Two large steps across the platform were all it took to get to the wall. He slouched against it, sucking in a deep breath. Counting to three, he slowly pulled the handle. The door creaked open, and he jumped back as a body slumped onto the platform.

“I found someone,” he whispered into the com. He pulled off a glove to check the man’s pulse. It was surprisingly strong. He rolled the man onto his back, and Emanuel’s eyes popped open, scanning the darkness restlessly.

“Who—who’s there?!”

“Keep it down,” Bouma whispered, bringing his hand to Emanuel’s mouth.

“We have to hide,” Emanuel said, scooting backwards on the metal platform until he hit the wall with a thud.

“Emanuel!” Sophie cried, dropping Jamie’s hand and rushing toward him. “You’re okay.” She dropped to both knees and hugged him, gripping him so tight he couldn’t scream again even if he’d wanted to.

“Sophie, is that you?”

She reached for her helmet and slipped it off. She blinked several times before the outline of his face came into focus. “Yes, it’s me.”

Emanuel’s body slowly relaxed. He reached out for her, hugging her forcefully. “God, I thought I had lost you,” he whispered.

“I know, I thought I lost you too,” she whispered.

Emotions she had ignored for too long overwhelmed her. Mars, the Biosphere, her team’s opinion of her—none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was surviving—surviving with Emanuel.

A single tear raced down her cheek, hidden by the darkness. She didn’t bother wiping it away. Her body was too tired. It had been through so much.

“All right, lovebirds, let’s get moving. I want the facility secured in thirty minutes. Bouma, set your mission clock,” Overton said over the com.

The blue numbers began to tick away on his HUD. He checked his ammo and stretched his stiff arm. In the distance, a scream broke through the silence, and he instantly shouldered his rifle, his finger massaging the trigger.

“What the hell was that?” Bouma whispered.

“Sounded human. Kind of like that jackass computer guy,” Overton said. He was moving before he finished his sentence, racing down the platform. Stealth was no longer important. If there were more survivors, he wanted to find them before the Organics did.

“Bouma, protect the civvies and get the power back on. I have an asshole to save.”

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

EVERY time Overton had ever thought he was incapable of completing an objective, his training would kick in and he’d get it done. After serving his entire adult life in the military, his senses were no longer his own—they belonged to the Marines. He could no longer control how he reacted in combat. His training, experience, and survival instincts snapped on and took over.