Life Goes On | Book 4 | If Not Us [Surviving The Evacuation] Tayell, Frank (classic books to read .TXT) đź“–
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“Yes, indeed, I’ve become victim of that ancient curse of my dreams coming true,” she said. “Regret is a path I’ve walked so often I no longer need a map. But I made my choices. I lived my life. Unfortunately, it has caught up to me here, but maintaining a low profile is an easy price to pay. Dr Avalon was kind enough to loan me a book for entertainment.”
“She doesn’t strike me as a fan of fiction,” I said.
“Look at the cover,” Toppley said.
“Survival on Titan, by… by L. Smilovitz. Leo wrote it?”
“He did. Dr Avalon carries copies around with her. Yet when I asked how long they’d been a couple, she said they weren’t.”
“They’re the definition of complicated,” I said. “So Leo wrote a proper book?”
“A trilogy about the struggle for survival in a human settlement on Titan after Earth is destroyed.”
“No fooling? How is it?”
“A little technical in places. But it works on multiple levels, one of which being that the love interest is called Dr Ava London.”
“Strewth. He’s not subtle.”
“Quite. But once you get past where his subconscious desires have spilled onto the page, it is thoroughly enjoyable. I’m up to chapter seven where the dashing pilot, Leonard Miles, is attempting to save their hydroponic harvest.”
“He called his hero Leonard? Crikey. I’ve got to have a read of that when you’re finished. I was hunting for breakfast, and then I was going to check in on the team.”
“I believe they went to the gym,” Toppley said.
“Now I feel even worse for having a lie-in,” I said. “Come with me. Let’s stretch our old legs together.”
With Toppley’s help, we found the gym. Still crowded with boxes, it was now packed with Leo, Clyde, Zach, and Nicko.
“You lot having a workout before brekkie?” I asked.
“Breakfast is over,” Zach said. “You missed our slot.”
“We have a slot?” I asked.
“That’s why I never booked a cruise-holiday,” Clyde said. “The whole point of a vacation is for your time to be your own.”
“Yeah, ships are like prisons,” Zach said.
“Not entirely,” Toppley said. “Trust me.”
“Fine. It’s like school,” Zach said.
“Sorry, mate, it’s actually a lot like work,” Clyde said.
“Speaking of which, that’s why we’re here,” Leo added, holding up a clipboard. “Commander Tusitala asked us to catalogue what’s in these crates. I think she’s hoping we’ll find more food.”
“It is good to be useful,” Toppley said.
“And our task is to determine whether the contents of these boxes are useful, or to be thrown over the side,” Leo said.
“They don’t know what they brought aboard?” I asked.
“Not the specifics,” Leo said. “And they don’t have a complete list of what went to the fuel-freighters, or to the convoy.”
“Where should I start?” Toppley asked.
“By the bike,” Leo said. “Write the contents on the box’s lid, and the sides, and then on the clipboard. If it’s edible, it’ll go to the galley.”
“If it’s explosive, tell Clyde,” Nicko added.
“He’s not kidding,” Clyde said. “They found a box of C4 in the med-lab, among a crate of single-use syringes.”
“How’d that happen?” I asked.
“Commander Tusitala is finding out,” Clyde said. “You don’t want to be in her way this morning. That’s why we’re glad to be hiding in here.”
“Me, I’m volunteering to clear enough space I can get in a work-out,” Nicko said. “It’s good to stay trim.”
“I told him he should have a kid,” Clyde said. “Best all-body work-out you can get.”
“You’re married,” Oakes said. “You can get away with letting yourself go. Bloke in his prime like me has got to maintain his image.”
Having a kid is exhausting. I know that from the weekends I’d keep an eye on Bobby for Liu and Scott. But it’s not the same as a full-body workout, particularly when snack-time is the cornerstone of maintaining your sanity. A month of irregular rations has kept Clyde lean, if not trim. Nicko, by contrast, is a bloke who buys his t-shirts a size too small. I won’t say he’s consumed by vanity, but it has been dining on his ego. He’s got that self-confidence of a young man who’s swiftly risen to the peak of his profession without ever having taken too big a tumble. What I know, and what he’ll certainly learn long before he hits thirty, no matter how fast you rise, it’s the landing that hurts.
“Did I miss breakfast, then?” I asked.
“We’ve got some iced tea, Tess,” Clyde said. “And there’s always some of those oat-bars.”
“That’ll do,” I said, and took the flask to a pair of stacked boxes that would sub for a seat.
“Found it!” Zach said, putting the lid back on a box. He pulled out a pen, and began writing on the lid. “Climbing rope.”
“Perfect,” Leo said.
“For what?” I asked.
“Doc-Flo wanted some rope,” Zach said.
“Again, I’m going to ask, for what?” I said.
“Always good to have a bit of rope handy,” Leo said. “She’s less distracted when she knows where things are. Throw me a coil, and label the side of the box, too.”
Why would that scientist aboard this ship want a coil of rope? Asking the question a third time wasn’t going to get a clearer answer, but it makes me want to keep a closer eye on Avalon.
“Excuse me, Sergeant,” the sailor, Sullivan, asked from the doorway. “Colonel Hawker requests your assistance.”
“Is there trouble?” I asked.
“No, ma’am,” Sullivan said. “The colonel is training some of the new crew in close combat.”
“Ah, no worries,” Nicko said. “He must want me to show them how it’s done.”
“He’s using the helicopter deck,” Sullivan said. “Can you find it? Only I’m supposed
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