Chapter 17 CLEO
CLEO
I WATCH HUNTER’S FINGERS fly over the keyboard, studying his hands as he lifts one to swipe away a display, grab a cookie, take a bite, get back to work.
There’s an ease to the way he does it – I can believe his family created these systems. He doesn’t even seem to think about what he’s doing.
It’s as natural as breathing to him because he grew up with this code as his playground.
His family’s DNA is in this stuff, and when he walks through it, he’s at home.
‘We need someone isolated,’ he says, eyes on the screen.
‘If we’re going to force a rover out of them, this is the time.
There are three of them left at large – the two who stalked us through the movie theater, and the Pirate.
This is our best chance that one of them will end up on their own – to look for someone missing, or to help someone.
Once they start solving problems, the odds will be against us again. ’
I need our one to be the Pirate, or the woman who was with Sabrina in the cinema – because if it’s Sabrina herself, she’ll recognize me, and say my name, and then everything about who I am will start to unravel.
I’m by the tomato vines, picking the ripe ones as I scan the channels on my headset, waiting to see when the music in my ear is going to switch off. I’m deeply regretting Hunter’s choice of music, because I am never, ever going to stop singing this song. Curse you, Victoriana Lu.
I bite down on another tomato, and look up to see that Hunter has paused his work and is watching me.
I shouldn’t do this. It’s such a bad idea. But even as I’m thinking that, I run my tongue over my upper lip, catching a stray drop of juice.
Hunter stares a beat too long before he remembers how to blink and goes back to work.
As he comes undone, Hunter Graves looks better and better – his ridiculous stolen T-shirt and his easy grin make me forget he’s a billionaire.
He’s just Hunter, the guy who keeps sneaking cookies from the backpack, who tries to make me laugh when the tension threatens to overwhelm me. Who can tell when I need that.
Come on, Cleo. What are you doing? This is a guy you still might have to trade for your freedom. But the truth is, the longer this goes, the harder I’m finding it to imagine doing that.
Still, I can’t forget that after this is over – if we make it through – we’ll belong in two different worlds again.
For now, I lean back against the vines, allowing myself a moment to enjoy the view while he’s concentrating.
And that’s when the music stops. Shit.
I’m drawing breath to warn Hunter when a voice sounds in my ear, and my whole body locks in place.
Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Now this is a pleasant surprise.
It’s Sabrina. My throat tightens, and I can’t even make myself breathe. My gaze snaps to Hunter, but he’s lost in his work again, trusting me to listen on the headset. What do I do?
The question’s barely formed in my mind when I start moving. It’s not even a choice. I just find myself clearing my throat, waiting until Hunter’s gaze flicks my way. ‘I’m going to hit the restroom,’ I say, my voice perfectly calm, perfectly even.
‘I’ll try not to finish all the cookies while you’re gone,’ he replies. ‘No promises.’
I turn away, walking along the trellis of tomato plants, reaching out to trail my fingertips along their green leaves. I walk across the little footbridge that crosses the fishpond, the ghostly silver tilapia swirling past beneath me with flicks of their fanlike tails.
Sabrina’s still talking in my ear. You came a long way to see me, babe. I didn’t know we were that close, but I’m here for it.
I have to say something, but my throat’s so dry.
I slip through the door to the tiny restroom and let it close behind me.
Then I pull in a slow, deep breath, letting my lungs fill, my ribs expand.
I center myself and wait until I know my voice will sound calm.
And then I flick the transmit button and answer her.
‘I didn’t think you’d recognize me,’ I say, playing for time.
I caught your face for a second there before you snipped the wires on the cafeteria feed, Sabrina replies. Took me a moment to place you, but sure I remember you. You were the one who got away.
‘Want me to apologize for ruining your perfect record?’ I shoot back.
She laughs. Hey, you know it was never personal. Anyway, you still have your kneecaps, and nobody from Gramercy is here. What the hell are you doing here?
‘Here at Pax, or here on Mars?’
Both. Either.
‘Same answer, really,’ I reply, making my hands into fists, watching my knuckles turn white, channeling my tension there, so it doesn’t sound in my voice. ‘Decided to treat myself to a vacation. You know how it is.’
Oh, you know I do.
This is the moment. If I’m going to tell her who I’m with, if I’m going to talk about a deal, I have to at least hint at it. Show her the door’s open. It’s the smart thing to do. There are still three of them out there, they’re armed, and we’re on a clock – less than four hours left.
It’s not time to make a deal yet, but it’s time to give her a glimpse, show her I don’t hate the idea.
‘What about you?’ I make myself say. ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’
There’s a pause as she considers what to tell me, and then she offers her reply. We’re here for the registers. There are a whole lot of people on a list, folks who hitched up. Our job is to enter them in, make them legal.
My heart stutters and nearly stops. What? What? Hunter did say they were looking at the registers. Could Sabrina be telling the truth? Holy shit, could the bad guys be the good guys?
You there, babe? Sabrina asks, when I don’t reply.
‘I’m here,’ I reply, trying not to stammer.
I’m thinking maybe we should talk about a situation where we stop shooting at you, you help us get our guys out of here?
I can vouch for you. I knew you before, and I saw firsthand that you were smart.
The boss won’t hold a grudge. We could even add your name to the register, if you’d like the vacation to last forever.
I’m still scrambling for a coherent thought. Could this be real?
‘Why?’ I manage. ‘Why would you take a job like that?’
Sabrina laughs. What, you don’t think I’m an idealist who wants Mars for everyone? Some of the others are, actually. But we’re all being paid.
‘By who?’ I ask. ‘The hitchers you’re doctoring the registers for are dead broke, or they wouldn’t be hitching.
’ I lean against the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.
Brown eyes stare back at me, faint freckles standing out against skin that’s gone pale with stress and exhaustion.
My red hair hangs lank around my face, dull and gross after so much sweat, so many frantic action sequences.
True, not being paid by hitchers, Sabrina agrees.
Or not in cash. But some of them have valuable skills, and various corporations want them on payroll.
Can’t do that, unless they’re on the register.
Who else are you here with, babe? If they’re as sweet as you, we can talk about getting them on the list.
Oh, of course. She thinks there are more of us. The Martian probably reported in on the plates of staged leftovers he found in the cafeteria, before he ate his apricot and knocked himself out.
And suddenly there’s bile in the back of my throat.
Because there’s only one other person with me, and he’s not like me – or Sabrina – at all.
I’m pretty sure Hunter would rather die here than do a deal with these people who are here to help hitchers – and I doubt they’d do a deal with him at all, not when they could sell him to the highest bidder.
Cleo, I’d much rather you were my teammate than my prisoner, Sabrina says, coaxing. You know I don’t hurt people for fun, girl. I showed you that back on Earth, in that club. It’s all business, so let’s find a way to make sure it isn’t my business to do anything we both regret.
I so badly want to believe her – to believe there’s a way I can convince her to stop hunting me. I know she’s not like some of the other bounty hunters and debt collectors back on Earth. She didn’t hunt for fun. Which means that if there’s not a business case for hurting me now, she won’t.
Girl, Sabrina says, you don’t want to be left behind, trust me.
This place won’t be in good shape after we leave.
It’s going to look like an explosive systems failure, because that way nobody’s ever going to say, ‘Huh, I wonder if anybody snuck in and hacked the registers before this disaster caused by poor maintenance.’
We’re halfway through our eight hours.
It’s time to make a move.
Why don’t you give me something, for now, Sabrina suggests. Let’s keep the conversation going. We found the situation with the expanding foam in engineering, but another one of our guys is completely missing. Can you tell me about that?
I breathe out slowly, trying to stop my body from trembling. What do I do? Do I stick with Hunter? He said he’d help me get settled anywhere on Mars, but that offer will disappear once he finds out who I am.
Won’t it?
Or I could side with Sabrina. I wouldn’t have to rely on him. My life could change. I could get my name on the register. I could get real work, find a real place to settle. I could get a new name on the register.
I could stop running.
‘Your missing guy isn’t dead,’ I hear myself say. ‘He’s just somewhere safe for now.’
I mean, they’ll figure that out anyway, now they’ve managed to unblock the radio channels. I’m barely even giving anything away.
Right?
I tear my gaze away from the scared girl in the mirror, and stumble out of the restroom. When I push open the door to the greenhouse a crack, I see Hunter there, still leaning over his console.
The light of the sunlamps plays over his features, and as I watch, he runs a hand through his dark, tousled hair, leaving it messier than before. He’s watching something intently on the screen, grinning like a giant dork.
He’s nothing like I thought he’d be.
I like him. I want to trust him.
If I open the door between me and Sabrina, I close the door between me and Hunter forever. But I’m not dumb enough to care about that, not when the life I’ve always wanted is on offer.
… Am I?