Page 217 of Red Scale Daddy
Not in front of me.
Beside me.
She jams her weapon into the creature’s ribs and fires until it stops moving.
The corridor rings with the aftermath.
My breathing scrapes in my throat. Pally sits on the floor, clutching the conduit like it’s a holy relic. Roma stands beside me, shoulder pressed against mine, weapon smoking.
I look at her.
She looks at me.
“You stayed beside me,” I say.
Her expression hardens automatically, but not fast enough to hide what’s underneath. “It was tactically sound.”
“Sure.”
“It was.”
“Absolutely.”
Pally groans from the floor. “Please flirt after we escape the murder plumbing.”
Roma steps over a twitching Reaper limb and offers him a hand. “Up.”
He takes it. “For the record, I was extremely brave.”
“You hit it with a pipe,” I say.
“With conviction.”
Roma pulls him upright. “Conviction counts.”
Pally points at her. “Thank you. See? Leadership.”
The ship takes another hit, and this time the sound from above is different. A deep structural roar rolls through the passage, followed by a pressure wave that pops my ears and sends dust gusting from the seams.
Roma’s face goes still.
“What?” I ask.
“Outer hull breach is spreading.”
Pally’s grin vanishes. “Meaning?”
“Meaning the final escape point may not remain attached to the ship much longer.”
I wipe sweat and grime from my jaw, my hand shaking more than I want it to. “Then we move.”
Roma nods, and for once she doesn’t sprint ahead alone. She moves with us, close enough that her sleeve brushes mine when the corridor narrows, close enough that when the gravity tilts again, we catch each other without discussion.
Pally falls in on her other side, breathing hard but steady.
The three of us push forward through the dark, past sparking wires and ruptured pipes, past dead things that should have stayed nightmares, toward the auxiliary launch access and whatever slim chance waits there.
Roma’s hand brushes mine once.
