Page 11 of Crossing Quinn

Before I could answer, a deadly crosswind struck the ship. My uncle wrenched the flitter to the portside, overcompensated, and lost control.

Over and over and over we rolled. The windshield cracked. A piece of the fuselage broke away, leaving a ragged hole with twisted metal and ripped cabling. A mini sandstorm swirled through the torn hull.

Dolon bounced off the ceiling and walls. Our spine-shattering ride came to an abrupt halt when the ship slammed into a chaotic mass of tumbled stones.

The harness bit painfully into my chest, and my helmet bounced off a protruding piece of metal. “Ooof!”

My uncle smashed face-first into the command console and fell back against the pilot’s chair.

Papa’s mind brushed over mine in alarm. “Are you injured?”

My jaw hurt, and my chest felt like someone had kicked me. “A few bruises.” I unfastened my harness and looked around. “But the flitter is a total loss.”

“Dolon?”

My uncle wiped at the blood gushing from his nose.

“He survived the crash.”

“His luck is about to run out,”Papa growled.

Dolon’s communications bracelet began to beep. He smiled smugly. “The rest of my crew is here.”

Balock’s balls. “Dolon called in reinforcements, Papa.”

“I’m tracking them. The laser cannons have been recalibrated. Go to our bolt-hole in the city and wait for me.”

“What about Mami?”

“I’ll get her.”

The wind stopped blowing. The sand literally fell from the sky, leaving weird piles stacked everywhere.

My uncle forced the door open and gaped at an enormous pit filled with thousands upon thousands of skeletal remains. Entangled with the bones were stone figurines, small metal chests, and musical devices that resembled flutes. “The treasure!”

“No, the Nabateans’ personal belongings.” It had taken us three months to suction out the sand. All that hard work was about to be destroyed.

“They’re dead and don’t need their gold anymore. I do,” Dolon countered, handcuffing me to the seat.

Thousands of var bugs suddenly burst from the sand. They created a chorus of rattling clicks that would rival the sound of a thousand Earth rattlesnakes. My uncle’s blood was drawing them like a beacon.

Dolon frowned. “What’s that noise?”

“What noise?” How could the idiot not see them?

“That clicking.”

I tilted my head to one side and listened. “I don’t hear anything. Maybe you’re getting sand fever. You should go back to the ship.”

“Do you think me a fool?”

Was that a rhetorical question? “Sand fever can kill you.”

“Your pathetic attempt to trick me won’t work. The treasure is mine,” Dolon growled.

I watched the var bugs swarm toward the flitter. “Yes, my lord.” My uncle was about to get the surprise of his life.

Dolon squeezed out the door and ran to the pit.

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