The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,43

suggest keeping your distance. As I have been told, romantic liaisons are a bad idea between those working together.”

She cleared her throat. She’d been the one to tell him that.

“I understand the appeal of a bond with someone in your same situation,” he continued. “But you must not lose focus. Our mission is more important than everything else. It needs to be me you trust. Me you confide in.”

His hand was a fist again, by his side.

Cora’s throat felt dry. He didn’t even know about the kiss.

“Of course. There’s nothing between Lucky and me, just friendship.”

He nodded and left, but his fist never released.

18

Rolf

“SUPPER’S READY, DARLING.”

Nok’s voice came from the kitchen. Rolf folded his newspaper—it was from 1969 and announced the moon landing—and smoothed his hand over his tie. He smiled and took a seat at the dining room table, pulling out the chair for Nok as she carried in a tray of meat loaf. She was wearing a frilly 1950s apron with a daisy pattern, and he knew she’d rather die than put on something so hideous.

But now she smiled, set the meat loaf on the table, and sat across from him. They began to eat. “I made sure to use plenty of fresh herbs,” Nok said. “Fresh vegetables are good for the baby’s development. After dinner, we should practice mashing up apples into applesauce. That’s the most easily digestible food for toddlers.”

Rolf forced a smile. “Of course.”

The newspaper, the tie, Nok’s apron. Serassi had presented each object to them formally, explaining that they were real artifacts from Earth. I want this to be as real as possible, she had said, adding, as an afterthought, for my research. She seemed to have some idea that this was how human couples acted. Rolf thought she clearly hadn’t watched enough episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

“More, darling?” Nok smiled as she served him an extra helping, but her hand was shaking.

Not far away, Serassi watched their every move.

No matter how many days passed, Rolf hadn’t gotten used to the fact that an entire wall of their house was missing. In the mornings, there was usually a crowd of Kindred sitting in the spectator area, all of them cloaked and stiff. He could hear the sounds of their fingers inputting data into the computers slung around their hips as he and Nok playacted watering the house plants, reading to each other from the newspaper, putting together the crib.

He took another bite of the bland-tasting replicated meat loaf. “Mmm,” he said, loud enough for Serassi to overhear. “You really outdid yourself. You’re going to be a great mother.”

Today, Serassi was the only one in the seating area. She was often there even after the other scientists had left. Sometimes Rolf and Nok would go to sleep, curled together in the bed, and she’d still be there when they woke. It was seriously starting to creep him out.

Nok stood to do the dishes. “Did you know that babies need to be swaddled for the first four weeks?” she said over her shoulder. “We can use any old piece of fabric. A towel, or even an old shirt—”

“Stop,” Serassi commanded suddenly from the seating area. “Stop this.”

There was an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before. She stood, winding with quick steps through the empty seating into the house. She pointed to the baby care book sitting on the kitchen counter. “You are merely reciting facts from the books that we have provided to you. The information on fresh produce and applesauce is on page eighty-one in the ‘Nutrition’ chapter. The information on swaddling techniques is on page two hundred forty. We are already more than familiar with prenatal care that has been documented in books; this scenario is meant to teach us practices we have not found in books. Informal practices.” She picked up the book and dropped it into the trash can. “But you are not teaching us anything that we do not already know.”

Rolf exchanged a worried look with Nok. In his heart, he felt that same familiar twist as when he had disappointed one of his teachers. Back in Oslo, he had studied all night, every night, to make top marks. It was the only time his parents paid attention to him, rather than to his brother, who was Rolf’s total opposite: a prize-winning track star.

But not anymore, he reminded himself. He might never be a track star, but he had learned coordination and balance and felt the