Gary thought she was jaded about space exploration, or that she didn’t understand how awe-inspiring and important it could be. The truth was that she was embarrassed to be working in reality television, chasing Mars as one more industry fad. She kept hoping that if she kept her head down and did her work—and didn’t get fired—she’d eventually stumble across her own passion and her way into a meaningful life.
She just wanted to get this job done and get back home to see what kind of new beginning she could make for herself. Gary and his theories of clandestine salvage operations, no matter how compelling, were pulling her away from that.
He was playing on her idealism, she reasoned, toying with her just like he was probably manipulating Barbie. If she wasn’t careful, Hannah would end up as one more notch in the slick actor’s very expensive and shiny belt.
But the sleepless hours of reinforcing her dislike of him and even inventing new reasons to be vexed by his very existence couldn’t shake her feeling that something authentic and real lurked at the core of Gary Nelson.
Just remember that Niffenegger is a preening, sexist dickface. Hannah hung onto Rufus’s words and dug in. Olivia had unearthed the infamous recording—thanks to a scuffed-up thumb drive that walked off The Ranch in the pocket of a disgruntled former employee. Hannah promised herself she would listen to it right after the Klondike-3 capture. Then she’d know for certain just what a narcissist jerk Gary really was.
“So stay tuned!” Gary exclaimed to the camera with a brightening smile. “Join us and not one but two Space Junkers crews as rival ships compete for the same precious prize: the successful recovery of Klondike-3 and its golden payload. Which team is up to the challenge? Keep watching and find out!”
His smile froze in place for three full beats, and then his face relaxed into an unreadable expression as Hannah called, “Cut!”
“I think we’re done.” She watched Gary massage his cheeks and jaw. “You okay?”
“It hurts sometimes, smiling like that all the time.”
She pulled a zippered bag out of her jumpsuit pocket and started filling it with spare recording equipment—two cameras with mounts, a larger hand-held tablet, and some extra storage cards. She heard Gary’s jaw pop as he rubbed at the muscles in his face, and she made a conscious effort not to feel sorry for him.
For a single episode of Mars Ho, he made many, many times more than her salary for a full year. Speculating about how much he was probably getting paid for these orbital Space Junkers appearances made her stomach hurt. Maybe he deserved a little pain.
She closed the bag and held it out to Gary.
“So now I’ll be the associate field producer’s junior underling,” he chuckled. “Your away team.”
“Something like that.” She detached her tablet from its mount, quit the app that contained Gary’s scripts, and searched through her files for the simplified equipment guides that were standard for DayLite Syndicate productions. “I’ll just pull up the quick and easy tech manuals for you, in case you run into trouble.”
“In case the vacuous talent can’t figure out where the on-button is, you mean.”
Hannah looked up. “That’s not what I said.”
He shrugged and turned the bag over in his hand. “I guess I should pack up my stuff, if the Midden is leaving soon.”
Hannah closed up her gear bag. “No, Gary, you’re staying aboard the Churly Flint. You’ll have everything you need, with a regular data dump to Rufus at The Ranch—”
“Hannah, you can’t go with those guys.”
Hannah almost laughed. “Well, of course, I have to go with them. How else are we supposed to record the salvage operation from both sides? I mean, sure, you can quote Shakespeare all day long about how Rufus can make the footage into whatever he wants, but you also talked about the excitement of space.” She paused. Her words were more true than she realized, and she laughed again.
“And you’re right, this is exciting. I’m excited.” She didn’t know when that transformation had taken place. Maybe it was a simple matter of getting her bearings in orbit, or having Gary spouting non-stop space trivia. All she knew was that she was suddenly eager for her work, and she didn’t want to miss a second of it.
“Well, I’m glad of that.” Gary still looked uncertain. “But I’d rather you remained on the Churly Flint with Dana.”
Now she was growing impatient, her mood turning sour again. “Why? So you can fly off with Barbie?”
“That’s not it—”
“It’s not up to you. Orders from Rufus. You’re staying. I’m going.” Hannah pushed off from the wall and headed into the corridor toward her cabin, leaving Gary and his befuddlement behind.
Gary packed up his things anyway. If he could beat Hannah aboard the Midden, he could keep her safely aboard with Dana and away from Sid. Gary hadn’t seen the captain of the Midden since the ships first docked, but he’d had plenty of time to imagine just what kind of person deliberately disabled a satellite and jeopardized a crew’s livelihood, all to orchestrate an orbital hookup.
Plus, he’d seen the way Hannah’s jaw had dropped as soon as the captain of the Midden had first floated into view. Though he’d not had any personal interactions with Sid, Gary dismissed out of hand the possibility that he was jealous of the space hunk.
As far as he was concerned, Sid was worse than Rufus. And there was no way he was going to allow Hannah to fly off with him.
Of course, he wasn’t wild about the idea of Hannah being aboard the Churly Flint, either, but he figured he could count on Dana to keep Hannah out of Brett’s sights.
Hannah would be furious with him for considering that she might need safe-keeping, even though he was fairly certain she would be able to handle herself just fine. He just didn’t want her to have to be in a position to do so.
So he stuffed his bag with the few personal belongings he’d brought with him from The Ranch and raced toward the docking bay. He knew he was operating on the thin assumption that the crews of both ships would be so rushed for time they would accept the personnel switch without question and be off on their mission. And that assumption was immediately shattered.
“It’s Hannah, or nobody.” Sid hovered in the open docking hatch and physically prevented Gary from boarding. “That’s the deal I made with your boss. I don’t plan on deviating from that and risk voiding my contract.”
Gary stared at him and wondered where to start. Should he inform Sid of the unlikelihood of Rufus honoring whatever last-minute contract he’d cobbled together to entice Sid and his crew? That DayLite’s assets were tied up in existing contracts, many of which Rufus was allowing to lapse or was outright violating as his coffers zeroed out?
Not even Hannah knew that DayLite was teetering on the edge of insolvency, and Gary didn’t want her to worry about whether or not she’d even have a job when they got back on the ground. But Gary had spent enough time with Rufus when he’d had too much to drink. Rufus had spread himself too thin too fast, taking on Mars Ho with more optimism and ambition than planning and infrastructure. Gary knew how badly the company was hurting, and how Rufus was running out of employees to fire.
“I don’t think it will be an issue,” Gary said.
But Sid wasn’t buying it. “Besides, I can’t have you on my ship distracting my crew.”
“Distracting your crew?” Gary held his Mars Ho duffel bag close to his chest and tried to strategize a way to slip past Sid and onto the Midden, but he didn’t exactly have any ninja moves even in full gravity. And Sid would just kick him back off the ship anyway.
“Barbie in particular, I’d imagine.” Hannah glanced sideways at Gary as she arrived at the hatch, and Sid moved aside to allow her to pass. But she hesitated and turned to Gary. “You have everything you need?”
Gary nodded. He made one last scrambling attempt at brainstorming a way to convince her to switch places with him. Would she stay on the Churly Flint if she knew Brett had been asking about her, or wou
ld that motivate her toward Sid instead? If he told her he was trying to protect her from Sid, that would probably make things even worse. Gary blew out a long, frustrated breath. It was a no-win situation.
“Brett, prepare for departure,” Dana spoke over her headset as she hovered just inside the docking bay bulkhead. She still look irritated with Sid, but there was a soft glow about her in the aftermath of her space date.
Sid’s face lit up when he saw her. “One more for the road?” He opened his arms to her.
Dana pushed her way deeper into the docking bay but remained out of Sid’s reach. “You’re on your way, then?”
Sid shrugged off her rebuff. “Just waiting to take on our new passenger.” Sid nodded to Hannah.
Hannah gripped the round doorway to pull herself through to board the Midden, but then she glanced back at Gary.
He held out his hand and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Good luck.”
Hannah’s features lightened into a relieved smile, and she grasped Gary’s fingers in her own. “You, too. See you on the other side.”
On impulse, Gary lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She didn’t make a move to return his affection. She didn’t even smile at him when he did it. But she didn’t smack him, either, so that was something.
She turned and left the Churly Flint, and Gary felt a surprising squeeze at the center of his chest as he watched her disappear onto the Midden. It was momentary, and not exactly painful. Already anxious, Gary considered whether he might be having a mild heart attack. He was being ridiculous. He was on the young side for a cardiac event, but there was no telling what all those cosmetic procedures and toxic injections might have done to his insides. Rufus would probably be relieved if the Face of Space managed to expire in orbit—it would be one fewer contract he’d have to pay out.
Dana offered her own handshake to Sid, her face a mask of calm professionalism.
But Sid apparently wasn’t satisfied with such civilities. Laughing, he launched himself at Dana and caught her up with him in a spinning, zero-g embrace. He framed her face in his hands and planted his mouth on hers, kissing her deeply, before she managed to push him away.
“Sid!” Dana spat his name. “Really?”
“Just wanted to leave you with something to remember me by.” Sid winked at Dana, offered a Gary a quick nod, and then disappeared through the hatchway. Dana closed the circular door behind him and made sure the seal was tight.
Dana shot Gary a sharp look, though he thought he detected a shy smile underneath her frown. “Not a word,” she said before she exited the compartment, leaving Gary alone in the docking bay.
Sid knew how to make an entrance, and an exit. Why couldn’t Gary have reached out to Hannah like that? Even if she’d reacted much the same way Dana had, it still would have been worth it. But if she’d held on and kissed him back . . .
“Prepare for departure,” Dana’s voice came through the docking bay speakers. “That means you, Gary. We need you in your seat, strapped in, up in control.”
He glanced again at the sealed hatch. He didn’t need the sinking feeling in his gut to tell him he might regret the way he’d left things with Hannah.
Hannah strapped herself into the spare seat in the Midden’s control cabin. The Midden was considerably smaller than the Churly Flint, with only four chairs in the control cabin. The whole ship felt crowded in comparison, and she didn’t want to think about how snug her quarters on this ship might be.
Joey completed the countdown for separation from the Churly Flint. She heard at loud, mechanized thunk, followed by Joey’s verbal confirmation that the Churly Flint was moving away.
And taking Gary with it. Hannah batted the thought away before it could take root. She wasn’t going to miss him. She wouldn’t waste her time even thinking about him, other than wondering how he was getting along with the camera equipment.
When she caught Barbie glaring at her over her shoulder from the front of the cockpit, Hannah wondered if Gary might have been right about switching places.
“How’s about a status report?” Sid’s voice was almost jovial, a sharp contrast to Dana’s cool, no-nonsense manner. “I’m ready for the next adventure now. How ‘bout you?”
“Okay, captain!” Barbie replied sunnily. “We’re all set to make for the Klondike-3. Course laid in and . . . Huh.”
Sid frowned. “Huh? I don’t recall that being part of the plan.”
Barbie started typing frantically on her control station’s keyboard, her frown deepening. “It’s just . . . Joey? Are any of your systems acting up?”
“I’ll check.” Joey tapped through a succession of access screens on the trio of monitors mounted in front of his chair. Hannah wasn’t sure who was in charge of what on this ship, and she really hoped that whatever problem Barbie had encountered wouldn’t impact something immediately important like life support.
Gary would know whether or not to worry. Hannah pushed the thought away.
“Everything’s fine on my end,” Joey said.
“So it’s, what? A problem with navigation?” Sid asked.
Barbie nodded. “It’s like, everything was there and was fine, and then as soon as I went to activate the course we’d plotted earlier, everything just froze.”
Sid leaned in over his pilot’s shoulder. “Do we have engines? Maneuverability?”
“Check that. Everything’s working over here,” Joey replied.
“We just can’t . . .” Barbie smacked her hands on the dashboard. “We’ve got manual only, looks like. I’d say we’ve been hacked.”
She turned and glared again at Hannah.
Hannah bristled in her seat. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Barbie.” Sid’s voice was stern.
“I don’t know how.” Barbie blew out an aggravated sigh. “All of our firewalls are still in place. No one should be able to get in from the outside.”
“We were just docked with another ship for a significant amount of time,” Sid reminded her. “Were you by any chance doing some digging of your own?”
Barbie’s face crumpled.
“Barbie?” Sid warned.
Her shoulders drooped. “I just wanted to know, you know, about the Face of Space. Why he was onboard.”
“Seriously?” Joey turned away from his workstation. “More like the Fake of Space. You know everything you see on the screen is a sham, right? I mean, I grew up down the street from Melissa Subirà, one of the Mars finalists, and she is not like that. On the show, it’s like she doesn’t even have a voice. Never hear a peep out of her. But in real life? Hell, you can’t get that girl to shut up for two seconds. You think she would’ve said something entertaining in there, somewhere.”
Sid shot Joey a stern look, and the pilot turned back to his own screens. Sid glanced again at Barbie. “So you were hacking them and didn’t think they might have been hacking us right back?”
Barbie shot Hannah another nasty look.
“I promise you, it wasn’t me,” Hannah protested. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to . . . Why would I disable a ship that I’m on?”
“You wouldn’t,” Sid replied. “No one’s accusing you of anything.”
Barbie winced and turned her attention back to her workstation.
Hannah felt sick when she realized she hadn’t yet set up any of her cameras inside the Midden’s cockpit. She’d been distracted by saying goodbye to Gary, and the tender, almost romantically gallant way he’d offered his farewell. The back of her hand still tingled from the touch of his lips. But that wasn’t a good enough excuse for not doing her job.
And who would have thought the competition over a satellite would be tense and dramatic right from the start? She yanked at the velcro closures of her gear bag and felt around inside for one of the remaining cameras. Strapped in, she couldn’t mount anything on the walls, but a handheld shot was better than nothing.
Joey issued a strangled cry. “They’re pulling awa
y from us! They’re getting away!”
“Naturally,” Sid growled. “Their course?”
“The same one we plotted.” Barbie stared at her screens, her voice small and petulant. “They stole our course!”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Sid replied.
Hannah lined up her camera on the captain’s profile and tried to keep both Barbie and Joey in the frame. Hannah saw the muscles tensing in the back of Sid’s neck.
“Manny!” Barbie spat the man’s name like it was snake venom. “He did this, while I was—”
“Distracted by your crush?” Joey cut in. “Yeah, we get it.”
Barbie pounded her fists on her dashboard. “I’m going to kill him!”
“I need options, people,” Sid ordered. “Can you confirm their course? We might still be able to give them a bit of a surprise.”
Hannah lifted her camera to capture the action through the cockpit’s forward windows as the Churly Flint moved slowly away and made a gradual, arcing turn that took the ship out of immediate view. Other than the bright blue-white curve of the Earth below, it wasn’t a spectacular sight and lacked pretty much all of the trappings of a movie space battle. No hyper-thrusters or warp drives or screaming laser missiles or . . .
“Wait!” Hannah shrieked from her seat, her heart pounding as a wave of adrenaline coursed through her body. “You can’t do it! I won’t let you!” She let the camera float free as she tried to unfasten her seat restraints, but the buckles were different from those on the Churly Flint and it took her a couple of seconds to find the unlatching mechanism. Before she could release herself, Sid was out of his chair and hovering by her side, his hand firm on her shoulder and keeping her in her seat.
“We can’t do what?” he asked.
“You can’t shoot them down! I don’t care what kind of beef you have with that crew, or how far back your rivalry goes.” Hannah sounded practically hysterical to her own ears, and she was embarrassed by the tears clouding her vision. She tried again to free herself from her seat, even with Sid holding her down. “I won’t let you hurt Gary!”
Lovers and Lunatics (Mars Adventure Romance Series Book 2) Page 11