Page 103 of Fallen from the Stars

“Hmm. Strange.”

“What?”

“I’m going to try something. You might feel a bit of…discomfort for a moment.”

Theo’s brows furrowed. “What do you—”

Electricity jolted up her arm, locking her muscles for an instant before it cut off and she yanked her hand back.

She rubbed her stinging hand, frowning. “What the fuck, Kane?”

The control console sparked to life, projecting a holographic control panel. A progress bar at the bottom stated the system was performing a background repair function.

“I just needed to give it a jumpstart,” Kane said innocently. With a soft whir, the light above Theo turned to face inland. “I’m in. That’s what counts, right?”

“A little warning next time, yeah?” she grumbled.

“Ididgive you a warning.”

“A bit of discomfortis not the same as you trying to cook me from the inside out.” She turned her attention to the holographic panel. “What’s it repairing?”

“This system has been inactive for a long while, but it suffered several failures in the past. It has nothing to do with the light’s functioning. There’s a surprisingly complex computer system installed here… This was part of a military base, long ago.”

“Well, we’re not here to fix the computer, right?” She reached for the manual control switch and flipped it on, tilting her head back. The beacon flickered, struggling to come on fully. She banged her boot on the side of the console. The flickering intensified.

“Looks like you need to open that sucker up,” Kane said.

Theo crouched down and felt for the panel’s release along the bottom edge. Tugging the lever, she pulled the panel up and lifted it away from the console, setting it aside. Wires and circuit casings filled the opening. Kane inserted the purpose of each in her retinal display, flashing through them rapidly until he identified the most likely source of the issue.

She opened her toolbox, took out an old-fashioned screwdriver, and opened the connection box. Sure enough, several of the wires bridging the manual control switch to the beacon were loose. She had them tightened within half a minute. Placing a hand on the console, she pulled herself upright, positioned her finger at the on-off switch, and tested it.

The light went off and came back on four times without the faintest flickering.

“Easy,” Theo said. “Don’t know if I should be happy or disappointed.” She crouched again to replace the lid of the connection box.

“So…interesting bit of information available, now that I’m able to access the data stored in this system,” said Kane.

Theo slid the outer panel back into place. “And what interesting bit of information did you happen to find?”

“This lighthouse was also utilized as a control tower to communicate with ships. Space ships. They organized landings and supply drops from here.”

“And?”

“The structure itself can act as an antenna. It just needs the proper transmitter to compensate for the lack of satellites in orbit…”

Theo stilled. A loud rushing sound filled her ears, reminiscent of space cruiser thrusters during takeoff. Her heart quickened as she glanced at the toolbox beside her. The transmitter was no longer inside, and she hadn’t even thought about it since she’d arrived in The Watch and stowed it away in their home. But that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

And this lighthouse was the key.

This was what she had needed since she arrived on this planet. Her way off.

“It works?” she asked numbly.

“Presumably. There’s minimal structural damage, so far as I can tell.”

She stared at the toolbox. If Kane was right — and she had no doubt he was — the installation would be a simple one. Remove the current transmitter and replace it with the one she’d taken from the sub. Worst case meant she’d need to find a power adaptor or different connectors, but even that would be relatively easy given the spare parts in the Facility.

Absently, she brushed her fingertips over the engraved letters on the toolbox’s lid —M. VELENTI.

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