by Erin Bowman
The crowd skidded to a halt, bodies bumping into each other.
But how—? Amber searched out Coen. Her face was flushed, her forehead sweaty. There were no issues when we jumped into Docking. Everything was fine.
The security details were hunched over when we landed, Coen said, dread blooming in his stomach.
And they were so easy to overpower . . .
The radiation made them sick, that’s why. And then it started to degrade the station itself. Air locks, reinforced walls, computers . . . Who knows how much of it is no longer structurally sound.
This was his fault. Naree Sadik had warned him, and he hadn’t listened. In jumping to Xenia to save Thea and the station’s occupants, he’d damned them all.
Thea froze, certain she’d heard Coen and Amber’s conversation wrong. But then the announcement repeated.
Warning: Radiation detected inside shields. Air locks and seals malfunctioning. Station failure imminent.
“We need to evacuate!” someone screamed.
“We are evacuating,” Thea reminded them. “Please keep moving.”
“If the air locks fail, we’re all dead!”
“If there’s already radiation inside the shields, we’re already being poisoned!”
“How could it be inside?” yet another panicked voice shouted. “The only radiation even projecting on this station is the sun’s!”
“I don’t know,” Thea said, even though she did. Coen’s guilt continued to hit her like a wave. Jumping into a confined area had proved deadly. Not at first, but the dispelled radiation must have weakened the structural integrity of the station. What was overheating and breaking down—wires, computers, the hull itself? It didn’t matter. If the air locks and seals were failing as the announcement declared, it was only a matter of time before the people she was trying to save began exhibiting signs of radiation poisoning. And that was if the air locks didn’t completely fail first, sucking them all into space.
“We need to stay calm,” Thea insisted. “It’s fifteen more flights to Docking, and when we get there, ships will be waiting.”
“If we get there!”
“There are emergency drop pods!” a young diplomat shouted. “A dozen on every floor, and they drop straight to Eutheria!”
“If we get to one of those, we won’t have to worry about reaching Docking!” another man agreed.
“No, we should stick together!” Thea said. “Quarantine procedures can take place on the larger ship waiting in Docking. But to take the drop pods straight to Eutheria means—”
“There’s no time. I’m leaving now.” The young diplomat shoved her way to the next landing and backed up to the door. “Who’s coming with me?”
“Ker, your nose,” her friend said.
Thea turned slowly, spotting the bead of red at the end of the diplomat’s nostril. It dripped, spattering on the floor.
“It’s in her, too!” someone shouted.
“It could be in any of us!”
“He has a bloody nose also!” A finger was thrust out in the crowd, pointing to a man Thea couldn’t even see from where she stood.
Warning: Radiation detected inside shields. Air locks and seals malfunctioning. Station failure imminent.
“Wait, please!” Thea shouted. “We have to stay calm!”
But the crowd—stretched out between several flights—was already splitting, shoving their way through doors on three different landings and disappearing into the halls of Xenia Station.
The doors banged shut, and Thea found herself standing with Coen and Amber. The only other person present was the young diplomat with the bloody nose. She hunched over, clawing at her face.
When the diplomat finally straightened, one of her eyes was hemorrhaging, dark red filling the white. The young woman stared at Thea blankly. She blinked and looked to Coen, then Amber, her expression almost bored. It was as though the three of them weren’t standing there, and really, to the Psychrobacter achli swimming through her veins, they weren’t. None of them were viable hosts for the contagion that now itched to leave the woman.
But they chased me on Achlys after the outbreak, Coen said. They chased us through the air vents and the dumbwaiter.
No, they chased me, Thea said. I wasn’t truly a host until Paramount. The same happened for you. They chased you in the early hours, and when you hid, they retreated to the drilling site. But we’re all hosts now, fully. She doesn’t see an opportunity here.
The young diplomat cocked her head, picking up on the commotion outside the stairwell.
“It is my fault this happened to you,” Thea said to her. “I’m so sorry.” She took Coen’s knife and ended the woman’s suffering.
“Why the hell haven’t they lowered their damn securities yet?” Lawson said, her voice clear in Nova’s helmet. “We can’t evacuate anyone if we can’t access Docking.”
Nova glanced out her cockpit and to the fighter beside her. Lawson was waving a hand at the docking bay’s force field in disgust.
“No idea, but maybe I can find out. Gimme a sec.” She switched off the public channel she’d joined with Lawson and back to the one she’d agreed to use with Coen. “Guys. Update me. We’re still waiting to get access to Docking, even though Xenia told us they’d be lowering security measures on the force field.”
“Slight problem there,” came Coen’s reply. “Our jump did damage after all. The whole station is suffering a radiation leak. Air locks and seals are failing. It’s not a stretch to assume their computers are malfunctioning, too, and now Xenia can’t update security features.”
Lawson threw her hands out across the way, as if to say, Well?
Working on it, Nova mouthed, then said to Coen, “So, no evacuation?”
“We’ve got an even bigger problem,” Thea interrupted. “People are taking escape pods now.”
Nova frowned. “How’s that a problem? We don’t want them stranded there.”
“It would be good if Psychrobacter achli was contained. But it’s not. And people showing symptoms are now racing for escape pods. Nova, you’re gonna have to shoot them down.”
“What? Thea, I can’t do that. They’re civilians. Some of them probably aren’t even infected.”
“It’s them or an entire planet. Dozens or billions. If this gets out on Eutheria . . . Nova, we can’t let that happen.”
Something flashed in her peripherals, and always aware of her less-than-perfect vision, Nova did a double take. Sure enough, a pod was detaching from Xenia. It fell away from the station, racing for the planet below like a shooting star.
Nova looked at her control stick, the trigger near her thumb, the pod in the distance. Lessons from the Academy bombarded her—lessons about sacrifice and necessary deaths and victories that would feel like nothing but loss for those who lived through them.
“I can’t do it, Thea. I won’t.”
“You have to!”
“You’re not my ranking officer!” Nova shouted. “You’re just a damned intern and I’m a temp. That’s how this started, remember? We have no business making this call! We shouldn’t even be here!”
Another pod detached. Then a third.
“Dr. Tarlow once told me that the responsible path is often hard. That it has consequences and is never easy,” said Thea. “This isn’t easy, Nova. How could it be? But it’s necessary.”
Lawson’s Python lurched to life, pivoting into view before Nova. Lawson slapped the side of her helmet, signaling Nova to switch her comms. She did.
“—received a call from Xenia Station,” Solomon Weet was saying. “A threat to the galaxy is airborne in all drop pods. Trios military has been dispatched from Eutheria, and they’ll be here in approximately eighteen minutes, but by then, it may be too late for the planet. Orders are to shoot down all drop pods. I repeat: shoot down all drop pods.”
Nova’s stomach churned. Casey’s general came on the line next, repeating the same order to his troops. Lawson took off, missiles firing,
and Nova watched in horror as the first pod exploded in a soundless burst of light.
Nova eyed the launch trigger on the control stick. She’d wanted for so long to fight for the Union, to serve and protect. Still, she’d never ended an innocent life with the push of a button before. At the Academy, it was always sims and exercises. She glanced up. Nothing about this was simulated. Drop pods were releasing in droves, and though she hated everything about it, Nova couldn’t see a single reason not to follow orders. Thea was right.
It was one to save many.
Dozens to spare billions.
Drop pods for the security of a planet.
Nova surged forward, the fighter vibrating around her. When she found the nerve to fire, she did not miss.
Despite being without her helmet, Amber’s exceptional hearing made listening to Nova’s conversation with Thea and Coen easy. “What about you guys?” the pilot asked, her voice choppy as she presumably raced after drop pods. “I can’t jump to you again. Not until the drop pod threat is over.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Thea answered, but she didn’t sound very convinced.
“Is Amber with you? Is she showing signs of radiation poisoning?”
Thea’s eyes slid to Amber. “She’s with us, and . . .” She trailed off.
Amber grimaced, feeling queasy. What had started as slight breathlessness in the meeting halls had amplified to full body aches and nausea. She’d thought it odd that she’d been so winded, especially with Psychrobacter achli swimming in her veins, but she’d chalked it up to the adrenaline rush of fighting the infected. But she hadn’t sustained any injuries, and now they were simply standing on a stairwell landing, talking. She shouldn’t be winded. Her body shouldn’t tremble with chills. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to share the news with Nova.
“Tell her to quit worrying about us and go save the world,” Amber gritted out.
Thea relayed the message with a forced smile, and Nova disconnected to focus on the drop pods. It was only then that Amber admitted, “I think I should backtrack for my suit. Just to be safe.”
Coen looked grave. “Even with excellent healing capabilities, I don’t know if you can heal radiation damage. Also, this station is going to fail and a suit isn’t going to save any of us. If the air locks go first, we’ll end up floating around in space until our O2 runs out. And if we take a drop pod—”
“We’ll be shot down before we even enter Eutheria’s atmosphere,” Thea finished.
“I honestly don’t see how we get out of this. Not without a pilot, and the only one who can jump to us is a bit preoccupied at the moment.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Amber said, the idea striking her like a blow to the heart. “There’s a pilot on Paramount. Or at least there might be.” He’d been cargo, just like Thea and Coen, first held on Paramount, then moved to Kanna7. But Thea had been moved back to Paramount before the summit, and it was possible this pilot had been moved back, too. “Decklan Powell.”
“Powell from Black Quarry?” Coen said.
Amber nodded, trying to ignore the way the stairwell had started to spin. “Burke intercepted him as he flew to the Trios for help. Vasteneur released a statement that Powell died during Black Quarry and Burke’s been holding him ever since.”
“There was no one else held on Paramount,” Thea said. “No one human at least. It was just me and hosts. Their hearts beat in perfect unison, like robots. I’d have heard someone else in the cells.”
“He was never in the cells on Paramount,” Amber said. “They kept him in isolation in the medbay, but he went in stasis like the rest of us once we were headed to Kanna7. Pretty sure they’ve been keeping him that way since.”
“If he’s in stasis . . .” Coen’s eyes lit up. “Between Paramount’s shields and the cryo chamber, there’s a good chance he’s still healthy. And Paramount already has credentials for the force field’s security measures, too. He can fly us out of here on that ship or any of its shuttles!”
Amber could register the elation in Coen’s and Thea’s eyes, but she couldn’t mirror it. When she tried to smile, she simply buckled over, coughing. Blood spattered the back of her hand.
“Amber, you okay?” Coen grabbed her arm.
“Yeah, fine,” she managed. “You guys head straight for Paramount and find Decklan. I’ll meet you there, but I need to backtrack for my suit first. Radiation levels are probably crazy down at Docking, and I don’t think I can make it much longer without some added protection.”
“You’re sure you can manage alone?”
“Positive,” she said, even though she wasn’t. But she knew they’d stay to help her if she said otherwise, and they didn’t have time to waste.
Amber trailed Thea and Coen down the stairs, but quickly fell behind. They were sprinting and she was barely able to walk evenly.
When she reached the docking floor, the results of their jump with the flux drive were obvious. Xenia staff were buckled over in the halls, coughed-up blood on their fronts, blisters on their faces. Some were already dead, others moaning so pitifully, death couldn’t be far off.
Amber staggered by them, unable to look too closely. Her legs ached beneath her, and every few steps she had to stop to hack and cough. The sleeve of her shirt was soon red with blood from wiping her mouth.
The air lock to Docking Bay 3 came into view, and Amber crawled nearer. When had she started crawling?
She reached the air lock. The suit lay on the floor. She coughed, blood spattering the glass door.
She straightened on her knees, barely able to reach the toggle. The door slid open and Amber collapsed on top of her suit. She couldn’t put it on. She had no strength left. Without Psychrobacter achli, she’d probably already be dead.
Maybe it was best to have it all end here. Her father had lost his life on this station. She could be buried with him in a way. She’d hated him when she’d fled from Kanna7, but knowing he’d been willing to risk everything to see her again meant more than she could say. Her vision tunneled, darkness threatening to overtake her. She blinked, fighting it off, knowing she had to find the strength. If she didn’t survive this, her father’s death would be for nothing.
Get up, she told herself, forcing herself to sit.
Put your suit on. She was gasping by the time it was on, her skin feeling aflame. She coughed again, wiped blood from her mouth.
Start walking. She pulled the helmet on, creating a seal with the suit, and took her first step. Suddenly, getting to Paramount felt possible. She breathed fresh air and put one foot in front of the other, trudging wearily toward Docking Bay 4.
The extra heartbeats were obvious to Coen long before he stepped into Paramount’s cryostasis room with Thea. Decklan Powell’s was easily discernible: mellow, slow. It should have been alone, but two others were with him. Infected, his brain worried.
There’s no static, Thea said. Maybe hosts?
Coen tried to reach out to them, but there was no response, no sign that they’d even registered his words. He shook his head to Thea.
Survivors, then, she said. Xenia staff or summit attendees. We can take them with us.
Coen edged into the room and froze.
Aldric Vasteneur stood before Powell’s stasis chamber, ready to initiate a wake cycle. Beside Vasteneur, with a gun leveled at Coen’s head, was Lieutenant Burke.
The knife in Coen’s hand suddenly felt like a toy. He’d once told Thea that he could take a gun from her before she managed to fire it. He’d meant it, too. But she’d been standing so close to him that day, and her weapon only shot electricity, not bullets. If he’d been slower than he anticipated, he’d have been able to withstand the shock long enough to force her to surrender the weapon.
But this . . . Burke’s gun was already aimed, and the lieutenant was smiling. They were easily two meters apart. Far enough that Coen couldn’t get to the weapon. Close enough that Burke wouldn’t miss.
Maybe Coen could leap aside, d
odging the bullet. As soon as Burke’s trigger finger flexed, he could dive out of the way.
And then I’ll dive at Burke, Thea said, understanding. Disarm him.
“This is our pilot,” Burke announced coolly. “Turn around and leave.”
“He’s my pilot,” Coen said. “He’s Black Quarry, like me.”
“I will shoot if I have to.”
“And you’ll miss.”
“Yes, I will.” Burke’s smile widened, and Coen realized his mistake. Coen wasn’t the target. Burke’s bullet wasn’t meant for him.
Thea! he yelled, but she’d turned toward the hall, distracted by something. The lieutenant’s aim twitched to the right. Coen watched him squeeze the trigger.
By the time Thea realized what was happening—all of Coen’s fear crashing down on her like a wave—it was too late. The bullet had already left the gun.
Coen dove—not away from the bullet, but toward it. In front of Thea. Blocking its path.
Pain exploded near his hip, drilling deep, radiating outward.
He hit the floor gasping, and the first thing he saw was Thea’s face overhead, her thoughts attacking him. Why would you do that? You stupid— Are you okay? Oh my god you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding everywhere.
There was her hand, applying pressure on his side. And the pain. The pain, everywhere. Even when his body started healing, it didn’t lessen.
Thea held him in her lap.
He was wondering if the bullet was lodged somewhere. If he was bleeding internally, if his organs were intact. He wondered if this was how Lisbeth Tarlow had died, and Thea couldn’t keep the truth from him. Even if she wanted to, even as she desperately tried to hide her thoughts, he knew everything.
Coen turned away from her, managing to glance at Lieutenant Burke. The man was sharpening his aim on Thea again, and Thea didn’t care. Coen screamed at her to fight, to run, to do anything. But he hadn’t heard what she had just earlier, what had pulled her attention away from Burke and his gun to begin with. When they’d first entered the cryostasis room, she’d picked up on it. Faint then, now louder. A cacophony of static in her mind. Feet clambering through the halls. Pulses pounding like a thousand drums.
