Stitching Snow by R.C. Lewis

no central government. Each colony on the planet ran itself, and as long as they gave my father what he wanted, the on-site presence from Windsong was kept to a few offi cials at the spaceports.
    My tutors had said Garamites were mercenary as a rule and politically fi ckle, leaning toward whichever side seemed most likely to let them do as they pleased. And “what they pleased” usually meant anything they could call an advantage.
    A lot like Thandans, really. Except Thanda only had one advantage—the merinium mines. Garam, on the other hand, had some of the best tech in the system, know-how that no one 76

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    else could fi gure, and more solar energy than even they could use, thanks to their proximity to the sun.
    Garamites had backed the crown during some attempted uprisings and gone against it in others, depending on which seemed most profi table. That was why I’d swallowed Dane’s story about looking for enough independent wealth to persuade the planet to unify. I had no idea how the Garamites would react if they discovered the missing royal heir was in their grasp.
    Maybe they’d send me along to Windsong faster than Dane could. Maybe they’d keep me away to spite my father.
    Maybe they’d kill me just to simplify their lives.
    If I could fi gure their inclinations, maybe they could help me escape.
    Dane must’ve been thinking on a similar track. “Question is, will you keep quiet while I get the shuttle fi xed the right way?” I supposed screaming that I’d been kidnapped was an option.
    Didn’t feel like a good one, though. Not until I had a better idea of the people I was dealing with. Dane was one; they were many.
    “Me?” I said. “Don’t exactly like people knowing my business, do I?”
    Besides, with the shuttle fi xed, I could use it to get back to Thanda . . . once I rigged a way to dispose of my captor.
    Dane told Dimwit and Cusser to stay hidden inside the shuttle until he gave them further instructions, and to attack anyone who found them before those instructions came. So even with his “contacts,” he accounted for the possibility of trouble. Good to know.
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    He also thought it would look better if we stood outside waiting to meet the Garamites, leading me to discover I did not like Garam’s climate. As soon as the hatch opened, the air seared my skin, particularly the halfway-healed burns. The colony lay to the shaded side of the shuttle, and the sun was already low in the sky, so it could’ve been worse, but not by much.
    Three men and two women emerged from the sand-skimmer.
    They all wore loose-fi tting clothes in bright colors, and a swath of thin fabric covered their noses and mouths to keep blowing sand out. Each of them also had an electronic pack on their belts with narrow tubes running to the seams of their clothes. A cooling system, maybe.
    One of the men—older than the others—stepped forward and shook Dane’s hand. “Good to see you, lad.”
    “You know them, Brand?” asked one of the women.
    “Dane, yes. He’s from a good family, never ones to take advantage. His friend, however . . . I don’t know her.”
    “This is Essie,” Dane jumped in. “I went to Thanda to see if I could arrange a better merinium trade. Instead, I found her. She’s a decent mechanic and was looking to get out of the settlements.”
    I could’ve sworn he smirked when he referred to me as a
    “decent mechanic,” but I kept my mouth shut.
    “Emigration from Thanda is strictly controlled.” The woman again. Her eyes were more suspicious than the others’.
    One of the younger men laughed and nudged her. “Come on now, you know those restrictions amount to ‘If you can pay, you can come and go anytime.’ Besides, can you blame him for skirting the rules? Look at her!”
    If my face hadn’t already been red from the heat, it certainly 78

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    would have colored at his remark. I might have tried knocking the attitude out of