Page 73 of Stars in Umbra
As she settled in, he rounded his flyer’s nose to take the helm with ease.
They lifted off, pushing away from the cityscape and the two rings of Eden II rotating beneath them.
Mo’s racer proved its mettle; it was custom-built for speed.
It cut through the sky like a blade, its curves pointed and predatory.
Mo showed off, pushing its speed to the limit, weaving between the lanes to the angry blaring of other flyers.
He canted his eyes to her. ‘You going off yet?’
She bit her lip and nodded, suppressing a whoop at the highs the racing speedster was giving her.
After a while, he slowed. ‘Can’t be caught speeding, mama,’ he growled, eyes slicing to Rina’s flushed face. ‘Last thing I need is a speeding ticket and my face plastered all over the holo news.’
‘It’d be a scorching hot scandal if you’re caught with me, the freakin’ leader of the Peace Corps.’
Their eyes locked and lingered as he chuckled, then Rina’s breath caught as he took her hand and kissed it, claiming it on his thigh.
Their trajectory climbed to a vast, glittering arc that wrapped around the planet’s upper atmosphere.
Alphetraz’s twin celestial orbs lit the heavens in gold and soft indigo, casting surreal shadows over the curve of the desert world below.
The flyer’s course shifted as Mo wove the vessel through the busy air lanes.
Underneath, the sprawling, crystalline spires of the Edenite moon capital glittered, highlighted against a vast cosmic canvas.
Mo guided them to a lower, less ostentatious cluster of glowing, interconnected towers nestled among smaller, residential buildings.
‘Where are we going?’ Rina murmured.
‘My home away from home.’
Mo’s rumble was a resonant sound that vibrated in the cabin.
He landed the flyer, and it settled onto a discreet, illuminated platform connected to one of the central spires.
When Rina’s feet hit the ground, Mo banded his hand around her waist.
They headed in the direction of a doorway built from burnished copper and dark, polished wood.
It was intertwined with glowing flora that pulsed with soft light.
A plain, elegant sign, etched in flowing Iccythrian script, read: ‘The Obsidian Hearth.’
‘This is it,’ Mo said, a rare, almost shy quality to his tone. ‘Our local Iccythrian hangout on Eden II. Nothing fancy, but it’s where we gather.’
The air inside was warm, scented with candles, simple and different from the metropolis’s manufactured perfection.
They stepped into a bustling, circular hall.
The place was packed with beautiful Iccythrians, mostly. Lithe, honey-skinned, and adorned with delicate, intricate jewel piercings.
Immediately, the hum of conversation slowed and became quiet as Mo entered.
Heads turned, whispers rose, like a rustling breeze through dry leaves.
Every single patron, shift to eye the couple.
