“Nice,” I said to her.
“I feel like a teenager,” she complained, “dodging my boyfriend’s mother.”
“I feel like a teenager too,” I said. “Because I am one.”
“Don’t remind me,” she grumbled, climbing out and rubbing her forehead, which she’d scraped on something under the bed. “You’re like five years younger than I am.”
“Five … Megan, how old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“I turned nineteen right before we left Newcago,” I said. “You’ve got one year on me.”
“Like I said. You’re practically a baby.” She held out her hand and let me pull her to her feet.
“We could go talk to Tia,” I said as she stood. “Prof’s not here, and Tia’s more likely to listen to you. I’ve been working on them, explaining that you didn’t kill Sam. I think she’ll give you a chance to speak for yourself.”
Megan frowned and looked away. “Not right now.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to face her, David. It’s tough enough dealing with all of this right now without worrying about Tia.”
I puffed out a breath. “Fine. But we’re going to have to sneak you out somehow.”
“Walk down the hallway, distract anyone you run into, and clear me a path. I’ll hide in the sub again.”
“I guess.” I walked to the door slowly.
“David,” Megan said.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Coming down here was crazy,” she said.
“Completely crazy,” I agreed.
“Well, thanks for being crazy with me. I kind of need a friend.” She grimaced. “Sparks. I hate admitting things like that. Don’t tell anyone I said it?”
I smiled. “I’ll be quiet as a buttered snail sneaking through a Frenchman’s kitchen.”
I grabbed my rifle from beside the door, slung it over my shoulder, and struck out into the hallway. It was empty. From the looks of the storage closet, Mizzy and Val had finished unloading the boxes; hopefully they weren’t annoyed at me for ditching them. I slipped all the way down the hallway and entered the sitting room, the lavish chamber that connected to the submarine dock.
No signs of anyone in here. I turned around.
Val was standing behind me.
“Gah!” I exclaimed.
“Looks like we’re going right out again,” she said.
“Uh … yeah.”
Val passed me wordlessly, moving toward the door to the docking room. I needed to give Megan an opening. If Val went inside, there’d be no chance of Megan sneaking into the sub without her noticing.
“Wait!” I yelled. “I need to grab the spyril.”
“Go get it then,” she said.
“Right.” I waited in place for a moment, shuffling from one foot to the other.
“Well?” Val asked, pausing at the door into the docking room.
“Last time I used the spyril, something went wrong. I ended up losing my propulsion in the middle of the bay.”
Val sighed.
Come on, I urged.
“You want me to check it over?” she asked, though it was clear it was the last thing she wanted to do.
I let out a breath. “That would be awesome.”
“Well, go grab it then.”
I ran to get it, noticing, happily, how Val lingered in the sitting room. When I passed the library, Megan glanced out at me—she’d made it that far. I nodded toward Val, held up one finger, and grabbed the spyril pack from the storage room.
I hurried back to Val, then began setting out the spyril’s parts on a couch—positioned so that when Val walked over to look at them, she’d have her back to the door to the docking room. Val went over the spyril’s pieces quickly and efficiently, checking each for scratches, then ensuring that the cords were attached correctly and tightly.
As Val worked, Megan slipped into the room behind us, then eased open the door into the docking chamber. She vanished into the darkness beyond.
“If something went wrong,” Val said, “it wasn’t the equipment’s fault.”
“You look like you know a lot about the equipment,” I said, nodding toward the spyril. “Almost as much as Mizzy does.”
“Come on,” Val said, placing the last set of wires back into the pack. If I’d made any kind of connection with her earlier in the sub, I couldn’t spot a sign of it now. She was back to being cold.
“Val, I really am sorry about Sam,” I said. “I’m sure nobody could ever replace him, but someone has to use this equipment, and someone has to run point.”
“I don’t care that you’re using the spyril. Honestly, how unprofessional do you think I am?”
“Then why are you so terse with me?”
“I’m terse with everyone,” she said, then tossed me the pack and walked toward the docking room.