Blackburn turned his back to him and began gazing at a frozen image on the screen—the view from Snowden and Jennifer’s ship as it plummeted into Jupiter. Then he crossed the room to the cell and rapped on the door. Olivia Ossare emerged, hostility prickling in the air as her dark-eyed gaze clashed with Blackburn’s. The two of them had been on bad terms ever since Blackburn broke into her office with his men to seize Tom.

“You’re right.” Blackburn’s gaze skirted over her briefly before flicking away. “It’s too soon, and the kid’s anxious. He’s opting out. You win. Now get him out of my sight.”

Olivia didn’t say a word and brushed past Blackburn, stepping toward Tom. “Would you like to head upstairs with me?”

Tom gazed past her into the cell, its lone occupant Wyatt Enslow, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. He flushed, his relief at his reprieve somewhat dampened by the sheer surge of humiliation he felt, knowing she’d heard all this.

“Yeah,” Tom mumbled. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

VIK TOOK TOM’S mind from the Census Chamber that evening before dinner, when they sneaked into Hannibal Division to await Wyatt’s return to her bunk. If Wyatt hadn’t been so busy the last few hours, helping around the Pentagonal Spire while Blackburn searched for the cause of the hijacking (and fended off inquiries about his competence at his job), then perhaps she might have noticed what Vik was up to sooner.

But she hadn’t noticed, so Vik pulled it off.

Tom made a show of shielding his eyes as they stepped inside, because every surface of Wyatt’s bunk was now filled with pictures of Vik: Vik shirtless and flexing his muscles; Vik pointing and winking at a camera; a graphic of Vik flexing one pec, then another very rapidly with a big cheesy grin on his face; a giant marble statue of Vik holding his arms up in the air like some mad dictator. After showing off his handiwork, Vik and Tom leaned against the wall around the bend in the corridor to await her return.

Within minutes, Wyatt strolled into her bunk. A resounding shriek split the air. Tom and Vik collapsed to the floor, convulsing in laughter. They heard rapid footsteps beating toward them. They tore to their feet and dashed out of Hannibal Division, then collapsed in the Middles’ common room.

“Wow, did you hear that cry of horror?” Tom marveled. “Good job with the shirtless pics, man.”

“You think it was horror?” Vik mused, rubbing his chin. “I thought it sounded like a shriek of delight.”

“Sure. We can ask her tonight, buddy.”

Vik sighed tragically. “She’ll lie. Face it, Tom: Enslow will never admit she finds me enticing.”

“IT’S NOT TRUE,” Wyatt told Yuri urgently later, when they were all hanging out. “I don’t find Vik enticing.”