Page 48 of Into Orbit
The screen followed the two Pods’ journey back to the ship, blacking out as the first craft began to dock.
Adair stood, stretching slightly. He tapped his wrist screen. ‘Further orders, Captain?’
‘Stand by. The Darnagh aren’t returning comms. I don’t like this one bit.’
My lips twisted. ‘They could be desperate for the ice, and starting the filtration and treatment as we speak. It will take hours, after all. Best to start now. They may not have comms from their utility rooms.’
Adair frowned. ‘You think they might have said thank you.’
I fidgeted.
‘Looks like it’s all right now,’ Maeve said soothingly, taking my hand. ‘Do you want to go back to the Forest?’
I could feel it calling to me, feel the heartree’s worry, an echo of my own. The Forest was picking up on the mood of the ship, and it wasn’t happy. I gave Maeve a forced smile. ‘Let’s go back to the Forest.’
She studied my face. ‘Do you want Ashton?’ she said bluntly.
‘I’m sure he has other things to do.’
Maeve glanced at Adair. ‘Call the First Guard.’
He scowled. ‘I don’t –’
‘The Hamadryad is anxious,’ Maeve said, cutting him off, ‘which means theForestis anxious. Call Ashton.Now.’ She tugged on my hand. ‘Tell him to meet us under the heartree.’
‘Aye,’ Adair muttered sarcastically.
Maeve stared him down. ‘If you were better at your job, it might beyouthe Hamadryad wanted when she felt unsafe. But it isn’t, because you’re not. Instead of being a dick, how about you try to be a better guard?’
Adair flushed green. He opened his mouth, evidently thought better of it, and tapped on his wrist screen. ‘First Guard, your presence is requested in the Forest,’ he said instead.
Maeve gave a curt nod. ‘There you go.’ She pulled me off the viewing podium and back down the corridor.
I bit back a smile, but didn’t tell her that Ashton wasn’t the only one who made me feel safe.
Itappedonmyscreen, stopping the decontamination spore shower. ‘You’re done,’ I said, glancing at the security feed to make sure the guards hadn’t reacted adversely. It was extremely uncommon, but because the decontamination spores were a higher strength than those we used in the personal showers, there was always a chance for rashes or, on a handful of memorable occasions, fainting. The fainting generally didn’t have anything to do with the spores, but was more often due to guards or pilots returning exhausted or injured, so I had to stay vigilant.
Sage and Ewan hadn’t spoken about their trip to the small, dusty moon, but I hadn’t expected them to. They answered my questions about their wellbeing swiftly, Ewan flashing an apologetic smile. The decontamination was a formality – albeit an important one – and they were eager to get to the Captain to debrief.
The guards pulled on their clean casuals and moved out with thanks. I gathered up their suits, keeping the helmets in a separate bag, then ran the cubicle spore cleanse to make sure the tiny rooms were ready for the second pair of guards.
I opened the sliding glass door. ‘Come in,’ I called, dumping the clothing and helmets in a woven basket; I’d deal with them later.
Rosa and Bough stepped through the door together, still wearing their helmets.
‘Well done on your mission,’ I said. ‘You know the drill.’ I gestured to the cubicles. ‘Pick whichever you’d like.’ I moved to the central screen, tapping to check the spore sequence. ‘Any injuries to report?’
Neither of them answered.
I frowned into the silence, watching my brow furrow on the screen. I didn’t know either of them well, but I’d helped deliver Rosa’s daughter, and she was usually warm, albeit quiet. ‘I know you’re saving the debrief for the Captain, but I need to know whether –’
Something pressed to the side of my face. In the screen’s reflection, a green-gloved hand held a silver object to my temple.
‘Are you a doctor?’ a deep voice said.
I froze.
The silver thing – a gun, I knew – pressed harder.It will bruise, I thought stupidly.Ash will be angry. He hated seeing me hurt, which was why he refused to watch me when I had to spar during routine assessments. He poured over my every scratch, my every slight and meaningless injury, regardless of the fact it would be gone in a matter of hours, if not minutes.
