Grimm sucked his bottom lip and nodded. “Yessir.”
“All right.” The old man sighed, the cold authority slipping out of his voice. “Perhaps that’s enough for now. We know we have limitations, we know what we need to work on. That’s progress. Tomorrow is another day.”
“When are we going to look for Cricket and Zeke?” Lemon asked.
“Soon,” the old man assured her. “Very soon.”
He climbed to his feet and leaned on his walking stick, called to the others.
“Come on, soldiers. Chow time. I’m buying.”
The Major limped toward the hatchway, Diesel and Fix climbed out of the ring. Grimm placed the broken bulb down on the bench beside Lemon. He met her stare, and she could see the mischief in him. The way his lips curled in an almost-smile, the way those dark eyes of his twinkled.
“Move it, freaks,” Diesel said, marching past and punching Grimm’s arm.
Lemon followed the girl upstairs, Grimm walking behind her.
* * *
________
They were slouched in the common room, the dark illuminated only by the glow of the large digital wall screen. The Major had retired after a dinner of fresh fruit from the greenhouse, supplemented with some vacuum-packed protein from the storage cupboards. The remains of their meals were scattered all over the coffee table and Lemon’s stomach was wonderfully full. In a turn that surprised absolutely no one, Fix had drawn cleanup duty from the swear jar.
Lemon sat on one end of the couch, legs tucked under her. Diesel and Fix were next in line on the sofa, the boy fast asleep with his girl wrapped in his arms. He’d been busy in the greenhouse again—Lem could see traces of dirt under his fingernails, smell the perfume of living things on his skin. Diesel was asleep, too, dark hair strewn over her pretty face, her head on Fix’s chest. Lemon thought they were sweet together. That they fit, like pieces of a strange puzzle.
At the far end sat Grimm, boots up in front of him, rubbing his eyes as the movie they’d been watching faded to black.
“I don’t get it,” Lemon declared.
“It was Earth all along,” Grimm murmured.
“…They really thought the future was gonna be like that?”
The boy shrugged, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake the pair beside him. “Who knows what they thought. Writers back then were all wankers.”
Lemon yawned and stretched, trying not to notice the way he watched her from the corner of his eye. Trying to decide whether she liked it or not. Dragging her hand through her bangs, she stood slowly, looked upstairs toward her bunk.
“All right, I’m crushed. Think I’m gonna topple.”
“You don’t wanna come downstairs?” he whispered.
Her stomach lurched sideways, her mouth suddenly dry.
“With you?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean…the showers?”
Grimm’s face split in a broad grin. “No, the gym, you nonce. I thought you might wanna have a crack at short-circuiting me. Practice and all, you know.”
“Oh, right.” Lemon found herself laughing, out of relief or embarrassment she couldn’t tell. “I thought we were supposed to walk before we flew around here?”
Grimm shrugged, that mischief twinkling in his eyes again.
“Little bit of flying never hurt anyone.”
Lemon looked upstairs to her room, pouting in thought. The Major had sounded serious when he warned Grimm off this sort of test. She’d only just found out the old man might be blood, and she was still mentally testing those waters. Prodding the thought like a loose tooth and trying to come to grips with the idea she still had family, when for years she’d thought she had nothing at all. It felt real. Part of her desperately wanted it to be real. But family aside, the Major was still the boss around here. He still called the shots. Maybe disobeying a direct order from him two days after meeting him wasn’t the smartest play.
Maybe I should do what I’ve been told for once in my life….
Grimm stood waiting in the hatchway to Section B. He motioned through the door with a graceful flourish.
“Milady?”
Who am I kidding?
She tiptoed across the room, through the hatch. Following Grimm downstairs through the greenhouse and into the gym again, she was struck with how quickly she’d grown to like it here. Hot dinners and soft sheets. Nothing to hide and a place to belong. Even the ugly uniform was starting to feel comfortable.
The fluorescents blinked to life overhead, the air-con system rattled softly. Grimm climbed up into the boxing ring, held the ropes open for her. Lemon crawled through, took up position in the center of the mat. Squaring up against her, Grimm leaned in as if bracing himself for a punch.
“Righto,” he said, tapping his temple. “Hit me.”
“…I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“Well, what do you normally do?”
“I dunno.” Lemon shrugged. “There’s…this static. I can feel it in my head. And I just sort of…let it out.”
“Okay.” Grimm nodded, thumping his chest. “Do that to me.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“I’m a big boy.” Grimm bounced on his toes, smacked the radiation symbol shaved into the side of his head. “Come on, let it rip, love.”
“Don’t call me that,” she scowled.
Grimm only winked, and Lemon tossed her hair, set her jaw.
“All right, fine. Don’t go crying to the others if I knock you on your ass.”
“Waaaaaaaaa.” Grimm grinned, rubbing at make-believe tears.
Lemon narrowed her eyes. Feeling for that gray wash of static. She could sense Miss O’s electrical currents all around her. The walls. The light fixtures. The greenhouse overhead. She could feel the hydrostation on the top floor of Section B, the digital screen in the common room. Beyond the sealed double doors into Section C, she could feel computers, electronic locks, alarm systems.
But as for people? The tiny sparks coursing through Grimm’s brain?
Nothing.
“I can’t…,” she whispered, sweat beading on her cheeks.
“Yeah, you can.” Grimm tapped his temple again. “Try.”
“I am trying!” she spat, her frustration rising.
“Try harder, love.”