“Which compound?” an engineer asked.

Vaughn shook his head. “Not a compound. Surveillance drones spotted a cloud twenty miles west, in the dead zone. Orders are to dissipate.”

Every pair of eyes slid to Milo and Zanna. Dissolving a cloud meant sending nanobots up to break up a cloud before it wasted its water on empty land. The laws of physics meant the cloud would reform somewhere nearby a few days later, hopefully closer to a compound.

Ravi let out a low whistle as the Thunderberry rumbled up to their destination and Zanna killed the engine. “Never seen one this big out here on its own.” The stratus cloud sprawled, flat and long, across the sky. Milo kept glancing up at it as he and Zanna readied their swarms, as if the cloud might bolt in fear. But it barely moved, as Vaughn nodded at them both to proceed.

It was over quickly. With two full swarms zooming around and blowing air in every direction, the cloud didn’t have a chance. Within minutes it was reduced to semitransparency, then a handful of gauzy wisps. Then it was gone completely. Not forever, Milo knew; the tiny water droplets he and Zanna and dissipated would find their way to one another again, whether later today or a week from now. But for now, they’d avoided a disastrous waste.

“Well done,” Vaughn said, and Milo swelled with pride. Only after he’d packed up his swarm did he catch the twinge of disappointment on Tess’s face.

He didn’t get a chance to speak with her until after dinner that night. As boisterous conversations faded to quiet contemplation in the fires’ glow, Tess excused herself from the other geoengineers to refill her canteen from the water tank in the back of the supply trailer. Milo jumped up from where the herders sat almost immediately, ignoring Zanna’s suspicious glare. He rounded the far side of the Thunderberry to see Tess battling the water tank spigot. From the looks of it, that day’s barrel was empty; she’d have to wait until they tapped a new barrel in the morning.

“Here, take mine.” He gave her his canteen, warmth flooding his senses as she took a long, satisfying drink. When she was done, he bent to meet her avoidant gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Tess’s face was blank as she opened her mouth, and he knew she was getting ready to lie to him, to fire off some canned response in the same flippant tone she used with the rest of her team. But then she paused. Her face softened.

“It’s my mom. She was sick before I left, but now…” she pulled the letter from her pocket again, so much more crumpled than he remembered it being a few days ago. Tess continued. “My father says there’s no point in coming home. She’s not lucid enough to recognize me, so it would be a big expense for nothing, and I’ve got so much to learn here…” Her voice trailed off, but Milo heard it in his memories.

Do you ever feel like maybe we missed a turn?

And then her face was a mask again. “But anyway, I’m fine.” She waved a hand breezily, like she expected him to go.

He didn’t. “Sure,” he said with a sincere nod.

“I’m fine,” Tess insisted. Milo’s heart lurched at the faintest quiver in her voice.

“Of course.” He moved cautiously toward her— how could he not?

“I’m—” He reached her, and no more words came. Tess crumpled into his chest, a choking sob cutting off the rest of the thought. As Milo held her, he imagined himself wrapping around Tess’s most fragile inner self, shielding it from harm. He saw that part of her so clearly— a part of her that her father hoped to extinguish with his cold calculations, that the other engineers wanted to grind out of her with reason and logic by the time she officially joined their ranks. Milo refused to let that happen. He would protect that tender, most fragile part of Tess Douglas with everything he had.