Adrift
“Have you ever been on an anchor at impact?” the navigator asked.
“We have not,” Jorey responded for the group.
“I have,” Sputter said, but he was daft. No one paid him much attention.
“Well then you might get your chance this dawning.” The lean man contemplated the projection of the archouranos revolving before him. The dimensional map of the orbiting sky islands was a navigator’s most valuable tool. “Difficult time to be crossing the Titan’s wedge.”
“Not like we had a lot of choice,” Barrik said. He shared a dark glance with Jorey.
“Titan!” Sputter growled, arms flexed over his shoulders as he stomped around the anchor.
The navigator’s fingers danced out, tapping a series of tiny satellites. Most of the major islands were a considerable distance away. “Narrow path here. Timing’s short. Last glide is a stretch. But there’s accommodation to be had.”
“That would be Windfall?” Jorey asked.
“It would,” the navigator said, “Not the friendliest float, but you folks look like you could manage.”
“I thought impacts were pretty rare,” Lim-Tim said, her anxious eyes darting about.
“Not as rare as they’d have you believe,” the navigator replied. He shifted his weight to gain better perspective. “From Windfall, you’ve a handful of clear avenues. One even stretches to Tauronn.”
Barrik scoffed, but glances from both Jorey and the navigator kept his sharp tongue in check. Instead he said, “I thought the anchors were constructed to withstand impact.”
“Withstand yes,” the navigator said, “Not a thing about it is enjoyable though.”