Gale Force

47

McKenna and Harrington bunked at the base of the stairs, by the bulkhead door leading to cargo deck four, while Nelson Ridley climbed back to the weather deck to maintain radio contact with the Gale Force. McKenna and Harrington unraveled their sleeping bags and dug into their provisions, and listened to the pump rumble away in the hold.

“We’ll go two hours on, two off,” McKenna told the architect. “Check the pump every hour or so, make sure the hose is still sucking water. Adjust as you see fit. Sound good?”

Harrington chewed his sandwich, swallowed. “Makes sense to me.”

“Remember to clip in. Every time you go up or down that line. Safety first.”

“Right, McKenna.” Harrington grinned. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

It’s practically mine, McKenna thought. And I don’t want to lose anyone. She rummaged in the dinner bag. Jason Parent had made sandwiches, thick ones, roast beef and big hunks of bread, and he’d somehow rustled up fresh lettuce and tomatoes, to boot. McKenna took a bite and savored it. Drank her coffee.

High above them, the wind howled through the access hatch and up the stairway to the deck. Pitch-dark up there now, the only light the cold blue from the LEDs in their headlamps. They were alone here, might well have been the only people left alive on the planet, and McKenna couldn’t shake the sense of awkwardness. She hadn’t been this alone with Harrington, with so little to say, since she’d told him she thought she was falling in love.

And that hadn’t exactly gone over well.

“So we got this thing licked, or what?” McKenna asked after a beat. “You think you can save this wreck?”

Harrington nodded. “I’m reasonably confident.”

“‘Reasonably?’” McKenna arched an eyebrow. “Okay, but once we get all the fluid levels, you’re going to be sure, right?”

Harrington laughed a little, the kind of laugh that made McKenna feel like she’d just asked something dumb. Like she was reading the situation all wrong yet again.

“It’s not just the numbers,” he said. “We’ll get everything we can use, but there’s no guarantees.”

McKenna stared at him. “You said if we input all the fluid levels into your models, the models would show us what to do. Are you saying that’s not true?”

“It’s not as simple as that, McKenna. This isn’t some video game. There’s thirty-three tanks on this ship, and a million other variables. I won’t give you a clean, precise solution to a really messy problem.”

“But that’s what you do,” McKenna said. “That’s your job, Court, to clean up these messes.”

Harrington sighed. “I can give you odds,” he said. “The models give us odds. We decide whether the odds are worth the risk. That’s how this works.” He paused. “Your dad understood that.”

“Yeah, so why can’t I; is that what you mean?” McKenna said quickly. “I’m sorry, Court. I thought I had the best scientist in the world for this job, and you’re telling me it’s a freaking game of poker?”

Harrington started to reply. McKenna beat him to it.

“I need a solution, Court,” she said. “I don’t need odds, or excuses. I need a plan to save this ship, and I need it fast.”

“You’ll get your plan, McKenna,” Harrington said. “Just let me do my job, and you worry about yours.”

I’m the freaking captain, McKenna thought. My job is to worry about you and your job. But she kept her mouth shut. Screwed the top on her thermos and peered down the bulkhead to where the pump rumbled away.

Harrington was watching her. Those green eyes, she could feel them. “What happened to us, McKenna?” he asked when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to meet his gaze. “How did we get here?”

You know how we got here, she thought. You know damn well.

She kept that to herself, though, didn’t say it to Court. “It doesn’t matter, Court,” she said instead. “What matters is how we get home.”

“I really liked what we had together. I hate that it ended how it did.”

“You mean with my dad dying?” she said.

Harrington made a face. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Before that, when you said all that stuff.” He paused. “I was young, and you were young, and I thought we were just having fun. And then, with your dad, and everything fell apart—I guess I just never got a chance to say sorry.”

This was a mistake. McKenna wished she were topside. Heck, wished she were underwater. Anything to dodge this conversation.

“Yeah, well, no apology necessary, Court,” she said. Then she stood. “I’m going to check on that pump. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s your turn.”

She dropped through the bulkhead and climbed down to the pump. It wasn’t quite a walk of shame, but it kind of felt just as crummy.