Chapter 7 HUNTER
HUNTER
I FOLLOW CLEO DOWN the hallway and around a corner, my breath coming too fast, sweat prickling the back of my neck.
Glancing over her shoulder, she shoves her fingertips into the seal between two sliding doors and, with a soft grunt of effort, levers them open. I slide my own hands in to help her, and together we keep them apart long enough to slip through before they close behind us.
We’re in … is this living quarters? It can’t be; it’s smaller than the room I had on the ship out from Earth. I could cross this whole space in three long strides, and there are four bunks in here.
Just like the commander’s desk, this place was abandoned on a moment’s notice. Beds are unmade, and a kid’s remote-controlled toy rover lies in the middle of the floor. And none of that matters, because we just saw a bunch of criminals take over the station. Why am I looking at toys?
‘What the hell?’ I whisper. ‘What the hell? Who are those people?’
Cleo shakes her head, leaning back against the closed doors like she wants to block them with her body. She’s rattled, lips parting as she reaches for words – then she presses them tightly together again and shakes her head once more.
She’s an engineering student. This must be so, so far from her world. I mean, it’s not like I hang around with criminals all day – or at least, people keep it to white-collar crime in my circles – but the idea of a threat isn’t new to me.
I should try to comfort her so she doesn’t shut down – it’ll be even harder to get us out of this if she freaks out. But what can I say that won’t sound like I’m delusional? It’s definitely not going to be okay.
Still, I came out here to show my mother that I could do this – that I could lead.
‘Okay.’ I’m surprised how steady my voice sounds. ‘The first thing is to try and let someone know we’re alive in here. Carefully, in case our new friends are monitoring comms.’ I spin around to find the inhabitants’ personal console, set into the wall. ‘Can you hot-wire this one too?’
‘Probably easier than out there,’ Cleo says, crossing over to inspect it.
‘Lower security.’ She takes her gloves from me and shoves them into her belt, hesitates, then unseals her helmet and sets it down beside her.
Then she starts to unzip her suit. ‘Safe to do this, I guess, if they’ve taken theirs off.
’ Her voice is warmer, richer, now it’s not being piped through the helmet’s external mic.
She peels the suit down to her waist and ties the sleeves there, like I’ve done.
She’s wearing a gray tank beneath it, and her arms are covered in tattoos.
Flowers and vines curl up from her wrists, twining around each other in vivid greens and purples.
There are freckles across her pale shoulders, covering her skin like the sweep of the Milky Way.
She’s been outside in the sun, and over the long term too.
So from a lower-class background, then. I wonder how the hell she got to Mars.
She produces a tool from a pocket at her hip and jams it into one of the outlets, biting her lower lip in concentration as she carefully pries it open.
Engineering is physical work, I guess – she’s lean and strong, and I catch myself studying her face, where her red hair’s escaping the knot at the back of her neck to curl around her cheekbones.
Hunter, no. Absolutely not. For a start, this is a life-threatening situation, and she’s probably terrified and counting on you to—
‘Okay, got it,’ she says, straightening, and I realize the display’s lit up. ‘Your turn.’
‘Hey, look at us,’ I manage, snapping back to reality. ‘Already a team.’
Cleo fixes me with a look and pretends to wave a cheerleader’s pom-poms in the air. Attitude is better than fear, though, so I let her have it.
I haul over a crate to use as a chair and link my cuff to the console, then trigger the virtual keyboard commands. Some things are easier to do the old-fashioned way, and I want to tiptoe very carefully through the electronic landscape just now.
Cleo watches me for a moment, then, apparently satisfied I’m doing what I’m supposed to, she turns away. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her quietly turning the place over, going through piles of possessions with a quick efficiency.
I speak softly, partly to distract myself from the bunch of potential murderers a few rooms over, and partly to distract her. ‘Looks like a family lives here, I guess. Did you come out here with yours?’
‘No, I’m on my own,’ she replies, just as quiet, in a tone that doesn’t invite a follow-up question. ‘Your mother’s at your family compound, though, isn’t she? I saw her on the news. And your sister?’
‘Sure are,’ I agree. ‘Unfortunately, they have no idea I’m here.’ And if they did, my sister at least would laugh herself sick. My mother would fold her arms and wait for me to prove myself.
‘What, they think you’re still up on Orbital?’ Cleo asks, peering inside a storage box.
I hesitate, but now isn’t the time to get into a conversation about the fact that my remaining family thinks I’m still on Earth. And anyway, why would I explain that to a girl I don’t even know?
‘I didn’t get logged in here before the alarm went off,’ I say, which is true, if incomplete.
She snorts softly and shakes her head, moving on. ‘I found some protein bars. I’ll start a stash. If I get really lucky, I might even find you a shirt.’
I look down and blink. ‘Huh. I think I left it on the bridge. That was a limited-edition Mirrorball Scoundrel shirt, too. Did you hear their new album?’
She makes a noise I can’t interpret, but that I think might be disapproval.
We both fall silent as I work, my fingers flying over a keyboard made of light, carefully navigating my way through the station’s menus.
Walking through them is like walking in my grandfather’s footsteps – thirty-one years ago, he sat only a few hours away from here by rover, wrestling with these same menus inside a small domed encampment.
The first man on Mars – the genius who gave us the red star.
This planet is his resting place. It won’t be mine.
‘So,’ I say eventually, trying and failing to fight off a sinking feeling. ‘You want the bad news, or the worse news?’
Cleo sighs and sits on the edge of one of the bunks. ‘Warm me up slowly. Give me the bad first.’
I swallow. ‘I’m trying to get a message out to GravesUP, or any of the neighboring compounds.
I know the West African Union, Ares Tech and FreyaCo aren’t far from here.
Our new friends have the system ring-fenced, though – nothing’s getting out, and if I try to brute-force it, they’ll definitely know. ’
‘Would you know how to do it, if it came down to it?’ Cleo asks.
‘I could, but they’d be able to trace it right to the terminal. They’d find us before help could possibly arrive.’
‘So we can’t tell anyone we’re here, or ask for help,’ she says, voice muffled as she scrubs at her face. ‘What’s the worse news?’
‘There is one message getting out. The station actually is broadcasting on the emergency channel. It’s saying the venting procedure is now complete, which means—’
‘That even when your people do work out you’re here, they’re going to think you’re dead.’
‘Right. And nobody’s going to show up here until the station tells them it’s done repressurizing. Why would they risk it, when I’m a corpse? No need to rush in for a dead guy.’
That’s assuming Nathan even thinks to tell someone I’m here. And why would he? As far as he knows, I was registered upon arrival. Will the woman who didn’t check me in say something? Probably not – she took me right to the evac garages. She’ll assume I got away.
God, what a cluster.
Cleo peels her hands away from her face. ‘Okay, so our best bet is, what? Hole up and hide, and hope they leave at the end of their countdown?’ She doesn’t sound optimistic. ‘Keep our pressure suits near?’
‘I just wish we knew what they want,’ I mutter, turning back to the screen, letting the enviro displays scroll idly by. ‘Are they trying to claim the territory because the base is abandoned? Maybe yes – they don’t know you’re here. Or maybe no – they got here pretty fast to be jumping on a chance.’
‘Unless they created the chance,’ she points out. ‘But would anyone really make that kind of move on the United Nations?’
I shake my head slowly. ‘Graves sure wouldn’t,’ I say. And I can tell that sheltered though she might be, even Cleo reads the subtext: If we wouldn’t do it, then nobody would. ‘Maybe it’s some sort of Mars For All protest?’
‘What, against the UN?’ She shakes her head. ‘They’re the only ones who’ve even hinted Mars shouldn’t be more exclusive than a country club. Why would a protest group take on their only allies?’
‘Simplistic, but I see your point.’
‘What, then?’ she murmurs. ‘Seven hours and fifteen minutes until what?’
‘I might be able to figure that out, if I can see what they’re doing with the commander’s compstation.’
Cleo lets out a slow breath. ‘I think we should find a safer base, first. We’re still not that far from them, and depending on how closely they’re looking, they might notice these living quarters are drawing more power than they should.’
‘Hey, look at you, thinking like our criminal friends.’ I try for a tease, but it doesn’t land – she flushes, her pale skin reddening, like I hit a nerve. ‘I’m sorry.’ What’s going on, am I stumbling over my words right now? ‘I didn’t mean—’
‘No, of course, you’re fine.’ She cuts me off firmly.
‘I think we should head to the facilities wing. The hydrogen plant, the oxygenators, the greenhouse, the fish farms, they’re all grouped together.
They’d have to be drawing a lot of power, if they’re still running, so nobody will notice whatever we use.
And there are plenty of places to hide.’
‘Then let’s do it,’ I agree. ‘Carefully.’