a button over his head, and a door appeared in one of the walls, which then folded over itself to form a short set of stairs.
“Primary hatch deployed,” Marilyn announced.
Chatine instantly shivered as the cold air of the hangar rushed inside the ship, slapping against her arms and face. Etienne began to make his way toward the stairs but stopped when he noticed that Chatine hadn’t moved.
“Are you coming? Do you need help? I can carry you. I’d rather not, but I will.”
Chatine gripped on to her harness. “No way. I am not stepping foot inside a camp full of Défecteurs. I’ve never trusted you people, and now I know why. You’re insane. You can’t live in the Terrain Perdu. No one can live in the Terrain Perdu. That’s why people call it Dead Man’s Land! Everyone dies there!”
Etienne shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He continued toward the stairs but stopped again a moment later, as though remembering something. He opened up a small compartment next to the hatch; pulled out a strange, palm-sized device; and tossed it to Chatine, who just barely managed to catch it. She studied it with curiosity. On one end was a crooked antenna, while the other end sported a scuffed dial next to a clunky red button.
“Radio me when you change your mind and want me to come get you.”
“I’m not going to change my mind.”
He smiled. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. Radio me when the goldenroot wears off.”
Then, with a knowing raise of his brow, Etienne hopped down the steps of the hatch door and disappeared into the hangar.
The moment he was out of view, Chatine leapt into action. She tossed the device to the side, unbuckled her harness, and hobbled over to the capitaine’s chair, sweeping her gaze over the giant console.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You can do this. It’s just a stupide Défecteur ship. It can’t be that complicated.” She just had to find the right control, engage the engines, and fly the fric out of there.
She pinched one of the levers between her fingers and flicked it upward. Nothing happened. She toggled it back and forth, but the engine remained quiet. She eyed a second, nearly identical switch, three centimètres to the left, and gave it a swift flick.
A loud blaring siren rang out across the ship. Chatine startled and scrambled away from the console, stumbling over her injured leg and falling backward.
“Owww!” she cried as lights along the baseboards began to flash fierce and red.
Then, came a voice.
“Intruder aboard. Intruder aboard.”
Her mouth fell open. The wretched ship was ratting her out. That mouchard!
“You know,” she muttered aloud. “Where I come from, you can lose a few toes for being a snitch.”
Suddenly, everything halted. The flashing lights flickered off. The alarm fell silent.
“Will you stop trying to steal my ship and just come out of there already?”
Chatine jumped and spun around, ready to face off with the pilote again, but there was no one there.
“Marilyn is never going to let you fly her. Only I know how to start that ship.”
The voice was coming from somewhere behind her. And it was only now she noticed that there was a scratchiness to it. A crackle. Her gaze landed on the strange, antennaed device lying in the center of the cockpit. She crept forward and cautiously poked at it.
“Have you had enough of your antics?”
With a squeak, she retracted her finger.
“How are you doing that?” she asked the box.
The box let out a sigh. “Press the red button.”
She glanced around the cockpit. “The red button?”
“On the radio,” Etienne said, sounding impatient and just the tiniest bit amused. It made Chatine’s hackles rise. “It shouldn’t be hard for you. You’re familiar with buttons, right?”
There was a snicker and Chatine wanted to snatch up the device and throw it out the hatch. But instead, she picked it up and pressed down tentatively on the button. “Hello?”
“So, now that you’ve figured out that Marilyn’s anti-theft system is impenetrable, are you ready to come out?”
“No,” she said stubbornly.
“So you’re just going to sit out there all day and night? Even when the temperature drops?”
She lowered back down into the capitaine’s chair. “Yes.”
Etienne didn’t reply. And Chatine commended herself for winning the argument. But then, not a full minute later, she felt something sharp and stabbing in her left leg, right where the shrapnel had hit her. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. A searing pain that seemed to ricochet through her body, faster than a paralyzeur