There’s a strange sort of … is this hope, waking up inside me?
If it is, then it’s drowned out a moment later when the urge to laugh overwhelms it.
‘What’s …?’ He looks down at me, bewildered, then pulls the cookies out of his bag, opening the packet to offer one to me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I manage, taking the cookie and turning it over in my hand. ‘I just realized we’re sitting here in some random family’s bedroom, talking about our two-person rebellion against a crack mercenary team, while we eat cookies. We’re not action heroes. We’re insane.’
‘Well,’ he says, with an answering grin, ‘sounds like we’ve got the element of surprise on our side, anyway. Who would expect someone to do something as stupid as that?’ He reachesfor my free hand tentatively, slow enough that I could pull away, or just move, and the moment would pass.
I let him take it. After all, we need to bond.
His skin is warm as his fingers curl gently around mine.
‘Here we go,’ he says softly. ‘We’ll do it together.’
I let myself squeeze his hand. ‘Let’s get started.’
11.
CLEO
5 HOURS, 54 MINUTES REMAINING
APRECIOUS THIRTY MINUTESlater, I’m wading through the water that’s slowly filling classroom 3, watching it slosh around the feet of my pressure suit.
The students were mid-class when the evacuation signal came in, and before we could get to work we had to clear away an in-progress science experiment that shouldnothave been left unattended. These kids need better hazard training.
Now the room is gradually filling with water; the taps are running as fast as they can, and the sinks are all plugged. They overflowed as planned, and the water’s rippling across the floor every time I move. We weren’t sure if the door seals would stand up to this, but almost every room on the base is designed to become an airlock if required, and so far the good shipScience Classhas remained watertight.
‘Where did yougetthis idea?’ Hunter asks as he climbs up onto a desk.
‘An ex of mine,’ I say, checking the taps can’t run any faster. ‘She came up with it to humble a bunch of jocks at school, and my dad taught us how to execute it.’
‘Electrical engineer?’ Hunter guesses.
Mechanic and fix-it guy.‘Something like that. He probably should have asked more questions about what we were planning to do with the information.’
Hunter snickers. ‘What happened to the jocks?’
‘Flooded their locker room, left them stranded in the showers. Naked.’
He laughs properly, a warm, easy sound. Then carefully – soooooo carefully – he hoists himself into the ventilation pipe above us.
He’s not moving slowly because it’s difficult. The much lighter Martian gravity means that his problem is too much strength, not too little. Pull himself up too fast, and he’ll smash his head into the ceiling. I thought I was keeping up my exercise while I was here, but watching him now, I’m not so sure.
The way he moves does something to my insides that I’d rather wasn’t happening, and the way his shirt rides up to give me a look at his abs is frankly just gratuitous and unnecessary. He probably practices that in the mirror.
He disappears headfirst into the ventilation pipe with a quick kick of his feet. The ventilation system is like a big tube clamped onto the ceiling, and he only just fits.
Once I’m sure he’s not going to ruin my beautiful smile with another kick, I climb onto the table and reach up to grab the edge of the square hole in the vent with both hands.
I’m smaller than Hunter, but it’s still not much wider than my shoulders in there. As I heave myself up and in, and the light immediately dims, I shiver.
I shuffle back and forth across the opening until I’m settled with my head toward the hole I came up through, and my feet toward Hunter. A softooftells me my feet have connected with some part of my partner in crime, so I stop there, and reach down through the opening to pull the duct cover up.
Wondering what I’m doing? I bet you are. Keep watching.
‘Pass me the wires?’ I say softly.
