There was no need for me to bother, though – she’s not paying any attention to me.
‘I was just using the emergency channel. I couldn’t get the commander’s station to power up without her handprint,’ I call out, about two seconds before she hefts the Disney snow globe in one hand and then uses the edge of its base to smash open the casing around the display monitor.
Then, as I watch open-mouthed, she pulls off her gloves and flexes her fingers. Next she yanks out two wires and … hot-wires the station? The screen flickers to life, flickers again, and then I’m staring at the commander’s welcome screen.
‘How did …?’
She looks up, guarded. ‘I’m an engineering student. Any chance we can access the shutdown controls from here? The commander didn’t stop to log out before she left, so we have her authority, but I don’t know where to start looking. Why aren’t you getting your suit on?’
I’ve only got the suit up waist-high – it really is too small, and the second I get my arms into it, I don’t think I’m even going to be able to bend them. So I tie the arms around my waist for now as I jog over to join her. ‘I know my way around the system.’
‘You know how to impersonate the Pax Station commander?’ She sounds skeptical. ‘Are you sure? Should I put my gloves back on and seal my suit before you try this?’
‘This system wasn’t built for Pax – it’s a mod of the GravesUP systems. Ours was the first compound on Mars. Everyone uses a version of our software. Why reinvent it when you can’t do any better?’ I glance sideways at her, and she still doesn’t look convinced. ‘I’m Hunter Graves,’ I add.
She rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, I caught that when you were squawking over the PA system.’ To underline the point, she flails her arms around in what I assume is an unflattering impression of me during that broadcast.
Huh. Mocking isn’t usually how this goes. Usually, there’s a fairly predictable response, and though I don’t enjoy it, I’m used to it. First the eyes widen slightly, then the lips part as if the person meeting me has seen the kind of dessert that makes you want to eat it all and lick the spoon. Meanwhile, their internal algorithms start to run frantically as they try to figure out how they can make the most of being this close to the actual Hunter Graves.
Not this girl, though. Then again, she’s an engineering student on a crappy station. I’m guessing schmoozing isn’t her thing.
So I flip her off, which at least stops the Muppet impression she’s doing, and we turn to study the opening screen shoulder to shoulder, the smooth fabric of her suit pressing against my arm.
‘Do you have a name?’ I try.
‘Cleo,’ she replies, leaning in to stare at the screen. ‘So can you navigate this?’
‘The menus look pretty similar. One way to find out.’
I tap the slender cuff at my wrist to bring it to life, and swipe one hand toward the commander’s station, telling it to find a way in and connect. In the time it takes me to draw a breath, it does.
Quickly I lift a hand, throwing a larger version of the screen up in front of us, bright lines projected into the air. I use both my hands to split it into two, and swipe through, running twosearches at once. Text and images go flying past, offering me access to all the different corners of the station. I glide through them, not letting my mind hitch on any one thing, instead absorbing the flow, letting it wash over me.
I’ve been doing this since I was a kid – this kind of system is the earliest playground I remember – and there’s something almost relaxing about sinking into it. I know what I’m doing here. I’m in control.
I plunge deeper to find comms and life support – not out in the open where they’d be easy to mess with – and suddenly I find the process menus I’m looking for.
And that’s when I screech to a halt. And I blink. And then I grab at the virtual screen with both hands to zoom in on the section I want, fumbling as I try to move too quickly.
‘What did you find?’ Cleo smacks me in the bicep to get my attention.
‘It’s … this can’t be right.’
‘What can’t?’
I reload the displays, as though they’ll say something new this time.
‘Hunter.’ Cleo’s voice is a warning. ‘It would be such a pity if I had to kill you, after finding a suit to save you with and all.’
I give my head a shake. ‘The system is broadcasting all the emergency evacuation messages it’s supposed to. It’s running the alarms, making the announcements.’
‘We know this,’ Cleo points out.
‘But Cleo, there’s no prep underway toactually vent the station. It should be equalizing air pressure, it should—’
Cleo breaks in before I get too far down the list. ‘Are you saying it’s making the noise, but not doing the thing?’
I frown. ‘Sure looks that way.’
