“Heart and respiratory rate are elevated, but his temp and blood pressure are good.”
“He’s acting like he’s freezing to death.”
Cavalon shook his head. “Not cold. Hot. I’m too hot,” he insisted.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that when humans got too cold, they started feeling too hot, but he couldn’t focus on trying to justify his illogical behavior.
“Temp reads good on my end,” Jackin said, “but his pulse spiked again. I’d try to calm him down, boss.”
Cavalon clenched his eyes shut, but his head still spun—like that level of drunk right before blacking out. He’d much, much rather be drunk or blacked out.
He tilted his head back farther, trying to counteract the vertigo.
“Whoa, hey now…” Rake’s voice came through his earpiece again, calm and patient, but firm. “You’re spiraling, Cavalon. Rein it in.”
“Okay. Okay.” His hand cramped as he clenched the handle bar even tighter. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on her instead of the absolute nothing reaching out in every direction around him.
“Listen,” Rake said. “You’re fine. But do you wanna talk about what to do if you lose pressure?”
Cavalon’s wavering vision steadied. He liked knowing things … And of course, she’d know what to do. She was a Titan. She’d probably done a thousand spacewalks. Who knew what valiant feats she’d accomplished while traipsing about in the vacuum of space?
“Okay.” His heartbeat slowed enough he could hear clearly again.
“If you lose pressure, exhale. First and foremost. Just exhale. Don’t hold your breath.”
“Right. Exhale.” He exhaled. “Got it.”
“Use your Imprints to coat the skin around your neck and chest.”
“Okay. Imprints. Check.”
“You’ll only be conscious for a few seconds after that.”
“A few seconds?” he croaked.
“Fifteen, maybe. But it’ll take another ninety seconds or so for you to actually die. That’s plenty of time for me to toss you back into the ship.”
“Ninety seconds? That long?”
“Maybe even two minutes.”
“You swear?”
She tentatively released his shoulder, then held her palm toward him. “On my life, soldier.”
“But what about the temperature? You said yourself it’s freezing.”
“It’s well beyond freezing.”
“Oh, void—”
“No, no, listen,” she said hurriedly. “It all takes time. Your body doesn’t instantly lose all its heat. There’s no convection, conduction, any of that shit. You’re a fucking scientist three times over; you should know all this.”
“I know, it’s just—” He took a sharp breath in but gained nothing from it. He couldn’t let it out, and he couldn’t try for more. He couldn’t breathe and couldn’t find his voice back.
“Cavalon, don’t freak out on me.” Rake released her grip from the handle bar.
His heart hammered against his chest. She’d just let go.
Yet she didn’t drift away, or go firing off into the void. She merely hovered, floating gently toward him. No sudden movements.
She held onto either side of his head with both gloved hands, then pressed the front of her helmet into his with a soft, hollow thunk.