Some kind of projectile struck her in the back of her neck, hard, just beneath the edge of her collar. An inch higher and it might have been a fatal blow. Then she was through the archway, running breathlessly down a narrow corridor. It curved to the left up ahead, which meant that if she could get beyond that point she might be able to escape these bastards’ line of sight, and then—what? Where was there to go? She knew from the map there was no salvation to be had in this place. She could hear them right behind her, footsteps pounding. Closer and closer. When it sounded like they were almost on her she turned back suddenly and dropped to one knee, shock rod braced forward like a spear. Her motion took the first man by surprise, and before he could stop himself, he slammed chest-first into her weapon. His plasteel breastplate conducted the electrical discharge perfectly. As he screamed and fell she climbed to her feet again and resumed running, praying that his writhing body would be enough of an obstacle to slow down anyone coming up behind him.
At the first intersection she skidded, trying to make the turn too quickly, and slammed into the far wall, hard. But she managed to stay on her feet, and a moment later she was out of her attackers’ sightline. Virtually invisible, but only for a few seconds. She looked around desperately for somewhere to hide, but the doors on both sides of the hall were unmarked, identical. She had no time to consult her map to see where each one led, but sprinted toward the second one—they would expect her to go for the first—and was relieved to see the doors part as she approached. As soon as she was inside she lunged for the control panel and struck the emergency lock with her palm, praying that the mechanism wouldn’t require some kind of special ID. Voices were audible in the hallway now, and they were louder and clearer with each passing moment—
The panels of the door slid closed.
She stood still—so still!—not wanting to risk any motion that might be heard. The sounds from the corridor were muffled, but she could tell that her pursuers were searching the passage she had just left. Had they seen the door closing? She held her breath as she heard footsteps approaching. If they got close to the door and it didn’t open automatically, they’d know she must be there, keeping it shut. The pounding of her heart was so loud in her ears it nearly drowned out their voices.
Then they were moving away from her door, and a moment later the voices were swallowed by silence. They must have gone into one of the first rooms to search for her, she realized. Her gambit had worked.
She reached for the wall as she finally exhaled, using it to steady herself as she bent forward, gasping for breath. The door was locked now, so even if they came back to it they’d need time to break through, but she dared not waste a second. She expanded the map in her field of vision so she could see what exits were available, and chose one that led in the opposite direction from her pursuers. That door also had a lock, and as she sealed it behind her she felt the first glimmer of hope. God alone knew how she was going to get off this fucking station in one piece, but for the moment she was safe enough.
Using the map as a guide, trying to put as many twists and turns as possible between her and her attackers, she wandered deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine complex. Sometimes when she crossed a hallway she could hear noises in the distance—voices shouting, weapons clashing, cries of rage and pain. Zevi’s people must have engaged the enemy nearby. Her heart sank, knowing how trapped they were in this place.
She was exhausted from running, but she didn’t dare stop. If her attackers had heat detectors, like Vestus did, they’d eventually find her. She had to keep moving, had to come up with a creative way to escape this part of the station, or perhaps some kind of weapon or device to help her get past those guarding the exits. But the rooms she passed through held only mundane supplies, and when she pulled the cover off an air vent to see if she could climb into the duct system, she found that it was too narrow and flimsy to be of any use.
Suddenly she realized there was no more sound, even in the hallway. The fighting she’d heard earlier must have concluded, but the total lack of sound was disconcerting. Maybe they fled the area, she told herself, seeking an explanation that would allow her to believe some of Zevi’s people had survived.
Then she found the bodies.
They were sprawled across the hallway where they’d fought their last battle, the floor beneath them slick with blood, the walls spattered scarlet. A dozen of Zevi’s people at least, and an equal number of strangers. All human. No mutants. No zombies. The faces of the bios were hidden behind their dust masks and goggles, but the faces of the others were plainly visible, and human. Reddened eyes stared blindly into space, thin rivulets of blood running down from the corners of their eyes, mouths, nostrils. Bright red. These people hadn’t died from sword wounds, and she doubted any poison could have struck them down all at once like that.
Unless it was airborne.
She triggered her headlamp, shining the beam over the bodies. Red dust swirled thickly in the beam. Clearly artificial. Her skin was starting to itch now; was that real, or imagined? Air quality might get bad, Ivar had said. But going back the way she had come was even more dangerous, so she stumbled over the bodies, anxious to get out of the poison cloud as quickly as possible. She didn’t see Zevi among the fallen, but she wasn’t checking every face. She hoped the woman had gotten safely away.
She came to an iris portal, larger than any other she’d seen during her flight. It opened at her approach, revealing a cavernous chamber beyond. A storage facility of some kind, long and high and lined with industrial shelves, with so many canisters and boxes and bins stacked on them that the walls themselves were all but invisible. A warehouse? She checked her map, and yes, this was the place Zevi’s people had been heading toward. The one the bios had died trying to reach.
The door closed behind her, and she found the controls to lock it. One more precious barrier between her and death. Then she looked around.
There were two bodies on the floor.
That they had gone down fighting was clear from the glistening pool of blood surrounding them. The man wore a mask and goggles, so he was a bio, but the goggles had been smashed—along with half his skull—so it was hard to make out his features. The woman wore no mask or goggles, but she must have had them on earlier, because the blood that streaked her face had missed exactly the spots where they would have protected her, leaving behind a ghostly imprint of clean flesh. Maybe whoever had killed her had taken them.
As she leaned down to take a closer look at the bodies, she caught sight of a small black object underneath a shelving unit. The floor behind it was pulsing a dull orange, and her stomach tightened as she realized what the item must be, and what its presence here meant. Gently—so gently!—she turned the man’s head to the right, to look at the undamaged portion of his face. Vestus. She lowered her head for a moment, mourning him, mourning Ivar, mourning everyone who had died in this miserable station. Never had she hated a place so much.
She used her lamp to make sure the air was clean, then took her own mask and goggles off and pocketed them. Breathing was easier now. So was seeing. As long as the portal stayed shut, the air in here should be safe for her.