“Got it,” Heath says. “I’ll be there in three.”
We end the call, and Leo says, “Hangar deck?”
“Last resort,” I reply.
By the time we reach the hangar deck’s viewing room, Leo’s all caught up and I’m ready to stop talking, ready to actuallyfixthis. We’ve set aside the awkwardness of our last interaction for now, both of us more than eager to focus on the black-and-white task at hand. Heath arrives just a moment after we do, and begins suiting up immediately. I flip a switch on the motherboard, watch the electric-purple grav-force glow bloom out on the runway. In this precise moment, I have déjà vu—step for step, we are a living memory, floating on autopilot through the exact same routine we took before Heath and Zesi set off forNautilus.
So much has shifted since then, and it’s only been, what—days?
I’ve lost all sense of time.
All I know is that every minute brings something heavier than the last, and that I long for the days when our most pressing problem was a possible viral mutation.
Heath settles his helmet into place, the final piece of protection. Leo watches him, and I watch Leo: I watch as his eyes shift to study the second suit, the one Zesi wore out toNautilus.
“Think that would fit me?” Leo asks. Zesi’s a medium at most; Leo’s thick arms alone would likely make that suit a tight fit.
His words hang in the air. I hear what heisn’tsaying: he wants to go out.
With Heath.
With zero experience.
“No way,” I say at the exact same time Heath says, “More suits in the closet.”
I shoot Heath a look.
“What?” he says, his voice electronic and thin through the helmet’s vocalization processing unit.
“No way is he going out with you, is what I meant.”
“It’s not a three-person job in here,” Leo says. “I can run comms like Zesi did when they went out, let Heath focus on the flying.”
I hate that he always has a point. Still, though. I’m not riskingbothof them. There’s very little time left to attempt putting a call through to Vonn, or one of his firebirds;sixare headed our way, and just one of them firing shots could cause damage. Flying out in peaceful surrender—having Heath settle in one spot, unmoving, with the bird’s tail side in their face so it’s obvious our weapons won’t be deployed at them—that’s the most powerful symbol I can think of to keep them from launching an all-out attack.
Whether they feel the same way is another question. This strategy is not without its risks.
I refuse to lose them both.
“You’ve never been in a bird, Leo. You don’t have that much experience with the comm systems, not like Zesi. You’ve got stitches in your dominant arm.” I tick my arguments off on my fingers. “And... the... other suits might be too tight?”
My case isn’t strong enough and we all know it.
“Suit up,” says Heath. “I’ll go prep the bird.”
The next minutes pass in slow motion.
Heath strides confidently across the glowing runway towhere our firebirds are docked. Where the runway cuts off at each of its faraway ends, there are no walls, no windows—it’s nothing but wide-open space, yawning like a mouth full of glitter. I can’t even begin to count the stars.
In the closet at my back, Leo has found a suit, a perfect fit. Once he locks the helmet in place, it’s easy to forget he’s never worn one before; he looks like a natural. He looks like Heath.
“You’re sure about this?” I ask. “You’resure?”
I’ve never known life without Leo in it. As much as I’m growing to crave Heath’s presence, Leo’s is like gravity itself.
“We’ll be back, Linds,” he says with a sad smile that isn’t reassuring in the least. “Have a little hope.”
A half laugh falls out of me.Hope.
