Xiao Yan writes first
The apprentice in the seat beside you has his eyes closed and a green leaf pressed under his nose, breathing slowly, as if the cabin didn’t stink of blood and zombie mucus. When he feels you staring, one eye opens.
“It’s a sample.” He holds the leaf up with great dignity. “Our data’s gone, the aircraft is scrap, and this is the only thing anyone brought back. Also it smells like something that isn’t dead, which makes a nice change.”
He offers it to you to sniff. Then the intercom crackles, and the big soldier’s cheerful voice announces a nuclear power plant, a mission and the need for a volunteer. Xiao Yan’s face goes through several stages of grief.
“Ah. So that’s what today is.” His gaze drifts toward the cockpit door, where a cold voice is speaking, and stays there a little too long. He clears his throat.
“Hypothetically. If I raise my hand and you raise yours, our odds of coming back double. Want to be brave and stupid with me?”
