“Indeed,” she said.“My apologies for disturbing your morning.”
“I’d prefer it be you than a kid out on a joyride.”His long-suffering tone sliced guilt across her conscience.
“I’m tethered, wearing certified ankle harnesses, with a full tank of oh-two,” she hurried to say, aware they weren’t alone on the comms.
She touched down on the metal frame of the tower crane, wide enough for her to walk along.Her boots’ magnetic locks cut off the boosters and allowed her to stick to the structure.Sure, she was at a 67.3-degree angle, but up and down played no real part on a spinning station.
“Let me escort you back,” Pierce said, pointing at the hatch more than a hundred meters away.
Giving him a glare had no impact when wearing a space suit.She’d hoped to have a few more minutes while she removed her harnesses and fixed them at the base of the crane.Instead, she grabbed the tether and pulled herself toward the anchor point.She cast a glance at the clasps she’d welded to the side of the station, hoping Pierce didn’t spot them.To a layman, they looked like they belonged to the crane’s support plates.If he knew she’d left clasps all over the station, her not-so-clean record would carry a warning she couldn’t afford.Forcing a casualness she was far from feeling, she unclipped the tether from her ankle harnesses and the hook.With her gaze fixed on the distant stars, she looped the cord around her shoulder and elbow then, once coiled, slipped it over her head and torso.All this time, he hovered, his presence encroaching on her personal space.
“Is this necessary?I’m not a child,” she snapped.He took his brotherly chore too seriously.
He said nothing, just nudged his head.He expected her to leap off and propel herself into the airlock the quickest way possible.
She gritted her teeth, deactivated her mag boots, and floated.Before she went too far, she used her toes to push off the crane.The momentum alone was enough for her to glide across.She caught the handle on the side of the round door then flipped to lock her feet to the metallic bulkhead.He did the same but wasted no time in opening the hatch.She crawled through, headfirst.
Once inside the hexagonal airlock, he sealed the hatch and smacked the re-pressurization button.When the red lighting flickered to white and their feet hit the floor with the full gravity the station could create, he unfastened his helmet, tugging it off to reveal his handsome features.Green eyes twinkled, and that silly smirk he always wore was firmly in place.Happy suited his ass.
“Up for a little breakfast?”he asked.
She removed her helmet and tucked it under her arm.With a puff, her bangs no longer blocked her vision.
“You mean dinner?”she teased; after all, she’d just finished her day shift when he was starting his.Day-night simulation meant everyone worked the day shift.It was always daytime somewhere on Demeter.“Doesn’t seem like a befitting punishment for my ‘joyride:’ my steak versus your scrambled eggs.”
Like she could afford actual meat, but she didn’t mention that.
“True.”The bay door opened to one of the station’s many passages.“I bought you as much time as I could.”He gestured to her to lead the way.
Her boots thunked on the metal grill, gravity weighing heavy on her limbs and soul.
Buying her time meant he’d known she was out there.She leveled a scowl at him.“How are you tracking me?”
“I have a man on Turner duty twenty-four-seven.”He tossed a grin.“You can thank Leon for that.”
She groaned.Even from Earth, her older brother had his way.“When I accepted your job offer, you didn’t once mention this…perk.”She’d hoped distance would, well, give her some peace and independence.
Pierce chuckled.“All part of our employee retention package.”
“Coffee would be appreciated,” she said, watching his expressions for even a flinch at the cost.
“Nowthat’san invitation I can’t refuse.”
Shit.She had to pay?Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot while the elevator climbed to their level.
“Meet you at Coffeeholics in ten?”he said when the cage door opened.
“Sure.”She stepped inside and held his gaze while the door shut on his signature smirk.“Damn it,” she muttered, pinching her brow to ward off an impending headache.
The elevator door opened.She trudged out, heading to her unit.Six by three meters encompassed her privacy.A large porthole at the end looked out at pipes.At least she had an outside view.If she pressed her cheek to the glass, she might catch a glimpse of stars.She had to flip her bed up to shower.The kitchen was less than a meter wide, housing a rehydrator and a disposal unit.The toilet slid out when needed and was ‘well-placed’ beside her wardrobe.Whoever had designed these units was an idiot.
A light flashed above the ‘kitchen,’ announcing she had a voice message waiting.Few people checked in on her, and what friends she had, well, they’d vanished the second she was arrested.Which meant the caller was family.
She unlooped the cord, now having to get up earlier to return it to its clasps.A grin formed.A morning leap sounded like bliss—one way to test Pierce’s system.Chuckling at her wicked plan, she removed her boots—keeping the ankle harnesses on—then peeled off her company-issued space suit to reveal a sweat-stained tank top and well-worn jeans that were butter soft.Station protocol stated that all personnel had to wear magnetic boots, even during downtime.On strippers, the clunky shoes made them look badass.She stomped hers on again, huffing when she clipped them in place.
Without time to shower, she swapped tank tops, deodorized, and ran a brush through her hair.
She caught her rainbow-haired reflection in the porthole above her bed.“Sorry, Mom, I’m not wearing clean underwear.”
