BLAM.
Turns out even with the damage to the station, some of the camera feeds are still operational. Who would’ve guessed the SecBoys in a covert black-ops military installation would take the presence of saboteurs so seriously? I thought getting punched in the ta-tas hurt. Let me assure you getting shot in them is a lot worse.
BLAMBLAM.
We decided to try our luck with Stairwell B next, and on our maiden voyage, an entirely new piece of strangeness was added to the mix. You see, on the way to meet us, good Lieutenant Kim decided to take a different route to shave a few minutes off her trip. She entered Corridor 16B, Level 6, at the precise moment a bulkhead failed and vented the corridor’s atmo into space.
HISSSSHHHHHH.
THUMP.
And even though Zila, Fin, and I were still crawling through waste disposal at the time, suddenly—black light, white noise, vertigo—I’m standing back aboard our shuttle, looking into Fin’s big, pretty eyes again.
That was the final confirmation of my theory. Somehow, the four of us are locked in this thing together. Doesn’t matter how, doesn’t matter who—if even one of us gets taken out of the loop, the whole thing resets.
Again.
And again.
Like it or not, we’re all in this together.
So next we busied ourselves with Stairwell B. We gave it three attempts, but even moving fast as we could, we only ever got halfway up before the life-support system decided to play kissy-kissy with a shorting circuit somewhere in the superstructure, and the whole stairwell caught fire.
FWOOOOOSH.
YARRRGGG.
So. Elevator shafts it is. Good news, the damage to the station has knocked out security cams over here. Bad news, it’s also weakened the cable and disabled the safety systems. We figured that out the first time we crawled into Shaft A, and an elevator full of engineers got ordered down to the core levels at the precise moment we were trying to crawl up it.
TWANGGG.
SQUISH.
Luckily, Shaft B suffers no such shortfalls, and after another attempt, in which Finian discovered the structural integrity of rung 372 of the access ladder had been compromised (SNAP, “OH FFFFFUUUUUUAAAAAGGGGG”), we managed to reach the hab section, where Dr. Pinkerton’s office can be found.
Buuuut don’t start celebrating just yet, folks.
The elevator doors up here are sealed as a precaution against atmo breaches, and it takes three minutes and forty-nine seconds for Fin’s cutting torch to slice the locks.
Sadly, opening the doors sets off a silent alarm. We found this out the hard way exactly one minute and twenty-three seconds after our first successful attempt, while cutting our way into Pinkerton’s office.
“FREEZE!”
“Please don’t shoot! My name is Scarlett Isobel Jones, I’m—”
BLAMBLAMBLAM.
Bad news is, there’s no way around that alarm. The moment we open those doors, we’re making an appointment with those security goons.
Good news is, after some trial
“FREEZE!”
“Maker’s breath, don’t you dirtboys have anything b—”
BLAMBLAMBLAM.
and error
“FREEZE!”
“Why do you assholes even say Freeze when you’re just gonna—”
BLAMBLAMBLAM.
we’ve figured out a way to get into Pinkerton’s office without having to waste a bunch of extra time cutting through his door.
It goes a little something like this:
Legionnaire de Seel and I head up through Shaft B (studiously avoiding rung 372 as we go). While I hang on the ladder below him, watching the way the sparks reflect in his eyes, Finian cuts through the doors leading out to the admin level. Meanwhile, Zila and Lieutenant Kim head down to the station morgue, where the body of the recently deceased Dr. Pinkerton resides.
After four attempts
BLAM.
BRAPPPP.
“FREEZE!”
STABSTABSTAB.
the ladies haven’t found a way to avoid station security and get what they came for: the electronic passkey around the neck of Pinkerton’s corpse. But like I say, I’ve got a good feeling this time.
So cross your fingers, kids.
Sparks are raining down from the metal, the faint hiss of Fin’s cutting torch barely audible over the wailing alarms, the occasional alert klaxon. I hang on the rung below him, watch him work: his lips pressed thin, a dark line of concentration between his brows.
“Can I help?”
He smiles. “You asked me that the last three times. I’m good, Scar.”
“How you think Z and Kim are doing?”
“Well, we haven’t vanished in a burst of temporal paradox yet.” He wipes his brow on his sleeve. “So, better than last time.”
The station vibrates faintly, and another alarm wails. I feel kinda useless just waiting here, and I don’t like it.
“You sure I can’t do anything?”
Fin grins. “I’m kinda thirsty?”
One arm hooked through the ladder rungs, I swing the backpack he brought off my shoulder. Reaching inside, I fish about among our useless uniglasses for the canteen. But instead, my fingers brush against something soft. Furry. Pulling the object out into the light, I feel a warm rush on my skin as I realize what I’m holding, a smile curling my lips.
“You saved Shamrock?”
Fin glances down to the plush dragon in my hand and shrugs. “I figured we need all the allies we can get.”
I press Shamrock to my lips, breathing deep and looking at the boy above me. Maker, he’s sweet. Of all the things he could’ve brought with us, he salvages the one part of Cat we have left. I can still smell her on the dragon’s fur as I inhale, the scent of her perfume and the fabric softener she used. For a moment it hits me, and I have to close my eyes against it—the knowledge of how far we are from home, how much we’ve lost on the way here, and how we might never find our way back.
“You all right?”
I look up and see Fin staring down at me, concern in his eyes. I know I shouldn’t bother him—he has work to do, and who knows what’s hanging in the balance. But suddenly, I feel so small, I can’t feel myself at all.
“Do you think it’s going to be okay, Fin?”
He frowns slightly. “You mean …”
“I mean all this. Auri, Tyler, this, us.” I shake my head, hating the tears I feel in my eyes. “I never took any of this seriously, Fin. I spent all my time at the academy screwing around. And now we’re hip-deep in this crap and I feel totally useless. All I know how to do is talk, and there’s no room for that here. Maybe if I’d paid attention, if I—”
“Hey.” He shuts off the flashlight and, with a bit of effort, works his way down the ladder so we’re eye to eye. “Hey, none of that. You’re not useless.”
I roll my eyes. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, Legionnaire de Seel. But theoretical physics isn’t exactly my forte.”
“Maybe not.” He shrugs, his exo hissing. “But since Tyler got snagged by the GIA, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the person holding our whole squad together is you. We need you, Scar.”
He reaches out and brushes a tear away with a silver finger.
“I need you.”
I shake my head in wonder. “How have you been in front of my eyes this whole time, and I’m only just seeing you now?”