Chicago. The tape recorder.
“We need a diversion.” I’m speaking slowly, not bothering to think first—at this point, any idea is better than nothing. “A way to lure some of them away, get their suits, and then take their places on the shuttle. Do you think you can talk like them? Imitate the way we’ve heard Dex and Atlanta talking?”
Jules is eyeing me askance, an expression I recognize as a dim relative of the surprise and skepticism he displayed when I first proposed stealing one of our rival scavver gang’s skimmer bikes back on Gaia when we first met. “I think so. As long as I don’t have to make any fancy speeches. But we don’t know enough about them to blend in for long.”
I’ve got my mouth open to go on, but I’m saved from trying to plan any further by a clang and a narrow, bright beam of light several meters ahead of us. A voice, distorted by echoes, rises in query, answered by a second, more muffled voice. They’re at the far end of our shaft. They’ve found us.
Jules mutters one of his Latin oaths and ducks down the other branch of the intersection, with me on his heels. Literally—I almost get a boot to the face in my haste to follow him.
“How do they keep finding us?” he puffs, but I’m so winded I can’t reply in anything more than a gasp for breath.
It’s a few more minutes before he stops abruptly, body stiffening. Quickly, he wedges himself in sideways and pulls the headset off his neck. “God, we’re such idiots—the headset, Mia.”
“Shit.” My heart’s sinking.How did I miss that? I guess two days ofsleep deprivation slows me down.“They must be like cell phones, they’ve got some kind of tracker or positioning chip. And since they know someone’s been accessing their database …”
Grimly, Jules draws his arm back, hurling the thing as far from him as he can. It skitters along the vent as we head in the opposite direction.
“What now?” he murmurs, looking across at me by the dim light of his wrist unit. “I know that look on your face. What terrible idea am I going to go along with now?”
“We keep on with the plan. We catch a couple of these surface operatives on the way to the launch bay, pull them off to investigate, and then get their suits.”
Jules’s face is grave, eyes going distant as he summons up the image of that scrawled map. This time, he doesn’t bother arguing the hopelessness of the situation. Either he’s finally convinced it’s worth a try, or he just thinks we’re so screwed that we might as well go down swinging. “The best place will be somewhere near the bay itself, to make sure we get foot soldiers with suits, and not ship staff.”
I take a breath, thanking whatever gods or universal forces might be listening that Jules has that freakish memory. “I’ll follow you.”
We refine the plan, such as it is, on the move. We leave the headset behind—the fact that they came after us even after the network was turned off tells us that the positioning chip must still be functional. And we don’t want a welcoming committee when we reach our destination.
We’re sidling through the wall cavities again until we reach a small chamber off one of the main corridors that houses a bunch of unidentifiable equipment. To me, it looks for all the world like a water heater closet.
We’re forced to wait there for the right opportunity. Pairs of Undying rush past at irregular intervals, but we need a single pairalone, and ones who haven’t started putting on their suits yet. Half those running past have them tied round their waists like mechanics’ jumpsuits.
Jules and I are both starting to fidget restlessly when two sets of footsteps prick my ear after a long silence. I touch Jules’s arm, and we ease the door open a crack in time to see two forms eclipse the light from the corridor as they pass.
I’m shifting my weight to move when Jules’s hand comes to rest against my back. The sudden warmth of the touch is what halts me—we’ve been communicating by a squeeze here, a nudge there, for so long now that I ought to be used to it, but this touch lingers.
I glance over my shoulder to find Jules close, his brows drawn in and his lips set. “Are you sure about this? Couldn’t we both—”
“I’m faster than you are.” It’s not a boast—it’s simple truth, and something Jules has had plenty of opportunity to observe over the past weeks. “I can lose them again—I swear to you I can.”
And in that moment, Iamsure. I’m not lying, and I’m not exaggerating—I’m quick and I’m small, and I’ve been training for this my whole career as a scavenger. I turn the rest of the way around and take Jules by the arms, trying to look as stern as I can when tilting my head back to look up at him.
“We’ll only be split up for a few minutes. Stash one of the suits here, put on the other, and find us a ride out of here. I’ll be back before you’re done sweet-talking the Undying into letting us stow away. You’ve got the more dangerous task than me—you have to make them think you’re one of them. I just have to run.”
Jules scans my face for a heartbeat, then draws me in. I’d forgotten how different his arms feel this way, as opposed to when he’s just got one around me for warmth as we huddle in our hiding places.
No, that’s a lie—I haven’t forgotten at all. I’ve been trying not to think about it.
“I don’t like this,” he says quietly.
I try out a smile, my heart racing a little more quickly. “Me neither. But it’s either this or keep running and hiding until—until this is over, one way or another.” I don’t want to say the words. Ican’tsay the words. But they’re there in my mind, as real and vivid as if I had said them:Until Earth falls.
Jules drops his head, forehead touching mine. I long to tip my face up, seek out his lips just a breath away from mine. For a moment I nearly do, and my head must have moved a fraction in the darkness, because I feel his hands slide farther along my back in response.
Suddenly all the time we’ve spent together on this ship feels like such a waste. I could’ve asked for more—I could’ve taken advantage of that time, of our closeness, to explore this fragile connection between us. Odds are we’re not both going to make it off this ship, and when Jules goes back to his real life on Earth, I want him to remember … I want him to remember how I felt about him. Not what I thought of his crackpot ideas, or how I teased him for his optimism, or how I shot down his well-meaning—but naïve—attempts to make room for me in his life.
I want him to remember how Ifelt.And I don’t know how to show him that. A kiss could never be enough.
“I have to go now.” I draw back, forcing myself to concentrate. “This might be our best chance, and they’re nearly at the end of the …”
