“A day?”
“One day. Sleep on it.”
Jack wandered back outside, where Nikitin and Albright were waiting for him. “What was that all about, hero?” Albright asked.
“You get chewed out?”
“No. Ummm… The Colonel wants me to establish a base in Africa.”
Albright said, “Wow.”
Nikitin laughed. “Hot damn. You gonna do it?”
“I dunno,” Jack said, “but yeah, I think so.”
“About time,” Nikitin said. “I’m getting sick of this dried up hell hole. Be nice to see some greenery again.”
“Yeah.” Jack was still weighing the decision in his head. “It’s a lot, though. Isn’t it?”
Nikitin laughed. “Maybe. I’m just glad it’s not me.”
“You’re not alone in that,” Albright said.
“Smart mouth you got, little woman.” Nikitin was smiling. “Anyway… I’m gonna go scrounge up another dinner. Anyone care to join me?”
“Nah. I got some thinking to do,” Jack said.
Albright waved. “You’re on your own, pal. That last feeding frenzy of yours turned my stomach.”
“Fine. More for me.” With that, the lighthouse headed off toward the mess.
Jack started walking in no particular direction, and Albright pinned herself to his hip. “So tell me, why wouldn’t you do this?” she asked.
“I dunno,” Jack said. “It doesn’t seem real. I don’t even know how I got this far.”
“That’s easy. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve had a talent for just two things, Jack — surviving, and getting people to follow you.”
“That’s crap. Only reason I ended up in charge of the Bravos was that no one else wanted the job.”
“Bullshit. Two months in the corps, and you were already telling the brigade leader what to do. And he did it. When the position opened up, no one else would touch it because they knew it was yours.”
He laughed. That cut closer to the truth than he was willing to admit.
“Face facts, Jack. If you march into hell, me, Leo and the others will follow you right on in. And you’ll bring us out alive. It’s what you do.”
He heard something in her voice that he hadn’t noticed before, and he turned to look at her. The months of hardship had taken their toll, and she’d become cold and calculating in a way Jack never could have expected. But beneath that, stars were glimmering distantly in her eyes.
The realization didn’t prepare him for what came next. Lisa Albright grabbed Jack’s collar, tugged his face down to hers, and she kissed him.
Her lips were warm and soft and sweet. Her mouth was tender, and for an instant, Jack was lost. For an instant, he was kissing Jess back on a rainy day in San Jose.
He pulled away but stayed close, with his eyes closed and her hot breath breaking on his lip. His own breaths were heavy, and his heart was beating against his chest. “I can’t,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said. One of her hands was on his chest, and he was sure she could feel the thumping beneath. “You’re still mending that broken heart of yours, but someday it’s gonna heal. I’ll be here when it does.”
He was speechless. She knew him a little too well.
Lisa Albright left another gentle kiss on his lips, then turned and walked away. “I’ll see you in the morning, hero.”
Jack vaguely recalled that he had to make some kind of decision, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.
Chapter 33:
Tin Can
”…and that was the third time I got crabs. I haven’t returned to Maui since, and now chances for a future visit look bleak, for obvious reasons.”
Nils Jansen took a moment to scratch his thick beard. His razor still worked just fine, but he’d lost the will to shave three months before, around the time he and the other two men aboard Copernicus Observatory were supposed to run out of supplies and starve to death. They didn’t starve, partly because of intelligent rationing, and partly because they ate everything even remotely edible, including their shaving cream. Besides, he thought the shaggy beard was appropriate to the predicament.
He clicked the mouth piece on again. “That blackened mess currently on screen is Korea, as seen at night from a great altitude. Our viewers at home might have noticed it basically looks like a… well, a shapeless blob of land. Most peninsulas in fact look similar from great altitudes at night, and one could easily mistake Korea for Italy, Florida or the Yucatan. This blob is however notable, because… because my software says it’s Korea. Now, I’ve never been there myself, but I hear it’s just peachy. Or was, at some point in the not terribly distant past.”
Marco was on the other side of the command center, bouncing a tennis ball against the window over and over again, and Hopkins had curled up in a corner to read. They’d all lost a lot of weight, but Hopkins still eerily resembled a pilot whale. He looked suspiciously like dinner, actually. Jansen shook that idea out of his head.
“I thought the third time you got crabs was in Maine,” Marco said.
“No. I caught lobster off the coast of Maine. Idiot.”
“Oh. You understand my mistake.”
Jansen took a sip of water out of his bottle. The station’s filtration system was beginning to fail, and the water’s flavor was becoming difficult to ignore. Musky. He chose not to think about what it tasted like.
Marco missed his ball on the rebound, and went chasing after it. “Ever been to Cape Cod, Nils?”
“No, but I’ve had vodka and cranberry juice.”
“I always wanted to go there. Just once,” Marco said. “It was a dream. I figure sailing around New England is like the best thing in the world.”
Jansen watched the darkened Earth beneath them. They’d passed Japan already and were now over the Pacific Ocean. “I’ve done some sailing. It’s not all that.”
“I’m not talking about wind surfing at an island resort with a bunch of drunk hookers. I mean real sailing. On a sloop. Racing in a fancy regatta with the wind in my hair, a white sweater tied around my neck and a glass of red wine in my hand.”
“Wow,” Jansen said. “Just wow. Something really weird musta happened to you as a child.”
“Is it that strange?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Jansen clicked the mouth piece. “And that brings us to tonight’s question… what makes a man dream of sailing the coast of New England? Joining us here in the Radio Free Copernicus studio is closet sailor, Marco Esquivel. Marco, are the rumors true? Do you think about the Massachusetts shore while you masturbate?”
“Screw off, Nils.”
“Riveting show,” Hopkins said.
“How about you, Hop? Any secret fantasies about cutting a jib?”
“Nope. Can’t stand the ocean. I dream about cutting your throat sometimes, though.”
“Zing!”
Right as Jansen started to laugh, there was a strange noise. It was a loud thunk, as if something had collided with the station. It sounded like someone docking.
“What the hell was that?”
“Not sure, but it can’t be good.” Jansen pulled out a metal rod that he’d carefully sharpened to a fine point. He’d planned to kill Hopkins with it when the last of their rations ran out. He was going to slide it between the vertebrae at the base of the whale-man’s neck, killing him instantly. Jansen didn’t like Hopkins much, but he at least owed him a quick death.
