The echo of the buzzer reached her faintly through the door, but no other noise followed it. No footsteps of Bruce coming across his room, no sound of the door being unlocked.
Elissa checked her watch again. He must be there. She’d chosen the time specially—training would have finished for the day, but it wasn’t quite the time when he and the other trainees would go across to the main building for dinner. If he was going home for dinner then he might have left by now, but he’d been home just the night before—no way would they give him evening leave again so soon.
She pressed the buzzer again, harder, as if the action alone would force a response.
Still nothing.
Again. Nothing. This time the echo seemed to sound in Elissa’s head, buzzing up inside her skull, making the edges of her thoughts go fuzzy. He had to be here. He was—oh God, he’s my last resort. I thought of him—and his spaceship—and was so relieved that I didn’t think about a backup plan.
Ten minutes away, in the small, sterile-clean room of another pod-motel, Lin was waiting. She’d been scared—white-faced, trembly-lipped scared—of Elissa leaving her. Elissa had had to pretty much bully her into staying where she was. I’m so much less obvious by myself, she’d said, overriding Lin’s protest. If you come with me, all you’ll do is put us both at risk. And if Bruce sees you before I’ve explained, you’ll just completely freak him out. You have to stay here. You have to.
So Lin had stayed, sitting cross-legged on one of the narrow beds, her back against the wall, fingers wound tightly in her lap. And Elissa had come without her, promising that it was the only way to get her to safety, promising that when she returned, it would be with—well, not a spaceship, but at least the promise of one.
And here she was in disguise, in horrible baggy pants and a cap with some dumb slogan on it, and Bruce couldn’t even be in his own freaking bedroom—
With a soft hush of displaced air, the door next to her slid open. “Can I help you?” said a familiar voice.
Elissa snapped her head up. In the doorway of the next-door room stood a tall, fair young man in the dark blue SFI uniform. He stepped out onto the landing as if he owned the whole building, and Elissa’s heart sank. Of all the people to run into, it had to be him. Cadan Greythorn.
“Can I help you?” he said again, and Elissa realized she’d been staring, dumb, as if someone had hit her pause button. She’d only thought of getting to Bruce; she hadn’t thought of what she’d do if she met one of his friends whom she knew, anyone who might recognize her.
She cleared her throat. “I’m, um, looking for Bruce Ivory?”
“Bruce? I’m sorry, he’s still in quarantine. He should be okay for visitors in a couple of days, but—”
“Quarantine?”
Cadan’s attention sharpened. “Damn, you didn’t know? He’s not sick, don’t worry; it’s pretty much a precaution, that’s all.”
“Precaution against what? What’s wrong with him?”
“Contact with Elloran superflu.” He leaned against the side of the door. “Turns out the girlfriend of one of the cadets lives on the quarantined shelf. He went to see her and left before the quarantine order. They tracked him down, but by then he’d been in contact with a whole class of cadets, including Bruce. They’ve had antiviral shots, and now they’ll be in quarantine for three days minimum. I can take a message if you want—” He stopped. His eyes narrowed suddenly. “Wait a moment. Elissa?”
“Shut up.” The words leapt from her mouth. “Don’t say that out loud.”
“But what the hell— What are you doing?”
She didn’t pause to think. Panic overrode her concern for Bruce, her desire to know what had happened to him. She barged past Cadan into his room, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him with her, slamming her hand up on the control panel so the door sprang shut. Then she swung around, fingers still clutching the smooth fabric of his jacket. “Don’t tell anyone. Please.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” He frowned down at her. “What are you doing? Do your parents know you’re here?”
Elissa’s heart was beating in her throat. She should never have risked coming here. On Cadan’s wrist the smooth surface of his minicommunicator gleamed blandly up at her. He could have building security here within minutes, and then the police, law enforcement agents, surgeons and staff from the facility where they’d kept Lin . . .
“It’s not like they’re saying,” she said, frantic. “Listen to me. I’m not at risk—”
Cadan’s eyebrows went up. “Who’s saying you’re at risk?”
She halted. “What?”
“No one’s saying you’re at risk. Jeez, princess, easy on the drama, huh? You weren’t in contact with the flu. It only happened this morning.”
His gaze swept down her body, then back up. He was suddenly frowning. “What’s this about, anyway? You heard what I said, right? Bruce doesn’t have a cold. He’s in quarantine for Elloran superflu. That’s serious stuff—you can’t play dress-up and think you can sneak in to see him. Do you have any idea of the health risk if it spreads?”
She stared at him, momentarily speechless, trying to make sense of his attitude. Easy on the drama? Sneaking in to see Bruce? After that citywide announcement that she was missing, that her companion could be a danger to her? After the security alert, the police chase?
Half a second later, understanding clicked into place. Cadan’s face was tight, not just with irritation but with fatigue. His uniform wasn’t quite as pressed-looking as she’d seen it before; the buttons on his cuffs were undone, and the sleeves were creased from where he’d rolled them up. And where the long evening light fell through the window and onto his face, it glinted off a roughness that was fair end-of-the-day stubble.
He’d only just gotten in from training. He’d been out all day. He hadn’t seen the alert.
If he hasn’t seen the alert, if he doesn’t know . . .
But before her brain could start picking over all the possibilities, he spoke again. And now it was mostly irritation in his face—and a touch of disapproval.
“Well? Did you think they’d make an exception for you or something?” He leaned back against the door, arms folded. “Look, I know current affairs aren’t your strongest point, but even you must know about the risks Elloran superflu poses to the population.”
“What?”
The disapproval in his face deepened. “Seriously? Jeez, Elissa, I know you’re used to getting what you want, but there are some things even your parents can’t protect you from.”
Heat rushed up into Elissa’s face. Used to getting what she wanted? He’d hardly even seen her for the last four years, and now he thought he was somehow qualified to offer assessments on her character?
She opened her mouth to tell him that, given everything that had happened to her over the last twenty-four hours, Elloran superflu—or current affairs—was the least of her worries. Then she stopped.
Bruce, with his access to a spaceship and his license to fly, wasn’t here. But Cadan was. And Cadan didn’t know anything about what had been happening.
She swallowed the explanations she’d been about to throw at him and took a long breath, willing the angry color to die out of her face.
Cadan was watching her, looking suddenly wary. “What?”
She met his eyes. “I need help,” she said.
“With getting in to see Bruce? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” The word was not an endearment. “What you need is to go back home.”
Elissa took another breath, mind racing. Telling Mr. Play-by-the-rules the truth was out of the question. He never even broke curfew, for goodness’ sake. He might deliberately crash an auto-operated flyer in a flash of adrenaline-driven determination to keep his perfect flight score, but he wasn’t going to even consider breaking the law the way she’d found herself forced to do.
“You don’t know what’s been going on,” she said, the last bit of truth she was going to give him. “I�
�m not trying to see Bruce. I didn’t even know he was in quarantine. I came to ask him to help me out with something.”
“Well, like I said, he’s not here.”
Elissa thought fast. “Look, my friend Lin—Lynette—she came over from—from Agera, to stay with her boyfriend while he was off school next week. And she just found out he’s been cheating on her, so she’s walked out of his family’s house and she has to get back home—”
“Hang on a minute.” Cadan put up a hand. “I realize this is a complete crisis and everything, and I probably should be totally upset for her . . .”
Oh. My. God. Once more, heat fizzled over Elissa’s skin. He was mimicking the way she talked. He was making fun of her.
She forgot about her careful cover story. She raised her chin and stared at him. “My friend needs a ride back to her own planet,” she said. “I said I’d go with her, and we can pay you to take us there.”
Cadan’s eyes widened, but when he spoke, his voice stayed level, as if he weren’t suddenly a hundred percent more interested. “And since when do I work in public transport?”
“You take charter passengers, don’t you? And you’re booked to pilot a goods transport flight to Mandolin?”
“Tonight. Twenty-two-hundred.” He shook his head as if to refocus. “But—no, look, Elissa, I can probably take your friend as a passenger, but I’m not taking you off-planet, not while Bruce is in quarantine. Your mother’s going to be frantic. You need to stay here, give her some emotional support.”
Emotional support? Elissa’s temper flared. “Don’t tell me what I need to do!”
“Don’t walk in here like it’s my job to be useful to you!” For the first time real anger, not just irritation, sparked in his face. “You might be used to getting everything handed to you on a plate, but that doesn’t fly here, sweetheart. This is where you work to get what you want, you don’t just—” He broke off, and his eyes flicked away from her as if she weren’t worth wasting energy looking at.
Out of nowhere a trickle of memory came. It’s not a chip on his shoulder, you know? Bruce had said. Not really. But there are guys there who you know only squeaked in ’cause Daddy paid to get them there, and when you’re Cay, full-scholarship guy, and you’re going to be in debt to SFI until you’re in your thirties . . .
Not a chip on his shoulder? Yeah, right. Well, she had more to worry about than his feelings, or his pride.
She folded her arms. “I’m not asking you to help me out of the goodness of your heart,” she said. “I’m offering you a chance to earn some money. If you’re not interested, I’ll go elsewhere.”
He didn’t look at her. For a moment, silence hung in the room. Oh, come on. Give in. If that split second of memory had reminded her of anything, it was that Cadan, who’d had SFI pay for every bit of his education since he was eleven years old, who even after he graduated would be in debt to them for as long again, couldn’t afford to turn down any legitimate way of making money.
Bluffing, willing him to look at her, to take the bait, she moved toward the door.
He didn’t move out of the way. “How much?”
She caught the breath of relief before it could escape to betray her, and named a price.
His eyes snapped wide, incredulous. “What did you say?”
Elissa shrugged. “My friend really wants to get home.”
Irritation flashed across his face again. “She’s here for no more than a week, and she can’t wait a bit longer for her scheduled flight?”
Arrogant ass. You don’t have a freaking clue. She tilted her chin, not caring if he thought she was nothing but a spoiled rich girl with a princess complex. “She could wait. Why should she have to?”
His eyes met hers, flat and angry, and her stomach clenched a little. He’d tell her to go to hell if he could. Well, if I didn’t need his stupid ship, I’d never have asked him for help. So we’re even. He despises me, and I don’t care what he thinks.
“What about your parents?” Cadan said. “They’re okay with you just taking off like that?”
Doubt colored his voice. Elissa tried not to let the tension gathering within her show in her face, in the way she stood. If he decided to be all responsible, to override what she was saying and call her parents, she was screwed. But she’d offered him a whole lot of money, more than he’d make taking most charter passengers, and she knew he needed it.
A tendril of guilt wound itself into her thoughts. He needed the money she was offering, and he didn’t know it wasn’t real money at all. When she and Lin hopped ship at Mandolin and changed the IDs on the morph-cards, the money would disappear as if it had never existed.
She ground down on the guilt tendril, crushed it out of her thoughts. What choice did she have? Anyway, if he’d been halfway a gentleman, he’d have offered to help, and she wouldn’t have needed to lie to him.
She met his eyes unflinchingly. “Sure. School let out this afternoon. I’m on vacation now too. I can do what I like for a week.”
“So it’ll be okay to call them and let them know you’re here, yes?”
Elissa’s heart jumped straight back into her throat. “No.”
“Right.” He raised his eyebrows, superior and infuriating, like he was the grown-up and she was some little kid. “Why do I feel I’m missing something?”
“You’re not missing something. I—”
“Isn’t your operation scheduled soon? The one for your headaches?”
She stared at him. Of course Bruce would have told him—last night, probably—but she hadn’t expected him to mention it. “Yeah,” she said, trying to be vague about the details. “Fairly soon.”
“Bruce said it was scheduled for this Monday.”
“I . . .” Oh, hell. “Yes, but . . .”
“Hey.” He put a hand up. “It’s not my business. I guess you’ll reschedule, right?”
“Yes.” She tried to make her voice firm.
He flicked her another glance. “It’s short notice. I’d be a bit freaked. If it was me.”
“I . . . okay.” She bit her lip, wondering what he was getting at. Then— Oh. That was what he meant. He thought she was using her friend’s so-called problem as an excuse to postpone the op. And he didn’t blame her. He wouldn’t call her parents the moment she got out of here. He thought he knew what she was doing, and he was—of all things—being sympathetic.
The guilt twined around her stomach, so hard that she felt sick. She couldn’t look at him. “Thanks. I—um, takeoff is at ten, right?”
“Yeah. Flightpad eighteen. Be there at nine, okay? You’ve got your IDs, both of you?”
She assured him they had and she left, heading down the stairs and out into the waning daylight, pushing the guilt back, focusing instead on the happy circumstance that taking a flight off-planet wouldn’t occur under high security. The morph-cards would be all they’d need. Coming back through the maze of immigration control would be a whole other matter.
But I’m not coming back.
The thought hit her out of nowhere, knocking her breathless. She stopped walking, automatically putting out a hand to brace herself against the side of the building. She’d known that already, she’d known it. But somehow, talking to Cadan, making up her safe little story that she was just helping a friend get home and then she’d be back—for a few minutes she’d convinced herself it was true. It wasn’t true. She was leaving her home planet, her parents, brother, ex-best friends, every school she’d ever gone to, everything that had been familiar her whole life—and she wasn’t coming back.
For a moment she wanted to push everything away, cram the last two days into a box and drop it off the edge of a cliff. Wanted to take a taxi straight to Dr. Brien’s clinic and tell him to burn the link away, burn out her memory, too, delete everything to do with finding out about Lin, about Spares, about electrokinesis that was strong enough to kill, about her mother telling lies and locking her in her room, about her father not doing anything except tel
ling her to run, about having to ask Cadan for help and cheating him out of money he needed . . .
It was no good. Even if she did forget everything, it would all still be there, all the horrible ugly truth, like a disease waiting to break out. And right now . . . She took a breath that shuddered through her teeth. Right now Lin was waiting for her to come back, waiting for Elissa to tell her they were saved.
Flightpad number eighteen was at the end of a row, a long way from the busy, brightly lit central area where the big commercial flights took off, carrying tourists and business-people across the star system.
Terrified of something going wrong, of missing takeoff, Elissa had made sure she and Lin had set off with plenty of time to spare, with the result that they’d arrived more than half an hour before the time Cadan had said, and had to wait in the enclosed shelter for waiting passengers, reading the flickering, endlessly repeating safety notices on the walls.
Nearby on the flightpad the sleek squid-shape of the spaceship gleamed, first in the setting sun, then, as the rusty golden light drained out of the sky, in the glare of the colorless spaceport lights. It was already tilted into launch position, the dark figures of the maintenance crew darting in and out around it.
Lin sat, knees up to her chest, on one of the benches in the waiting area. She was biting the edge of her thumbnail.
Elissa had tried to sit, but she couldn’t. She stood by the window, trying not to bite any of her own nails. The window was reinforced, as one of the safety notices kept informing her, to withstand mega-high temperatures, explosion shock waves, and flying metal shards. The air that filled the shelter came through pollution filters that removed all but the most infinitesimal percentage of airborne pollutants.
It’s a shame I’m not worried about any of those things.
She peered through the patchwork of bright lights and gathering dusk to try to make out the figures of the maintenance crew. She’d known goods transports didn’t use the little two-man ships Bruce and Cadan had done most of their training in, but all the same she hadn’t expected this one to be so big, or to require so many crew members. She’d somehow—vaguely, stupidly—thought that she and Lin would have to deal with meeting Cadan and a copilot, and maybe one or two more crew. Not seven, eight . . . ten and more strangers who might want to know about them, might be curious, might pay enough attention to notice that, despite the hair and makeup, they were far too identical to be just friends.
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