I turn toward Max, mouth open to explain.
But he just sighs. “Oh, Claire.”
23
The shuttle trip and transfer goes smoothly and without incident. If you don’t count the thick tension in the air with me on one side of the shuttle and Diaz and her teammates on the other.
But once we—Max, Reed, the security teams—are on board the Striker-class vessel,Ares,he breaks the news. In typical Max fashion.
“You can understand their discomfort,” he says, leading me down the corridor to my quarters. Which will apparently be secured from the outside. A private bath is attached to what is normally the cabin of a higher-ranking official on whatever business this vessel is “officially” used for, but that privilege is not quite enough to make up for the loss of freedom. Even prison cells have toilets. “Their primary objective is the successful completion of this mission. They don’t want any more… surprises.”
As it turns out, Max’s version of me focusing on me—as he suggested earlier—involves “securing” me in my room. For the entire journey that it’ll take us to reach theAurora,meals included. I don’t know if this was part of Max’s plan all along. I do know I didn’t help myself with Diaz.
“TheAresis much faster. Just three weeks to the outer edge of the commweb instead of a month. Perhaps less, as theAurorais still heading toward us, and we’ll be on an intercept course.” His mouth flattens unhappily at this idea. “You’ll hardly notice the time going by.”
Five hundred hours, give or take, trapped in a ten-by-ten room. I’m pretty sure I’ll notice.
I wipe my dampened palms against the jumpsuit fabric covering my legs. “Max. I don’t do well locked up.”
“You did just fine in the Tower, it seems.” He cocks his head to the side, giving me a challenging look, as if daring me to tell the truth. “Far smaller and less luxurious accommodations there.”
It’s not the size of the space that matters; it’s my inability to leave it when I need to. Not to mention, in the Tower, I was drugged out of my mind.
My fingers fidget with the zipper pocket hiding my pills from last night. “That’s different,” I say lamely.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Reed behind us. He smirks at me, but says nothing. The man in the old-fashioned black suit—Reed’s grandfather, perhaps? It would make sense with the generation pins—hovers nearby, his stern expression focused on Reed.
Max clucks at me. “Claire, the entire ship is an enclosed space. So… just imagine this as a much smaller ship. With meal-delivery service.”
I could argue. Or try to, at least. But being alone, rather than jammed in with the security teams, might be the better idea. If they’re far enough away from me on this ship, I might not even see any of them—living or dead.
He gestures for me to step ahead of him into the room. It’s a tidy space with a bed tucked against the right wall, an empty desk on the left, and shelves holding nothing but dust opposite the door. No window or even a viewscreen.
It’s obviously been Claire-proofed. Nothing to do, no way to off myself, should it come to that.
I turn to face Max. “What am I supposed to do while—”
But he’s already closing the door, waving away my words. “If you need anything, just let the guard know. Reed will be nearby to help.”
My last view of the corridor is Max’s small, smug smile, and Reed Darrow’s expression of fury and disappointment at being my designated babysitter.
Up to three weeks alone with nothing but my head and the ghosts, both literal and figurative perhaps, therein.
I can’t do this. My fingers go to the pocket of my jumpsuit. I could just take the pills.
No. I need my head clear when we arrive at theAurora. Three weeks from now.
I cross to the far wall, twelve steps. The bookshelf is as empty as it first appeared. When I check the sleek built-in desk, the tidy compartments are equally as vacant as the shelves. Not so much as a label to read.
I pace toward the door and the bed, and then back again. The room grows smaller—and somehow warmer—with every step. There’s nowhere to go. Nothing to do. I’m going to go crazy here. Crazier. And we haven’t even left Earth’s orbit. Why the hell would Max do this to me?
Agitation grows in me until I feel the angry fizz of it in my blood, like my skin might suddenly burst outward from the pressure of it.
Kane appears in the center of the bed, standing. His legs end abruptly at the mattress.
I freeze.
He gestures for me to come closer, with that wide-eyed look of barely restrained panic. His mouth is moving but no sound comes out, as always.
