Anchor Leg: A Sci-Fi Mystery Novel

Seventeen

Before I can say anything Bakalar’s hand tablet rings. She picks it up,
presses something on the screen and lays it back on the desk. ‘This is
Bakalar. You’re on speaker phone with myself and my apprentice,
Seren Temples.’ She’s never done that before.

‘It’s a fuckin’ mess but no one’s hurt,’ says Captain Zuma. ‘No one
was anywhere near the EN Drive when it blew or even in the hold for
that matter. No serious damage to the ship’s structural integrity
either.’

‘That’s good,’ Bakalar says. ‘Will life support be affected?’
‘Life support runs off the reactor. All the EN Drive gives us is
propulsion so we’re not going to freeze or suffocate if that’s what
you’re worried about, we’re just dead in the water.’
‘And what about the EN Drive itself? What’s the extent of the
damage?’
‘Engineering are telling me it’s pretty serious, gonna take a few days
to fix.’
‘Do they have an exact cause?’
‘They will do soon, but first thing I’ve ordered them to do is change
all of the Drive access protocols.’
‘You think this was sabotage?’
‘Of course it was fucking sabotage,’ Zuma barks back, making me
flinch. ‘Everything that’s happening aboard this ship, someone’s doing
it and it’s supposed to be your job to stop them.’
‘You have my—’
‘I don’t want apologies or assurances,’ Zuma interrupts, ‘I want
results. I want to know who’s doing this to my ship, how they’re doing
it and why they’re doing it. Now get over to EN Drive Control and find
the hell out. Ethan Iwu, the engineer who was on night shift is waiting
to talk to you. Zuma out.’
The line goes dead and Bakalar retrieves her tablet. She doesn’t say
anything and a painful silence fills the room. I don’t know whether I
should try and fill it.
‘Thoughts, Seren?’ Bakalar asks, after what seems like forever.
‘I think Captain Zuma is right about a saboteur,’ I find myself

saying, ‘too much has gone wrong for it to be bad luck. I also know that
I want to do everything I can to help you find out who the saboteur is.’

Bakalar nods. I hope what I said helps but it’s impossible to tell.
‘Come on,’ she says, ‘let’s get to Engineering.’ She raises herself and
heads towards the hatch. I follow her out.

We’re almost into Second when the intercom sounds. ‘ This is Zuma.
As some of you already know we’ve had a technical fault with the EN
Drive. We’re currently without propulsion but Engineering will have
it fixed soon. All other systems are functioning normally, all duties
are to be carried out as per usual. Zuma out. ’

‘Gods,’ a man says to the woman he’s walking through the corridor
with, ‘we’d be better off with a chimp at the helm.’ Bakalar gives him a
scowl as we pass and he shuts up, lowers his head. He must recognise
her.

EN Drive Control is a flurry of activity. We passed Tech on the way
here (no sign of Abril) and I thought that looked busy, but here every
workstation is occupied and there’s personnel dashing this way and
that, some leaving, more coming in.

‘I’m here to see Ethan Iwu,’ Bakalar says to the crewmember at the
terminal by the door.

His head an inch away from his holoscreen he answers, ‘All
appointments are cancelled, didn’t you hear the intercom? We’re ever
so slightly busy.’

His sarcasm is infuriating but Bakalar’s tone doesn’t falter. ‘I’m
Nika Bakalar, Head of Security. Please could you point him out for me.
Now.’

The crewmember turns his head but before he has a chance to speak
someone else does. ‘Bakalar?’ A man a good few inches shorter than
me approaches us from a crowded holoscreen. ‘I’m Ethan Iwu, pleased
to meet you.’

Bakalar shakes his hand. ‘This is my apprentice, Seren Temples. Is
there somewhere we can speak privately?’

‘Certainly. Both of you, please follow me.’
Despite Iwu’s short, stumpy legs he moves at quite a pace. I struggle
to keep up without breaking into a jog.
Iwu leads us away from the bustle and into a side room that
contains little more than a table, a holoboard and a few plastic chairs.

‘A meeting room,’ he says, as he sits down. ‘I doubt there’ll be any
quarterly assessment interviews or mind mapping sessions today. We
should be fine to talk in here.’

‘Indeed,’ Bakalar answers, as we both take seats at the table. ‘If you
don’t mind, we’ll get straight to it?’

‘Not at all.’
‘Walk us through what happened. Start to finish.’
‘Well,’ Iwu begins, ‘even whilst we’re in orbit with the EN Drive
inactive, someone is always on-shift in EN Drive Control. Last night I
drew the short straw, and it was supposed to be me from midnight to
0900. 0900 is when most Engineering and Tech shifts start, so that’s
when I was due to be relieved.
‘Even though I was on my own the shift was easy. All a night shifter
has to do is keep an eye on the Drive’s vital statistics. I mostly use the
time to catch up on admin. And that’s all I did. I was on my own,
working quietly until 0747 when the EN Drive fired itself up. I had a
warning alarm but I couldn’t access Control to shut it back down, the
interface wouldn’t respond. I was locked out. Before I knew it the
Drive had overpowered and blown itself out.’
‘How exactly does an EN Drive overpower?’ Bakalar says, asking
what I’m thinking. ‘I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the intricacies of
the system.’
‘In laymen’s terms the Drive somehow put itself in what you might
call neutral. It started spinning but didn’t expel any energy. The
energy that should have been turned into propulsion built up inside
the Drive until one of the weaker components – we’re not yet entirely
sure which one or ones – couldn’t stand it any longer and burned out.
We think that’s when the failsafe kicked in and shut it down.’
‘Captain Zuma said it would take a few days to fix?’ Bakalar says.
‘We’re still trying to work out the full extent of the damage but I
think a few days is the most likely scenario. We can carry out soft fixes
through the computer, we can access the internal engine through hold,
but any external repairs will need to be made via spacewalks. That
takes a lot longer.’
‘You said you were locked out of Control, have you regained access
now?’
‘Yes, as soon as the Drive blew I got Control back. But it was too

late, the damage was done. All I could do was call the captain and
contact some other engineers for assistance.’

‘Do you have any explanation for the lock out?’
‘We have had a few problems with our computer systems lately but
the timing was too precise to be coincidental.’
‘Can the Drive be accessed from any other part of the ship?’ Bakalar
asks. ‘Or is it just EN Drive Control?’
‘EN Drive Control and the Bridge.’ Iwu answers.
‘And you were alone all night?’
‘All night,’ Iwu confirms.
‘Thank you for your co-operation,’ Bakalar says, standing straight.
‘That will be all for now.’
We part ways with Iwu and then Bakalar and I head back in the
direction of Third. Bakalar is silent, no doubt digesting all we just
heard but, as we pass Tech, someone shouts out my name.
‘Abril,’ I say, as she dashes over, ‘hi.’
‘Hello, Antonio,’ Bakalar says. She looks from Abril and then to me,
pauses for a moment, reaches into her pocket. ‘I just need to send a
message,’ she says, pulling out her hand tablet. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
‘Sorry,’ Abril says, as Bakalar takes a few steps away, ‘I just wanted
to ask how you were doing.’ She lowers her voice. ‘We didn’t get a
chance to speak this morning.’
‘I feel much better,’ I answer, although I do feel a sudden urge to tell
her what I kept from her last night. ‘I’m sorry I took another jumpsuit,’
I say instead. Now’s not the time.
‘Oh, it’s fine, I didn’t even notice. Why don’t you come round again
once we’re both off-shift? I really enjoyed last night.’
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘I will.’ Abril gives me a smile as Bakalar rejoins us.
‘How are things in Tech this morning?’ She asks Abril.
‘Crazy. We’re having to help out Engineering with diagnostics. I’m
sure you’re just as busy though, I’m sorry to take up your time.’
‘Not at all. You’ll always be a friend to Security, Antonio.’
We exchange quick goodbyes and then we’re off again, back towards
the briefing room.
‘I need you to look at the security footage from EN Drive Control,’
Bakalar says, once we’re back in her office. ‘I want you to check that
everything Iwu said was true. Keep me informed as you go along. I’ll

be working through more log code.’
Dutifully, I watch Iwu on Bakalar’s holotop for hours. Everything is

as he said. From midnight onwards he sits working at his terminal
alone until a nearby screen flashes red and he descends into panic. The
time code is 0747. I watch him try and work the flashing interface but
there’s no response from the screen, Iwu appears unable to issue any
commands. The camera judders a few seconds later, presumably as the
EN Drive blows, and then he’s suddenly able to work the interface and
take control.

When I tell Bakalar Iwu’s story holds up she has me look at Bridge
security footage from around the time of the blow out. Captain Zuma
and Petrova are talking by the holotable at 0747 (they’re discussing the
Scylla ), but an alarm ends their conversation prematurely. They rush
to their terminals but seem unable to do anything about what’s
happening.

Once again, I relay everything to Bakalar but she doesn’t offer up
any thoughts. She simply puts me onto report writing until she decides
‘It’s getting late.’ and dismisses me.

Abril touches a finger to the ad-pad.
‘Explain to me again how you have access?’ I ask, as the door slides

open.
Abril gives me a mischievous smile. ‘I was given access when

Atmospherics needed help with their computer systems and my tech
team was sent down here. Once the work was done Atmospherics
never bothered to revoke my access.’

‘And what if there’s someone in there?’
‘That’s the beauty of my evil scheme. I’ll just say I came to check
that our system updates are functioning to a satisfactory level.’
‘At 2200?’
Abril laughs and steps through the door. Sneaking into a part of the
ship that I’m not supposed to be in is a stupid risk for a Security
apprentice to take. But Abril seemed desperate to bring me here and,
besides, breaking the rules is kind of exciting.
I follow Abril inside to find a room dominated by giant water tanks.
They’re linked by a system of pipes and each one seems to be covered
in some kind of tarpaulin. There are no people, just a couple of vacant

workstations.
‘Come on, Seren. You’ll love this next bit!’ Abril is already climbing

a ladder up the side of one of the tanks. I chase after her and follow her
up.

The ladder takes me up to a platform. The tarpaulin covering the
tank below is transparent so I can see blooms of algae, lines of bubbles
and, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of movement. Abril is already
leaning over, unfastening some clips.

‘Is something alive in there?’ I ask.
‘Maybe,’ Abril answers playfully. ‘Can you help me with this cover?’
I sink down to my knees, lean over the side of the platform and
assist Abril in exposing some of the tank.
‘Next,’ Abril says, reaching down and untying her boots, ‘take off
your shoes and socks.’
I have no idea what’s going on but I do as she says anyway.
‘Come and sit at the edge,’ she instructs, once we’re both barefoot. I
do that as well. ‘Now lower your feet over the side and hold them just
under the surface of the water.’
I raise an eyebrow, Abril reaches for my hand. ‘Trust me,’ she says,
giving it a squeeze.
Together, we lower our feet into the cool water. ‘Wait for it,’ Abril
says.
A few seconds later a hundred silvery shapes emerge from the algae.
I let out a squeal and try to pull away but Abril doesn’t let go of my
hand. ‘I promise they won’t hurt you, Seren.’
My cowardly jerk seems to have spooked them but, once I’m still for
a few moments, the fish come back. Cautiously, one of them flutters up
to my little toe and gives it a – I’m not sure, a kiss? The others follow
suit and soon there’s a cloud of fish around all twenty of our toes.
Their kisses tickle but they don’t hurt, it actually feels kind of nice.
‘What are they doing?’ I whisper to Abril.
‘You don’t need to whisper,’ she answers at regular volume. ‘Now
they know we’re not going to hurt them they won’t be scared. They like
the dead skin on our feet, they’re eating it.’
‘They’re eating us?’ I say, laughing at how bizarre all of this is.
Abril laughs too. ‘Only the dead bits. This is actually really good for
our feet.’

‘It does feel pretty nice. But why are there fish here in the first
place? Surely not just to give intruding apprentices pedicures?’

Abril chuckles. ‘They help the algae grow. One of the atmos techs
told me that they’re genetically modified. A mixture of cichlid, brown
trout, cave fish and some others I can’t remember. They eat the dead
algae and excrete a perfect fertiliser for the living algae. Apparently
they improve oxygen production by twenty-five percent.’

‘Wow,’ I say, as the fish move on to my heels, ‘that’s amazing. And
how did you know they liked feet?’

‘The atmos tech told me rich earthling ladies use them for cosmetic
purposes. It’s what gave me the idea to sneak in here and try them out.
I thought it would be kind of like going to the ocean, I’ve actually been
down a few times now.’

I remember how Abril talked longingly about the sea last night.
Then I remember all that I told her, and what I kept from her too.
‘Abril,’ I say, ‘there’s something I didn’t tell you last night. It’s about
Earth.’

‘Really?’ she asks. ‘Do you want to tell me now?’
‘I think so.’
She smiles encouragingly.
‘I told you about the protests, how we used to shout and sing at the
subsector gates.’
‘I remember.’
‘Well, the troopers weren’t happy with simply breaking our protests
up. People used to disappear. The loudest campaigners for change,
people that fought back against the troopers, desperate subsectorers
that stole from other, richer parts of the township. Bodies would turn
up, apparently the victims of some terrible accident.’
I hesitate. Abril said bad things need to be let out but it doesn’t
mean it’s easy. ‘I didn’t tell you,’ I continue, ‘that I found a body once.
The person who used to organise the protests I went to. Richard. He
was my friend. He used to source me and the other orphan kids
clothes and textbooks, he used to help the teachers with our oversized
classes.
‘I found him in an alley by his house, a bullet to his head. He was
missing an ear and there were cuts to his chest. He’d obviously been
tortured.’

‘That’s awful,’ Abril says under her breath, ‘torturing someone is
sick.’

‘I made a call to the regulators and some troopers were there in a
flash. They took the body and announced a day later that Richard had
committed suicide. But they didn’t bother to look for a gun or
interview anyone he knew, they didn’t mention the torture in their
announcement either.’

I pause and watch the fish for a few moments. They must be getting
full because a few of them are drifting back into the algae. ‘Whenever I
think of Richard,’ I say, ‘I can’t help but imagine the last minutes of his
life. What he felt, how scared he must have been. I even find myself
imagining the exact moment of his death and what his killer was
seeing. But I don’t have to imagine it anymore because I’ve seen
someone die, I’ve shot someone in the head myself. The picture is
finally complete.’ Then I say it out loud for the first time. ‘I’m a killer.
I’m just like the people who killed Richard, just like the troopers.’

‘No,’ Abril says, the second the words leave my lips, ‘you’re nothing
like those people. You’re good. What you did aboard the Scylla , you
had no choice. You acted the only way you could and you did it for the
right reasons.

‘The people that killed Richard, a terrible choice was made. That’s
the difference. You’re a good person, Seren, one of the best and bravest
and most beautiful I’ve ever met.’ Abril gives me a smile and I can’t
help but smile back.

But I want her to do more and she seems to sense it. There’s
another slow moment, just like before, and then she leans in and
kisses me. This time I don’t pull away.

Eighteen

In the morning I leave Abril’s cabin and head to shift feeling a little
better. Being with Abril, all she said, I think it’s helping.

I find the briefing room empty so I knock on Bakalar’s hatchway.
She shouts me through but, as soon as I step inside, ‘I’m going to run a
brief when the boys get here, Seren. Could you wait outside for ten
minutes?’

‘Of course,’ I answer, before sliding back out. If the boys are coming
in for a brief then work aboard the Scylla must have finished. Unless
something else went wrong while I was asleep of course.

I make myself useful by tidying the equipment lockers. Everything
that’s happened in the last few days, the equipment has been taken out
and packed away so many times that the lockers are a complete
jumble.

It takes me an hour to sort through the lockers. Then there’s
another fifteen minutes of waiting with nothing to do before the boys
turn up.

‘Terrestrial,’ Artis says, as he leads Hindle and Phyleon into the
briefing room, ‘get off your bony ass and tell Bakalar we’re here.’

Without rebuke (Artis looks beyond tired), I stand and do as he
asks.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t let you sleep for longer,’ Bakalar says to the
boys, once she starts the brief. ‘I know you pulled a lot of overtime
dealing with the Scylla but we still have so much to do.’

‘We understand,’ Hindle answers on all of their behalves. ‘Sleep is
for the weak anyway.’ Phyleon finds that worthy of a chuckle.

‘As it stands,’ Bakalar begins, ‘we’re—’ Her hand tablet stars to ring.
‘Excuse me for one moment,’ she says, pulling it from her pocket, ‘it’s
the captain. Bakalar,’ she answers. Then she listens and her face
darkens. ‘How many?’ I can’t quite hear what Captain Zuma is saying
on the other end but I can tell he’s speaking quickly. ‘We’ll be right
there, stay inside.’

Instinctively, we all stand from our seats.
‘There’s a riot outside the Bridge,’ Bakalar says. ‘Fifty crewmembers
trying to force their way inside.’

‘What do we take?’ Hindle asks.
‘Full riot gear. Artis, bring a pinch rifle, but just for show. Phyleon,
get the drop shocks. Hindle, Temples, get the vests and shields.’
We do as Bakalar says and, inside a minute, I’m wearing a stab
proof vest and following Hindle outside. I have a transparent riot
shield attached to my left arm and a two-foot-long drop shock in my
right hand.
‘Know what you’re doing with that?’ Hindle asks as we race after
Bakalar.
I’m more familiar with drop shocks than I’d like to be. Bakalar
taught me how to use one (touch the live end to human skin to
immobilise and floor your target) but I was already acquainted with
them thanks to the subsector protests. ‘Bakalar showed me,’ I answer
between breaths.
‘Just make sure it’s set on full,’ Hindle replies. ‘Your first riot is no
time for subtly.’
We run through Third, and then through Second. There’s scarcely
anyone about the corridors, but I do see people at their workstations
through the occasional clear wall panel. Nervous engineers, wide-eyed
scientists; I think everyone knows that something’s happening.
We hear the shouts not long after we enter First. There’s an endless
rhythmic banging accompanying them. Bakalar quickens our pace.
Outside the Bridge doors, the crowd numbers more than fifty. I
don’t know if numbers have swollen since Zuma called, but the sight of
all these people makes my heart skip a beat. It looks so much like the
protests from home, I just hope it doesn’t end like them.
‘Intimidate,’ Bakalar calls.
I move to her side. When Bakalar showed me how to use a drop
shock she also explained how Security deal with riots and what my role
would be if one ever happened. I know what’s expected of me.
The boys know what’s expected of them too. They line up in front of
us and, in perfect unison, they start to stomp their feet and bang their
drop shocks against their raised shields. Aggressive action is a last
resort I remember Bakalar telling me, we aim to intimidate the crowd
into disbanding first. In accordance with that approach, pathways to
our right and left are left clear; filter lanes for the rioters to escape
through.

‘Forwards,’ Bakalar calls, and the boys, still banging their drop
shocks, march towards the throng. Bakalar and I, the rear guard,
follow after them.

A few steps and the rioters at the edge of the crowd start to take
notice of us. A few of them flee, a handful down each of the filter lanes.

‘Back to your quarters,’ Bakalar yells as they run past. I do the
same, but I’m not sure I’m audible over all the banging and shouting.

Five more steps and we reach the edge of the crowd. ‘We need to get
to the leaders at the front,’ Bakalar calls. ‘Push through!’

The boys stop banging their drop shocks and lean into their shields.
I hear shouts of ‘Zuma’s a liar!’ and ‘The terrestrials have got to him!’
as the boys start to exert a force on the crowd.

Crew start to stream down our filter lanes, pushing into each other
as they try to escape. One comes too close to Bakalar and she punches
out with her shield, deflecting him away. I’m not so quick.

‘The captain lied about the sensors,’ a man yells as he gets in-
between my shield and torso. ‘More than one blew, he’s lying about ev
—’ But he doesn’t get a chance to finish his rant because Hindle tears
him away from me, throws him back into the filter lane.

Without a word Hindle returns to formation, swinging his drop
shock to quell the unruliest members of the crowd. But no one’s
falling. Despite what Hindle said to me the boys haven’t switched on
their drop shocks. They’re using them purely as batons. I switch mine
off as well.

Onwards we push, creeping ever closer to the blast doors. I notice
most of the crowd are basic crew, I don’t see anyone dressed in the
smarter garb of First and Second. But I don’t have time to dwell on it.
The rioters nearer the blast doors are more determined, they fight
back. They charge into the boys’ shields, they swing fists and kick out
with their feet.

I swing my baton when I need to, do my best to force the rioters
into the filter lanes. ‘Back to your quarters,’ I shout. ‘Get back!’

The banging is thunderous now. I see that the rioters are slamming
hands and fists against the blast doors. ‘Open up, cowards,’ they shout.
‘Let us in!’ But we’re nearly there, the crowd is thinning. And then it all
goes wrong.

From behind us, three people charge into Bakalar. She goes down

and her head hits the floor with a sickening crack.
‘No!’ I shout, as the rioters surge onwards towards Artis, ‘Bakalar!’ I

drop my shield and rush towards her. I know an impact might come
but I don’t care, I can’t let Bakalar get trampled.

And then the blast doors give off an almighty rumble. Everyone
stops dead, no one was expecting the doors to actually open.

The twin doors split to reveal Captain Zuma standing firm with a
pinch rifle. He tosses it to the floor. ‘Enough!’ he shouts. ‘Enough!’ He
looks from one side of the crowd to the other, staring them down.
‘What are we?’ he asks. ‘Are the earthlings right? Are we no better than
roaches? Crawling over each other, devouring one another until there’s
nothing left.’ He takes a single step forwards and the entire crowd
seems to take one back. ‘EN Drive Control are repairing the engine,
they’ll be done soon. We’re finished with the Scylla . We just need to sit
pretty for a while and then we’ll be on our way. This is space, things go
wrong. We deal with it. We get by. Now, back to your stations. I’m sick
of the sight of you.’

Incredibly, the crowd starts to disperse. But I feel no relief. I’m on
my knees, Bakalar never got up. ‘Someone call Medical,’ I shout, but I
don’t think it comes out right.

‘Don’t move her,’ Phyleon answers, sinking down beside me. He
reaches into Bakalar’s pocket and pulls out her hand tablet.

I’m looking at Bakalar’s face as Phyleon makes the call. Her eyes are
closed and her skin is already ghostly pale. I hold a finger under her
nose and find she’s barely breathing.

‘Gods, no,’ I hear Hindle say. I realise he and Artis are standing
above us.

And then a number of things happen almost simultaneously. Out of
the corner of my eye I notice someone moving against the dispersing
crowd, coming towards us.

I turn to look at him just as he raises a pinch pistol and aims it at
Artis. Hindle sees it too, he throws himself in front of Artis as the
pistol pops. Then Hindle drops to the floor, blood streaming from his
head. He lands no more than a foot away from Bakalar.

‘Fuck,’ Artis yells, ‘fuck, no!’
I watch the shooter take a step backwards. He drops his pistol in
horror, as if he can’t believe what he’s just done. Then he runs. Artis is

after him in an instant, shield and drop shock abandoned, pinch rifle
poised.

‘No,’ Phyleon calls, as I raise myself. I have no idea what’s going on
but I know I have to stop it.

I start moving. I grab the shooter’s pistol from the floor, then I
chase after Artis.

Artis is a big guy, but he’s fast. I struggle to keep up, struggle to dart
in and out of the crew rushing away from the blast doors. I see Artis
whip around a corner and I lose him. Then there’s a gunshot.

By the time I make the turn Artis is standing over the shooter with
his rifle, staring down at his lifeless body. Panicked crew dash in every
direction.

‘Drop it,’ I say, pointing the pistol at him.

Nineteen

There are electrodes attached to her shaved head. I count twelve. From
each one, a wire runs to a bulky machine on wheels. I don’t know what
it’s called or what it does. There are two drips attached to her arm and
a monitor beeping with every beat of her heart. Her eyes are closed, an
oxygen mask covers her nose and mouth. Even so, her chest rises and
falls only lightly, like she’s slowly forgetting how to breathe.

There are two High Dependency rooms occupied, one taken up by
the coolant pipe victim Tak mentioned, and Bakalar in here. Hindle is
in the mortuary, the doctors pronounced him dead on arrival. It’s
strange, only this morning I was feeling a little better about things.
And now this. Not that my feelings matter one iota when Bakalar is
fighting for her life and Hindle has lost his.

‘Did they say how long it would be until she wakes?’ I’d almost
forgotten Phyleon was standing beside me. He came to Medical after
he’d taken Artis to the cellblock, after he’d locked away all of our
weapons and gear.

‘They don’t know,’ I answer. ‘Maybe once the damage to her brain is
repaired. If it can be repaired.’

In silence, we watch Bakalar for the longest time. The monitor
beeps, the machines whir, her chest barely rises, her chest barely falls.

Eventually the door behind us opens. ‘Seren Temples?’ a nurse asks.
‘There’s a call for a Seren Temples.’

‘I’m Temples,’ I say.
‘You can take the call in Observation 1. Please follow me.’
I trail after the nurse wondering if I could have done more. I should
have stayed closer to Bakalar during the riot, I should have had her
back. And Hindle. I saw the shooter coming, could I have done
something in that instant? Could I have stopped him from firing his
pistol?
Before I know it, I’m standing alone in front of a terminal, a hold
screen flashing intermittently. I press a finger to the interface.
‘How is she?’ Captain Zuma asks.
I don’t know who I was expecting but the captain’s voice catches me
off guard. ‘I … not good.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry for the loss of your
colleague too.’

‘Thank you,’ I say automatically.
‘What are you going to do about it?’
‘Do about it?’ I repeat, confused.
‘Yes. Your colleague Artis was targeted, that’s clear from the
security footage. How are you going to proceed with the investigation
into today’s shootings?’
‘I didn’t know there was—’
‘You’ll proceed,’ Captain Zuma interrupts, ‘by talking to the
shooter’s wife. The shooter was Hakim Chafik. He was married to
Marissa Chafik and they both worked in Atmospherics. His wife will
have known him best. Talk to her, talk to Artis, talk to anyone else you
need to. Find out what was going on, what it had to do with the Scylla
and all of the problems we’ve had.’
I’m struggling to formulate a response. Why isn’t the captain talking
to Phyleon about this? He’s more senior than me.
‘Can I trust you to do this?’ Captain Zuma asks when I don’t reply.
I think of Hindle lying cold in the mortuary. ‘Yes.’
‘Good. Contact me as soon as you have something. In the meantime,
I’ll do my best to source your team more personnel and confirm a new
command structure. Zuma out.’
The line goes dead and I walk away. The captain is right, Hindle is
dead and I should be working out why. I owe him that much.
Back in Bakalar’s room, Phyleon is standing where I left him. ‘That
was Captain Zuma,’ I tell him. ‘He wants us to find out why the shooter
came after Artis, what it has to do with everything else that’s
happened.’ He doesn’t need to know that the captain never mentioned
him.
Phyleon nods. ‘Artis was silent when I took him to his cell. But I
could try and talk to him again.’
‘Okay. Captain Zuma said the shooter was Hakim Chafik. He has a
wife, Marissa. I’ll find her.’ We both take one last look at Bakalar and
then we leave.
As we head back towards Third, a terrible notion hits me. I’ll load
up the holo board, use the ship’s database to find Marissa Chafik, but
then I have to face her. And I have no way of knowing if anyone’s told

her about her husband. What if I have to tell her he’s dead? I think of
Abril. I feel the urge to run, to flee into her arms and never leave them.

‘I’ll do my best to find out what Artis knows,’ Phyleon says, once
we’re outside the cellblock.

‘I’ll meet you in the briefing room once we’re both done,’ I reply. I
continue through the corridor without watching Phyleon go inside. For
some reason, I really don’t want to catch a glimpse of Artis.

I head into the briefing room and find it occupied. A woman.
Beautiful, sleek features tainted by puffy eyes and a red-nose. ‘Marissa
Chafik? I say, sensing it can’t be anyone else.

She nods and then bursts into tears.
‘I’m part of the Security team,’ I tell her. ‘Why don’t you come with
me?’
I lead Marissa through the hatchway and take her into Bakalar’s
office. Inside, I place two spare chairs at the corner of the desk. I can’t
bring myself to use Bakalar’s chair.
‘Thank you,’ Marissa says, as she takes a seat. I sit opposite her,
wait for her to compose herself.
‘As soon as I heard what happened,’ she says eventually, ‘I came
here.’
‘How much do you know?’ I ask.
‘I know that your colleague is dead. I – I know Hakim is dead and I
know it was Chris that shot him.’
I don’t think I’ve heard Artis’s first name used since I first met him.
‘That’s right,’ I say softly. At least I’m spared from breaking the news
to her.
Marissa buries her head in her hands. ‘I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.’
‘How is it your fault?’ I ask gently, but I think I can guess. A
beautiful woman, two men shooting at each other, you don’t need to be
Sherlock Holmes.
‘I was having an affair with Chris,’ Marissa admits. She starts
sobbing again,
I let the tears run their course. ‘It started off as a distraction,’
Marissa says, in her own time. ‘Chris was handsome, funny, I was
bored. Bored and stupid. But then Chris told me that he loved me, and
I realised that I loved him too.’
I find it hard to imagine Artis telling anyone he loves them, no

matter how beautiful they are. Although, outside of work, how well do
I really know him? ‘Did your husband find out?’ I ask.

‘Not at first. I told Chris we had to end it, I was married. But I was so
weak. I couldn’t stay away from him, I couldn’t say no. And the worst
part, the worst part is that Chris and Hakim are – were – friends. They
played cards together. That’s how I met Chris.’

More tears. I let them run.
‘Hakim and I,’ Marissa sniffles, ‘we had an argument last night. It
carried over into the morning. I was vile. He’d been suspicious of me,
and I confirmed his suspicions. I used the fact that I’d been with Chris
to hurt him. He stormed off and that was the last time I ever saw him.
‘I suppose he couldn’t take the fact that I’d been with another man,
his friend. I don’t know where he got the gun, but I know he tried to
shoot Chris. I know he hit your colleague instead. Maybe Hakim
thought the riot would cover his tracks. Maybe all the trouble was just
a coincidence, I have no idea. I just know two people are dead and it’s
all my fault.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I assure her. ‘You didn’t shoot anyone.’
Marissa looks me in the eye. ‘Can I see Chris?’ she pleads. ‘Can I
talk with him?’
‘He’s in a cell right now,’ I answer, ‘I’ll have to ask the captain.’
‘Thank you,’ she says, standing up, ‘I should go. I really am so sorry,
so sorry for everything.’
I stand and lead her out of Bakalar’s office. Phyleon is waiting
outside, he gives Marissa a grave nod as she passes.
‘You’ll ask the captain?’ she asks again, just before she leaves.
‘Yes, I’ll contact you if he agrees.’
‘Thank you.’
‘That was Marissa Chafik?’ Phyleon asks, once she’s gone.
‘It was. She was waiting when I came in.’
‘Did she tell you about the affair?’
Artis came clean as well then. ‘Yes, she did.’
Phyleon and I compare testimonies, soon finding that Artis and
Marissa’s match. We agree that the shootings had nothing to do with
the Scylla , the malfunctions or the EN Drive.
‘You should inform the captain,’ Phyleon says. He reaches into his
pocket and pulls out a hand tablet. Bakalar’s. ‘Use this. I promised

Artis I’d bring him some personal effects for his cell. It’s why he
talked.’ Phyleon goes and I’m left alone in the briefing room.

‘Zuma,’ the captain answers, once I bring myself to call him.
‘Captain Zuma, this is Seren Temples. I’m calling to inform you that
I’ve spoken to Marissa Chafik. She and Artis, they were having an
affair. A separate interview with Artis has confirmed this. It also
appears that the deaths of Hakim Chafik and Maurice Hindle had
nothing to do with the ship’s malfunctions, the EN Drive or the Scylla .
Actions were motivated purely by personal grievances.’
‘I see,’ the captain answers. ‘You work fast but so do we. I’ve been
discussing the Security situation with Petrova. I’m promoting you to
Acting Head of Security as of this moment.’
I almost laugh out loud. ‘Captain Zuma,’ I say, trying to remain
collected, ‘if this is because I led Beta Team through the Scylla it’s
important that you understand—’
‘You did well during that mission,’ Captain Zuma interrupts, ‘but
you also acted quickly during the riots and had no reservations in
apprehending a fellow team member at gun point. Your loyalty is to
Relay law. I need someone with that mentality to investigate
everything that’s happened. Petrova made me see that.’
‘I appreciate that,’ I answer with a fluster, ‘but my colleague
Phyleon is far more experienced—’
‘Your colleague Phyleon used to be a pirate. I’m not about to
promote the likes of him to such a position. Now, I’m ordering you to
carry on Bakalar’s investigation as Acting Head of Security. Are you
going to disobey a direct order from your captain?’
‘No, I’d never do that.’
‘Good. I can’t spare any time to assist you myself because I’m
overseeing the EN Drive repairs. You need to know that, despite the
song I sang this morning, the repairs are far from complete. But I am
assigning Petrova to you on an ad-hoc basis; she can assist you when
she’s not on-shift. She’s working on the Bridge right now but she’s
already assigned you open access. You’re free to enter any part of the
ship you choose, to use Bakalar’s workstation, to detain anyone you
see fit. But I want results. I want you to apprehend the saboteur,
double time. Do you have any questions?’
My heart is racing. How am I supposed to catch the saboteur when

Bakalar couldn’t? ‘No questions,’ I find myself saying. ‘No, wait, one.
Marissa Chafik, she asked if she could speak to Artis in his cell?’

‘Absolutely not. He stays in there alone until we reach Göhr . Then
the regulators can decide the exact nature of his punishment.
Christopher Artis shot an unarmed crewmember dead, don’t forget
that. Any more questions?’

‘No.’
‘Excellent. Keep the hand tablet you’re using on your person at all
times, I need to be able to contact you twenty-four seven. Zuma out.’
The call ends and I’ve never felt so absurd. What just happened?
I’m Acting Head of Security? A seventeen-year-old apprentice? This is
mad. I want to escape, to escape from this ridiculous responsibility,
from this awful day. Maybe from my entire life.
No. Hindle is dead. Bakalar is fighting for her life in a hospital bed.
I have to do whatever I can, I have to solve this. I pocket Bakalar’s
hand tablet and head towards the hatchway.
I don’t allow myself time to hesitate before I sit in Bakalar’s chair
and load up her computer with my fingerprint. The riots. If Bakalar
were here she’d instruct me to investigate them, to watch the security
footage from around that time. Just because the shootings outside the
Bridge had nothing to do with the sabotage, that doesn’t mean that the
riot or some of the rioters didn’t.
I start by watching basic crew flood towards the Bridge. Low-
ranking personnel from Maintenance, Atmospherics, Horticulture; all
of them leave their posts or cabins at the same time, like the riot was
pre-organised. And if the riot was pre-organised, someone must have
orchestrated it. Finding out exactly who it was may be vital to the
investigation.
A knock at the hatchway. It must be Phyleon. I stand up and make
my across Bakalar’s office, open the door.
‘Did you speak to the captain?’ Phyleon asks.
‘I did.’ I feel awkward but I say it anyway. ‘He made me Acting Head
of Security, put me in charge of Bakalar’s investigation.’
‘A good decision,’ Phyleon says, after his token pause and much to
my relief. ‘What would you like me to do?’
‘I’d like you to write a report on everything that’s happened today
and log it. Before that though, I want you to go and talk to the Head of

each department in Third. As far as I can tell all the rioters were basic
crew. Make sure the Heads understand that nothing like this can ever
happen again. Tell them that if there’s even a whisper of another riot
from their department, they’ll be thrown in a cell and charged with
conspiracy once we reach Göhr .’

‘Certainly. Anything else?’
‘You should also know that Captain Zuma has assigned one of his
flight crew to us, Petrova. She’ll be helping us with the investigation on
an ad-hoc basis. Oh, and one last thing. Please could you take the
other hand tablet from the locker and keep it with you. I’d like to be
able to call you at any time.’
‘Of course,’ Phyleon says. He heads over to the lockers and I close
the hatchway.
I go back to Bakalar’s computer and load up security footage from
outside the Bridge. I watch the crowd outside the blast doors form and
swell, but I close the window as I see our team line up. I can’t bring
myself to watch Hindle die and me fail to act, not yet.
Instead, I spend hours watching crewmembers who took part in the
riots. Using my new unrestricted access to the security archives I find
out what they’ve been up to during the previous days.
Nothing jumps out as suspicious though. Most simply go to shift as
would be expected, exercise in the gym, frequent the bar in the
evenings. Maybe the bar is where the whole riot idea was cooked up?
Or maybe it was orchestrated from the privacy of a particular person’s
cabin – there are no security cameras inside personal quarters after
all.
Eventually, I start to flag. I check the time and see that it’s late. I’m
making no progress. Maybe some sleep and a fresh, clean jumpsuit I
actually own would help. Or maybe I just want to put off watching the
actual riot until tomorrow. One thing’s certain though, I want to
message Abril from my personal tablet. We didn’t have any plans to
meet this evening, but I bet she’s expecting to hear from me. I shut
down Bakalar’s computer and leave.
I head towards my cabin through deserted corridors. Maybe
Phyleon scared the other Heads so badly that they confined their
subordinates to their quarters. Maybe it’s just late.
A finger to my cabin ad-pad and I’m searching for where I left my

tablet before I’m even through the door. But something else catches
my eye; another letter resting neatly on my pillow. I’d almost forgotten
about these damn things. I cross my room, tear it from my bed and rip
open the envelope.

Blowing the engine, I’m almost impressed. Be at Mess 1, 0600
tomorrow. Bring your friends, I’ll bring my demands.

‘Gods,’ I gasp.

Twenty

I wake slumped across Bakalar’s desk, I must have fallen asleep at her
interface. I sit straight and my neck complains angrily. Then I
remember the letter, what I was doing before I fell asleep. Blowing the
engine, I’m almost impressed . Whoever wrote the note thinks I’m the
saboteur, or at least meant the note to get to the person who did blow
the EN Drive. Be at Mess 1, 0600 tomorrow. I look at the time, 0722.
Shit, I missed it, I slept through my chance to confront them. Wait, I
can just check the security archive. See who turned up at Mess 1 at
0600, find out where they are now.

I reactivate Bakalar’s interface and load up the archives. I find Mess
1’s camera feed and rewind to 0545. I watch the footage for fifteen
minutes but all I see are two basic crewmembers preparing the
breakfast buffet. They lay out all the food, stack plates and cutlery, and
then they leave. No one comes in at 0600. I fast forward until I do see
people arrive; a man and a woman at 0619, chatting away. They head
straight to the buffet, plate themselves up some food and take a seat. I
pause the footage. None of this seems particularly suspect. But then
what exactly was I looking for? Someone in a trench coat and dark
glasses?

Then it hits me. I’d not slept in my room for three nights before I
found the latest letter. It could have been delivered at any time, no,
any time after the EN Drive blew. That means 0600 tomorrow could
have meant 0600 yesterday morning.

I rewind the Mess 1 footage again. But before I get to 0600
yesterday morning the screen starts to pixelate, then the picture
disappears. Only the time code in the bottom corner remains but,
when I hit play at 0600, there’s nothing there. I hit rewind again.
There are visuals at 0501 but that’s just an empty mess hall. Then I
fast forward until 0705; the end of the missing footage. Suddenly I see
the mess filled with scientists, engineers, apprentices; all of them
eating breakfast. There’s no way of singling anyone out. So I try the
cameras from the corridors outside Mess 1. Exactly the same; there’s
almost two hours of missing video.

I slam my fists hard against Bakalar’s desk. I’ve heard talk of
computer malfunctions recently but what’s happened here is obvious.

Someone has deleted the footage, covered their tracks.
‘Seren, Internal Message from Abril Antonio.’ It’s my personal

tablet, lying face down on the floor. I brought it with me when I came
back here last night. I have an IM from Abril, maybe that’s what woke
me up. I lean over, pick it up and unlock the screen.

Seren, we all heard what happened outside the Bridge. I’m so
sorry about Hindle and I’m desperately hoping Bakalar pulls
through. You’ll obviously be really busy but I want you to know that
I’m thinking of you, and that I’m always here if you need to talk. I’m
off-shift at 1800 this evening, if you want to come over just say. Abril

Xx

Gods, I want to go and see her right now, not wait until this
evening.

I’m about to write a reply when I have another thought. Last night,
when I came back here, I was checking the feeds outside my cabin
before I fell asleep, looking for the person that delivered my note. But I
assumed it was delivered yesterday. If the meeting the note arranged
was during the missing Mess 1 footage, the note had to have been
delivered to my cabin further back than that.

A few minutes of searching through footage and I find someone
going into my cabin. 1511, the afternoon after the EN Drive blew. It’s a
man in maintenance overalls, maybe thirty years old. He touches a
finger to my ad-pad and then disappears inside with his trolley. He’s in
there for fifteen minutes before he comes out, easily enough time to
write a note and leave it on my pillow.

I continue to rewind to the time the EN Drive blew, but no one else
goes into my quarters, it has to be this maintenance guy. A million
years ago, before I’d even started audio surveying Flesch, I guessed
that my notes were being delivered by a maintenance apprentice
because they have access to personal quarters. I was almost right. It
was someone from maintenance, just not an apprentice.

Next I load up the ship’s database. It takes me a while because I
have nothing to go on other than what he looks like, but eventually I
find him in the Maintenance Personnel List. Thomas Timiko.
Definitely the person who delivered my note. The likeness to the
culprit in the security footage is unmistakable. Thanks to Bakalar’s

access I can load up his Particulars and read everything about him. He
was born, educated and trained on Ongori , he left to take up a
maintenance contract with the Charybdis when he was nineteen. Most
importantly, the Maintenance Log says his next shift starts in fifteen
minutes.

Right on cue, there’s a knock at the hatchway door. ‘That you
Phyleon?’ I call.

‘Yes, may I open the door?’
‘Of course.’
The hatchway door swings wide but Phyleon doesn’t come in.
Instead, he holds the door open for Petrova. She steps through but
doesn’t thank him. In fact, she doesn’t even look at Phyleon. Maybe
she’s like the captain, she doesn’t trust Phyleon because of his Relay
pirate past. Maybe she’s really here to keep an eye on him, perhaps on
me too.
‘Sorry I couldn’t assist any sooner,’ Petrova says, as Phyleon follows
her in. ‘I haven’t been able to get away from the Bridge.’
‘Not at all,’ I answer, ‘any help is greatly appreciated.’
Petrova gives me a curt nod. ‘What’s the latest on the investigation?’
I explain about my letters, what the latest said, the deleted footage
and Thomas Timiko.
‘Why didn’t you report these letters when you first received them?’
Petrova asks, once I’m done.
‘I just thought they were from some idiot apprentice,’ I answer.
‘Only the latest said anything about the EN Drive.’
‘I see,’ Petrova allows, although I sense something resembling
disapproval in her voice.
‘Do we have enough to bring Timiko in?’ I ask Phyleon. He knows
more about Security protocol than I do.
Phyleon thinks for a moment. ‘Yes, I believe delivering a letter
directly referencing sabotage satisfies the criterion.’
‘Good, I want to talk to Timiko in the interview room. He starts a
Maintenance shift in a couple of minutes. Would the both of you
please collect him from the Maintenance Hub and take him there?’
‘Okay,’ Petrova says. ‘I’ll let you know once we have him.’
Once they’re gone, I reply to Abril’s message. I apologise for not
contacting her sooner, give her the latest on Bakalar’s condition (I

must call Medical and get a further update) and tell her that I’ll be over
tonight. Then I go back to the ship’s security archive.

I reload the camera feed from outside my room, looking for more
evidence to throw at Timiko. I never see him turning up with a pen,
paper and envelope in hand – I guess he’s not that stupid – but he
does go into my room about twice a week. That suggests my cabin is on
his cleaning roster, the perfect cover for sneaking in there at any time.

Eventually, Petrova returns. She doesn’t bother to knock on the
hatchway door, just lets herself in. ‘We have Timiko waiting in the
interview room.’

I stand from Bakalar’s desk and follow her out. ‘Did Timiko give you
any trouble?’ I ask, as we make the short trip to the cellblock.

‘The odd curse when we refused to tell him why he was being
escorted from shift, but otherwise he was compliant.’

Inside the cellblock, the first thing I notice is Artis curled up on his
cell bunk, apparently asleep. I was worried about catching his eye,
maybe suffering one of his remarks, but it would seem that I’ve been
spared that. For now, at least.

Beyond Artis’s cell Phyleon stands by the interview room door,
waiting. ‘Here’s the plan,’ I say, as Petrova and I reach him. ‘I think it’s
best we all go in. Phyleon, I want you to stand by the door, but please
don’t say or do anything unless Timiko becomes unruly. Petrova, will
you please sit at the desk with me, that way you’ll be able to relay the
interview back to Captain Zuma. Is that okay?’

They agree so I open the door and step through.
Sitting at the desk, Timiko looks somewhat paler than in his photo
but, elsewise, he’s perfectly recognisable. I don’t say anything until
Petrova and I are sitting on the other side of the desk. Phyleon takes
up an imposing stance by the door.
‘You’ve already met Petrova,’ I begin, ‘I’m Temples, Acting Head of
Security.’
‘Acting Head?’ Timiko spits back. ‘You’re just a kid.’
‘A kid who gets to decide whether you share a cell with the
mountain of muscle you passed on your way in here. And let me tell
you, he gets very lonely at night.’ I pause and let the notion settle. ‘Do
you know why you’re here?’
‘No,’ Timiko answers, with much less venom.

‘Well, we have you on camera delivering threatening letters to my
personal cabin, the latest of which references sabotage. Do you deny
it?’

Timiko’s eyes widen. ‘Whoa, whoa, sabotage? That’s not me.’
‘Then it sounds like you have some explaining to do.’
‘Okay,’ Timiko says, laying his palms flat on the table, ‘I did deliver
some letters to you, but I didn’t write them. I never knew what was in
them.’
‘I think you’d better start from the beginning,’ I instruct.
‘A week after we left Gunnell I got a message on my personal tablet.
Encrypted, anonymous sender. It asked if I’d like to earn a little bit of
extra tender on the side. I’m basic crew, I earn peanuts, so I replied
asking what I’d have to do. The answer was simple, just deliver some
letters to your cabin.’
‘You’re saying you’re only the delivery boy?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
‘So who gave you the letters in the first place?’
‘I was told to pick them up from a specific common locker outside
the gym. I’d get a message saying that there was a letter and payment
waiting, what the locker code was, and then I had to delete the
message, pick up the letter and deliver it to your cabin. But I never
looked inside the envelopes, I just figured they were something
personal, love letters maybe. If I’d have known they were talking about
sabotage I’d never have delivered them, I swear.’
‘Was it only ever my quarters you were told to deliver the letters
too?’ I ask, finding it hard to believe that this mystery sender
genuinely thinks I blew the EN Drive.
‘Yes. I was told to take them to Sydney Temples’ cabin, leave them
on her pillow.’
‘Wait, “Sydney Temples”?’
‘Yeah,’ Timiko answers, looking confused.
I point to myself. ‘I’m Seren Temples.’
‘But …’ Timiko mutters.
I look to Petrova. She already has her hand tablet out, she’s scrolling
through the ship’s database. I see her stop when S. Temples appears,
watch her load up my data. Then she goes back to the list and scrolls
down. There’s another S. Temples . She brings up that page revealing a

cabin number and workstation location that aren’t mine.
‘He’s been delivering the letters to the wrong cabin,’ I say. ‘Sydney

Temples comes after Seren Temples in the ship’s database because it’s
in alphabetical order.’

Petrova seems to agree. ‘Timiko wouldn’t have had clearance to load
up Particulars and check your first name, he’s too low-ranking. He’d
have just got a surname, first initial and a cabin number. He must
have assumed you were the right recipient. Temples isn’t a particularly
common surname after all.’

‘Is that true?’ I say to Timiko. ‘Did you deliver the letters to the first
S. Temples you found in the ship’s database?’

‘Yeah, I – have I been delivering the letters to the wrong cabin?’
‘We need to find Sydney Temples,’ I say. ‘Now.’
‘She’s off-shift,’ Petrova says, still glued to her hand tablet screen,
‘but her cabin number is 247.’
‘Timiko,’ I say, ‘you’re free to leave. But you come to me the second
you receive another communication from the encrypted sender, do you
understand?’
‘I will, I swear.’
‘Good because, if you don’t, I’ll find out, charge you with conspiracy
and have you thrown in a cell. Phyleon will escort you out of the
cellblock.’
Timiko raises himself from his chair, says, ‘Sorry’ and, ‘Thank you’
half a hundred times before following Phyleon out.
‘Can we just barge straight into Sydney Temples’ cabin?’ I ask
Petrova, once they’re gone. ‘Or would that be against regulation?’
‘You have open access,’ Petrova answers. ‘You can go anywhere you
like, any time you like.’ That gets me to my feet and sets me moving
towards the door.
‘Do you have a pair of cuffs and a weapon on your person?’ I ask
Phyleon, once we’re all reunited and heading towards cabin 247.
‘Yes, I had both ready in case Timiko put up a fight.’
‘Good. Once we have Sydney Temples in custody we take her
straight to the interview room.’
‘What if she’s not in her cabin? Petrova asks.
‘Then we check the ship’s communal areas.’
The corridor outside of 247 is quiet. No need to move any onlookers

along before we go in. I give Phyleon a nod and he points his pinch
pistol at the door. Petrova stands off and I touch a finger to the ad-
pad.

A green flash and the door slides open. Phyleon steps in, but he
doesn’t speak or fire. I follow him inside to find my namesake dead on
the floor.

Twenty-one

After Phyleon calls him, it takes nine minutes for Dr Berg to arrive.
Not that there was ever any chance of saving Sydney Temples.

‘She’s been dead for roughly fifteen hours,’ Dr Berg says, as he
examines the body with Phyleon by his side. ‘This bullet looks like it
hit the heart. I expect that’s the exact cause of death.’

‘Can you tell what kind of weapon killed her?’ Phyleon asks. He
seems to trust Dr Berg, probably after working with him for long hours
aboard the Scylla .

‘A pinch pistol,’ Dr Berg answers, before explaining to Phyleon
exactly how he can tell.

‘Jewellery’s still here,’ Petrova says to me, pointing to an open
jewellery box on the bedside table. We’re standing at the door, letting
Dr Berg work. ‘Obviously wasn’t a robbery.’

In the box, I see earrings, brooches and a very nice silver necklace.
In fact, the whole cabin is nice; expensive furnishings, a silky duvet,
shelves full of actual books. When Petrova pulled Sydney Temples’
details I noticed that her workstation was in Lab 2. Sydney Temples
was a scientist, she earned a decent wage and obviously liked to spend
it.

But I’ve noticed something else as well. Sydney Temples has
peroxide-blonde hair. One of the envelopes Timiko delivered to me, it
contained a picture of a woman with a peroxide-blonde ponytail sitting
at a desk. The sender obviously meant to send a threatening message
with that photograph, all I saw in my ignorance was a silly prank.

‘I think there’s something you need to consider,’ Petrova says,
pulling me away from my thoughts. ‘Timiko might not be the only
person who mixed up the two Temples files in the ship’s database.’

‘You think whoever killed Sydney was really after me?’
‘I think it’s a possibility,’ Petrova answers.
I consider the notion for a moment. I suppose it’s possible, but all
those letters, everything that Timiko said, it seems much more likely
that whoever wrote those letters did this. Maybe out of rage when
Sydney Temples failed to respond to messages she never received.
‘Either way,’ Petrova continues, ‘with Sydney Temples dead I expect

that’s the end of the sabotage.’
I shake my head. ‘The final letter Timiko delivered, it said, “ Bring

your friends ”. That suggests there are multiple saboteurs, they might
be planning more. And besides, we only have the letter sender’s word
that Sydney Temples was involved in the sabotage at all, that’s hardly a
rock-solid conformation.’

Petrova takes that in, nods.
‘Dr Berg has agreed to help me with the forensic examination and
evidence collection,’ Phyleon says, as he approaches us from the body.
‘There’s no need for the both of you to stay if you do not wish to.’
‘I’m supposed to be on-shift at the Bridge in a few minutes anyway,’
Petrova says. ‘I’ll fill Captain Zuma in on what’s happened here.’ She
looks at me. ‘I’ll tell him you’re working on finding Sydney Temples’
murderer, shall I?’
‘Yes,’ I answer, wondering if Petrova just asked me a question or
gave me a command, ‘that would be helpful, thank you.’
‘Good.’ Then, just as she turns to leave, ‘Make sure Dr Berg
understands that talk of this can’t get out without the Captain’s say so.’
Once Petrova has left I thank Dr Berg for coming to assist us so
quickly, politely ask for his discretion, and then I head back to
Security.
At Bakalar’s desk I load up security footage from outside of Sydney
Temples’ cabin. Frustratingly, there are big chunks missing. No help in
identifying her killer or detailing her last movements there.
There is, however, plenty of footage showing Sydney Temples at
work. Lab 2 is big and busy. Sydney interacts with numerous different
people and I can’t hear any of it. After I’ve watched for ten minutes I
realise I’m unlikely to discover anything useful via this method. If
Sydney was responsible for blowing the EN Drive she wouldn’t have
done it from her workstation and in front of so many people. A
scientist would be too smart for that.
I close down the security archives and load up the ship’s database.
I’m going to take a look at Sydney’s background, see if that reveals
anything of note.
I scroll through, loading up the second S. Temples I find. That reveals
the page Petrova was looking at, but I’ve already seen everything there.
I select Particulars to learn more. Error, No File . I refresh the page and

get the same message. I close the database down and load everything
again. Error, No File . I let out an exasperated growl. Sydney Temple’s
profile as been deleted, I’m sure of it. Worse still, I know we can’t
refresh our database and get the information back from Relay records
until we’re in range of a space station. And with no EN Drive, we won’t
be in range of a space station any time soon.

I stand from the desk, start to pace the office. My head feels foggy
and I’m making no progress. But people are dead and Bakalar is
fighting for her life in a hospital bed. I have to solve this.

I sit down and decide to change tack. Right now, Sydney Temples
seems like just as much of a dead end as that blood vial was. I open the
drawer under Bakalar’s desk and pull out my letter. Blowing the
engine, I’m almost impressed. The handwriting is spidery, the words
written in black ink. Does that tell me anything about the sender? Not
really. I suppose I could try and match the letter to someone’s
handwriting, but where would I start? I have no suspects.

I think back on what Timiko said about the sender. Whoever the
sender was, they made a mistake in trusting Timiko to deliver their
letters to the right cabin, maybe they’ve made another one. I just need
to search hard enough for it; Timiko’s surname mix-up, I doubt I’ll be
gifted another lucky coincidence like that. Then I remember what
Timiko said about the letters being left in a common locker outside the
gym.

But it’s no good. Security archives show that the camera covering
the common lockers has been offline almost since we left Gunnell . I
could tear my hair out, but instead I pick up Bakalar’s hand tablet and
make a call.

‘Medical,’ a voice answers, after a lengthy ringing time, ‘how can I
help?’

‘This is Temples,’ I answer, ‘Acting Head of Security. I’m calling to
enquire about a patient, Nika Bakalar. I visited her yesterday. Could
you please update me on her status?’

‘One moment.’
One moment seems to last an epoch, but eventually the voice does
return. ‘According to the log, the patient is still critical. There’s been
no change in the last twenty-four hours.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, before ending the call. I’d been hoping for better

news to spur me on but at least Bakalar hasn’t deteriorated further.
That’s a good sign, I suppose.

I pocket the hand tablet but, almost as soon as I do, it starts ringing.
The caller ID shows Captain Zuma .

‘Temples,’ I answer.
‘Sorry I couldn’t call sooner,’ the captain begins, ‘I’ve been busy
with the EN Drive repairs. You should know that I’ve just sent Petrova
to inform Sydney Temples’ colleagues that she died last night of
natural causes; suspected brain aneurism. We’ve decided to keep the
real details of her death as need to know only.’
‘I understand,’ I answer.
‘What about your end? Have you worked out for certain whether
Sydney Temples had anything to do with the sabotage?’
‘I haven’t,’ I admit. ‘I’m having trouble with the security archives
and the ship’s database. There are hours of security footage missing
from sensitive times, and Sydney Temples’ profile has been erased.’
‘You think Temples’ background has something to do with all this?’
‘If someone’s taken the time to delete it, it must do. I was hoping
you could send a data packet to Göhr asking for her particulars?’
Captain Zuma lets out a long sigh before he answers. ‘ Göhr have
gone dark. As of last night they’ve stopped responding to our
transmissions.’
More bad news. ‘Any idea why?’
‘Not a clue, but I want it kept quiet for as long as possible.’
‘I understand,’ I say again. ‘I was also wondering whether you might
permit Clyne to have a look at the security archives, to see if he can
recover any footage like he did from the Scylla ’s memory banks.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Captain Zuma answers. ‘Clyne is tied
up assisting me. And besides, the Charybdis is much larger than the
Scylla . There are hundreds of cameras, thousands of drives all
swapping data between them. Searching through them would take
days, maybe weeks. We don’t have that luxury. Now, what about
Sydney Temples’ killer? Co-conspirators? What have you got for me on
those fronts?’
‘I’m afraid I have no new information to offer.’
‘You have nothing?’
‘No, but I—’

Zuma raises his voice. ‘When I put you in charge I told you that I
expected results. Do you not understand what’s at stake here? The life
of every soul aboard this ship is in danger. If these vandals can get into
the security archives, the database, the damn EN Drive, they can do
whatever they want. Blow us all to Hell if they choose. This mess has
dragged on for too long. I don’t care what you have to do, find out
who’s responsible, stop them and bring them to me. Zuma out.’

Twenty-two

The line goes dead and I realise my free fist is clenched. But I’m not
mad at Captain Zuma, I agree with everything he said. I’m furious at
myself for not having this situation fixed. I know determination isn’t
the problem. I’d do anything to solve this, take on anyone, sacrifice
anything. But that’s no help. There’s no evil villain to chase down, no
gun battle to jump into. My determination isn’t the problem. The
problem is my lack of ability as an investigator, as a leader.

I take a deep breath, pocket Bakalar’s hand tablet and reload the
security archives. I watch more of Sydney Temples at work, Timiko’s
confession through the camera in the interview room, I even bring
myself to sit through the riot outside the Bridge. Nothing, nothing, and
nothing but an overwhelming sense of guilt when I see Bakalar go
down and Hindle die.

I’m still sitting in the office, stewing in my own misery when
Bakalar’s hand tablet rings again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Captain
Zuma’s calling to yell at me some more, maybe to relieve me of my
post. But the caller ID shows Phyleon.

‘Temples,’ I answer.
‘Dr Berg just got a call from Medical,’ Phyleon says jaggedly, like
he’s moving quickly as he speaks, ‘someone from Maintenance just
found another body. Cabin 113, Dr Berg and I are on our way now.’
‘I’ll meet you there,’ I say, shooting up from Bakalar’s desk.
I’m through the hatchway and out of the briefing room in a flash. As
I race towards Fourth I’m wondering whether this will be another
murder, whether the body is the work of the same person who killed
Sydney Temples. Two bodies in such quick succession, do we have a
crazed serial killer on our hands?
A finger to the ad-pad and cabin 113’s door slides open. A young
woman is sitting on a bed, crying. Phyleon sits beside her murmuring
comforting words. I see no sign of a body or Dr Berg.
Once he notices me, Phyleon stands and crosses the cabin. It’s scant
and sparsely furnished, a lot like mine. ‘Tasha Frye,’ Phyleon says
quietly. ‘She came in to clean, found the body when she went into the
bathroom. Dr Berg is in there now.’

‘Whose body is it?’ I ask.
Phyleon gives me a grave look. ‘Maria Flesch, this was her cabin.’
His words almost knock me off my feet. Was Flesch somehow involved
in everything that’s happened?
‘Am I correct in saying,’ Phyleon asks, ‘that Bakalar had you
investigating Flesch prior to our encountering the Scylla ’s distress
signal?’
I nod. ‘I need to see the body.’
‘This way.’ As Frye continues to sniffle, Phyleon leads me towards
the bathroom door.
On the other side, Dr Berg is on his knees, half leaning into a
shower cubicle. The cubicle’s glass walls are splattered with blood.
‘Single pinch round to the head,’ Dr Berg informs us, as we stop by
his side, ‘she’s been dead for seven or eight hours. That puts her time
of death between 0700 and 0800 this morning.’
The sight beyond Dr Berg is not a pleasant one. Flesch is naked, her
body contorted nastily on the floor of the shower. ‘She was killed after
Sydney Temples,’ I think out loud.
‘That’s right,’ Dr Berg answers, ‘eleven, twelve hours later,
something like that.’
Sydney Temples was killed by a pinch pistol too, I remember. That
doesn’t prove it was the same killer of course, or even the same
weapon, but it is notable.
‘Why isn’t there any broken glass?’ I turn. Petrova is standing in the
bathroom doorway, it’s unclear how long she’s been there. ‘Medical
informed the captain,’ she says by way of explanation, ‘the captain had
me relieved and told me to come here.’
‘The victim was in the process of getting out of the shower when she
was shot,’ Dr Berg answers. ‘It looks like the killer walked in, shot the
victim through the open cubicle door and left.’
‘Or left and came back,’ Petrova says quietly, gesturing over her
shoulder and into the room.
‘I think not,’ Phyleon replies. ‘Frye’s distress is genuine. She says
she hadn’t been in the cabin for three days before she discovered the
body, not since she last came in to clean.’
Petrova gives him a reproachful look, draws a breath. I cut in before
an argument can break out. ‘I’ll look into Frye’s story,’ I say, ‘but

there’s someone I’m much more interested in talking to.’ It’s the name
I first thought of when Phyleon told me Maria Flesch was dead.

‘Who?’ Petrova demands, with a malice I presume was originally
intended for Phyleon.

‘Yoshida – another scientist. I know for a fact that Flesch was
considering bringing a harassment complaint against him. I heard her
say it myself.’ I could kick myself for not thinking of talking to Yoshida
even before Flesch was found dead. I knew that Yoshida and his
buddies were hacking into the security archives to monitor Flesch. If
they could hack in, maybe they knew how to delete footage as well.
Maybe they’re even responsible for the EN Drive.

‘That’s certainly enough to bring him in for questioning,’ Phyleon
tells the room.

‘Then I need you and Petrova to do just that.’
‘This whole cabin needs to be forensically examined,’ Petrova
reminds me.
‘I can take care of that,’ Dr Berg says, raising himself from the floor.
‘On your own?’ Phyleon asks. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Over the past few days I’ve become quite practiced,’ Dr Berg
responds. ‘It won’t be a problem. I’ll photograph, bag and log
everything, then I’ll file a report with Security. A report on cabin 247
too.’
‘And what about the cleaner?’ Petrova asks, not even bothering to
lower her voice this time.
‘Frye is in shock,’ Dr Berg says. ‘If you like, I can escort her to her
quarters before I start in here. I’ll calm her down and find someone to
come and look after her.’
‘That would be very helpful, Dr Berg,’ I say, ‘thank you.’
‘There’s only one Yoshida aboard this ship,’ Petrova announces,
already scrolling through the screen on her hand tablet, ‘and he’s
currently on-shift in Lab 1.’
‘Let’s get moving then,’ I say, ‘there’s no way Captain Zuma will be
able to keep two murders under wraps for long, we need to act.’
Entrusting Frye to Dr Berg, Phyleon, Petrova and I leave.
‘Did you and Dr Berg finish your examination of Sydney Temples’
cabin?’ I ask Phyleon, as we head through Fourth.
‘We did. We were putting the last of the evidence we collected into

storage when Dr Berg received the call about cabin 113.’
‘Did you find anything of note?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Not even a suspect fingerprint?’
‘No,’ Phyleon answers. ‘Whoever was responsible took care to clean

up after themselves. If we could get to Göhr the regulators might be
able to discover something with their superior analytical tools but, for
now, I’m sorry, there’s nothing to relay.’

At the briefing room door we part ways. Petrova and Phyleon carry
on towards First and the science labs, I head into Bakalar’s office.

Unsurprisingly, there is no security footage from outside of Flesch’s
cabin during her estimated time of death. Flesch’s particulars aren’t
deleted though, so I read through them. Sadly, I find nothing beyond
what Bakalar told me just before she started me on audio surveillance;
Flesch is a geologist, trained in mineral exploration. Likewise,
Yoshida’s particulars are intact too. I learn he’s a geochemist, educated
aboard Gunnell .

Next I take the time to check out Frye. I find footage of her leaving
Maintenance after a shift yesterday evening, then I watch her eat in
Mess 3 and disappear into her cabin around 1900. She doesn’t emerge
until the next morning at 0846 when she heads straight to the
Maintenance Hub. Given the time frame Dr Berg gave me, she couldn’t
possibly have killed Flesch.

I’m re-reading Yoshida’s particulars when Petrova comes in. ‘He’s
in the interview room,’ she says. I shut down the interface and follow
her out.

This time, Artis isn’t curled up in his bunk. He’s leaning against his
cell door, his arms looped through the bars. He gives me an
insufferable look as I pass with Petrova.

‘Same as before,’ I say, once we reach Phyleon and the interview
room door, ‘we got Timiko to talk and we’ll get Yoshida to do the
same.’

Inside I find Yoshida sitting in the same chair Timiko did. ‘Why the
hell am I here?’ he barks. ‘You can’t just pull me from shift without
telling me why – this is an outrage.’

I wait until Petrova and I are seated in front of Yoshida before I
speak. ‘Do you remember who I am?’ I ask, as Phyleon watches from

the door.
‘Bakalar’s little apprentice,’ Yoshida answers offhandedly.
‘I was Bakalar’s apprentice, now I’m Acting Head of Security. Do you

remember the circumstances of our first meeting?’
‘You were there when I was imploring your boss to get off her ass

and start doing her job.’
‘You were imploring Bakalar,’ I qualify, ‘to look into the activities of

Maria Flesch. The same Maria Flesch who was found dead earlier this
afternoon.’

Yoshida’s brown eyes widen. ‘Dead?’
‘Dead,’ I confirm. If Yoshida already knew, he’s doing a good job of
acting surprised. That annoys me.
‘I noticed she wasn’t in today,’ Yoshida mutters, ‘I just thought she
was sick, or working somewhere else. I never—’
‘Not only is she dead,’ I interrupt, ‘she’s dead after openly talking
about bringing a harassment complaint against yourself. Where were
you between 0700 and 0800 this morning?’
‘I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re asking,’ Yoshida snaps. ‘I was
in Lab 1 from 0600 onwards, you can check the security archives. I
went to shift early. Thanks to Zuma’s incompetence we’re having to
pitch in with all sorts of random stuff.’
‘That’s Captain Zuma to you,’ Petrova says from my side. Yoshida’s
arrogance is clearly starting to get to her. It’s frustrating me too.
‘We’ll be sure to check the security archives,’ I say. ‘In fact, I’m glad
you bought them up. During your meeting with Bakalar you admitted
that you and your friends had hacked into them. We know now that
you were doing it from a terminal in Observation.’
It’s a few seconds before Yoshida answers. ‘Your point?’
‘My point is that I have a question for you. Have you or any of your
friends been deleting footage from the security archives?’
‘No,’ Yoshida answers.
‘Have you been hacking into any more of the ship’s systems?’
‘No.’
I do my best to stare Yoshida down. I’m pretty sure he’s keeping
something from me, but I’m not sure what. ‘Then let me ask you
something else,’ I say, changing tack, ‘the day after you spoke with
Bakalar, you were seen entering Mess 1 whilst Flesch was eating lunch

in there. You whispered something in a crewmember’s ear and then
left with him. What did you say to him?’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Yoshida says, with an
arrogant laugh.

‘Answer the question,’ Petrova growls from my side.
Yoshida sighs. ‘I don’t know, I probably needed some help with
something back in the lab. You’re talking about something incredibly
trivial that happened days ago.’
Under the desk I clench a fist, it’s fast becoming a habit. ‘After your
meeting with Bakalar, did you continue to monitor Flesch through the
security archives?’
‘No.’
‘Why do you think Flesch was considering bringing a harassment
complaint against you?’
‘You’d have to ask her,’ Yoshida answers, nonchalantly, ‘except you
can’t because she’s dead.’
Now I’m certain he’s keeping something from me, every instinct I
have tells me so. I need to do something drastic, I don’t have the
experience or know-how to talk it out of him like Bakalar would. I
raise myself from the desk and walk over to the corner of the room.
Standing on tiptoes, I reach upwards and pull a chord out of the back
of the camera.
‘Trying to intimidate me?’ Yoshida asks, as the camera’s red light
dies.
‘Phyleon,’ I say, ‘please get me a drop shock from the briefing room.’
Much to my relief neither he nor Petrova protests.
‘I know your holding something back,’ I say to Yoshida, as Phyleon
leaves the room, ‘if you don’t start answering my questions truthfully
I’m going to introduce you to a whole new world of pain.’ Captain
Zuma told me to do whatever it takes to find and stop the saboteurs,
it’s time to start acting on that advice. ‘Now, before Phyleon comes
back with that drop shock, tell me, did you kill Maria Flesch?’
‘I told you, I’ve been on-shift all day, check the bloody archives.’
‘Do you know who did kill Maria Flesch?’
‘No! I didn’t even know she was dead until you told me.’
‘Why was Maria Flesch considering bringing a harassment
complaint against you?’

This time Yoshida doesn’t answer, he turns his head away from me.
A moment later Phyleon comes back through the door. He passes
me a drop shock. On their highest setting drop shocks plunge a person
into unconsciousness, but put them on a lesser setting and they deliver
a smaller current that causes intense pain without making someone
pass out. I twist the control gauge to low and switch the drop shock on.
As it buzzes into life, Yoshida flinches.
‘I’m going to ask you one last time,’ I say, as Phyleon steps behind
Yoshida’s chair and lays his massive hands on his shoulders,
restraining him, ‘why was Flesch talking about bringing a harassment
complaint against you?’
There’s no response so I raise the drop shock and inch towards him.
‘Okay, okay,’ Yoshida says, as the live end comes within a hair’s
breadth of his arm. ‘Just don’t jab me with that thing you fucking
psycho.’
I draw back. ‘Talk.’
‘I was following Flesch around the ship.’
‘Stalking her?’ Petrova cuts in.
‘Fuck no,’ Yoshida snaps back, ‘this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I
was investigating her. She was always sneaking away from shift,
abusing her top tier position to dodge any questions. She …’ he trails
off.
‘She what?’ I demand.
‘She noticed me following her in Horticulture. Told me to stop or
she’d report me to the captain, have my contract terminated. That was
when I knew I had to switch to surveying her through the ship’s
cameras, and for that I needed some of my colleagues to help me. But
we realised she was cutting camera feeds to cover her tracks. That’s
when I decided to go to your boss.’
‘What was Flesch doing in horticulture?’ I ask.
‘Speaking to some woman named Galkin. I watched them talk a few
times, I was always too far away to hear what they were saying
though.’
‘Did you see her speak to anyone else of note whilst you were
following her?’
Yoshida shakes his head. ‘A lot of the time she would go to her cabin
alone or skulk off to Lab 9 if it was after hours.’

‘So you have nothing else to add?’
‘No,’ Yoshida answers.
‘Then you’re free to go. Phyleon, will you please escort Yoshida out
of the cellblock.’
‘Bunch of maniacs,’ Yoshida mutters, as Phyleon leads him out.
‘This Galkin,’ I say, once Phyleon and Yoshida are gone, ‘we need to
talk to her.’
Naturally, Petrova is already consulting her hand tablet. ‘Galkin is
currently on-shift in Horticulture, but I have to get back to the Bridge.’
‘Not a problem,’ I say. ‘I’ll go and speak to Galkin whilst she’s
working.’ Even I can see we don’t have enough to merit bringing her
in. Not yet anyway.
I turn to leave but Petrova has something else to say. ‘Would you
have done it?’ she asks. ‘Would you have used the drop shock?’
‘To find the saboteurs,’ I answer, ‘there’s nothing I won’t do.’

Twenty-three

Before I head over to Horticulture I send Phyleon back to cabin 113 to
help Dr Berg with forensics (I don’t require his intimidating presence
just yet), and I pop back into Bakalar’s office too. I check that
Yoshida’s alibi holds up (it does) and then I send Abril a message from
my personal tablet.

As much as I want to go to Abril’s cabin tonight, I can’t. I need to fix
this mess. And Galkin might hold the key to doing just that. It might
be that the conversations Flesch had with Galkin are what got her
killed. And I’m starting to wonder if Flesch has been at the centre of
everything that’s happened all along.

Horticulture is in Third, not far from Security. As I head over I’m
treated to mistrusting looks from half the people I pass. No surprises
there, but it does make me wonder whether news of the murders has
gotten out. If it hasn’t yet, I’m sure it will soon. I quicken my pace.

Horticulture is a large, open space, essentially a giant green house
filled by rows of crop plants. Bright lights shine down from above and
I can hear the whir of a sprinkler system. Almost as soon as I’m inside
I realise that I have no idea where Galkin will be, or even what she
looks like. It was stupid of me not to check her file before I left
Bakalar’s office. Luckily, there’s a man kneeling at the end of the
nearest row of leafy growth.

‘I’m looking for Galkin,’ I say, ‘could you please direct me to her.’
The man glances up at me, then turns back to his work. ‘Four rows
down,’ he mumbles, ‘she’s working the tomatoes.’
I relay my gratitude, count four rows down and then turn into the
thin walkway between two walls of green. It’s not long before I hear a
gentle humming, only a few steps more before I find the woman it’s
coming from.
‘Galkin?’ I ask. The woman before me is short, wrinkled and
dressed in grubby green overalls.
‘That’s me,’ Galkin answers, stopping her humming and lowering a
plastic box of ripe, red tomatoes to the floor. ‘What can I do for you?’
Galkin really doesn’t look like the sort of person who would be mixed
up in some shady conspiracy, but I try to remember that looks can be

deceiving.
‘I’m Temples,’ I say, ‘Acting Head of Security. I’ve come to ask you a

few questions.’
‘Gosh, I do hope I’m not in any trouble,’ Galkin quips. ‘I know

people are disappointed we’re not producing mountains of delicious
foodstuffs, but this is a long run and we’re carrying a big crew – even
primed rock wool can’t perform miracles.’

‘No, it’s not – wait, primed rock wool?’
Galkin gestures downwards, to the base of the tomato plants. For
the first time I realise that the plants aren’t growing out of soil, they’re
rooted in a fibrous block of white, well, wool.
‘Rock wool is a hydroponic substrate,’ Galkin says, ‘much more
productive and less messy than soil. Primed rock wool is enriched with
everything space-grown crop plants need to produce an optimum
yield. Shame we don’t have robots, drones and AI programmes to
optimise everything else we do, but, hey, the earthlings have those
things and they’re no strangers to food shortages either.’
‘I see,’ I say. This is all very clever but I need to get back to the task
in hand. ‘I’m actually here to ask you about a scientist, Maria Flesch.’
‘Oh, Maria,’ Galkin says. ‘Yes, Maria’s been down here a few times,
very interested in what we do.’
I watch Galkin carefully as I speak. ‘I’m sorry to inform you that
Flesch died this morning.’
Galkin’s cheerful expression wanes. ‘No, that’s terrible news. I only
spoke to her a handful of times but she seemed so lovely, so vibrant.
How did she die?’
‘Natural causes,’ I answer vaguely. ‘I’m trying to build up a picture of
all she did on this transit, ready a report for when we get to Göhr . Do
you mind if I ask you my questions?’
‘Of course not, ask me anything.’
‘You said that Flesch was interested in what you do here, what
exactly did she used to ask you about?’
‘Oh, everything. What crops we grew, how we grew them, she even
wanted to know about me, about what I did before I came here.’
‘And what was that?’
‘I used to work for the terraformers on Mars. Maria seemed very
interested in all of that, she was keen to learn about the special lichen

we bred, not that we bred it particularly well of course.’
‘What was wrong with it?’
‘The lichen? Oh, any significant perturbation would kill it.’
‘I’m sorry, what do you mean by “perturbation”?’
‘Well, we could get our lichen to survive in samples of Martian

gasses under lab conditions, but we needed it to survive outside on the
surface of the planet. It was an important part of the terraforming
process you see, the lichen was intended to clean the warming Martian
atmosphere, to produce oxygen and make Mars habitable.

‘But, relatively speaking, our lichen was pitiful. Abnormal
temperatures, heavy winds, dust storms, anything like that and it
would always die. Our results were so bad that I and most of my team
were moved on. I’ve been working aboard the Charybdis ever since.’

‘I thought Martian terraforming was going well?’
‘It is now,’ Galkin answers. ‘Our bosses must have found better
people to take over from us. I like to think that our work laid the
foundations for the super-lichen they have now though.’
‘Do you use lichen here?’ I ask, sensing a potential lead.
‘No, we only grow crop plants.’
‘Oh.’ That disappoints me. Flesch being interested in lichen seems
like it might be significant, but what has our situation got to do with
Martian lichen? The only link I can think of is that I saw the Scylla
aboard Bolt , a space station in orbit around Mars. But what does that
prove? The Scylla probably stopped at lots of space stations, just like all
ships do. And we found the Scylla in the Anchor Leg, nowhere near
Mars.
‘Thank you for your time,’ I say, when I can’t think of anything else
to ask, ‘if I have any more questions can I come and speak with you
again?’
‘Of course,’ Galkin says. She reaches down and pulls a tomato from
her tub. ‘Here, take this. Fresh produce is good for the soul.’
‘I – thank you,’ I say, before shoving the fruit in my mouth and
leaving.
Back in Bakalar’s office I take a look at Galkin on the security
archives. There’s nothing suspicious, all she seems to do is work, eat
and sleep. Similarly, her particulars give me nothing useful, they just
confirm everything she told me.

I lean back in Bakalar’s chair. My head feels so muddled but I have
to work through it. Two murders, the malfunctions, the Scylla , the
blood. Yoshida’s fascination with Flesch, Flesch’s conversations with
Galkin. What’s the link? I feel like the answers are all floating in front
of me but I can’t quite grasp them.

Closing my eyes, I think about everything for a few minutes longer
until a call from Phyleon interrupts me.

‘Temples,’ I answer, wondering if this will be news of yet another
murder and someone else I’ve let down.

‘Dr Berg and I have finished transferring all the evidence from cabin
113 into storage. Dr Berg has returned to Medical to compose his
reports.’

‘Anything useful you can tell me up front?’ I ask.
‘Nothing you don’t already know. 113 was clean, just like 247.’
I sigh. ‘Galkin didn’t offer up much either.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Phyleon says. ‘Shall I return to the briefing
room?’
‘No, go and get some food, some rest if you can. I know you’ve not
had much sleep in the last few days. Just keep your hand tablet on in
case I need you.’
‘Understood, contact me the instant you require me.’
I end the call and go over everything in my head again. Two
murders, the malfunctions, the Scylla , the blood. Yoshida’s fascination
with Flesch, Flesch’s conversations with Galkin. It’s all still a giant
blur, maybe I need some rest too. No, I can’t sleep, I have to solve all
this before another body turns up or we’re blown to smithereens. And
then there’s a knock on the door.
‘Hello?’ I shout.
‘It’s Abril,’ I hear, from the other side of the hatchway, ‘can I come
in?’
Despite everything I jump up from my seat, cross the office, open
the hatchway myself. And there she is, all smiles and big green eyes. I
give her a hug, and then a kiss. ‘It’s so good to see you, Abril,’ I say,
‘but did you not get my message?’
‘I did, and I totally understand that you have to work, but I bet you
haven’t eaten, have you?’
‘I’ve had a tomato.’

Abril chuckles. ‘One tomato won’t get you very far, but look at this.’
She pulls off the pint-sized backpack she’s wearing and unzips the top.
Inside, little tubs of food. I see dehydrated salad, chicken substitute
and some rolls. ‘Picnic,’ she says cheerfully.

‘Brilliant,’ I reply.
A few minutes later and we’re mopping up the last of the bread.
‘How’s Bakalar now?’ Abril asks delicately. Talking about the riots
wasn’t easy, even with Abril. I think I feel better for it though. ‘I called
Medical earlier today,’ I answer, ‘I was told there’d been no change.’
Abril nods. ‘I still think Bakalar will pull through. She’s strong.’
‘Me too,’ I say. Although remembering what Bakalar looked like in
her hospital bed, all those electrodes. I’m not sure I’m as confident as
Abril is.
‘And what about the investigation?’ Abril asks. ‘I know you won’t be
able to go into specifics but have you found the person who damaged
the engine yet?’
‘No, but it’s what Captain Zuma has me trying to do. I’m struggling
though, there are so many dead ends. Someone’s been deleting
security footage from the archives, vital entries from the ship’s
database are gone. I even had to threaten a guy with a drop shock just
to get him to talk truthfully.’
Abril stops eating. ‘What do you mean “threaten a guy with a drop
shock”?’
‘He was a suspect,’ I answer, anxious at the look Abril is giving me,
‘he was holding back significant information. I wheedled it out by
waving a drop shock in front of him.’
‘You waved a drop shock in front of him?’ Abril says, with a
bucketful of dismay. ‘That’s – that’s awful.’
‘I had to find out what he knew. The drop shock was on its lowest
setting, it wouldn’t have done any lasting damage.’
‘You were going to use it?’ Abril exclaims. ‘If he didn’t tell you what
you wanted to know you were going to use a drop shock on him until
he did?’
I say nothing.
‘Answer the question, Seren.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Captain Zuma told me to do whatever it takes
to fix what’s happening.’

Abril’s jaw drops. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Torture? After
what the troopers used to do to subsectorers on Earth? After Richard?
After all we talked about you’ve chosen to be just like them anyway?’

‘It’s not like that,’ I protest, ‘it’s like what you said. I was doing it for
the right reasons, I—’

‘Nothing justifies torture,’ Abril says, standing from her chair,
‘nothing.’

Now I’m standing too. ‘You don’t understand. I have to stop these
people, I have to do whatever it takes to keep you and everyone else
aboard this ship safe.’

Abril shakes her head. ‘You’re not the person I thought, Seren. Not
even close.’ Before I know what’s happened, she’s gone.

I stand motionless for a long time, thinking over everything Abril
said. Was she right to condemn? It’s not like threatening Yoshida even
solved anything. Sure, I got Galkin’s name out of him, but Galkin looks
like a dead end anyway. Have I really chosen to be just like the
troopers? Just like the people who killed Richard? Leadership, I think
it’s turning me into a bad person. Or maybe I always was a bad person.
Leaving Earth, maybe I was running away from my own reflection.

I don’t know why but I start walking, and I don’t know where I’m
going until I get there. The cellblock. Artis is sitting on his bunk,
reading a tattered old paperback.

‘I can’t find the saboteurs,’ I confess, in a voice barely more than a
whisper. Artis doesn’t pay me any notice, he turns a page in his book
and reads some more.

‘Did you shoot Hakim Chafik because he killed Hindle, or because
you wanted him out of the way so you could have Marissa?’

Still no response.
‘Do you love Marissa Chafik?’
Finally, Artis stops reading and reaches under his pillow. He pulls
out a photo of three people and a brown dog, slips it into the book to
mark his page. ‘Being on this ship,’ he says, ‘do you know what I miss
the most?’
I shake my head.
‘I miss children. I miss them laughing, I miss playing tag with them,
I even miss the little shits getting in my way all the time. But I’m
locked in a cell aboard a mining transport and mining transports don’t

allow anyone under sixteen aboard. Doesn’t matter if a parent has no
choice but to leave their kid in a shitty space station crèche whilst they
serve out a contract here, that’s what they have to do.

‘At least there would have been some kids aboard Göhr , some
playmates to chase around whilst the rock heads went down to Dione
and set up their mechs. But shackled up, probably won’t be many
opportunities to go for a stroll and make some friends.’

‘You never struck me as the kind of person who likes kids,’ I say, ‘or
enjoyed making friends.’

‘You never struck me as a mopey little fuck up,’ Artis spits back. ‘So,
unless this is a conjugal visit, piss off, go do your job.’

There are a hundred things I could fire back; an insult, a
justification, a plea for help. But I say nothing. I bow my head low,
turn and walk away.

As soon as I’m in the corridor outside of the cellblock, I hear my
name.

‘Temples,’ Phyleon yells, as he runs towards me, ‘I’ve been trying to
call you.’

With a start I realise I left Bakalar’s hand tablet on her desk. ‘What’s
happened?’ I ask.

‘The bar,’ Phyleon answers breathlessly. ‘Mutiny.’

Twenty-four

I enter the bar and the people around the door quieten as they notice
me. Just like Phyleon told me on the way, Yoshida is here. He’s
standing on a table, attempting to rally everyone to his cause.

At the table below him I notice Edavane, the scientist Bakalar
interviewed in the Observatory. In fact, I recognise a lot of the people
in the bar as being scientists. That’s not good. If these people can be
convinced to turn against the captain, things will be a lot worse than
when basic crew rioted. These people have dangerous amounts of
ability and expertise. If Yoshida convinces enough of them to mutiny,
they’ll overthrow Captain Zuma with ease. I guess it’s a good job
Phyleon came here instead of trying to sleep, now I might be able to
nip this rebellion in the bud. That’s what I told the captain I’d do when
I grabbed Bakalar’s hand tablet and called him on the way here
anyway.

‘Look who it is,’ Yoshida booms, once he realises I’m here. Everyone
who hasn’t noticed me turns to stare, I feel the scrutiny of a hundred
eyes. ‘Our Acting Head of Security; rash and senseless, a teenage girl
completely out of her depth.’

I have a drop shock tucked inside my jumpsuit and, just behind me,
Phyleon has a holstered pinch pistol. But if all these people decide that
they want to tear us to pieces, a couple of puny weapons won’t save us.
It’s time to start talking. ‘What’s going on here?’ I demand.

‘What’s going on,’ Yoshida answers, addressing the crowd just as
much as me, ‘is that we’re a failing ship orbiting some forgotten lump
of rock, we have no EN Drive, and our so-called captain is feeding us
lies on a daily basis.’

I hear shouts of agreement from those closest to Yoshida, mumbles
and snatches of anxious conversation from everyone else.

‘Two of our crew have been murdered,’ Yoshida continues, turning
in a slow motion so that everyone in the bar can see him, ‘Sydney
Temples and Maria Flesch. The captain is trying to cover it up. Gods,
Zuma is so inept that even Göhr have stopped talking to us, probably
written us off as a lost cause. We, the best and brightest aboard this
ship, must act. We have to take control before Zuma kills us all.’

‘Take control?’ I shout in measured exasperation. ‘Captain Zuma is
working non-stop to fix the engine, he’s not sleeping, he’s dedicating
every second to resolving this situation, all because he wants to get you
safely to Göhr .’

‘It’s not just the Drive,’ a woman in the crowd shouts, ‘nothing
works.’

‘Exactly,’ Yoshida agrees, ‘exactly. What if the water dispensers fail
next? Or life support?’

‘And you think,’ I shout, over the growing rumble of agreement,
‘that usurping the very person who manages life support will help our
situation?’

‘What do you know about life support?’ Yoshida barks back. ‘What
do you know about anything? Friends,’ he says to the room at large,
‘earlier today, this girl and her thug dragged me from my post and
locked me in a tiny room. They proceeded to threaten me with a live
drop shock, restrained me where I was sitting and held it a millimetre
from my skin. These are the people that Captain Zuma has trusted
with our security, our safety.’

Shock is audible around the room, my argument is forgotten. Was
Yoshida saving the drop shock revelation to thwart me if I started
talking sense? Abril was so right when she chided me for what I did in
that interview room.

‘Do you deny it?’ Yoshida asks over the throng. And when I don’t
answer him, ‘I think you got a taste for violence when you and your
brutes beat half the basic crew bloody outside the Bridge. Is that it?’

Still I have no answer, Yoshida has me beaten. And then a siren
sounds through the intercom. Warning, intruder alert. Assume
emergency stations . A few siren blasts and the message repeats.

Everyone in the bar is looking at one another in confusion. ‘Is Zuma
trying to trick us?’ I hear someone near me say.

‘I bet it’s someone from the terrestrial ship,’ someone else shouts.
Whatever’s happening, Yoshida has lost the crowd. ‘Stay calm,’ he
yells, ‘I’ll find out exactly what’s going on.’ He drops down from his
table and starts talking to Edavane.

I feel Bakalar’s hand tablet buzzing so I reach into my pocket and
answer it.

‘Temples,’ Captain Zuma says, ‘we’ve been boarded.’ His voice is