The man wanted a freaking tree.

Brian scowled at the plant, an artfully shaped specimen in a shallow black enamel pot.

It was gorgeous, sure.

It was also taller than he was.

How on Hope was he supposed to drag this thing back through those tiny tunnels to the airlock? Could he even lift it?

With a grunt, he raised it a handsbreadth off the ground. No more.

No way would that work for carrying it all the way out. He considered just leaving it, telling the old man that it was hopeless, but he’d seen the shine in the old guy’s eyes, like this tree was his best friend.

Maybe it was. Mr. Yi had been alone for a while now. And Brian would for sure rather be bringing back this tree than the remains of the homicidal maniac in the locke...

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