The Remnant. Laura Nolen Liddell
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steeled myself. “No Adam. That one’s non-negotiable.”
He looked at me in stony silence.
“It can’t be done without Adam,” said Marcela. She sounded like she was suppressing some kind of incredulous laugh.
Let her laugh, I thought. She’s not the one I need to convince. I thought of the dead guards from my last mission, but I could no longer find their faces in my memory. All I could see was Adam, and the look in his eyes as he stepped over their bodies.
When I spoke again, there was iron in my voice. “You have to choose, Ise. Him or me.”
“You can’t do that,” said Adam. “I’m a part of this. You can’t—”
“You,” Isaiah said simply.
They looked at him in shock.
“You’re dismissed, Adam,” said Isaiah, without turning his head. “Thank you for your service.”
There was a tense moment, then a dark look came over Adam’s face. But instead of putting up a fight, he turned soundlessly and left the room. We watched him go.
“Okay. I think that’s everything.”
I made a move toward the hatch, but Isaiah blocked my way.
“Hey now, Charlotte. I have a few demands of my own.”
The hairs on my neck stood up slowly. “Like?”
“This mission. You do as I say—exactly as I say—we complete the objective, and we get back here in one piece.”
“I barely know anything about the mission.”
“I’ll explain it on the way. Don’t give me that look,” he said, correctly guessing my expression. “I’m not the one who can’t go a day on the outside without committing a felony.”
“You still worried about that judge?” I shrugged. “She sentenced me to death. I barely scratched her.”
“Uh huh,” he said, like he was waiting for me to finish a thought.
I was still for a moment, then narrowed my eyes in disbelief. “Wait a minute. Did you organize this whole thing on purpose?”
“Let’s just say I knew you weren’t going down without a fight. There’s a reason I chose to hold the trial so close to the dark space, in a room you were familiar with.”
I blinked at him. “You sentenced me?!”
“No, little bird. That part was real. You got there all on your own. I got you out. I had to get you away from the crowd, out of the system, in order to make this work. You were still mad at me. I know you well enough to realize there was only one way to do that.”
“Your entire plan hinged on me kidnapping a judge? What the heck kind of a mission is this, anyway?”
“You didn’t have to take it that far. Can’t say I really saw the whole thing coming.” He gave me a serious look, but spoke mildly. “But I figured you could handle yourself. The mission is critical. That’s all I’ll say for now. You’re not the type to be put off by a little danger.”
“No, I’m not. But if anything happens to me, if I don’t make it back… my family—”
Isaiah frowned. “I’d take care of them, Charlotte. I thought you would know that.”
“I’m just… trying to cover my bases.”
He shook his head. “They covered now?”
I paused, then gave a single nod.
“So let’s go.”
He leaned back, still standing in front of the airlock, until I reached out, afraid he was falling. At the last possible second, he bent at the waist and fell backwards through the hatch, leaving me gaping after him.
“Wait, you’re going with me? Not… her?” I blinked apologetically at Mars, still processing everything.
“You know what they say, Charlotte. You want a job done, you got to—”
“Avoid a land war in Asia,” Mars cut in, her voice like acid.
Isaiah chuckled from the darkness. There was ice in my spine.
“Wait! Send the agreement back to the Remnant, in writing.” I hesitated. “In case you don’t come back, either. All right?”
“Fair enough. Full citizenship for her family, if I don’t come back,” he said to Marcela. “Think you can handle that?”
They exchanged a look. Both appeared to be suppressing a smile. “I’m on it, King.”
“Thank you kindly,” he said easily. “Now. Let’s shake on it.” He lifted his hand up through the open hatch, and I realized I was gripping the edge of the airlock with the strength of four men. I stared at my fingers, willing them to release it, and fumbled for Isaiah’s hand.
He adjusted our grip to something like a handshake, and I caught the barest hint of a smile on his upturned face before he pulled me down into the airlock head first.
I slid into the hatch. He caught me before I hit the seat, and my hand was like a limp rag in his as we completed the handshake inside the Arkhopper. I was in a tiny, round glass cabin with two metal chairs. A complicated series of straps hung from the seats and was mirrored in the webwork around the glass. Marcela leaned in after me to buckle my seatbelts. I pursed my lips and turned away. The process took a long time, then was repeated with Isaiah.
“Thank you, Mars. Now show her the stuff so we can get out of here.”
Marcela turned to me and extended a hand toward the dash. “This is your helmet and a skin. You have four hours of oxygen. If they’re not sealed together correctly, your blood will boil as soon as the cabin loses pressure. Get yours on before you do his, or you’ll both boil. Not that anything’s going to happen.”
I tried not to let my rising panic show in my voice. From the look on her face, she was definitely enjoying this. “Who’s flying this thing?”
Isaiah laughed out loud. “You don’t think I can do it? Come on, little bird. Have a little faith.”
Marcela smirked. “Okay, time for your heads.”
Without further warning, she pressed my forehead back until my head was against the cushion behind it, then pulled the cushions around the side of my head, securing them with a heavy strap. If I was nervous before, now I was approaching outright dread. I couldn’t move my head at all. Sounds were muffled by the cushions, and my vision was almost completely obscured, save for a view of the dash in front of me. My breathing came harder, and my fingers curled into fists.
At the last second, Marcela turned back to me. “Try to keep your neck relaxed, if you can.” She slapped Isaiah’s headstrap into place on the velcroed side of the cushion. “I’ll have auxiliary control of the avionics until you get there,” she said to him. “Then I’ll transfer.”
The tightness in my chest pressed up against my throat. “To whom?” I squeaked.
“The Asian Ark,” said Isaiah, louder than usual, thanks to all the padding around our heads.
“That’s our big plan? We’re just going to pop into the Asian Ark and beg them not to blow us up?”
“Unless we lose pressure and boil first. Zai jian, Mars. Thanks for that image.”
In response, Marcela slammed the hatch shut. She met my eye through the glass for one final instant while securing the latch from the other side. She was