“Where is it?” Rogers wondered aloud as he rubbed his eyes. The buzz from the fight with Barber Bot had worn off, leaving him feeling fatigued and a little addled as he searched for the door that would take him to the correct chute. If he screwed this up, the VMU wouldn’t have enough compressed air to get him to the Awesome, and he’d quickly learn what it was like to be a piece of space debris. It actually probably felt just like being in his stateroom but with a lot less oxygen.

He looked at his datapad. It read 1436 hours ship time. He had just a few minutes to get into the chute, put on his gear, and get out of here. Freedom. He could almost taste it—and it tasted absolutely nothing like a SEWR rat.

“There,” he said as he saw the sign that said CHUTE 12. He’d used his special accesses as Klein’s executive officer to get to some of the more detailed schematics of the ship, and it had listed out Chute 12 as the one closest to the hangar where the Awesome was stored. From there, he’d have a short flight to the Un-Space point that would take him the hell out of here. He checked the datapad again, though only a few seconds had passed.

Pulling the laundry cart off the conveyor belt, Rogers hit the button for the door and was promptly greeted by a giant red X on the display panel followed by a rude noise.

“Shit,” he said. Why would they lock the garbage chutes? He should have come down here to do a practice run before all of that “In the Zone” shit. If he couldn’t get this door open, he’d have wasted valuable Zone time, and that wasn’t something he really liked doing.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” someone said from behind him.

He squealed like a little girl and jumped, spinning around to see the two people he wanted to see the absolute least at the moment.

Well, it was Mailn and the Viking. He guessed he wanted to see them. Rogers could certainly think of other people on the ship he would have liked to see less, so really, that whole thought pattern had been invalid.

“I could ask the same of you,” Rogers said, swallowing. He hoped he had that sort of cocksure, I’m-authorized-to-be-here tone. He’d practiced it many times, but he’d never done it in front of the most beautiful woman in the world and her corporal.

“We’re taking out the plasma cartridges,” the Viking said, the tremors of her full, Siren-like voice sending vibrations through Rogers’ body. Could he really leave her?

“With your whole unit?” Rogers asked.

“Marines do everything as a team,” Mailn said. It sounded like a rehearsed line, but it also sounded like she meant it. Rogers wondered what they’d do to him as a team if they found out what he was planning.

“And you?” the Viking asked. She eyed the laundry cart. Did she look suspicious? Or just wonderful? Rogers decided it was just wonderful.