She suspected he was dead. And deep down, part of her was relieved at that. The idea of leaving without knowing for sure ate at her, but there was nothing she could do. She could search for weeks and not find any trace of him, alive or dead. Longer, if he was alive and hiding from her. All she could do was go home and hope that whoever came back after her learned more than she had.
She looked around the command module. Everything was locked down and ready. She could leave at any time. One last walk-through of the ship. Just to settle her nerves. Theoretically, she knew how to take off on her own, but in practice… Even her experience as a test pilot hadn’t fully prepared her for this.
Everything was in place. She was doing one last check of the main cabin, the biggest open space on the ship that served as an all-purpose living, working, and—right now—storage area, looking for any loose items that needed to be stowed when she heard the ominous click-clack of a handgun slide being racked behind her.
Tom stood between her and the ship’s cockpit. He looked like hell. The burns on his face were… Catherine swallowed uneasily. Something was growing on them. Glittering and green, like the lichen outside. He was pale and sweaty, and the hand holding the gun had a faint tremor.
“Don’t move until I tell you.” Tom’s voice was so hoarse as to be almost unrecognizable.
How did he get into the guns? How did he get on the ship?
“Tom? Didn’t you take the meds I left you?” Her mouth went dry. Her eyes kept going back to the burns, forcing her to think about the cut on her forehead.
“Shut up. Of course I did. Didn’t help, did they?”
“H-how did you get on board?” She had to keep him talking. As long as he was talking, he wasn’t shooting her. As long as he was talking, she had time to think. She needed a weapon. Trying to look calm, but with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest, she glanced around for anything she could use as a weapon. Something. There had to be something.
He leaned heavily against the bulkhead, but kept the weapon pointed at her. “You think I brought all those supplies over here out of the goodness of my heart?”
She had, foolishly. But that was—that was days ago. “You’ve been on board this whole time?”
“Didn’t know this ship had so many places to hide, huh?”
A prickle ran down her spine. She thought she’d been safe, and all this time…
Tom smiled, and it was more like a grimace, the livid red-and-green burns on his cheek wrinkling and sparkling. “You were going to leave me behind.”
“I didn’t think I had a choice. I didn’t know where you were.” Catherine put her hands up, still scanning the room. Her heart was beating so hard she was queasy; she swallowed hard against the nausea crawling up her throat. Stay focused. There was the Habitat wreckage. Sticking right out of the top was a big piece of rebar. If she could get her hands on that…
“Yeah, I saw how hard you looked for me.”
“You attacked me!” That was too sharp. She needed to keep her calm, to just breathe. To get them both through this alive.
“So you said. I don’t believe you. Who was abandoning who, here? You tried to kill me!”
She took a breath to steady her voice. “You’re the one holding a gun.”
Tom gestured with it. “Move to your left.”
As she did, he stepped right. They kept circling the cabin facing each other, and she realized he was herding her back to the cockpit. As he did, though, she was getting closer and closer to the rebar. She did her best not to look at it as it came close to being in reach. “I don’t understand,” she said. “If you were safely hidden, why come out now? Why not wait until after we launched?”
Tom gave her a sickly smile. “I said there were places to hide. I didn’t say they were good places. Especially not to withstand the g-forces of a takeoff.”
“And the gun? How did you get it?”
“Let’s just say I was motivated. And now I’m going to make sure you don’t get cute and leave me behind.” He pulled several sets of plastic restraints from his pocket. “If you’ll go back to your seat, we can make sure you get us off this hellhole.”
“What are you going to do, tie me to the pilot’s seat?”
“Yep,” he said. “Go on. Go sit down.”
“I won’t leave you behind, but Tom, at least let me quarantine you in the med bay.” Catherine tried to keep her voice reasonable, calm. A quick side glance showed her she was almost within reach of the rebar. “Whatever’s infecting you—if it’s not responding to the initial antibiotic dosage, we can’t risk taking that back with us to Earth.”
“You’ve already been exposed. It’s a two-and-a-half-year trip home, and they can scrub the ship before they let us off.” He scowled. “You’re stalling.”
“Be reasonable. You can’t… you can’t strap me in. You’re sick. If something happens to you, we could both die.”
“Then you better take off fast. Once we’re in space, I’ll let you go.”
The rebar was in reach. He won’t shoot you. He needs a pilot. She wanted to believe that, but she couldn’t be certain he was thinking about his own best interest right now.
It was as though he’d read her mind. “I will shoot you if I have to.” He smiled thinly. “I don’t have to shoot to kill.”
The infection. If she hadn’t already been exposed, an open wound would do the trick. “I’ll fly us out of here,” she bargained. “You don’t have to tie me up.”
“Catherine, you hit me, and you planned to leave me behind. I’m not inclined to trust you.” He stopped, coughing hard enough to double over. Catherine seized her opportunity, grabbing the rebar. She swung forcefully, aiming for the gun in Tom’s hand. At the last second, he shifted, and the rebar cracked into his shoulder instead.
“I knew you wanted me dead.” Tom’s eyes were empty, despite the angry expression on his face. He raised the gun and pointed it straight at her.
“I don’t, but Tom… I don’t want to die either!” Catherine held the rebar like a baseball bat. They kept circling each other, and she kept looking for an opening to aim for the gun. “Neither of us has to die. You’re here, I’m here. Let’s just go home.”
“Drop the bar first.” Tom’s hand wasn’t shaking anymore, and it wasn’t wavering away from her head. She could see his finger tensing on the trigger.
Fear took over and she swung. Her aim was true; the gun went flying from his hand, landing at the hatch to the cockpit. Before she could react, Tom was on her. He knocked her to the ground, trying to wrest the rebar from her. Catherine jammed her knees into his belly, desperate to create distance between them.
Tom tried to grab her arms, but she got a foot against his hip and shoved him away, wriggling from beneath him. She scrabbled for the gun. Tom grabbed her ankle, pulling her back. She kicked frantically, swinging the rebar, but Tom’s grip was strong, steady. He had her.
“You’re not leaving without me,” Tom growled. He hauled her across the floor on her belly, got a knee in her back, and wrapped his hands around her throat.
With his weight on her back, she had no leverage. Dark spots started popping at the edge of her vision as he cut off her air. Tightening her fingers on the rebar, she swung back wildly. She connected, heard the dull thunk of metal on bone. Tom’s grip weakened and she escaped again, gasping wildly for breath. Tom’s eyes were wide, blood streaming from his temple. He looked at her in surprise and betrayal, and then crumpled, dropping to the deck with a hard thud.