The Lost Ship of the Tucker Rebellion - Marie Sexton Page 0,55

in his hair while they danced. He remembered the feel of Spence’s body against his, and the tantalizing flavor of cherry cola. Every nerve in his body seemed to flare to life at the memory, a fluttery sense of arousal wiggling down Denver’s spine.

Jesus, they were less than three hours out from Titan X, and he was already trying to figure out how to get Spence alone. They had nearly two weeks to go before they reached the Umbriel Crater, all of it with Treesa and Laramie watching their every move.

Denver was going to drive himself crazy in the meantime.

“Hello?” Spence said, interrupting Denver’s entirely too erotic thoughts. “Spence to Denver. Did you even hear what I just said?”

Denver forced himself to take a step back and to focus on the issue at hand. “Yes. No. Uh… Pierro-Zabotel experiments? No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He turned away to put the whiskey back in the cabinet. He tossed his and Marit’s cups into the sink to wash later. “Listen, I should go check in with Marit. You need anything?”

“Other than a way to make your brother stop hating me?”

“He’ll get over it. He just—”

Spence laughed, and the sound warmed Denver all the way to his toes. “Stop, Denver. I was kidding. Laramie and I will be fine. I’ll stay out of his way, just like he said. And whether he stays out of my way or not, it doesn’t matter. I’ll play nice, no matter what. And I won’t make trouble.”

This time, it was Denver who moved closer, but he resisted the urge to do anything more than that. “I’m sorry he’s making things so difficult.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s not your fault. Besides, you have enough to worry about. I don’t want you adding me to that list.”

“Spence?” Treesa said, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “I want to go back to our new bedroom now.”

“Okay, honey.” Spence took her hand but kept his eyes on Denver. “You don’t need to add either of us to that list. Got it?”

“Got it,” Denver said.

But he knew as he watched them walk away it was too late for that.

Part Three

EYE OF THE TIGER

What is the real cost of hope? Some would say that hope itself is priceless, the only thing that allows us to continue to live as we now must with a modicum of cheer, because something better might be just around the corner, in the works, speeding at us like a supernova to sweep the sins of the past away. Stories of oddly generous Li’Vin leaving behind gifts for the intrepid, of new and amazing human ingenuity coming to the rescue, even tales of a benevolent god who’s on the verge of making an appearance, when no plight in our recent past could move them to it.

I say that hope is the province of the simple-minded, the fool. The best of us knew it long ago—the only safeguard against the ultimate indifference of the universe is the continual application of work, work, and more work to achieve our goals.

―Mohammed Patel, last mayor of the Lunar Colony

Chapter Eleven

The next few days felt like a strange dance, of sorts. The Jiminy didn’t have a room that counted as general “living quarters.” There was the packed cargo bay, the cockpit, the engine room—which offered a bit of space but was so loud it couldn’t be entered without protective earwear—the three bedrooms, a tiny bathroom, and the kitchen. Other than that, there was nothing but the short, twisted hallways connecting one to the other. It was way too small of a ship for six people, even if those six people had all been on friendly terms. But with half of them working diligently to avoid the other half…

“Awkward” didn’t begin to cover it.

They fell into a pattern of using the kitchen in shifts. Marit and Denver were the early risers, so had their breakfast first. Spence and Treesa came along a bit later but rarely lingered. Laramie and Ginn arrived late, often closer to lunchtime than breakfast, at which point Marit retreated to the cockpit and Denver either followed her or found himself holed up in his bedroom.

As the days passed, he did less of the former and more of the latter. For whatever reason, Marit’s cheer upon escaping Titan had slowly drained away, leaving her surly and snippy. Denver wasn’t sure if Marit’s unhappiness was caused by Ginn, or something else entirely, but he knew well enough not to pry. Marit would