“Kevin?”
Kevin straightened up instantly at the sound of his name, but he couldn’t wipe the pallor from his face.
“What is it?” Adrian sank into his own chair. “What’s happened?”
Kevin shook his head. “I don’t know any more than you do.” He swiveled his chair around to face the primary controls. “Let’s get the preflights done, okay?”
Adrian didn’t move. “Look, if we’re headed back into trouble, I want to know.”
Kevin poked at a few keys, getting readiness displays up on the screens. “You’re not headed into anything.”
“But you are?”
“Did I say I was?” Kevin scowled at the control panel. “Quit pushing, Adrian. Just do your job.”
“You helped, didn’t you?”
They both jumped. Hatch stood in the entranceway, her face serious, her eyes probing.
“Dr. Hatch, please, get into your couch,” said Kevin. “We’re under a recall and we’ve got to leave now.”
“But you did help?” she said.
Kevin reared out of his chair. “What the hell do you care? You and your tourist friends were right, and you showed us all up. Fine. Take the headline and be happy. But if you want to gloat, do it on Mother Earth with your art buddies. This is my ship. For the next five hours I’m still in charge and I’m telling you to get in that cabin and out of my way!”
She didn’t move. She stayed right where she was, as if she meant to stare Kevin down.
“I am sorry,” she said finally. Then, she turned away and climbed through the door into the starboard couch bay.
Kevin sat back down, shaking.
“What was she talking about?” demanded Adrian.
“Don’t start,” said Kevin.
“Come on, Kevin—”
“Wo!” he roared. Adrian reeled back He’d heard Kevin yell before, at incompetence, at carelessness, but not like this, not this empty, lost rage.
“I’m sorry,” Kevin whispered. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” agreed Adrian.
They ran through the preflights mechanically, with no comments or bantering. Adrian kept his eyes on his instruments. He didn’t want to look at his boss. He didn’t want to see what was eating the other man. Something sure was. Something huge.
Finally, Kevin turned the radio on Venera Base. “Venera Base, this is Scarab Five.”
“We have you, Scarab Five,” came back Tori’s voice. “Conditions are go for your launch.”
“Good to hear, Venera.” Kevin’s response was flat, automatic. “That lightning cleared up?”
“Clear as crystal,” answered Tori. “For Venus anyway.”
“Thank you, Venera.” He switched the radio over to the next channel. “Scarab Fourteen, this is Scarab Five. Are you go for launch?”
“Ready whenever you are, Scarab Five,” Charlotte Murray, Scarab Fourteen’s pilot, told them. “You got any idea what this is about?”
For a moment, Adrian thought Kevin was going to be sick. “None, Charlotte. Listen, we’re good to go here too. How about you follow us up?”
“Okay by me,” said Charlotte. “Let’s do the drill. Scarab Five, are you go?”
“We are go, Scarab Fourteen.” Kevin gave Adrian the nod.
“Engaging wing.” Adrian thumbed the button on the wheel stem that raised the wing. The roof camera showed the rack lift and spread, stretching the skin wide. The indicator light shone green and Adrian slid the inflation control up to Full. The wing inflated slowly. Scarab Five shifted uneasily until it finally lost contact with the ground and began its gentle rise toward the clouds.
Kevin pulled the wheel forward with one hand and pressed in the two keys that engaged the flight engines with the other. The flight engines were tiny things, mostly for guidance and stabilization. The wing provided the lift in the dense atmosphere, and once they reached them, the 360-kilometer-an-hour winds in the cloud layers provided the speed.
Kevin eased the wheel forward to angle the wing for a little extra lift. He probably wanted to get as far away from the volcano wall as possible, as soon as possible. Beta Regio never failed to make Adrian nervous. Too many outcroppings, too many weird corners.
Today, though, it didn’t bother him half as much as the dead, gray look on Kevin’s face. He was not here. His hands were flying the scarab without his head. This was not good.
“Flying a little sluggish, do you drink?” asked Adrian to try to draw him out.
Kevin nodded. “A little. Might be some grit in the works. How do the diagnostics look?”