‘You know,’ I say, ‘I am hungry, actually. What’s the chance of a snack around here?’ I unfold from my chair, rising to my feet and stretching slowly. Marguerite watches me without a hint of concern.
‘Maybe scare up a change of clothes, too,’ she suggests. ‘But don’t be long. We’re on the clock.’
27.
CLEO
2 HOURS REMAINING
HUNTER COMES WALKING OUTof the chief engineer’s office, side by side with his sister, and now I can see how similar they are. He’s a little taller, her face is a little harder, but you can tell the same factory spat out the pair of them.
I’m sitting with Sabrina and Grace at a desk that used to belong to a guy who tacked up pictures of every dog he ever met, and the divide between Hunter and me couldn’t be more obvious.
He’s a Graves, standing there with the boss. I’m a nobody, sitting here as a prisoner of her employees. Sabrina keeps trying to talk to me – I think she’s trying to humanize me in front of Grace – but I can’t make myself respond beyond a mumble.
What did he and his sister talk about in there?
The gap between Hunter and me isn’t the only reason I’m wondering about my life choices, though. The vibe in heredoesn’t feel good – there’s a tension I don’t like singing through the air. And I still don’t know what they’re here for. I only know it’s more than altering a few registers.
Sabrina nudges me, and I snap out of it. ‘Let’s go,’ she murmurs, drawing my attention back to my work.
‘On it,’ I mutter, squinting again at the schematics Grace is pulling up. ‘There’s a switchboard there,’ I tell her, pointing at the place on the display. ‘It doesn’t show on the plans, but a whole bunch of other things are wired in there that shouldn’t be.’ I used it for that exact reason – so many extra departments had wired in power sources that my usage would never stand out. I remember silently thanking my father as I did it – I’ll never be as good as he was, but he taught me enough to make my own mods. ‘If you cut the power at that switchboard, you’ll save more than it looks like.’
Hunter’s talking to his sister, and Nico hands him a meal pack from the team’s stash – after the way we drugged the Martian, they’re sticking strictly to their own rations, I guess. Nico’s scowling behind his eye patch, probably wondering how he went from trying to kill Hunter to serving him lunch. Probably wondering if Hunter’s the vengeful type.
Speaking of vengeful, I’ve eavesdropped enough to figure out where most of the Graves team are, right now.
The Martian’s still sleeping it off. Mr Chin-Up has been released from the freezer, and he’s pissed off but fine. Currently, he’s chipping the expanding foam off the Boxer, presumably stopping to pick up ball bearings at regular intervals. And Blue Braid will be back on duty once we cut the power to her section.
‘What about the greenhouse?’ Grace says beside me. She’s finely built, and walks like she weighs nothing at all, every movement elegant and efficient.
‘Shut it down, you mean?’ I sit back in my chair, wrapping one arm around my middle. ‘That place is full of plants, though, they won’t survive the cold. There’re fish too, zillions of them.’
Grace blinks at me. ‘You do understand that it’s not going to be there when we leave anyway, right?’
On my other side, Sabrina nudges me again, and I make myself nod. ‘Yeah, of course. I’ll have to go and disconnect it on-site, though. They didn’t want anyone shutting it down by accident, so it’s like life-support equipment – you have to do it in person. I can literally just rip the cables out.’
Hunter is suddenly standing above us. My head snaps up – I didn’t know he was listening. ‘If you’re heading to the greenhouse, I’ll come too,’ he says, as conversational as if we’re talking about just going out for a walk on a nice day.
‘We’re a little short on time,’ his sister says from behind him, arms folded.
‘I won’t be long,’ he promises. ‘I brought one of Dad’s sculptures with me, and my bag’s there. I don’t want to leave it behind.’
She softens, inclining her head. ‘Sure, you grab it.’
Then Nico’s by her side, looking like he invented the wordlooming. ‘I’ll handle escort,’ he says.
‘My brother doesn’t need an escort,’ Marguerite replies crisply. If there’s some sort of Nico vs. Hunter thing going onhere, Nico needs to watch himself, because his boss has chosen a side.
‘Sure,’ Nico soothes. ‘I just want to see the greenhouse.’ He and Marguerite share a look, and I don’t miss the moment he flicks his gaze at me. He might not be willing to fight her on Hunter, but it’s not hard to convince her I need watching.
And so we head to the greenhouse. I’m in front, and Hunter falls easily into step with me. Nico follows us, in quiet conversation with Grace, both of them with their hands on their weapons as soon as we’re out of Marguerite’s sight.
I thought it couldn’t get quieter around here, but now that the fans are gone – shut down as part of our energy-saving efforts – we’re in a sort of muffled silence that feels like exactly what it is: the station dying.
I glance sidelong at Hunter. Now that he has his back to Nico and Grace, he looks incredibly strained – not at all like a guy who just found out he’s still in charge of this situation. His hair’s unkempt, as though he’s been dragging his fingers through it, curls all out of place. His lips are pressed into a thin line, muscles tense.
Part of me still can’t forget he’s a Graves – can’t believe I ever did.
