20I TAKE OFF AS IF an entire cadre of PsyCorp was after me. My legs fly over the grass, eating up the ground as though the beat of my legs could overtake the tick of my clock, but that menacing instrument just keeps going.

*00:01:20*

*00:01:19*

Behind me, I hear Michael yelling my name, his feet pounding against the walk as he tries to catch up to me. I lengthen my stride, opening up the distance between us even farther. Before long his voice starts to fade—no surprise there. Even without my head start, he wouldn’t have been able to catch me. Good! The farther away I can get from Michael, the better.

I slow slightly as I fly out of the park, my panicked mind only now stopping to wonder where I’m going. With a sinking feeling, I realize there’s nowhere to go. Not on this station. Despair pours through me as I think of Michael, blown to pieces by the very girl he just kissed! Think! Where can I possibly go that will put Michael out of my reach?

An airlock immediately comes to mind. Even if the vacuum of space doesn’t stop my clock, at least I would be off the station. Only I don’t know of any airlocks in the habitat ring, and I highly doubt I could find one in the—

*00:00:53*

—fifty-three seconds I have left.

I jerk my head around, looking for a solution, and catch sight of the SlipStream station up ahead. Good enough! My body is already heading in that direction before I even make up my mind to go there. Those tunnels are reinforced, aren’t they? Maybe they’ll help shield the rest of the station from the force of my blast. If nothing else, they’ll take me farther away from Michael. My chit is vibrating like mad now—no doubt Michael, wanting to know why the hell I ran off like a vaccin’ banshee just moments after we kissed!

I ignore it and head into the station, pushing past the people on the platform and slipping into the walking tunnel bordering the train tracks. Even once in the passage I don’t slow down, though my heart is practically beating out of my chest and my lungs are screaming with exhaustion. Instead I run harder, pumping my arms to get every last bit of speed out of myself. How much time do I have left now?

*00:00:41*

Forty-one seconds. Make them count.

I push every other thought out of my mind, tuck my head down, and just run.

I’m only twenty meters from the far end of the passage when my foot stomps on a loose shoelace. My ankle rolls and I go flying, smashing into the tunnel floor and sliding forward on my face. The force is enough to knock the wind out of me, and all I can do is lie there, eyes squeezed shut as I wait for the end.

It doesn’t come.

After the longest wait—surely it must have been forty-one seconds by now!—I dare to glance at my clock.

*00:00:41*

If my face wasn’t currently smashed into the floor, my jaw would have dropped to my feet. I was so focused on getting away from Michael that my clock stopped, and I didn’t even notice! Indeed, now that I think about it, I realize my symptoms are gone, the sparkles dimmed and the stretchy feeling nearly vanished. How long, then, was I sprinting like a lunatic through the station while my clock sat still and complacent in my head?

A snort pops out of my mouth as I suddenly picture how I must have looked to all the regular station dwellers, calmly going about their business while some blonde-haired psycho sprinted past them like the Hounds of Orion were on her tail. A chuckle follows and then suddenly I’m laughing, great belly laughs oozing out of my mouth in a torrent that can’t be stopped.

I heave myself over onto my side and just lie there, laughing and laughing until my sides ache and my stomach hurts, and even then I can’t seem to stop, one laugh turning over into the next until finally one morphs into a sob instead, and then I’m just crying—crying and crying as if the world really did end, right here on my face in this cold tunnel, and with it, the one person left in the galaxy whose life means anything to me.

One minute and seventeen seconds. That’s how much time I lost when Michael kissed me.

Even wrapped up in my white blanket on my cot in the cargo bay, the realization makes me shiver. To lose so much time in a single instance, without even a warning! Now even I can’t deny the truth that’s been staring me in the face ever since I first lost seconds on that SlipStream.

It’s not a matter of if I’ll go Nova, but when.

At one time, it wouldn’t have mattered to me. I cared for no one on this station, and no one on this station cared for me. If anything, I would have felt impatience waiting for my time to come. Things are different now. Michael, Taylor, Teal, Kaeti. What war effort, no matter how great, could possibly be worth their lives? None that I can think of.

My chit vibrates to signal an incoming link. Michael. Again.

With a sigh, I shut it off. I can’t talk to him. It was hard enough coming up with an explanation for my crazy behavior the first time. If I have to tell the story one more time, it will probably all fall apart like a house of holo cards.

He was waiting for me when I got back to the cargo bay. Smart Michael—he knew I’d have to come back eventually. When I saw him there, I almost turned around and ran straight out again. I would have, except that in my heart I knew Michael deserved better. Maybe I couldn’t give him better, but at least I could give him an explanation. Of sorts.

“Didn’t you hear me say ‘Race you!’ before I left?” I asked at his incredulous inquiry, trying to brazen it out as best as I could. He didn’t buy it for a second though. Michael may be overly trusting, but he’s not a deficient.

“Well, you see . . . It’s just that . . .” I said, drawing out the words as my brain scrambled for a better lie. “The truth is I thought I saw someone.”

“Someone?”

“A . . . an officer, I mean. You see, a few weeks ago PsyCorp pulled me into their offices. They were upset because they found out I’d been visiting the habitat ring even though us refugees aren’t supposed to be there.”

Michael’s face cleared a little, but his expression still showed skepticism. “That’s why you took off without saying a word, because of some officer?”

“Oh, well, I didn’t tell you this, but it’s the same officer that broke up this fight I was in.”

“You were in a fight?”

“It was no big deal, just this other refugee from the bay, but the officer was really mad about us fighting. He said if he caught us again, he was going to have us brain-drained by PsyCorp. When I saw him in the park I guess I just kind of vacced out a little. I’m really sorry,” I rushed to add. “It wasn’t you, I just didn’t want to get into trouble again. Plus, I knew if the officer caught me, you’d find out about the fight and everything else, and I guess I just didn’t want you to know. Please forgive me, Michael.”

Michael just stared at me for the longest time, and then finally shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s the craziest truth I’ve ever heard or the lamest lie, but I forgive you.” He laughed. “As if I could ever stay mad at you. Just say something next time, okay?”

He leaned in to kiss me before he left, and I turned my head at the last minute to give him my cheek. He didn’t say anything, but I could tell the rejection stung. Still, I knew better than to offer him anything more. One more kiss and I probably would have blown the station.

A flicker of a smile passes over my lips. In a way, that’s kind of a compliment, not that Michael will ever know it.

My amusement passes quickly, sobered by the depressing realization that I can never kiss Michael again. It’s too dangerous. In fact, just being on the station is dangerous, with my clock poised to start again at any moment and me with no way to deactivate it. Once again, I bemoan the fact that my makers didn’t include an instruction manual for my head, even as I acknowledge the horrible resolution I’ve been trying not to think about all night.

I have to leave. It’s the only way Michael will be safe from me.

The only problem is that I have nowhere to go. The obvious solution is to simply let the military ship me off to wherever they decided to send us Aurorans. The people around me would still be in danger, but unless I go off and live on some uninhabited rock on the edge of the galaxy that will be a risk wherever I go. At least Michael and his family would be safe, and that’s what really matters to me.

I consider the solution for several minutes, and then reject it. The rumors of the convoy are just that—rumors. While I have no doubt the military will resettle us eventually, I have no idea when that will be. It could be in a week or it could be in a month. I can’t afford to wait that long; it’s too risky. I have to get off this station as soon as possible. Could I buy passage on one of the outgoing liners somewhere?

Activating my chit, I link into the NSol and check the transit boards. Even the cheapest passage is out of my price range, and with a sigh I shut it off again. What am I going to do?

For a brief second, I consider coming clean. Lifting down to Level Eleven, walking into PsyCorp, and announcing to all and sundry that I’m not Lia Johansen at all, but a Tellurian bomb who could explode at any minute. Boy, wouldn’t Rowan sure be surprised! It would almost be worth it to see the look on his face when he realized just what he let onto the station.

Until they brain-drained me or shoved me out an airlock or shut me up in a lab somewhere to study me, that is. If at all possible, I’d prefer to save Michael without getting dissected or dying.

With a sigh of frustration, I collapse back on my pillow. Waiting for the military to move is starting to look like my only real option. In the meantime, I’ll just have to be super careful not to do anything that might jump-start my clock. No taking the SlipStream, no riding the lift unless absolutely necessary, no kissing Michael. In fact, I probably shouldn’t even see him again. I can link him to say goodbye.

Ha! Like Michael would let me cut all ties with him just like that. He would just keep coming back to the bay until I gave in. Besides, the idea of staying on the station and not seeing Michael seems like the worst sort of torture I could imagine.

My mind circles back around to the idea of getting off the station. Maybe if I talked to Rowan, he could arrange for me to get sent away sooner. It wouldn’t have to be a military transport; anything would do at this point. A passenger liner, a courier ship, a cargo hauler.

An idea flashes into my brain, and I sit bolt upright on my cot. Reactivating my chit, I pull up the NSol and link the first trans-link company I can find. A bored-looking woman comes onto the screen.

“Starcom Intergalactic, how may I assist you?”

“I’d like to make an interplanetary call, please.”