The two knot mates chatted as they worked that day. Well, Romy did the work. She refused to let Deimos lift more than a finger, not convinced he had the strength. She monopolised the single scanner and asked him to read through some dusty material to keep him busy.

This was the first time she’d been back in this room since Lucas attacked her. It was the first chance she’d had to look for the “classified” listings she’d spied over the soldier’s shoulder. After scrolling through the categories on the device over the last hour, Romy hadn’t found anything to do with a “classified” section. She didn’t expect it to be so easy. Lucas had used a key card.

She needed one of those cards.

If she had one, Romy could get the answers to everything––everything Atlas refused to tell her––and she could finally decide whether he was trustworthy. And if she found the answers here, he’d never know that she’d doubted him. It was a win-win.

Deimos had been nearly as disappointed as Romy at not finding the classified category, for more altruistic reasons.

Romy sighed. “I’m starting to feel like I don’t want to leave, Dei.”

Maybe if their knot remained prepared. If they kept their supplies packed to leave at a moment's notice if they were ever discovered. . . .

Then maybe they could stay until there was an actual sign of danger.

“I can’t wait to be gone.” Deimos shook his head.

She was leaning over, trying to pry a box free. She looked under her armpit at him. “Reason?”

“Because I feel sick when I look at the Earth humans.”

Romy abandoned her efforts to face him. “What do you mean?”

Deimos picked his way closer. “Every time I look at them I’m reminded of the four thousand soldiers dying needlessly, over and over again. For nothing. And each time the Mandate’s lies flash across the screen in the clearing, it takes everything I have not to smash the thing to pieces.”

Romy hated the screen, too. “I can understand that. I wish we could tell them.”

He clenched his fists. “When I was in the hospital, I spent the first few days just staring out the window at night. All I could think about was the orbitos, constantly circling in and out of danger. All for nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much hate.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Have you ever been too angry to speak?”

Romy thought about it. “Perhaps.”

His eyes widened in horror. “Our gentle Romy? Angry? Must be those hormones.”

Anger, fear, attraction—she’d felt it all. “Don’t talk to me about hormones.”

Deimos laughed, and they settled into companionable silence. It wasn’t until the final siren sounded and they made to leave the room that he spoke again.