competition, mountain biking on the weekends, walking around the city, or traveling abroad. With the super-fast landflyers, Earth had opened up, and overseas travel was easy enough to accomplish in a weekend.

She didn’t understand how other people could bear to sit still, watching the Networks for hours or just lounging around at home doing nothing. The concept was completely and utterly alien to her.

To her, the feeling of not doing something was akin to torture.

And her active nature had always kind of irritated Cameron.

Leading up to her head injury, he’d become short and testy with her more often, leading to frequent fights.

Until the accident—a rough tackle and a head-on collision with her opponent which sent her crashing to the ground, and everything went black. When she woke up in the hospital, there was a cacophony of voices inside her head.

Complex concussion, they’d called it.

That’s when all her problems started. She, who had always been in motion, now had to contend with the constant noise.

Until she’d found herself in the company of a silent, uber-serious Kordolian called Dragek.

Who existed either in a state of intentional stillness or explosive violence.

His stillness had never bothered her.

She almost missed it—missed him.

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