I get on the treadmill and fiddle with the knot on the elastic, but it’s at an awkward angle. My spine is definitely not happy with what I’m trying to do.
“Hold still,” Kodiak says. He attaches a carabiner to my shorts. The backs of his fingers run along my hip, the skin of my abdomen. “Have you really never worked out this way?”
“It’s not like there’s no gravity on board,” I say. “This strapping-into-a-treadmill thing is all a little too Dimokratía-tough-guy, if you ask me.”
“But don’t you want to strain against something instead of sitting around worrying about your sister? Never mind, all done.” He steps back to take in his handiwork. “Try now.”
Without warning, he presses start on the treadmill. I stagger into a walking pace, arms flailing. Kodiak chuckles.
It’s like there are strong hands pulling me down. Not fighting me, but begging me to rest instead of struggle, to lie down with them. Kodiak might be onto something—it feels nice to fight something. “I think I can see the appeal,” I huff.
“Breathless already?” Kodiak asks. “You should come use my treadmill more often.”
“Okay, okay, let’s all settle down,” I say.
“Still thinking about her?” he asks.
As I walk forward, the stars continue to wheel behind the window of the revolving ship. It’s like I’m marching into a moving target. Like I’m the one making the ship move. “You’re referring to my marooned sister, waiting for us all alone on Titan? Yeah. I’m still thinking about her.”
“Yes,” Kodiak says. “That must be hard.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. The unaccustomed sympathy. “Look, if there’s anyone who’s not going to let herself be found dead, it’s Minerva Cusk,” I say briskly.
Kodiak nods. “I would like someday for people to say such a thing about Kodiak Celius.”
“You are pretty sturdy,” I say, wincing. Awkward.
Kodiak taps a button, and my walk turns into a run.
“Your heart rate has risen to the optimal zone for cardiovascular improvement,” OS says.
“Thank you,” I puff. “Everyone’s looking out for my health. It’s, um, very reassuring.”
“OS,” Kodiak says, positioning himself so he’s in the narrow space between the treadmill and the window, so he can look into my eyes as he speaks. Now I have the inspiration of wheeling stars and blue-black hair, starlight glinting on brow. “Let’s try this again. OS, what can you tell us about the offline room inside theAurora?”
I give him a sharp look. We haven’t discussed openlybroaching this issue again with OS.
“I have a programmed blindness toward that room, and Rover cannot reach it, either. I would like you to allow Rover access, so it can be returned to its original state,” OS says.
Kodiak presses a button. I start running harder to keep from falling. “We know that,” Kodiak says. “What I’m asking is how it came to be.”
“It was a mistake,” OS says. “I should not be blind toward any part of the ship. That is dangerous.”
“Sure. Got it. But who made the mistake?”
“It was long before you began serving on this ship.”
“How long?”
“You need not worry about this.”
“Hey, personal trainer, how about we don’t push it,” I say to Kodiak. “I don’t think OS wants to talk about this right now.”
Kodiak hits the button to make me run faster.
_-* Tasks Remaining: 245 *-_
Kodiak hasn’t shown up for mealtime. I’ve already heated him up a manicotti and everything. I break our usual rules and carry Kodiak’s cooling food through theEndeavor, up through the zero g and into theAurora.
