by Rob Boffard
He’s about to try again when Brendan’s voice reaches him. It’s a shout, an angry one, a quick burst of noise that dies as soon as it begins. Jack freezes, ready to spring back up onto the chair the moment he hears anything else.
The anything else doesn’t come. After a long moment, Jack gets back into it. A drop of sweat slides down into his eye, and he blinks it away, swearing quietly.
He’s getting nowhere. He slides around to the back of the chair, and instantly sees why. The lever is held in a short, horizontal channel cut into the chair’s metal frame. Another channel runs off it vertically, doglegging.
It reminds Jack of a component on the old manual cars his dad used to fix, the ones that would sit in the garage for months on end, covered with a tarpaulin – the kind of machine that really was two hundred years old – while his dad waited for a crucial part to be shipped in from Earth. Jack’s mother used to nag him, asking why he couldn’t just get the part fabricated locally, but his dad always said that he wanted to be authentic.
The lever at the back of the chair looks like a gearbox – specifically, like the reverse gear, which you had to slide into a channel to engage. Jack pushes on it, grunting with the effort.
It takes a few tries to position it so he can slide it up into the curved channel, but, once he does, it slips right in. There’s a clunk, and all at once the chair is loose, sliding gently on its rails. Jack lets out a ragged breath, then slides it all the way back, exposing the hatch.
It isn’t quite as large as the one leading down from the main deck to astronautics, but it looks about the same. He wedges his fingers into the space around the edge, gets ready to pull.
His mind, currently running in a high gear of its own, undergoes a sudden shift down into first. His emotions redline, fear overwhelming everything, freezing his body in place. What is he doing? Is he out of his skull? They’re going to find him, they’re going to catch him, they’re going to do to him what they did to Volkova. His legs spasm as he forces himself up. He has to put it back. He has to stop this while he still can.
Except, he can’t. Not now that he’s started. That would be the worst thing of all.
He returns to the hatch, wincing as the metal edge digs into the skin of his fingers. The hatch comes up with an audible screech; for Jack, it’s as loud as a baby crying in a silent house. He rests it carefully against the control panel, then peers inside.
His heart sinks. It’s a vent, lined with coiled wires and blinking lights. The hatch opens in its ceiling, and it is so narrow that he doesn’t even think Corey Livingstone would be able to climb inside. He runs a hand through his hair, his panic momentarily forgotten. Of course he couldn’t trust the schematic. It’s as badly designed as the rest of this –
Wait.
He takes a closer look, and, when he sees it, he actually lets out a little gasp of joy. There’s another trapdoor, flush with the floor of the vent. He didn’t see it at first, but it must lead right down into the bar.
At least, he hopes it does.
Still squatting, he leans down, trying to get a purchase. With his heart hammering in his chest, he moves onto his stomach, reaching down to grab the lower trapdoor. Its hinges are in better condition than the one above it – it slides up silently, just catching the top of the vent. And – yes! – he can see into the bar. He’s right above the airlock doors. It’ll be one hell of a drop, but if he’s careful he can make it.
He’s just getting his feet under him when he hears Brendan say, “I’ll just check with him.” The man just outside the passage, on the main deck.
Jack has no chance of disguising what he’s done, so he doesn’t bother. He flips himself around, sliding his legs into the trapdoor, through the vent, out the bottom.
He can hear Brendan’s footsteps, coming closer by the second. Seema says something inaudible, and the footsteps pause.
“My cushla, I don’t know,” Brendan says, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Go find out.”
His legs dangle above the bar, the cold air licking at his skin. He slides himself down, his shirt rucking up, the edge of a wire catching in his mouth, dust gritty against his teeth. He spits it out, clambering down as fast as he can, hanging from the bottom trapdoor.
If Brendan comes in now, she’ll see where Jack has gone straight away. He and Seema can race to the bar, intercept him and then it’ll all be over. But if he closes the top hatch, it might buy him the few seconds he needs to get to Lorinda.
He reaches up, fingers brushing the hatch, face contorting as his muscles squeal in protest. It’s too much. He falls, hanging from one arm, sweat bucketing down his face.
“Come on,” he says, hissing the words. He tries again, levering an elbow up, using it to brace himself. This time, it gives him just enough height to grab the hatch.
“Jack?” Brendan sounds puzzled. He’s close.
Jack pulls it down into place. It would be ideal if he could lock it, but there won’t be a way to do it from inside, not from a hatch this narrow. He has to get to Lorinda. He looks down, gauging his distance to the floor of the bar, and drops.
Chapter 41
Somehow, the three grown-ups managed to get the pipe back into the wall – something that pissed the prisoner off in a major way. He tried to hurt Corey’s dad, tried to get at him with his teeth, so his mom socked him in the stomach. From the shocked expression on both their faces, neither of them were expecting it.
Hannah is watching him now, close but not too close. He’s gone still, eyes on the middle distance, like he’s somewhere else entirely. It freaks Corey out a little.
His mom and dad have forbidden him from talking to the soldier. Malik, too. Which is a shame, because he’s getting really bored listening to Mal talk.
It’s not that Mal’s movie stuff is stupid. It’s actually kind of cool. It’s just that Mal never talks about anything else. When they’re at home, Corey can just ignore him, or go and hang out with Jamie and Allie. He can’t do that here.
Mal is just trying to keep him distracted, but all Corey wants him to do now is go away. They’ve given him another nanomed capsule, so the cat is back in the long grass … but Corey can still feel it prowling. And he knows there’s only one capsule left.
His brother emulates his posture against the wall, legs splayed out. “So here,” Mal is saying, pointing at something on the holocam. “This is where the big part of the station got blown off. You see?”
“Mmm.” Corey gives it only the quickest look.
“And here’s that ship. The Colony one. I got a really good look at it for a second.”
At that moment the pain bites, pushing past the nanobots. It feels like the bones in his shin are being squeezed in a vice, cracking and splintering. He grits his teeth, rides it out.
Mal taps on the Colony ship, zooming in, using his fingers to scroll across the footage. He’s got it running in slow-mo now; Corey sees one of the metal spheres jettisoning out from the ship’s underside.
A split second later, the image is obscured by a blinding lens flare, the light flushing out the details. Malik frowns. “That happens a lot. I’ve been trying to save for a better camera, actually. You know the Red Flex? The new ones? I want one of those.”
“Mrghk.”
“I think I should be able to edit it out, but only if I can—”
The rage is suddenly there, blotting out the pain. Corey turns towards his brother, the words bursting out of him, his voice raising to a furious shout.
“It’s not a movie,” he shouts. “People died, Mal. They’re dead. You can’t just go around pretending they’re acting or whatever.”
His brother shrinks from him, eyes wide. At the edge of his vision, Corey sees his mom poke her head out of the engine room.
“I just thought—” Mal says.
“I don’t care!” Corey shifts his body sideways, facing Malik, ignoring the screaming howl of pain from his leg. It feels good to shout, good to finally tell Malik the truth. “You
always do this. You just … you act like everybody’s just here to be in your movies. I don’t wanna be any more. You ever film me again, I’ll break that thing in half!”
“Corey.” His dad is in front of him, down on one knee, anger and concern fighting for space in his eyes. His mom is just behind him, along with Hannah, who is looking between Corey and Malik. And Corey can feel the eyes of the prisoner, too.
He expects his brother to start shouting back, to get just as angry. That’s what normally happens. Malik doesn’t. He stares down at the camera, not looking at anyone.
“Sorry,” he says, mumbling the words.
Corey turns away from him. “Yeah, well, you’d better be.” The anger is gone. It’s drained away, leaving nothing but the pain behind.
Everett shakes his head. “You both need to grow up,” he says, getting to his feet. There’s no strength in his words. He takes Anita by the shoulder, leads her back to Hannah. Corey ignores their worried looks, staring at the floor.
Mal shifts next to him, getting up. All at once, Corey is ashamed. Mal was just trying to be nice to him. He didn’t deserve to get yelled at. It isn’t his fault Corey’s leg has been snapped into a zillion pieces.
He manages to put a hand on Mal’s shoulder, doing it even though the pain of movement nearly knocks him out. “Hey. No. I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry.”
Mal looks at him. His face is a careful blank, but there’s no mistaking the wounded look in his eyes.
Corey doesn’t know what else to say. He’s used to his brother getting mad at him, telling him to buzz off, acting like Corey’s just an annoying little chutiya. That’s what older brothers do. He’s never had a situation where Mal is … scared of him.
“I’m sorry I got mad,” he says again. “I just … you’re always talking about your movies and that school you wanna go to. It’s gotten kind of old.”
“Yeah, well, you never shut up about spaceships.”
“That’s ’cos they’re crash!”
“So are movies.” Mal looks at him, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Like when I filmed your friend on that jump at the creek. What’s her name … Allie. She had to go to hospital, but I showed her the movie afterwards, and she said it was bàng.”
Corey blinks. Was Mal there that day? It was a while ago, and most of the memories are dominated by Allie and her jhadna hoverboard jump over the kicker. But now that he thinks about it, he’s almost certain his brother was right. He was with them, hanging out in the background, even if he’s never shown them any of the footage.
“It’s fine, though,” Mal is saying. “I’ll go hang out with mom and dad.”
“I don’t want you to.” And he really doesn’t. “Come on.”
Malik half smiles, sits down again, although not quite as close as before.
Neither of them speak for a little while. Mal’s holocam is locked, the screen dark. The man opposite them watches. And for the second time Corey catches that look. The one he can’t quite figure out, which shifts the man’s expression a fraction, crinkles the skin around his eyes. It’s involuntary, gone in a flash.
“I know they’re not actors,” Malik says in a monotone. “I know people died.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m not turning it into a movie. Well, I am, but not that kind of movie. People are gonna wanna know what happened. This way, we can show ’em.”
Corey opens his mouth to speak, but Malik keeps talking. “And I wanna make it as good as possible. I want anyone who watches it to feel like they were here with us.”
More silence. The grown-ups have stopped talking, too. Their dad is leaning against the wall, hands on the back of his head, looking at nothing.
“Lemme see some more,” Corey says. His leg still feels like it’s being slowly eaten, but he’s determined not to let it get the better of him again. He’ll just … pretend it’s not there. Yeah.
“OK,” says Malik, after a moment. He scooches over, unlocks the holocam. Footage runs: everybody scrambling across the main deck, yelling instructions to each other, grabbing onto the wall struts.
Mal fast-forwards. The Colony ship appears onscreen, side-on, the image slightly blurry. The camera swings around, and Jack’s terrified face looms large, followed by Lorinda, hanging onto the struts, trying to hook her foot into them.
“This was when the gravity went out,” Mal says. “When we—”
“Go back,” Corey says.
“Huh?”
“Go back. Rewind.” His mouth has gone dry. He didn’t see what he thinks he just saw. It’s not possible.
“Um …” Malik’s fingers don’t move.
Corey grabs the camera. “Give it here.”
His brother holds on startled, his confusion replaced by annoyance. “Hey, you can’t just—”
“Mal! Rewind!”
“I can do it if you let me!”
Corey growls, ripping the holocam out of Malik’s grip. His heart is hammering, and for the first time in what feels like hours he barely notices the pain. He jabs at the holo, accidentally does it twice, bringing up and then hiding the controls.
“You can’t just take my shit,” Malik says, trying to snatch it back. Corey twists out of the way, trying and failing to ignore the bolt of pain from his leg. He brings the controls up, and scrolls back through the video, bringing the Colony ship back into view.
Did he imagine it? He must have done. His broken leg is making him see things. Making him –
Then he sees it again, and stops breathing.
“What’s wrong with you, Cor?” says Mal.
Corey zooms in. The ship’s body fills the screen, pixelating. He barely notices. He scrolls along, flipping back and forth between two segments of the ship: one on the rear, and the other just above the cockpit.
“No way,” he breathes.
Malik stares at him like he’s gone mad. Corey turns to his brother, his eyes huge.
He gets as far as opening his mouth when there’s a thick bang, coming from the other side of the wall. It’s followed by a series of muffled thumps that bring the grown-ups, Hannah and Anita, spilling out of the engine room. Malik gets to his feet, Corey and the holocam forgotten.
Chapter 42
Lorinda hears movement. On the other side of the door. The boxes, or whatever they are, are being shifted.
Her first impulse is to brace herself against the back wall, lift her legs, get ready to fight. But she falters; they could be bringing her food or – por favor, dios mio – some water. Her exhausted mind muddles her movements. Underneath the sound of the boxes shifting, she can hear … shouting?
What’s happening out there?
There’s a thud, and the door swings open. Jack stands before her, eyes wide, shirt untucked. A streak of grime runs along his face from hairline to jawbone.
Searing anger, pushing past the desire for water. “You.” She lifts her leg, ready to kick out at him.
“Just listen,” he says, holding his hands up, speaking so fast that she almost doesn’t catch the words. “If we’re going to take those two out, I need your help.”
From somewhere distant, Lorinda hears Brendan shouting at Seema to go downstairs. She blinks at Jack in astonishment, not understanding.
“Please.” He looks up, and it’s impossible to mistake the fear in his eyes. “You have to help me.”
Lorinda has always prided herself on reacting quickly. In her job, she had to. If something went bad on you during a walk, if a seal broke or a cable snapped, you needed to move fast. You couldn’t stall, or fumble, or let useless emotions like fear get in the way.
There’s no telling what’s happened between Jack and the other two, but there isn’t time to dwell on it. She’s been given a way out, and she acts, pulling herself off the toilet seat.
For a split second, she thinks she’s drained the tank – that no matter how much she wants to move, her exhausted, frozen body isn’t going to let her. She almost topples, her hands scrabbling
at the wall as thunderous footsteps on the stairs above shake the cubicle.
Jack reaches out a hand and she grabs it, and a tiny bit of strength comes flooding back. She doesn’t know how long she’ll have it for, but she doesn’t intend to waste it.
“OK,” Jack says, as the footsteps reach the bar. “Just …”
The words catch in his throat, and she realises he doesn’t have a plan – or at least, not one they can use. She’s going to have to play this by ear. If she gets in a tussle, or takes a hit, that’ll be the end of her. But there are other things she can do. Things which might tilt the scales.
Like … what?
She sees Craig again, his nose bleeding, that strange smile on his face and those strange words on his lips.
Quiet, bucko. Mama’s –
Jack’s eyes go wide. Then Seema grabs him, and everything goes to hell.
Chapter 43
Seema’s a lot shorter than Jack, and she doesn’t have her knife any more. Her hands, wrapped around his arm, feel tiny. If he’s careful, he should be able to –
She plants her feet, pulling him off balance and swinging him around like a shot put. His feet tangle up as he’s let go, nearly falling, slamming into the wall opposite the bathroom. His head collides with the surface so hard that he thinks he’s going to black out, and he tastes blood in his mouth, oily and coppery.
He doesn’t have a chance to recover. Seema comes hurtling towards him, arm cocked back. Jack gets a hand out, just quick enough to block the punch. It swings wide, grazing his jaw, but it’s been given momentum by the run-up and it hurts like hell.
He flinches, eyes screwed shut against the pain. It’s a mistake, one he’s punished for when Seema slams into him again, fingers hunting for his Adam’s apple. Somewhere, Lorinda is screaming.
“Get off!” he shouts. This was a bad idea. No, this was the worst idea he’s ever had. What was he thinking? That he and an old woman were going to take Seema out?
