FLIGHT SUITS WERE MADE FOR HIGH-G COMBAT maneuvers, not strolls in the desert at midday. It was like walking through an oven wearing a plastic bag. The internal moisture pads were soaked and squished with each step Ethan took. Of course, Ethan and his team had to keep the suits on for the extra radiation protection. Dr. Irving had also upgraded their flight suits so the insect chromo skin cells adapted to their surroundings. Ethan’s suit, normally yellow and black to match his wasp, had transformed into sand brown and red stone patterns. From a distance he bet he blended perfectly with the desert. Ethan looked over his shoulder, squinting in the heat. Marching single file behind him were Emma, Angel, and Felix—all semicamouflaged, all looking as miserable as Ethan. They trudged along like that for a half hour. Around them were sand dunes, broken rock … and Ethan could barely see the mesa wavering in the heat where he’d left the rest of his squadron. He held up a hand and said, “Break.”
