It was a terrible idea.

They didn’t have a better one.

Jax fastened his hand on the side of the ship, his other hand holding tight to Robb, as Elara, Xu, and the skysailer fell away.

“Well, this is better than not doing anything, ma’alor,” Jax said over the comm-link.

“Just barely,” Robb replied, and grabbed ahold of the other handle on the opposite side of the airlock. “But why couldn’t Elara or Xu do this?”

“You didn’t just suggest that a Metal walk into a ship where they HIVE Metals,” Jax deadpanned.

He felt his cheeks redden.

The Dossier was on its way, but it was on the other side of Eros, dropping off medical supplies and rations at a sanctuary. It would get here as fast as it could.

His mechanical arm twitched, and Robb quickly grabbed his forearm to keep it still, prayed to the Goddess that he could control it.

Their space suits had been improved upon since the last time Robb went jumping onto another ship—they were the first thing Siege had bought in the wake of the assassination attempt six months ago. (The second thing Siege bought was a drink.) The space suit reminded him of old Royal Guard armor, a plated chest piece, pauldrons, arm armor, gauntlets, and a thick nylon-polymer body mail underneath. The chest piece pulsed gently with a dull light.

And, thank the Goddess, they were bulletproof.

Jax dug into the satchel and took out a small square. He pressed it against the lock. The square lit up with three red bars that slowly counted down to a green bar. Then the airlock burst open with a snap, spilling a puff of frozen oxygen into the air. Jax helped him inside first and followed, closing the airlock after them. The chamber gave a sigh and recompressed.

Robb pressed the button on the side of his helmet, and it folded back into the collar of his spacesuit. He sucked in a lungful of stale recycled air. “Goddess, I hate space.”

“And tight spaces, and the word moist, and freeze-dried jerky with caminar pepper,” Jax added, looking around the darkened maintenance hallway. “You know what I was just thinking?”

“How this is a terrible plan?”

He gave a wry laugh. “About the first time we met. Me, dashing and rogue-ish. You, bleeding all over the newly upholstered backseat of my skysailer.”

“I only bled a little on your seat—and don’t forget I helped save your life when the skysailer stalled, remember?”

“You could say I fell for you then, ma’alor.”

He scowled. “We’re sneaking aboard a death trap and you’re making jokes. What if my metal arm acts up? What if I can’t defend myself and—”

“Shush,” Jax interrupted, and gently cupped his face in his hands. “Worrying’ll give you wrinkles. You’ll be fine.”

Robb hesitated as he looked into his partner’s eyes. “How do you know?”

His partner gave a secretive smile, but there was a strangeness in his eyes that Robb couldn’t place. He pressed a gloved thumb against Robb’s lips—and kissed it. It was the only way they could kiss, with layers between them, always rotating around each other like a binary star.