Haven 6 Read Online Free PDF

linguist.”
    Litus seemed to reassess her as he offered his hand and pulled her up. “You have more spunk than you let on.”
     

Chapter Four
Quest for Knowledge
    Weaver trudged through the dense undergrowth, failure eating away at his insides like poison. Swamp water sloshed into his boots, making his toes curl with a damp chill that spread up his legs. He shivered, and the familiar feeling of inferiority hovered over him. Too long he’d lived in its shadow.
    As he followed the battered army home, he replayed the battle. How did I fail? His bows had penetrated his former village’s defenses, giving the men the lead time needed to scale the wall. Nothing could beat the Death Stalker’s scope and aim.
    Except Striver. Once again his brother had outshined him tenfold. By felling the first three ropes, he’d weakened the pirates’ resolve. Death by leechers was a nasty, painful end, and Striver’s aim guaranteed some would fall. If only his men had pushed through, letting the first wave of ropes go down while other attackers sprang up. The Lawless claimed they ate ferocity for lunch, yet they had the most spineless weasel worm hearts he’d ever seen.
    He had to remind himself the pirates’ shortsightedness was why he thought he could lead the Lawless, manipulating them to his own ends. Only then would he feel powerful. After he gained control of the Lawless tribe, he’d show his village how they should have chosen him, not Striver, to lead.
    An unsettling snake of discomfort slid across his shoulders. First he had to report to Jolt.
    People scurried from the tree huts, shouting to the survivors as they passed. Weaver didn’t reply. They’d learn soon enough who’d died and how deeply they’d failed. These lands were ruled by a dictator, not a democracy like the do-nothing Guardians and the weak-minded council. He reported to one man alone.
    The husk of a spaceship protruded from the ground just beyond the last cluster of fern huts. Cold, harsh metal cut through the soft leaves like a razorblade, reminding Weaver of the power of technology.
    Two bodyguards nodded as Weaver passed. Snipe, the younger man on the right, shifted his predatory eyes under heavy lids, looking as mean as a cornered swamp boar. Crusty, the older man on the left, cracked a sad half smile, as if Weaver paced to his death.
    Weaver stifled a shudder. I can handle Jolt. He still needs me. Stepping underneath the perpetually open hatch, he mustered his courage.
    Torches lit the inside of the ship, casting flickering light on control screens long dead. The putrid scent of dank moss and rusty metal hung heavy in the air. Water dripped everywhere, forming muddy puddles on the chrome floor.
    Jolt slumped in the cockpit, gazing through the cracked glass of the sight panel on a dead-end course to nowhere. He swiveled in the age-old captain’s chair, the plastic cracking as he moved.
    The flickering torchlight illuminated half his pockmarked face and tightlipped frown. He ran his hands over a laser gun with photon chambers clogged with dirt. Hundreds of years ago, the gun had pulsed with energy. Now it was an empty trophy, a remnant of a bygone time.
    “Humans were once a mighty superpower. We ruled Earth with our weapons of mass destruction, creating grand wars and great, mighty leaders. I’ve heard the stories passed down by my ancestors. The same people who once flew this very ship. Now, thanks to your technohoarding friends, all we have left are sticks and stones. They sit on top of lost technology, and they won’t let us access it, won’t let us progress beyond our primal means.”
    Jolt turned so the reddish light bathed his entire face. “Your weapons failed.” A scar above his forehead twitched with his pulse, reminding Weaver of a weasel worm. His muddied brown hair twisted up in spikes.
    Weaver bowed, gazing at the scuffed chrome floor. “For now.”
    “You promised me access to the S.P. Nautilus , and instead, we lost seven