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"Hi, Connor."
Startled, he looks up quickly and slams his book closed. When he realizes who it is, he relaxes. "Hi, Risa." By the time she sits down beside him, he's smiling, and doesn't seem quite so tired. She's glad she can have that kind of effect on him.
"You're up early."
"No, I'm up late," he says. "I couldn't sleep, so I came here. He glances out one of the little round windows. "Is it morning already?"
"Just about. What are you reading?"
He tries to push it out of view, but it's too late for that. He has two books out. The bottom volume is a book on engineering. That's no surprise, considering the interest he's taken in the way things work. It's the book on top—the one his nose was in when she arrived—that catches her by surprise, almost making her laugh.
"Criminology for Morons?"
"Yeah, well, everyone needs a hobby."
She tries to take a long look into him, but he looks away. "There's something wrong, isn't there?" she asks. "I don't need to read Connor for Morons to know that you're in some kind of trouble."
He looks everywhere but into her eyes. "It isn't trouble. At least not for me. Or maybe it is in some ways, I don't know."
"Want to talk about it?"
"That," says Connor, "is the last thing I want to do." He takes a deep breath and shifts in his chair. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."
"You don't sound too sure."
He looks at Risa, then looks at the hatch, making sure they're still alone. Then he leans in close to her and says, "Now that the Goldens are ... no longer around, the Admiral's going to be looking for replacements. I want you to promise me that if he asks you to help him, you'll turn him down."
"The Admiral doesn't even know I exist. Why would he ask me for anything?"
"Because he asked me," Connor says in an intense whisper. "And I think he's asked Emby, too."
"Emby?"
"All I'm saying is that I don't want you to be a target!"
"A target for what? For whom?"
"Shhh! Keep your voice down!"
She looks again at that book he was reading, trying to piece it all together, but there just aren't enough pieces. She gets close to him, forcing him to look at her. "I want to help you," she says. "I'm worried about you. Please let me help you."
He darts his eyes back and forth, trying to find an escape from her gaze, but he can't. Suddenly, he bridges the small distance between them and kisses her. She did not expect it, and when he breaks off the kiss she realizes from the look on his face that he hadn't expected it either.
"What was that for?"
It takes a moment for him to get his brain functioning again. "That," he says, "is in case something happens and I don't see you again."
"Fine," she says, and she pulls him into another kiss—this one longer than the first. When she breaks it off, she says, "That's in case I do see you again."
He leaves, awkwardly stumbling out and nearly falling down the steel steps to the ground. In spite of all that just went on between them, Risa has to smile. It's amazing that something as simple as a kiss can overpower the worst of worries.
* * *
Lev's troubles appear to be of a different nature, and Risa finds herself frightened by him. He comes to infirmary call that morning with a bad sunburn. Since he's a fast runner, he's been assigned messenger duty. Mostly, it involves running back and forth between the jets carrying notes. It's one of the Admiral's rules that all messengers wear sunscreen, but it seems Lev is no longer bound by anyone's rules.
They make small talk for a bit, but it's awkward, so she quickly gets down to business. "Well, now that your hair is longer, at least your forehead and neck seem to have been spared. Take off your shirt."
"I kept my shirt on most of the time," he says.
