Page 55 of Surface Pressure

But Autumn.

What was she going to do about Autumn?

17

The feeling of unease weighed heavy on Autumn’s shoulders as she pulled her combat jacket on. She had never cared much about mission days. They were just another day in the service as far as she had always seen it.

But this mission had changed.

Changed her sense of freedom and escape.

Changed her.

She pulled her boots on, tugging on the laces until they were too tight. With a grunt of frustration, she yanked them back off and tried again. It was like she was back to cadet status and so nervous she couldn’t do anything right.

Why was she doing this?

It wasn’t like she ever really gave a shit about the missions. When she had been accepted into the water collections troop, she had barely registered what she’d be doing. All that had mattered was her escape from the hell and the devils she already knew.

And for years it had worked.

For years she had survived.

The absence of those who at least knew more than her name had taken a while to adjust to. At times, she had even craved friendship. But that had never lasted long. She was always better off on her own.

But not even the loneliness had made her regret her decision to sign up.

Not until she had learned what it meant to truly be close to someone. To let someone into her mind. Quite literally. Not until someone had trusted her, believed her, cared for her.

She chuckled wildly, the laugh bubbling up in her chest like a madwoman.

Since she had begged Soulara to read her mind to see the truth of her words, she had vacillated between amusement and terror. Who knew that kind of magic existed? It could be so dangerous for anyone who held it.

The war on telepaths wasn’t that long ago.

Autumn stood and took in her reflection. The image staring back looked exactly as it always did. A grim line to her lips and a squaring of her shoulders. Empty eyes. Always empty. Did they look the same when Soulara stared into them?

“Walton.” General Chalmers stood at the threshold of her dorm.

“Yes, sir.” She turned from her reflection to salute him, putting on the mask she’d chosen to wear for years.

“Everything ready for your mission?”

“Almost, sir,” she spoke the words clipped and precise, just as she had been taught. “Just need to collect rations from the mess hall and check in with Marshall.”

“Very good.”

“Sir?” she asked, not daring to meet his eyes as she wondered what she was doing. This was braver than she’d even been, even with Soulara the other night.

“Walton?” His voice was cautious, but he gave a small nod.

“I was wondering why we need so much water from each planet?” She tightened the muscles in her neck and shoulders, hoping her question would give an answer but didn’t feel like prying.

“We need to save our people.” The incredulity in his tone mixed with something she didn’t like the sound of. It sent bugs crawling all over her skin in response, and she hated it.

She had experienced the sensation of real live insects only once. It had been in a controlled setting, a reward for a good mission. They had crept over her skin, brushing the hair on her arms and making her itch.

That same sensation raced up her spine now.

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