Date Point 10y4m3w3d AV
Finchley, London, UK, Earth
Simon Harvey
Simon had always, in a faintly racist and absent-mindedly English way, thought of Spanish as a beautiful and romantic language, evoking imagery of holiday sun, bulls, tomatoes and siestas.
Ava Rìos, however, could spit it like dragon breath: a potent blend of fire and venom that sneered at the need for translation. You didn’t need to know what the words meant to know what they meant. Though, frankly, her skill at English profanity was no less impressive, and Sean could match her blow-for-verbal-blow.
A door slammed. A rumbling, angry pause later, she stomped down the stairs in her boots and a thundercloud of quiet vulgarities. She didn’t see Simon at all as she stormed into the kitchen and yanked the fridge open, angrily rattling several blameless bottles and upsetting the broccoli.
She stared wildly into it for a few seconds, then shut the door, leaned against it heavily and was suddenly crying instead.
He couldn’t blame her for being mad. When Sean and he had returned from Egypt, they’d still damn near been leaking sand on the doormat when Sean had launched into interrogating her about what, exactly, had happened since they’d parted ways at the embassy in Cairo.
This had irritated and upset her, but she’d kept her cool and patiently explained that she was bound by the kind of Non-Disclosure Agreement that no sane or self-interested person would be inclined to break.
Sean had pushed, and Simon had carefully retreated into the kitchen so as to remove himself from the vicinity of the escalating row. Ava had testily informed Sean that unless he was volunteering to take her place on Death Row, he could forget it. Sean had dismissed the possibility that either of them would end up there, and had gone so far as to hint that she was just trying to get back in the SOR’s good books.
Ava had, rather irately, informed him that that ship was long sailed and that she probably couldn’t get back in those gentlemen’s good books if she had a hundred years to work on it. The first minor swear word had lurked unnoticed in the middle of her explanation.
Simon had made himself a cup of tea. Sean’s kettle was quite a loud one, which had mercifully obscured the conversation, but its sense of dramatic timing was impeccable, because it had clicked off perfectly in time for him to hear:
“Fine! Keep lying! It’s what you’re best at!”
Simon had hung his head and groaned as the dragon fire started flying. He could hardly blame her either – in fact while the argument had swirled around the whole house he had drunk his tea and quietly resolved to give his idiot nephew a ringing clout upside the head when he got the chance.
He cleared his throat.
She flinched, turned around and wiped her face, fighting back some control. “Shit, Simon, I’m sorry, I forgot you were there…”
“Are you okay?”
Ava sighed, shook her head, then changed her mind, shrugged and nodded. “I’ve had worse fights…”
Simon nodded by way of accepting the answer. “If you don’t mind my asking…?”
“No, sure.” She opened the fridge again and got out the filter jug full of cold water.
“Sean’s always been a bit of a fucking wanker sometimes, but I’ve never known him be that… well, that nasty before. What happened with you two?”
Ava sat down. “I used him to cheat on my boyfriend,” she said, stating it so bluntly and mercilessly that Simon was put in mind of a flagellant scourging their own back.
“Oh, Ava…you bloody idiot.” Simon groaned, not unkindly.
“Yeah. Biggest mistake of my life.” She poured herself a drink and sipped it.
“…If I can-”
“Ask.”
“And you’re living with him? Despite that?”
“I…”
Ava glanced toward the door, as if Sean might have magically stealthed down the stairs without either of them detecting even the faintest whisper.
“…Simon, I make, like, just enough money to pay my rent and my half of the bills here. And that’s only because he’s renting the room to me for way, way less than it’s worth. I’ve got no savings, no spare money to save up… If I could afford it, I’d get the fuck out of here right now, but I can’t.”
“Couldn’t you move back to Cimbrean? I hear the living is cheap there?”
“Not cheap enough.”
“Can’t your family help? Your dad’s the head of Cimbrean Colonial Security, isn’t he?”
“I’m not going to beg off Dad! I’m set up here, I’m getting by. I won’t burden them with more of my shit-”
He interrupted her. “How much would you need?”
“Wh-? Simon, are you offering me money?”
“How much?” he repeated.
“I can’t take your money!”
“Just answer the question, Ava.”
She exhaled irritably and thought about it. “It… Depends. Uh, if I rent out there… I guess a couple of thousand to tide me over and get set up?”
Simon nodded, and fished his phone out of his pocket.
“No, Simon-!”
“Ava, listen to me.” Simon set his phone down. “I have a house in Islington. Not a flat, a house. You know what the property prices are like in this city, so you know I can afford to loan you a couple of thousand.”
“But you barely-”
“It’s my money and I’ll do whatever the hell I like with it, thank you very much.”
“But… why?”
“Because I’ve got two very talented young journalists on my hands who won’t be able to work together.” He raised a hand to intercept her interruption. “Don’t bullshit me. Your professional relationship with Sean is built on drama and fuck all else, and arguments like that… If I don’t separate you two, something’s going to happen that ruins both your reputations, and by extension your careers. This is the best fix.”
“You’re sure?”
“You don’t deserve to suffer for him being a complete tit, and he doesn’t deserve to suffer for you not having your shit sorted out.” Simon put it bluntly. She showed no sign of taking offense.
He picked up the phone again. “I’ll put in a call to a mate of mine, he said something about somebody starting up a news channel in Folctha. A pretty local girl like you could be making big money in front of the camera rather than behind it, so you’ll be able to pay me back soon enough. Throw in ten percent if you feel you have to, feed me leads, however you want to repay me, however your conscience tells you to. But for God’s sake don’t be stupid enough to try and tough it out with Sean.”
He wasn’t quite sure why, but that last warning seemed to score a hit. Ava looked down and away, chewed on her lip and frowned.
“….Simon….thank you. Really. But I don’t think-”
”Ava.”
She stopped babbling her protests, blinked at him, then licked her lips and tried again, rather more calmly. “I want to earn my way, Simon.” she said. “I don’t want charity.”
“This isn’t charity,” Simon said, “it’s an investment and it’s career advice from the old guard to the new kid. And I believe it’s a damned safe investment too: if I put in a good word for you, it will carry weight, and that’s not charity either – you earned that good word.”
She swallowed, and looked at his phone with her resolve obviously wavering, so Simon gave her one last push.
“Go home,” he said.
Date Point 10y4m3w3d AV
Omaha, Nebraska, USA, Earth
Allison Buehler
“This is it?”
Kevin cranked the parking brake and nodded. “This is the Box.” he confirmed.
“Good name,” Xiù remarked while giving the ’Box’ a wide-eyed, cautious look. Allison evaluated it herself with a slightly more guarded expression. When the Group had talked about ‘accommodations throughout the training period’, she had imagined a decent-sized house. Nothing elaborate, just a couple of bedrooms, a bathroom…
Not a box. That really was all it was, a featureless half-cube squatting smack in the middle of a fenced and tree-lined Byron Group compound like a particularly obtuse art installation and surrounded by three wings of a more building-like building that was all huge glass windows and warm brown wood. Jenkins’ ID had seen them past the security at the gate without issue, and he parked up a short distance from the welcome party who emerged from the larger building.
“So yeah, the Box is a mockup of the interior of the ship you’ll be flying. Idea is you guys are gonna have to get used to it, so you may as well do that here on Earth so you can back out if you have to. Don’t want y’all going stir-crazy three months into a two year mission.”
“Looks… snug,” Julian suggested, taking refuge in understatement.
“Trust me, it’s even smaller on the inside.” Jenkins glanced apologetically at him in the rear-view mirror. “Anyway, the rest of this is the training facility and mission support. All the people workin’ in this building are here to do one of two things – teach you the skills you need to do this, or make sure you’ve got the chops for it. Odds are you won’t ever even meet half’a them, but they’ll know you better than you know yourselves, and fast too.”
“So this is it, then.” Xiù fidgeted with her bag. “This is where you leave us?”
“Yup. Remember, like I said – these guys are gonna try and fail you. You can’t bullshit them, so don’t even try. They ask you a question, best thing is to answer it honestly and directly. They can’t order you around, but it’d be a damn good idea to follow their instructions anyway. Don’t suck up to them, they ain’t after brown-nosers, but just… be honest, and be yourselves.”
“Thanks.” Julian reached forward, and Kevin twisted in his seat to shake hands over his shoulder.
Allison and finally Xiù followed suit and then, there being no reason to delay the future any more, they got out of the car. Jenkins drove away as soon as the doors were all closed.
There was an awkward moment of wary sizing-up, and then an aging man in a blue polo shirt stepped forward.
“It’s nice to finally meet you guys,” he said. “Doctor Michael Ericson, I’m the team leader for BGEV Eleven.”
They made their introductions. Ericson scored points by making sure he got the pronunciation of Xiù’s name down properly before introducing them to the rest of his team, including his daughter and several other colleagues. The list of names was bewildering.
“Don’t worry,” Ericson said reassuringly, once the last introductions were made. “We’ll be working together for the next six months, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know us.”
Allison looked at Julian and Xiù. They were standing close to each other and gave her an identical, slightly wide-eyed look that said ’lead on’, so she mustered more determination than she really felt now that they were really here, really doing this, and nodded firmly.
“I guess we should dive in then,” she said.
“Excellent!” Ericson beamed. He stepped aside and a man who hadn’t yet been introduced to them stepped forward. Allison tried not to take an immediate disliking to the newcomer – he had the stern expression of somebody who was evaluating her and rating her only slightly above something he’d stepped in. “Mr. Keating here will introduce you to your living space and carry out your first assessment.”
There was a round of handshakes and promises of ‘looking forward to working with-’ and ‘see you on-’ and the BGEV-11 team drifted away, leaving Allison, Julian and Xiù alone with Keating.
He didn’t ingratiate himself at all with his brusque attitude. “Here’s how it is,” he began without preamble. “The three of you have signed up for spending several months in training together followed by two years in the ship together, and the ship is small. Your notions of privacy and personal space are going to have to change drastically, and quickly. You are literally going to be living on top of each other with precious few opportunities to escape and that’s going to mean you’ll either be the very best of companions, or you’re going to end up hating each other… in which case, you won’t make the grade and won’t be flying on that ship. You are making a commitment to long-term physical and emotional intimacy. I- Oh.”
Allison looked down. Xiù had taken her hand, and Julian’s too, and was giving Keating a level ’please-get-on-with-it’ expression. There was a three-way round of eye contact among them, and Keating visibly cut out part of his script.
“Good,” he said. “But save the decision for after you’ve seen what you’ll be living in.”
He led them round to what was unmistakably an airlock. “The Box is supposed to be a close copy of what the final interior of BGEV-Eleven will look like. This is a quadruple-seal lock, plenty of redundancy. Nevertheless, good entry and exit practice will be a necessary part of your drill. Every time you leave or enter the Box, you’ll go through the procedure I’m about to show you. Failing to do so will be a black mark against you. Do you understand?”
They nodded, and Keating entered a code. “Tomorrow you’ll each be setting your own code,” he said, “and we’ll be explaining the safety rationale behind that in your first mission briefing. For now, all you need to know is that it’s vital not to share your codes. They help us track your comings and goings, and also serve an important security function.”
“Now,” he continued, stepping through the outer lock doors as they opened. “The first step is sealing and decontamination. Come on!”
They squeezed into the lock alongside him. It was actually surprisingly spacious – Allison could have wheeled a couple of motorcycles through it side by side. “Don’t stand in the yellow spaces.” Keating instructed. “The doors behind you will close…” they did so “…and you should select your decontamination cycle. The doors in front won’t open until you’ve decontaminated unless you throw the emergency override, which is only to be used if you’re abandoning ship or if you’re returning to the ship with a life-threatening injury.”
He gestured to a touch-screen with green, yellow and red icons on it. “Green is basic. Just a filter field. Coupled with your Frontline implants it should suffice in almost every case. Yellow is for when you’ve been exposed to radioactive or chemical contaminants. If you select that one you’ll need to remove and discard your clothing into this chute.”
Xiù wanted to ask a question, Allison knew, but held her peace. Keating either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. “Red,” he finished, “is the works, and is for use in cases where you think you’ve been contaminated with some kind of deadly agent that could spell doom for the whole species if it got back to Earth. In this case, you’ll need to strip and shower, shave off all your hair, you’ll be powdered and bio-fielded, and kept in quarantine for a minimum of forty-eight hours. When in doubt, use the highest setting. Hair grows back, but death is forever.”
Allison felt Xiù huddle in a little closer to her. She knew Xiù was a bit vain about her hair, which meant that the prospect of having to shave it all off…!
She surreptitiously put a reassuring arm around Xiù’s waist as Keating selected the green option and the familiar yellow shimmer of a biofilter forcefield swept across them, completely with that uncomfortable too-clean feeling that left Allison itching and having to resist the urge to run her tongue over teeth that suddenly felt unnaturally smooth and sterile.
“This is all simulated, right?” Julian asked.
“Accurately.”
Keating seemed to be determined to intimidate and scare them. He introduced them to the “Excursion Room” that lay beyond the airlock – basically a glorified equipment closet with an armory bench and lockers taking up every square inch of wall, floor and ceiling. To their left as they entered was a door marked “Pilot” and opposite the airlock was another door marked “lab”.
Keating said nothing more about them than that they’d have the chance to become familiar with their workstations in due course. He indicated to the right, pointing out the door at the end that led into “Engineering”, assorted access hatches marked “waste processing” and “atmosphere”, and the two doors marked “Pantry” and “Habitation”.
Everything he indicated was a safety or failsafe, everything he told them about procedure was a dire warning. It was obviously calculated to rattle them, and Allison treated the attempt with the contempt it deserved. They weren’t children, all three of them had literally almost died of vacuum exposure. Being lectured unnecessarily on safety by a pigshit little man who probably had never got further than thirty thousand feet from Earth’s surface was just…
She reined in her mounting indignation. Kevin’s advice on that score had been solid and worth listening to. ’Everything they do will be a test’ he’d said. ’If they’re irritating the fuck out of you, for fuck’s sake keep a lid on it because they’re testing your composure.’
So she took a cleansing breath when she judged that Keating wasn’t looking, and caught Julian’s eye. Composed and laid-back as he was, Julian looked like he was struggling to maintain his calm as well, but he was sharper than his hatchet when it came to picking up on Allison’s mood nowadays, and they reaffirmed one another’s coolness. Xiù was less readable – she’d gone pale and quiet, but also attentive. Of the three of them, she seemed the least irritated, and the most nervous.
Keating ignored their exchange, if he detected it. Instead, he finally opened the door marked ’Habitation’
“-And this is your living space.” he announced.
Allison bit down hard on the urge to vent sarcastically. The room was barely as big as a boxing ring at most, and four people standing in the middle did a fine job of making it feel crowded.
She had to admire the effort that had gone into using such a tiny volume effectively, though. As she looked around she realized that everything was recessed into, or folded away to become part of, the walls and ceiling. So long as it was kept tidy and uncluttered, it would definitely provide every need they could have, including some shelf space for luxuries and personal items.
“Forward wall, kitchen and storage.” Keating indicated it. “You’ve got a range, a microwave, the faucet can give you boiling water, and if you need more counter space…” he hauled on part of the countertop, which unfolded, tripling the amount of work surface.
“Aft wall is fitness and leisure. There’s a treadmill, weights… everything you need to keep yourselves in shape, plus the couch, TV, bookshelf… Port wall-” he slapped the one beside the door they’d just come through “- is your wardrobe, laundry, more storage… Finally the starboard wall.”
He indicated it. There were three bunks recessed into it, along with a door of some kind and a towel rack.
“In the actual ship, those bunks will double as emergency pressurized environments and, if need be, as escape pods. They’ll pull twenty kilolights. Not fast, but quicker than the Dominion standard. That door to the right is your bathroom. Toilet, sink and shower, all in one. Take a look.”
Julian glanced at the girls, then did so, sliding the door aside. “Uh… I’ve had cellphones bigger than this thing.” he commented.
“Are you complaining?” Keating asked.
“No, not really. I mean it makes sense…” Julian closed the door again. “It’s just kinda settling in how big of a change we’re in for.”
Xiù raised a hand. “Um…?”
Keating gave her an expectant look. “Yes, miss Chang?”
“If the wardrobe’s over there… and that whole thing is the shower… I mean… where do we get changed?”
“I did say that the three of you will need to become very used to physical proximity and a lack of privacy,” Keating told her. Allison couldn’t resist an irritated tic of the eyebrow at his perfunctory tone. “How you sort it out is your problem. My advice is to just suck it up and get naked. Privacy and modesty are first-world luxuries that people went without for millennia, and you’ll do just fine once you’ve adjusted to their absence. If you can’t, you have no business being here.”
Blushing furiously, Xiù went quiet.
“Are there any more questions?” Keating asked.
There were several rhetorical ones that Allison judged it would be unwise to ask, and Julian was too busy sharing his own version of Xiù’s blush.
Keating relaxed a little. “The engineering team are still building the ship,” he said. “If you really need or want them, they can try and build in some reasonable extras and customisations. The Box, however, is not being modified, and the reason for that is that the three of you really will need to be the tightest team. This is deliberately difficult, for your own good, and you wouldn’t be here if we thought you couldn’t handle it.”
“We understand that.” Allison told him.
“Good. Then I have just one quick round of assessment to make before I leave you to settle in.”
Keating turned to Xiù and handed her a piece of paper. “Miss Chang, could you please read this aloud?”
Xiù took it, blinked at it, then cleared her throat, blush fading as she was given something else to focus on. “Um…‘The Great Pyramid of Giza was constructed about four thousand six hundred years ago by king Khufu of the fourth dynasty. It includes tomb chambers for the king and for his wife.’ …um, that’s all.”
“Thank you.” Keating said. “Could you say that in Gaori?”
Xiù rubbed at her neck. “Not…easily.” she confessed.
“Why not?”
“Well…for ‘great’ I could use Shé’ meaning “very large” or Yué meaning “very good”…I don’t know the Gaori word for pyramid…in Gaori you’d say “four thousand six hundred” like “Forty hundred and six hundred” and the word for ‘hundred’ has that awkward yipping sound in it that I can’t pronounce properly, and…I don’t know if Gaori has words for Dynasty and Tomb, and I know it doesn’t have words for King or Wife.”
“Give me your best approximation.” Keating pressed.
“Umm….Shé’ Giza-nes yì Pyramid-nes sha yì ao-k…kip! – sorry, that’s that yipping sound I can’t do – ao-kip!-yimi kip!-simi ma yì sa Khufu-nes yì yimi-dynasty-nes. Sh… no, that’s not right. Choo yuo mäiwa-tomb-nes yì… um…Yì bei-sao o beiyo…beiyo…” She gave up. “Sorry, ‘his wife’ just doesn’t translate at all.”
“Not even ‘his mate for life’ or something like that?” Keating suggested. Xiù shook her head. “Why not?”
“Gaoians wouldn’t say ‘his mate’, they would say, um…” Xiù scowled in concentration. “It’s more like ’the mate he was with’. Their language just doesn’t let you possess a person. It’d be like if I said ‘I had some not very for breakfast’. See?”
“That’s okay.” Keating made a note. “Yimi? Simi?”
“Im, Imi, Yim, Yimi, Sim, Simi, Jim, Jimi, Uo, Ao-Im.” Xiù recited, counting on her fingers. “Then Ao-Im Im, Ao-Im Imi…You get the idea.”
Keating nodded and turned to Julian.
“Mr. Etsicitty, how reliable is your prosthetic?”
“It’s…temperamental.” Julian conceded. When Keating waited patiently, he elaborated. “The first metatarsal isn’t as strong as the real thing, and of course it doesn’t heal, so once it breaks I just have to glue it.”
“Could you replace it with something stronger?”
“Sure, but the weight would be off.” Julian said. “This feels exactly like a natural foot, you see. If the foot was heavier, I’d have to learn how to walk properly on it again.”
“If we could rehabilitate you onto a slightly heavier foot, would you be willing to?”
Julian shrugged. “The only reason I didn’t in the first place was because I needed to be up and at ‘em right away.” He said.
“Good.” Keating made a note. “Miss Buehler…when you filled in the paperwork, your education history was somewhat…bare.”
“That’s right.” Allison nodded.
“No high school?”
“I never graduated high school.”
“Why not?” Keating pried. Allison shook her head.
“That’s ancient history, and it’s nobody’s business but mine.” she declared.
“Bullshit. I’m here to assess you.” Keating retorted. “That means if I ask you a question, it is my business and if you won’t answer then your contract is null and void. The three of you can go back to Minnesota and take your chances without the Group’s lawyers.”
All three of them stared at him like he’d personally reached out and slapped her in the face. He just poised his pen and waited.
“You can’t be serious?” Allison asked.
“I’m completely serious.” Keating’s expression was stony. “You are asking the Group to entrust you with a multi-billion-dollar spaceship. Now, I’ll ask you again for the last time: Why didn’t you finish high school?”
A large part of Allison wanted to believe he was playing chicken with her, or maybe some other kind of stupid dominance mindgame thing. Keating seemed to be the kind of guy who liked putting people ’in their place’, and despite Kevin’s excellent advice, just for a second she was tempted to show him her middle finger and her back, in that order.
Then she glanced at Julian and Xiù, wavered, and gave up.
”…I got pregnant,” she said, and couldn’t stop herself from deflating completely. “…I had a baby.”
“In high school?” Keating asked. The worst part wasn’t his interrogation – the worst part was the stunned expressions that Xiù and Julian were wearing.
“Yes.” Allison nodded. Suddenly ashamed, she rubbed her face, stared at her feet and tried to find her composure. “Too young.”
“And the father?”
“He was too young too.”
“His name.” Keating clarified.
“Taylor. Um…Taylor….Tylor Hamlin.”
“And where is the child now?”
”…I don’t know.” Allison swallowed. “My parents…they weren’t nice about it. So, I had my son, I put him up for adoption, and then as soon as I was old enough I got the hell out of Salt Lake City. I’ve never tried to find him.”
Julian, God bless him, put his arm around her and aimed an arctic stare at Keating that instructed the man to drop it immediately. Meanwhile if looks could have killed, the glare Xiù was producing should have blasted Keating’s scorched flesh from his bones.
Keating gave no sign of caring.
“Thank you.” he said. “I’ll let you get settled in.”
He was halfway to the door when Allison angrily wrenched her dignity and confidence back into place. “Hey, asshole!”
Keating paused. “Yes?”
“You gonna count that against me?”
“No, Miss Buehler I am not.” Keating turned back to face her. “I am however going to count your lack of self-control in calling me an asshole against you.” Allison opened her mouth to protest, and Keating cut her off. “Listen.” he said, sounding more bored and terse than angry. “We are looking for any excuse we can find to ditch the three of you: Do not give us one. Do you understand?”
Julian squeezed her hand, and Allison fought back the urge to tear a strip off the man’s hide. Instead, she swallowed her bruised pride and nodded. “…I understand.”
Keating nodded. “Goodbye.” he said. “We won’t meet again.”
The door made a solidly mechanical noise behind him.
“Jeeeesus.” Julian breathed. Then, with a note of concern – “…Al?”
Allison realised that she was shaking. “I, uh…”
“Need to sit down?” Xiù suggested. “I think…yeah, here.” She gripped something in the wall and pulled: out swung a couch. Allison sank onto it gratefully and took a few cleansing breaths.
It helped. She only needed a few seconds to find her balance again. “…you guys okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” Julian promised, squatting in front of her. “Xiù?”
Xiù nodded, and sat next to Allison, giving her something that was halfway between a comforting backrub and a Gaoian’s concerned pawing. Allison sighed and gave her a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” she said.
“Al, we’re fine.” Julian promised. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“You’re sure? You don’t mind I kept it secret?”
“It explains a few things.” Julian observed. “But yeah. You never lied, you just told me you didn’t want to talk about it. That’s fine by me. Am I right?” He asked Xiù.
“Absolutely!” Xiù agreed.
Allison sighed and relaxed. “Thank you.” she told them both.
Xiù smiled for her. “You’re definitely a Sister.” she said.
”…Thanks?” Allison asked.
“I mean, you’re…um. I mean this as a compliment, but I really can’t see you raising a child.” Xiù explained, a touch clumsily. “At least, not yet. Um…sorry.”
Julian chuckled. “True. Wouldn’t have it any other way, either.”
Allison managed a weak smile, which faltered when she looked down at her hands and found they were threatening to become inextricably knotted together. “I don’t regret giving him away.” she said. “I couldn’t take care of him, I’d have been a shitty mom. But…they didn’t even let me hold him. Said it wasn’t good for us to bond. Sometimes… Sometimes I think it woulda been nice, though…Just for a few minutes…”
“You’ve never…?” Xiù asked.
“I’m not his mommy.” Allison shook her head, and scrubbed away the wetness around her eyes. “If he comes looking for me someday…maybe. But I really hope he grows up so happy he never wants to.”
Julian gave her an enormous squeeze. “Al. He’d be so excited and proud of you, I just know it.”
She returned the squeeze, but shook her head. “Not yet he wouldn’t,” she disagreed. “All I did was get abducted…”
She sniffed, and straightened. “But we’re here now, doing this. So let’s knock it outta the park.”