Kane returns to me and the crate floating on its side nearby.
I owe him an apology. More than one. I open my mouth, but words won’t come out.
“You all right?” he asks, keeping his attention focused, deliberately, it seems, on the crate.
Why wouldn’t I be?The sarcastic response immediately pops to the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it a second before it escapes.
“Hoping I didn’t kill us all by deciding to do this,” I admit, surprising myself.
“You didn’t force anyone,” he reminds me.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask lightly. Even after that kiss, he would feel compelled to look after me. It’s just who he is.
“As much as I’m sure wealllove this heartwarming chat on the common comm channel,” Voller drawls in my ear, turning my face hot with embarrassment. “We’re ready up here.”
Kane flips him the finger, but his voice is calm and even. “Roger that. On our way.”
When he catches me looking at him, he shrugs. “Makes me feel better even if he can’t see it.”
A surprised laugh escapes me. “That is one stress relief measure I had not considered.”
“Can’t see what?” Voller demands.
“Not important,” I say, and it feels, for the moment, like everything is back to normal. Like everything is going to be okay.
We bring the crate of food and water with us to the bridge. Voller, Kane, and Nysus go over the lifeboat data one more time and the engine diagnostics, confirming that everything is optimal. Or as optimal as it can be.
And then there’s nothing left to check.
Nysus looks to me, and I give him the nod, feeling my heart in my throat.
“Activating Versailles Contingency,” Nysus says.
I hear the hiss of air as the environmentals kick on in high gear, rushing to fill and warm the void.
“Sealing bulkhead doors, port and starboard,” Voller adds.
It makes the most logical sense to wait here, to watch as the stars shift and move around us as we get underway.
But instead, I find myself bobbing down the portside hallway, as the gravity generator gives its activation warning, to watch the heavy bulkhead door slowly slide into place.
My hands are tingling and sweaty, and it feels harder and harder to breathe with every inch the door descends.
Get out, get out now!a voice in the back of my mind screams, over and over again. Until the space between the bottom of the door and the floor is too small to squeeze through. Then that voice falls ominously silent.
Lourdes joins me at the door, and then Kane.
The doors connect with their fittings—on this side and the starboard—with twin thuds that shake the ship and us within it.A moment later, gravity locks on and pulls us to the ground, after the three warning bobs.
“Doors are secure,” Nysus says, sounding giddy. “The Versailles Contingency is a success! Oxygen at eighteen percent and climbing. Temperature is rising, too. Negative twenty Celsius.”
“I guess that’s it then,” Kane says, as the three of us stand there, staring at the solid metal wall blocking us from death. Blocking us in, though, too.
A loud pop sounds behind me, and I jump, bracing myself out of habit with a hand along the wooden corridor panels, but the gravity is on.
When I turn to look for the source, my stomach is tight with dread and I half expect to see that rivets are bursting free and we’re venting atmosphere.
Instead I find Voller, his helmet off in utter defiance of protocol, holding a green glass bottle that’s foaming over the top.
