“All right,” I say. “Leave tonight—and get back here as fast as you can.”
30
129,600 SECONDS
MY ENTIRE WORLD collapsed in a split second when it was my mother’s time to pass. A split second seemed like nothing, no time at all, until the one when everything changed.
Eighteen hours toNautilus, eighteen hours back: thirty-six hours is more than enough time for the station to implode. What will this world be like when Heath and Zesi return? And what will it be like if theydon’t?
We tried three times to get in touch withNautilus—three times, with no answer. Zesi feels confident he could find a way to radio in once they’re within short range of the station, that he could tap into their internal channels straight from the bee. Our internals still work, so the hope is that theirs do, too.
I hope he’s right. Even if he isn’t, we all agree that it still seems worth it totry.
Leo and I accompany Heath and Zesi to the hangar so we can see them off. In all my years, I’ve only been down here a handful of times. The runway spans the entire bottom deck, with openings on each end for easy entry and exit. On the far side of therunway, three bees are docked, two in pristine condition beside a broken-winged third. We’re also equipped with two firebirds, but they’re not as fast or nimble as the bees. Our side of the runway is lined with viewing windows—we’re behind them, in an airlocked chamber. All the flight suits are here, eight in total, as if we were meant to have a robust team of pilots. Was it my mother’s call to keep the flight team all but nonexistent? Why weren’t more allowed to train?
Heath pulls me aside before he suits up. His eyes are bright, sparkling with excitement. Behind the excitement, though, is a hint of reluctance. “So, uh, Linds?” His cheeks turn pink as he runs a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to say, if anything happens... to us... out there... don’t blame yourself, okay?”
My heart picks up; he knows me well. His admission that there is reason to worry—that if something goes wrong, he and Zesi go with it—
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, even though we both know I’m only saying it because he’s right: I’m absolutely going to blame myself if something happens. I’d never forgive myself, either. I’m the acting commander, and this is my call. I could make them stay home. We could continue to take our chances with our current store of supplies—but what if Natalin’s right? What if the rest of the station goes hungry? What if the only way to stretch our food, our water, is for more of our people to succumb to the mutation so there are fewer of us to feed?
How horrible, to hope enough die so that others can live. Tohope someone not-Heath, not-Zesi, dies instead. To keep them home out of fear, out of selfishness disguised as love.
I would never be able to live with myself if I made a call like that.
“We’ve got this,” Heath says. “Success is our only option, right?”
I grin. “Sounds about right.”
Before I even know what’s happening, he’s wrapped an arm around me—pulled me close—pressed his lips to mine. It’s a hungry kiss, part goodbye and partI’m winning the universe foryou, Lindley. I don’t know what to do, I don’t—
I break it off.
Leo’s watching.
Heath’s expression—I can’t bear to see it right now. I know this must feel like a door slammed in his face after what happened earlier at my place, and it’s no way to start a mission. It’s just that I’m still wrapping my mind around our last kiss, our last kissin private, and whether it was Heath I should have been kissing at all.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, focus on Zesi, the one person whose eyes I’m able to meet. Clear my throat. “When will we know if you’ve been successful?” I ask.
“Whenever we get back,” Zesi says. He presses a button near the door labeledgrav force, and the entire runway takes on an electric-purple glow. “Turn gravity back off once we’re out, okay?” he says to Leo. “Too much wasted power to leave it running out there for no reason.”
They zip into their suits.
Secure their helmets.
Proceed through the airlocks, once, twice—and then they’re out on the runway, silver suits shining in the purple glow like they’re walking on a star.
The bee’s passenger pod opens. Zesi climbs into the navigator chair and straps in, but Heath slowly turns back to face us. He looks directly through the viewing windows, directly at me, though I can’t see his eyes through the reflective panel on his helmet. He holds up a hand, as if to wave.
“So,” Leo says. “You and Heath?”
I hold my hand up, return the wave. “That’s what he wants,” I say.
Heath joins Zesi in the cockpit, lowers the pod shield. Seconds later, he maneuvers the bee to the center of the runway. Careful. Precise.
“And what do you want?” Leo asks.
The bee’s floodbeams turn on, and I hear the engine spool up to a loud hum even through these thick walls. They’ll be gone soon. In less than a minute, they’ll fling themselves out into the stars, and we won’t know they’ve made it until they return.
