Page 91 of Evan and the Alpha

We dart—well, Min darts, I waddle—around a corner, into the next corridor. Ge-Ro just barely slides his tail around the corner. I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, there’s Scott with one of the low-ranking guards down here. I grit my teeth, then look at the other two. I nod when Min jerks her head to the left, indicating we should move further down the corridor.

“I don’t understand,” the guard is saying, their voice growing quieter as we steal away down the hall. Whoever decided even the brig should be carpeted was not that bright, because it muffles our footsteps, enough that we’re able to get back to the gate and slip out before Scott or anyone else clues in. Min uses her access code—probably a bad move—to get out.

And then we’re making our way as quick as we can to the launch bay. Us versus getting off this damn ship, round two, I guess.

Whoever designed these things—I don’t know if they were a genius or really dim. I mean, it kinda makes sense that the brig is near the launch bay? Prison transports and prisoner exchange doesn’t need to go very far into the ship, and if you ever needed to, I don’t know, punt someone out of the airlock, it’s basically right there.

But that also seems like a security risk for when you’ve got smart prisoners who manage a jailbreak. What about a mutiny? All your crew members are going straight out the airlock.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter to me right now—it’s sure working in our favor that we can make a beeline between the brig and the launch bay. And it works in our favor that the launch bay is basically deserted, because the ship is coming down anyway. Nobody’s expecting to launch, even if the escape pods are at the ready.

Min doesn’t waste any time screwing around. She picks the first available ship and starts prepping it for launch.

Of course, she’s still using her credentials—nobody thought to suspend them, I guess—so it doesn’t exactly take long for Scott to figure out where we are. Nor does it take him long to jog over from the brig.

I’m kind of hoping he just looks a bit flushed from the run, but I know he’s pissed. “Min!” he barks. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Her only response is to give him a frantic look, then start punching in codes faster. The doors on the shuttle sigh open. “Go,” she orders Ge-Ro and me. Then she pulls a fucking gun on Scott, and I wonder where the hell she was packing that, why nobody took it off her when they tossed us in the brig, and why she didn’t use it earlier.

“Stand back,” she barks at Scott.

He’s got one hand in the air and the other on his belt. Min tilts her head. “Hands up. Both of them.”

He grimaces. “Now!” she commands. “I might be a doctor, but I also know where to hit you to kill you instantly or leave you a vegetable, Scott. And you know that I was the best shot in our class.”

Scott heaves a long-suffering sigh, but his other hand drifts up. “Min, what are you doing?” A pinched look comes over Scott’s face. “You damaged that thruster, didn’t you? Mary said you three were the only ones down here, looking to get off the ship—almost like you knew it happened.”

Min glares at him. “I don’t need to tell you anything, Scott.”

“Min, please. You’ve damaged a fleet ship, broken out of jail, and now you’re trying to escape with these two.”

Min presses her lips together. She doesn’t shake, but she doesn’t lower the gun either. “You and I both know why they want Evan brought back to command,” she says firmly. “You know exactly what they’re going to do.”

Scott shakes his head. “Don’t lie!” Min barks. “You saw what they did to Kippah! I’m not going to be part of that, Scott—not ever again.”

She grits her teeth. Scott gives her an imploring look. Min shakes her head furiously. “Your own brother!” she screams. “You’re going to let them dissect your own brother!”

“Min!” Scott barks, and she fires. Scott dances back a step. Min fires another shot, then jams a button on the console and dodges into the shuttle with us. The hatches sigh shut, even as Scott fires a round into the side of the craft.

Alarms blare; the bay doors begin to slide open. Scott hustles back behind the airlock, looking on in fury and frustration.

Min’s fingers are a blur of typing. She reaches up and flicks a bunch of switches, then taps the touch screen and revs theengines to full throttle. “Hold on,” she says, just before Ge-Ro and I are both slammed back in our seats as we blast out of the launch bay, into the bright green of Veda-3’s atmosphere.